“Definitely not.” She shook her head without even thinking, and said dejectedly, “Besides, I wouldn’t dare.”

The more time I spent with them, the more I felt that Ian Mitchell would accept Mason Morgan probably just because of a momentary loneliness.

I was probably just a brief detour in Ian Mitchell’s life, and would soon disappear. Because they were so incompatible—one calm and reserved, the other passionate and impulsive; one mature too early, the other too naive. All I needed was patience, patience to wait for Ian Mitchell to realize for himself just how unsuitable they were.

However, that scene at Jingyuan shattered all my confidence.

So, this is how they were when I couldn’t see them.

So intimate…

So…

The scene at Jingyuan flashed through my mind. I turned over and buried my head in the pillow. Several days had passed, but whenever I thought of that moment, my heart still ached as if it were being pulled apart.

The dorm lights were already off, but a few chatty roommates were still awake, chattering about the boys in our department. I was never interested in these discussions, but this time I couldn’t help but ask, “If a guy doesn’t really like a girl, would he kiss her?”

An answer came immediately.

“As long as he doesn’t dislike her, what’s a kiss? He could even sleep with her. Amy Mitchell, did someone kiss you?” one of my roommates asked excitedly.

I stared at the ceiling, not responding.

So you can kiss someone even if you don’t like them. So, could it be that Ian Mitchell doesn’t actually like her that much?

My roommate kept going: “Amy Mitchell, come on, did someone kiss you? Don’t worry, if it’s you, he must like you. You have such good qualities, you’re so pretty, and you’re smart…”

I listened to her ramble on in a daze.

What’s the use of having good qualities? He doesn’t like me anyway.

But if Mason Morgan had so many more advantages than me, maybe I wouldn’t feel so unwilling. But she actually falls short in so many ways.

Why should it be her?

That night, I fell asleep amidst a jumble of thoughts.

In the days that followed, I still went to University C, still ate with them, but I never again felt the same calm certainty as before.

Gradually, I realized that even if Ian Mitchell didn’t like me, I no longer wanted to be his “sister.”

So, a little over a month later, I arranged to meet Mason Morgan.

I sat in KFC, preparing myself mentally.

Mason Morgan walked by outside the window with her small backpack. She saw me, waved through the glass, and walked in with a spring in her step.

She looked like she was in a great mood. I’d long noticed that when she was happy, she’d almost bounce as she walked.

After the business school moved to this campus, the first time I went to University C, it was her who came to pick me up. Back then, I was waiting at the school gate for Ian Mitchell, but from afar I saw her walking lightly, almost skipping, down the tree-lined avenue of University C. Sunlight filtered through the dense leaves, dappling her with light, as if she was melting into the sunshine.

“Yimei, hello. Mitchell (classmate) has a meeting, so he sent me to pick you up.” She had smiled at me then. Now, with the same light steps, she walked up to me: “Yimei, you’re here so early.”

She sat down across from me. “What should we eat? I have coupons.” She took out a stack of coupons from her bag and spread them on the table to study.

“Anything’s fine.”

“Then I’ll order you a kids’ meal, and give the toy to Ian Mitchell to play with.” She said it with a completely serious face.

I knew she was joking, but I couldn’t even force a smile. I almost hated her lightheartedness, which stood in such stark contrast to my own tension.

She went to line up, leaving me to hold our seats.

The line was a bit long, and she was at the end. She craned her neck, bouncing to see the menu ahead, not noticing the people beside her. She accidentally knocked over a guy’s Coke, and then flustered to clean up the mess.

I thought, if Ian Mitchell were here now, he’d definitely frown and then go help her out of trouble.

What could a girl like her bring to Ian Mitchell? She and Ian Mitchell were from completely different worlds. She shone so brightly in her ignorance, she could never enter Ian Mitchell’s inner world. Ian Mitchell needed someone who could help and take care of him, not a girlfriend he’d have to constantly look after.

She came back with the tray, the right cuff of her sleeve soaked with Coke. She didn’t care, and said sheepishly, “Yimei, don’t tell Ian Mitchell I messed up again.”

I nodded, absentmindedly eating a few fries.

“Moshen.” I called her.

