On the first night of the senior year, Huang Lu, returning to the dormitory after a date, was slightly surprised to see Huan’er, “You’re here? I thought you went to see a movie.”

“Hmm?”

“I just saw your Tian Chi at the movie theater, though maybe he was with his brothers…”

Half an hour ago, he’d said over the phone that he was studying in the library, while his roommate had just posted about playing online games.

Huan’er grabbed her coat and ran out, Huang Lu hesitated for a moment before following.

Actually, from the moment she heard the news, she had a bad feeling—throughout the entire break, Tian Chi had seemed somewhat absent-minded, always citing graduation and internship pressure when asked why. Though his grades weren’t outstanding, they certainly weren’t poor enough to make internships difficult. Moreover, with the school’s reputation and his various club activities, Huan’er truly couldn’t understand how much pressure there could be. Never underestimate intuition—in many cases, intuition is simply a concentrated response to subtle abnormalities.

So all the way there, Chen Huan’er was finding reasons, finding reasons to believe him and convince herself.

Like maybe Huang Lu saw wrong, maybe he was with newly made friends, or maybe there was some situation he couldn’t refuse.

In the vast movie theater, all ten halls were showing films. Huan’er silently bought two tickets, about to rush into Hall 1. Huang Lu forcefully pulled her out, speaking with exasperation, “This is the best plan you could come up with? Checking each hall one by one?”

Huan’er remained silent. She had no idea how to search, and for a moment even wondered if what she was doing was right.

Was she making too big a deal of this? Was she being too dismissive of the trust between them?

“Let me ask you one thing,” Huang Lu’s tone softened, “If you see something you shouldn’t, can you handle it?”

Her mind was chaos, various thoughts tangled together, tiny fragments blocking her heart. What if, what if, what if—she had to be able to handle it.

Huan’er nodded to her friend.

“Then follow my lead.” Huang Lu finished speaking and pulled her to the bathroom corridor, using her phone to call Tian Chi.

Once, twice, three times, all unanswered. She sent a message, “Huan’er fell off the bed, we’re going to the hospital, call back quickly.”

The waiting time stretched infinitely.

Huang Lu’s phone began to vibrate, and simultaneously, someone came out to the hallway to make a call.

Huan’er tried to rush over but was held back again until that person re-entered the screening hall, then Huang Lu pulled her to follow stealthily.

The image on the giant screen froze, the surround sound disappeared, the crowd became meaningless symbols, and in the alternating light and shadow, Huan’er saw the person she was searching for, along with a willow-browed girl nestled against his shoulder.

Chen’s mother had once encountered a case, a young woman who might be unable to bear children after suffering trauma to her lower body. During her hospitalization, the legal wife tracked her down to the hospital room, cursing the third party, saying she deserved to die, and that beating her was just teaching her a lesson.

Many people watched, those standing on the moral high ground were furious and aggressive, while the wrongdoer bowed her head in guilt despite her injuries.

That man never appeared, as if he were an outsider to this drama.

Reality is always a hundred times crueler than social news. Back then, Chen Huan’er had remarked to her mother, “How stupid must a man be to get caught with someone on the side?”

Chen’s mother answered, “Either they get careless while hiding, or they’re too confident—confident enough to casually trample the trust between two people.”

Outside the movie theater corridor, Huan’er looked at that all-too-familiar figure across from her. Tian Chi, you’re the latter, right?

Because I trusted you, you knew I would believe whatever you said or did, and our relationship went wrong because of this trust, right?

Isn’t it ironic? Isn’t it laughable? Isn’t it disgusting?

The person standing behind him, Huan’er had seen before, right at the very beginning, the person who came with him to the kickboxing competition.

She didn’t even dare think deeply about it—in their nearly two years together, what kind of life had it been?

How desperate must they be, to date on the very first day of school?

Huang Lu gently wrapped an arm around Huan’er’s shoulders, grabbing twice to try to stop her from shaking so violently, but it was useless. Given the situation, Huang Lu lifted her chin, “Senior, care to explain?”

He wouldn’t explain.

Huan’er knew him—if there had been a misunderstanding, he would have grabbed her in the hall and explained everything in one breath. He definitely wouldn’t have waited until now.

“I’m sorry.” Tian Chi lowered his head, “Huan’er, I’m sorry.”

There was nothing more to say.

Huan’er crumpled the tickets in her hand and threw them at his face, “You can finish watching.”

She tried her best. Her upbringing told her not to curse, her body told her she would hurt someone if she acted now, she couldn’t do anything, didn’t dare do anything.

She pulled Huang Lu and ran out of the theater, running to the street, like a guilt-ridden deserter.

Once safe, her held-back tears came flooding out. Her head hurt, her eyes hurt, her chest hurt—Chen Huan’er had become a complete body of pain, hurting everywhere without being touched, never hurting like this in twenty-some years, hurting so much she wanted to scream wildly and punch walls, hurting until she could barely breathe.

