“Mm, I—I’m coming over…” I didn’t know what to say, and for a moment, I even panicked a little. If Mason Morgan left because of what I said, I had no idea what he would think.

He didn’t seem to notice anything unusual about me, and asked if I needed something, just like before. I shook my head.

He didn’t say much more, only asked me to have lunch with him.

We went to the Third Canteen to eat.

If we didn’t go to the small restaurants outside, the Third Canteen was the place we visited most often, because Mason Morgan absolutely loved the sweet and sour ribs made by the chef here. She always insisted on lining up early, afraid they’d run out. The server here probably recognized her by now, always giving her a bigger portion than others. When she couldn’t finish, she would use her chopsticks to pick out the pieces one by one and give them to Ian Mitchell. Ian Mitchell didn’t actually like sweet food, but it seemed he never refused.

During the meal, Ian Mitchell was very quiet. He didn’t speak, and I didn’t dare say much either. After we finished and walked out of the canteen, he said to me, “I’ll go to N University with you.”

The moment he said it, I felt a surge of joy, but his next sentence quickly extinguished it.

“Mason Scott’s library card is with you.”

“What…” I said blankly.

“The last time I helped you borrow that book, ‘Monetary Banking,’ I used her library card. The card was left inside the book.” Even though he kept mentioning her, his expression remained calm, and his tone showed no emotion.

“Oh.” I replied dumbly.

We walked all the way to N University. The road was especially quiet today. Ian Mitchell was never much of a talker; it used to be lively only because Mason Morgan would chatter away and pester him the whole way.

When we arrived at my school, he waited downstairs while I ran upstairs.

Earlier, I had to write a paper on ‘Monetary Banking.’ The books on this subject at N University were all old, so I asked Ian Mitchell to help me borrow one from C University’s library. Ian Mitchell’s own library card was maxed out, so he used Mason Morgan’s.

I climbed onto my bed, took out the ‘Monetary Banking’ book, flipped through it quickly, and sure enough, the library card was inside, tucked between the later chapters. I hadn’t noticed it before.

In the photo, Mason Morgan wore a ponytail, her big eyes curved into crescent moons as she smiled, looking bright and sunny.

It was a very familiar smile—I used to see it often not long ago.

Maybe because she was truly happy, her smile was infectious. When she smiled, her dimples would faintly appear, a little mischievous and a little radiant, making people unconsciously feel cheerful with her.

Maybe Ian Mitchell liked her smile for this very reason.

I actually look nice when I smile too, but it’s not the same as hers.

For a second, I wanted to throw away the library card and tell Ian Mitchell I couldn’t find it. But in the end, I still brought it down and watched Ian Mitchell slip it into his pocket.

“She’s already gone.” Watching Ian Mitchell’s lonely figure walk away, I kept telling myself.

No matter how bright her smile was, she was gone, she had exited the stage. Even if Ian Mitchell still missed her for a while, he would soon forget her.

At least now, he seemed very calm.

Back then, I didn’t understand that there’s a kind of calm called “still waters run deep.”

Without Mason Morgan, I actually saw Ian Mitchell less often than before.

No one called me frequently to go to C University, and I couldn’t find as many excuses to go there myself.

So it was much later that I realized how much Ian Mitchell had started smoking.

It’s common for college boys to smoke, and I really didn’t want to connect it to anything else. I kept telling myself it was just the environment, even though it clearly didn’t fit Ian Mitchell’s character.

But knowing is one thing; seeing it with your own eyes is another. Once, I went to their dorm and saw him and his roommates drinking heavily, all slumped over. Actually, it was someone’s birthday in their dorm that day, and everyone was drunk, not just him, but for some reason, I just couldn’t take it anymore.

Ian Mitchell wasn’t like this—he was always self-disciplined, measured in everything he did. I wanted to convince myself he was just celebrating a friend’s birthday, definitely not drowning his sorrows, but the deep gloom between his brows made it impossible to fool myself.

Blind spots I hadn’t noticed before suddenly became clear.

I gradually remembered, when Ian Mitchell said Mason Morgan was clingy, there was a faint smile in his eyes.

Sometimes, when she was a little late, he would get anxious.

No matter how careless she was, he would just frown and help her clean up.