She sipped her Coke and looked up at me, her dark eyes meeting mine.

I avoided her gaze and said quickly, “Ian Mitchell and I aren’t siblings. Our families used to be close neighbors, both surnamed He, so the adults gave us similar names. Later, after Ian Mitchell’s parents had an accident, my family took him in.”

I finished in one breath. She just stared at me, straw in her mouth, not reacting at all.

Suddenly I grew impatient, and said more forcefully, “Didn’t you understand? We’re not real siblings. We’re not related by blood at all.”

“Yimei, are you joking?” She finally reacted, but it was the kind of answer that annoyed me.

“Ian Mitchell never said…” She was clearly at a loss.

“Why would Ian Mitchell tell you about our family? Has Ian Mitchell ever told you anything important?” Seeing her face suddenly go pale, I knew I’d hit her weak spot. Sometimes, watching them together, it didn’t look like a couple at all—more like an adult with a child. Would an adult tell a child anything important?

Later, in the business world, someone once commented about me: “Amy Mitchell, you’re the classic case of appearances being deceiving. You look so gentle and easy to bully, but you’re actually the most calculating, always striking at the weakest spot.”

I would smile and listen, and sometimes I’d remember that the first time I used this skill was on an afternoon like this, against my good friend—a girl who, in truth, had no confidence in her own love.

Back then, who had confidence in their relationship? Me, Ian Mitchell’s friends, Mason Morgan’s friends—we all thought they were so incompatible, that they’d break up sooner or later.

At that time, probably only Ian Mitchell believed they would last forever.

And he was wrong for being too confident.

Looking at the clearly shaken Mason Morgan, I dropped the second bomb: “I wanted to tell you today that I love Ian Mitchell. I don’t want to love him in secret anymore. I want to compete with you openly and honestly.”

While she was still reeling, I softly added, “Mason Morgan, do you think you can compare to the twenty years of childhood friendship we share?”

After saying all this, I got up and left. As I pushed open the door, I actually thought: she hadn’t even eaten what she bought—would she still have the appetite?

For the next few days, I stayed at my own school and didn’t go to University C.

Thinking it over, I realized I was actually very cowardly, maybe even despicable. I didn’t dare confess my feelings to Ian Mitchell directly, so I went to Mason Morgan instead, hoping she’d tell Ian Mitchell for me.

I never saw you as a brother, you know?

How would Ian Mitchell answer her?

I kept imagining Ian Mitchell’s answer, trapped in a mood that was both hopeless and full of hope. But after a week with no news from either of them, that feeling turned into anxiety.

I picked up the phone several times, but didn’t know who to call. Mason Morgan? After last time, we’d basically fallen out, right? Then Ian Mitchell?

Time dragged on, making me feel as if I’d been abandoned and forgotten by them. After another two days, I finally couldn’t help going to University C, only to find that in just a few days, everything had changed completely.

Mason Morgan was gone.

Someone said she’d gone to America.

3

The impact of Mason Morgan’s departure on Ian Mitchell only became clear to me years later. At the time, I even thought the effect was minimal, because Ian Mitchell’s behavior then could only be described as calm.

That day, I went to University C to find him, nervous and uneasy.

There was an unwritten rule at University C: “No boys in the girls’ dorm, but girls can barge into the boys’ dorm.” So I made my way to Ian Mitchell’s dorm without any trouble.

Ian Mitchell wasn’t there.

His roommates already knew me, and the first thing they asked was if I knew that Mason Morgan had left.

I was stunned.

Before Ian Mitchell came back, his roommates told me everything they knew, and at the end, urged me to comfort Ian Mitchell, saying that a heartless girl like that wasn’t worth missing.

I didn’t hear a word after that. I’d imagined many scenarios, but never that Mason Morgan would just leave like that. My mind kept turning: why did she leave so decisively? Was it, as they said, to go abroad without saying goodbye, or was it because of what I said? And did she mention to Ian Mitchell what I told her?

Just as I was feeling restless, Ian Mitchell came back from the department office. He looked all right, just a bit haggard, a somber cloud between his brows, a shadow in his eyes.

I stood up.

“Yimei.” He called me, his voice calm.