Angry, angry at herself because of the pain. Why hadn’t she noticed anything, why had she been fooled like an idiot, why had she given her true heart why had she thought about a future with him, why run why escape when you’re the injured one who should be righteous?

“Coward, you didn’t do anything wrong, why are you crying?” Huang Lu scolded while pulling out tissues to wipe her tears, “You should have hit him, even if we have to pay compensation if you hurt him badly. If you can’t afford it, I can help.”

Huan’er buried her face in her friend’s embrace, tears streaming down, “I feel so ashamed.”

Ashamed of her complete lack of awareness, of her foolishness and carelessness—Chen Huan’er felt ashamed.

“What does it have to do with you? Tian Chi’s just not a good person.” Huang Lu patted her back comfortingly, “Before, I just thought he was mature and capable, considering everything and able to take care of you and make up for your shortcomings. Forget it, I was blind too.”

Huan’er thought of all the little moments they’d shared, and her tears fell even harder.

“Being able to see someone’s true colors is a good thing, right?” Huang Lu held her face, “Chen Huan’er, say ‘right.'”

“It’s… right…” Huan’er cried so hard she could barely breathe, feeling like she’d spent a lifetime’s worth of heartbreak.

“Alright, alright, you’ve got days of crying ahead, this is just the beginning.” Huang Lu spoke like a veteran, standing up and pulling her wrist, “Let’s go back first.”

“No, I don’t… don’t want to…” Because she was crying so hard, Huan’er couldn’t speak a complete sentence. She struggled for a long while before expressing her meaning—there are too many people in the girls’ dormitory, and I don’t want others to know.

Going back like this, everyone would inevitably ask questions, and she wasn’t at all prepared to handle that.

Huang Lu understood, checking her small bag and looking at the empty-handed heartbreak victim, “Want to come to my place?”

Her friend lived with her parents, and Huan’er shook her head vigorously.

“Then what should we do,” Huang Lu teased intentionally, “We can’t get a hotel room by ourselves.”

They needed someone to bring an ID card.

Someone who wouldn’t mind being known about even in embarrassing situations, someone who could bear anything together.

Huan’er took out her phone and used her remaining rationality to send a message—Xichi, I’m in trouble, bring your ID card and come quickly.

Ten minutes later, Jing Xichi appeared before them in a panic. What followed was somewhat strange—as night approached, a man took two women to get one room, and oddly enough, one girl was sobbing while the other was all smiles. The hotel front desk watched them enter the elevator with endless speculation.

Huang Lu spoke first, “Simply put, we caught Tian Chi in the act at the movie theater, caught red-handed.”

“Damn.” Jing Xichi cursed under his breath.

Hearing this, Huan’er started crying again, her willpower unable to control her tear ducts, tears completely beyond her control.

“You’re hopeless, learned martial arts but only hit people not dogs?” Jing Xichi scolded while offering his arm. Huan’er grabbed his sleeve to wipe her tears and nose.

“What happened?” Jing Xichi asked Huang Lu while rubbing Huan’er’s head.

Huang Lu recounted everything in detail, from leaving the dormitory to the confrontation at the theater.

Jing Xichi listened quietly, finally cursing softly, “Bastard.”

When the door opened, Jing Xichi pushed her straight into the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and forced her to wash her face, “I never liked him, but you were head over heels. Now you’ve learned your lesson…”

Hearing these after-the-fact lectures, Huan’er suddenly felt anger surge from nowhere, tilting her head back to argue loudly, “What use is saying this now? Can time flow backward or make it like nothing happened? It’s already like this, what can I do? Tell me what to do!”

“Who needs to teach you what to do!” Jing Xichi’s face darkened, his tone ice-cold, “What’s the point of running back here crying? Life goes on!”

“I’m hurting! Why don’t I even have the right to feel pain?”

At this moment, she was like a fighting cock at full power, glaring fiercely—if he said one more word, just one, she would lunge forward to bite.

Chen Huan’er was a home tiger.

She knew this was terrible, but Jing Xichi was different from everyone else. She was willing to let him lecture her, unafraid to show him her most wretched side—weak, cowardly, helpless, stripped of all defenses and pretenses, the side that even she was ashamed to face.

This was the deeper connection between them.

No need for frequent meetings, no need for constant contact, no need to let others know they were close—it was being able to fully accept each other’s exposed vulnerabilities, a connection that no words or events could obstruct, an exceptionally solid bond that couldn’t be argued away, cut off, or burned through.

A connection they both understood but never mentioned.

Jing Xichi shook his head indicating he wouldn’t speak further, grabbed a nearby towel, and threw it at her face.

Huang Lu, leaning against the bathroom doorway listening to their argument, now rubbed her throbbing eardrums, “I’ll go buy some alcohol, she won’t settle down without drinking in this state.”