…

There were so many things—why hadn’t I seen them before?

Unknowingly, tears streamed down my face, though I didn’t know for whom.

It turned out he was just trying his best to maintain a calm facade. Now that he was drunk, he couldn’t hold it together anymore, and everything was exposed.

By the time he sobered up, I was much calmer, and just said to him sadly, “If you keep acting like this, not only my parents, but even your aunt and uncle in heaven would be heartbroken.”

And I’m heartbroken too, Ian Mitchell, do you know that?

He was silent for a long time, eyes lowered, his expression hidden in the shadows. After a while, he said dejectedly, “You’re right. I don’t have the right to let myself go.”

So the outstanding, composed Ian Mitchell returned, but I always felt that something was different.

I couldn’t put my finger on it.

Ian Mitchell and I—this is probably how it would be.

Mason Morgan probably never got the chance to tell Ian Mitchell what I said, because he never brought it up.

And I didn’t have the courage to say it again.

I was content with the status quo. It felt like things had gone back to how they were before. There was no progress between us, but at least there wasn’t someone else.

Honestly, I was cowardly, not daring to pursue anything, just hoping that one day he would suddenly turn around and notice me.

But the loneliness only grew stronger.

I was nice to everyone, so I didn’t really have any close friends. After Mason Morgan left, no one asked me to go shopping, no one cheered me on enthusiastically when I tried on clothes, and no one reminded me a month in advance that my birthday was coming…

Vaguely, I realized that I actually liked this friend too.

It’s just that there was Ian Mitchell between us.

4

Four years of college slipped by in the monotony of daily life. When I graduated, I was still alone, which my roommates found miraculous. One of my female classmates graduated with a diploma in one hand and a marriage certificate in the other. After our farewell dinner, we immediately attended her wedding banquet, and it became a campus legend.

When I got my first month’s salary and treated Ian Mitchell to dinner, I told him this story as a joke. He listened, a little absent-minded, and said offhandedly, “I originally planned to get married right after graduation too.”

I stared at him in shock.

He seemed to realize what he’d said, and a trace of sadness flashed in his eyes.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

I slowly calmed myself and said, “Ian Mitchell, my mom asked me last time if you had a girlfriend. You should find a girlfriend, too.”

At that moment, I truly meant what I said. Four wasted years in college had already made me understand that after Mason Morgan, Ian Mitchell might fall in love with someone, but it would never be me. I was no longer the Amy Mitchell of the past. Now, I hoped he could love someone again, and this time, I would sincerely give my blessing.

Even though it hurt.

He brushed off the topic with a few light words.

We spent the meal chatting about random things. When it was time to pay, even though I was supposed to treat, Ian Mitchell still paid the bill.

While waiting for the change, Ian Mitchell got up to use the restroom. The waiter brought the change while he was still gone. Seeing his jacket on the chair, I reached into the pocket for his wallet, intending to put the change inside.

When I opened the wallet, I saw that photo.

It looked like it had been torn from some kind of ID, with the imprint of a seal still visible.

The girl in the photo wore a ponytail, her big eyes curved into crescent moons as she smiled, looking bright and sunny.

It was a very familiar smile, but I hadn’t seen it in a long time.

When Ian Mitchell came back, I was still holding his wallet, lost in thought. It was too late to put it back secretly, so I simply put the money in and handed it to him.

“Here’s your change.”

“Mm.” He nodded and took it, his expression calm, just like when Mason Morgan had first left.

But at that moment, I suddenly understood what that expression meant.

Calm, because he had already made up his mind.

He had decided to wait.

Some people’s wounds heal slowly with time, like mine.

Some people’s wounds fester slowly with time, like his.

All these years, it turned out he had only healed on the surface. Some wounds go deep into the bone, raging where no one can see.

After leaving the restaurant, we walked to the bus stop. At that time, he had only been working for a year, and I had just entered society. Neither of us had much money, so we still took the cheapest transportation—the bus.

We didn’t talk while waiting for the bus. My bus came quickly, and just as it was about to stop, he suddenly called out to me:

“Amy Mitchell.”

I turned to look at him.

The dazzling, colorful city lights of the night reflected on him, making his loneliness stand out even more.