Ian Mitchell closed his eyes wearily, rubbed his temples, and when he opened them again, he saw Mason Scott standing at the study door, watching him.

“Ian Mitchell, have you not slept at all?” Mason Scott asked, biting her lip.

That was her little habit when she was nervous, and Ian Mitchell understood.

“Come here.” He beckoned.

When she walked over, Ian Mitchell pulled her into his arms and sat her on his lap.

“Are you awake? I’ve never seen anyone get drunk and just go to sleep.”

“Huh?” Mason Scott was probably confused by his attitude and asked blankly, “Then what should I do?”

“Do something meaningful…” As he spoke, he lowered his head and covered her soft lips with his.

When Mason Scott was left breathless, lying in his arms, Ian Mitchell was silent for a while before saying, “Last night I went to see Hugh Wilson.”

The body in his embrace instantly stiffened.

“He told me that someone once searched my name in a search engine. I want to ask that person, what did she find?”

Mason Scott said nothing, so Ian Mitchell continued, “I just searched your name and found out that Mason Scott once won a photography award. You never mentioned it.”

“It wasn’t a famous award… and you never asked.” Mason Scott said softly.

Ian Mitchell sighed and hugged her tighter. “I’m sorry, that was my fault.”

“Mason Scott, can you tell me now what you’ve been doing?”

“In America?”

“Mm.”

This gentle Ian Mitchell—even back in college, at the height of their relationship seven years ago, Mason Scott had never felt this way. A gentle question, so lightly spoken, easily drew out all the grievances she’d harbored over the years.

Mason Scott began to recount the things she’d experienced in America: how she couldn’t speak English when she first arrived, got lost because she couldn’t read the signs and ended up wandering further and further away, how much she hated learning English, the strange habits of foreigners, and all the terrible food. She especially described in detail how awful a certain brand of instant noodles tasted.

“Then why didn’t you eat something else?”

“Everything else was expensive. I was really poor back then.”

“Didn’t your father give you money?” This was the first time Ian Mitchell spoke of Mason Scott’s father in such a calm tone.

Mason Scott glanced at his expression before continuing, “He did, a large sum. At first, I was shocked. Later, I saw something in the newspaper and realized… so I sent the money to the embassy.”

“Did the embassy send you a letter of commendation?”

“I didn’t leave my name. I sent it during a big donation drive by the Chinese community. Honestly, I didn’t have any noble intentions…” It was just that she could never spend money that had been exchanged for a life with a clear conscience, and she also deceived herself into thinking that without that money, her father wouldn’t have died, that none of it had ever happened.

“Mm, Mason Scott is very smart. What else?”

“And…”

Mason Scott had always thought that one day she would tell Ian Mitchell about these things, but she never imagined it would be like this. There was no heaviness at all; it felt like the most ordinary conversation. Those experiences that had once caused her so much pain seemed to have faded away overnight.

Their conversation gradually dwindled.

Daylight had fully arrived.

“Ian Mitchell, I’m actually not sad at all. I thought talking about this would make me sad.”

Ian Mitchell said quietly, “You have me now.”

Mason Scott didn’t reply, resting her head motionless on his chest for so long that Ian Mitchell thought she’d fallen asleep. Gradually, though, he felt a dampness spreading across his chest.

It was already Monday, and they still had to go to work in the morning.

For the first time, Ian Mitchell went to court unprepared, only to find that the prosecutor and judge seemed even more out of it than he was. So everyone muddled through until the end, and the trial was postponed.

The client’s family, seeing Ian Mitchell’s obvious lack of sleep, thought he’d been exhausting himself over the case and were deeply moved, thanking him repeatedly. Ian Mitchell didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

When Mason Scott went to work, her eyes were still swollen and red. Ruby studied her eyes seriously and asked in a solemn, mournful tone, “Did you break up?”

Mason Scott lowered her voice to match her somber mood, “Ruby comrade, do you want to buy beef rice to comfort the wounded?”

Ruby continued to ponder seriously, “Then you’d better not break up.”

On the newspaper Old Ben bought, news about Hugh Wilson was the front-page headline. When Mason Scott passed his desk, she saw it and picked it up. The paper had a long, detailed report on Hugh Wilson’s life, full of praise, and at the end, in typical tabloid fashion, it speculated in various ways about the “wife” Hugh Wilson had mentioned.

Mason Scott put down the newspaper and stared blankly for a long time.

She didn’t know many people in America. Jane was one, but after Jane returned to China, they lost contact. The only one left was Hugh Wilson. In fact, Mason Scott felt much more gratitude than anything else toward Hugh Wilson; after all, he had helped her so much, and even that time he got drunk, nothing bad had actually happened.