Jing Xichi threw his wallet at her, “Thanks for the trouble.”

Huang Lu caught it, looked at Huan’er, sighed, and left.

Huan’er could hear their voices, but they were like rolling thunder, passing quickly. She just couldn’t control herself, couldn’t extract herself from those memories with Tian Chi.

One moment it was his wet embrace when he said “finally,” the next it was that girl sitting beside him on the day they first met, it was just another ordinary day after class linking arms with him to the cafeteria, then back to the theater where he stood in front of that girl saying sorry.

He said sorry.

When her thoughts paused, Huan’er found herself sitting at the foot of the bed, with only one desk lamp lit in the room, Jing Xichi took a bottle of mineral water from the coffee table, unscrewed the cap, and held it out to her.

She didn’t take it, large tears falling, “Xichi, I want to go home.”

Tears blurred her vision, and she vaguely saw her parents sitting around the dining table, then looking again, there were warm, smiling uncles and aunties at that table, and Song Cong and Jing Xichi.

That was her home.

The gentle haven that a lonely cub relied on most to lick its wounds.

Jing Xichi put down the water and crouched in front of her, reaching out to gently wipe away her tears, “It’s okay, I’m here.”

Huan’er bent down and wrapped her arms around him.

Her nose was too stuffed to smell Jing Xichi’s scent. But she clearly felt the warmth radiating from his body—it was the feeling of home, a peaceful harbor where she could freely show her vulnerability.

“I don’t want to feel this pain either, I don’t know how it turned out like this.” Huan’er’s emotions gradually calmed in the silence, “I’m angry at them but more angry at myself. If I’d discovered earlier I would have kicked him away, what kind of person is he, really not worth it.”

Huan’er rambled on, and Jing Xichi wanted to push her away but felt it would be too cruel to do that to someone heartbroken, tried halfheartedly several times but she was holding too tight, finally unable to bear it anymore he spoke the truth, “Let go, my legs are numb.”

Only then did Huan’er release him, breaking into laughter through her tears.

Jing Xichi supported himself on the bed to stand up, stamping his feet and limping a couple of steps, seeing tears on her face but the corners of her mouth curving up, he snorted a laugh, “You’re the one with the broken heart, why am I spending my money?”

Just then Huang Lu pushed open the door carrying two large bags of beer and snacks, prepared to mediate an argument, but this peaceful scene before her felt somewhat unexpected. Jing Xichi took the things from her hands and put them on the coffee table, and Huang Lu returned his wallet, asking, “Settled down?”

Jing Xichi nodded, seriously asking, “Where’s the receipt?”

“Dream on.” Huan’er rubbed her dry, crying eyes, “There’s no such thing as reimbursement.”

Huang Lu couldn’t help but laugh. One moment they were arguing heaven and earth, the next back to normal, no need for apologies or forgiveness—these two silly souls were finally starting to walk the bright path.

The three sat in a circle, and Huang Lu waved her phone saying, “Sister used all her connections asking around and finally got clear on things. Before pursuing you, Tian Chi was interested in that senior sister, but just as they were getting close he met you, and Tian Chi probably came clean with her directly. The senior was shocked and went abroad for a year, after coming back they slowly resumed contact, and now though nothing’s official, it’s just a matter of time.”

“Did she know about me?” Huan’er was much more stable now, rationality returning.

“Of course, Tian Chi still had your photos on his social media. She just fell deep into it, love comes without reason and runs deep.” Huang Lu secretly glanced at Jing Xichi, “Not everyone can watch from afar and sincerely wish for happiness.”

Her nose began to sting again, and Huan’er quickly took large gulps of beer. Wrong place, wrong time—what she thought had been just right turned out to be all wrong.

“There’s one more thing,” Huang Lu looked at them both, “This needs verification but I think it’s about ninety percent certain. That senior’s family is well-off, her uncle runs a private hospital. You two might not know the hospital’s background, but locals understand what caliber it is—a recovery center for the wealthy and powerful. Tian Chi’s graduating soon, so, yeah.”

No need to explain further, Chen Huan’er understood immediately, except for that brief period of offline intelligence earlier.

Jing Xichi snorted, “Quite the planner.”

Huang Lu shrugged, “There’s no shortage of self-serving people in this world.”

So he would only say sorry, perhaps in his view, what happened today was just a kind of relief.

He had already decided how to choose.

Huan’er suddenly felt it didn’t hurt so much anymore—learning someone’s true nature through a relationship wasn’t such a loss. But she was still sad, for that self who had given her whole heart and cherished him, for that self who had fantasized about holding his hand into old age, for that past self who naively and romantically believed love was just love.

“Drink up, sleep after drinking.” Jing Xichi clinked glasses with them both, downing his in one gulp.

Love ended completely on this autumn night.