After hesitating, she turned on her computer, entered the sosomail website, and logged into the email account she’d barely used since returning to China, pulling up Hugh Wilson’s email address.

She revised the content of the email several times, and in the end, it was just one sentence:

—“Big Brother Wilson, thank you for what happened in the hotel lobby yesterday.”

A few minutes after sending the email, her inbox notified her of a new message. Mason Scott refreshed and clicked it open.

Recipient: Mason Morgan

Sender: IN

Subject: Re: No subject

No need.

Just two extremely simple words, cold and distant. Mason Scott’s fingers paused on the keyboard, not knowing what to say. Gossip she’d heard from students at C University flashed through her mind, and she quickly typed a reply—

“Big Brother Wilson, did you see her this time when you came back? Maybe you two still have a chance.”

This time, there was no reply for a long while.

Mason Scott felt a bit regretful.

Maybe she had overstepped. Everyone has a part of their heart that cannot be touched. That person might be Big Brother Wilson’s deepest wound.

That night, Mason Scott mentioned this to Ian Mitchell. Ian Mitchell glanced at her and said four words: “As expected, slow-witted.”

Then he added, “Luckily, you’re a bit slow.”

Mason Scott was stunned.

Over a month later, when Mason Scott was cleaning out her various inboxes, she finally saw Hugh Wilson’s reply, dated two days earlier.

Mason Scott opened it.

Recipient: Mason Morgan

Sender: IN

Subject: Re: Re: Re: No subject

Not everyone can endure long loneliness like Ian Mitchell.

Mason. I have moved on.

P.S. Wishing you a Merry Christmas in advance.

Mason Scott stared blankly at the screen.

Just two short lines, but it had taken so long to send. Maybe the sender had written it many times, thought about it for a long time.

In that instant, Mason Scott seemed to understand something, but in the next moment, that intuition slipped away.

She moved her mouse to the delete key, hesitated, then moved away, and finally just exited the inbox.

She might never use this email account again.

That letter would quietly lie in some corner of the internet, never opened, yet never disappearing.

Autumn quickly retreated with the arrival of a cold front. Under Ruby’s influence, Mason Scott became obsessed with knitting scarves, but she always messed up the stitches, making them uneven and loose. Ian Mitchell was very grateful for her thoughtfulness, but he just couldn’t bring himself to wrap it around his neck.

On Christmas night, Ian Mitchell invited Amy Mitchell and her boyfriend Zach Wright to dinner. Zach Wright was Amy Mitchell’s boss and boyfriend, a very witty man, and it was the first time Ian Mitchell had met him.

After dinner, they went outside to find that it had already started to snow lightly.

Young people and children were jumping and cheering in the streets for the first snowfall of the winter in City A.

Mason Scott and Amy Mitchell stood by the roadside, waiting for Ian Mitchell and Zach Wright to return with the car. Amy Mitchell smiled and said, “I was going to ask you to be my bridesmaid when I get married next year, but who knew Ian Mitchell couldn’t wait. But I can’t blame him; he probably held back for a long time…” She winked playfully as she spoke.

Mason Scott blushed. Since when did Amy Mitchell become so cheeky?

Amy Mitchell burst out laughing, then turned and saw Zach Wright waving to her from across the street. She said to Mason Scott, “I won’t wait with you. I’ll go first.”

“Okay.” Mason Scott nodded. Amy Mitchell took a few steps, then stopped, but didn’t look back.

“You two must be very happy, even if…” she said softly, almost inaudibly, “it’s for me.”

Mason Scott was taken aback. She was already jogging across the street, never once looking back.

When Ian Mitchell returned, he saw Mason Scott staring at her toes in a daze. “Amy Mitchell left already?”

“Mm.” Mason Scott looked up, but didn’t see the car.

“It’s snowing. Let’s walk home.”

“Oh.”

Her lackluster response surprised Ian Mitchell; he thought she’d be overjoyed.

Mason Scott walked absentmindedly with her head down, nearly bumping into a streetlamp, when a pair of large hands pulled her back just in time.

“What are you daydreaming about? Want to write another self-criticism?” Ian Mitchell frowned.

Mason Scott’s wandering thoughts slowly returned. She looked up at his reproachful face, and suddenly, she just wanted to hug him so much… Her hands moved on their own, slipping inside his coat and wrapping around him: “Ian Mitchell…”

Ian Mitchell was startled by her sudden action and lowered his voice, “What’s wrong?”