That afternoon, Cen Jin returned home with her father. During their parting in the parking lot, Li Wu’s expression was calm, showing little reluctance, but as soon as they left F University’s gates, Cen Jin, sitting in the passenger seat, received a message from the youth: Let me know when you get home.

Cen Jin’s eyes curved into a smile as she glanced at her father focused on driving, then slightly tilted her screen to reply: Are you back in the dorm?

He responded: Yes, got my military training uniform.

Cen Jin asked: What does it look like?

Li Wu replied: Camouflage.

Cen Jin: Seems like it’s the same as what we had.

He took the initiative to ask: Want me to take a photo wearing it for you?

Cen Jin froze briefly, then covered her mouth and laughed when she realized: No need, your new roommates will think you’re strange.

Li Wu said: You weren’t worried about people thinking it was strange when you asked for my school uniform photos before.

As if she had some peculiar hobby, Cen Jin’s face warmed slightly: How old were you then? What’s wrong with a family wanting a photo?

The other side went quiet for a moment, then replied: But my roommates all thought I was sending it to an online girlfriend.

This comment struck like a guitar pick, making Cen Jin’s heartstrings tremble: You admitted it?

Li Wu replied: I said I wasn’t, but they didn’t believe me, so later I just went along with it.

She deliberately scolded: So your head was full of all this nonsense back then, no wonder you only ranked 89th in your first monthly exam.

The youth admitted frankly: Yes, it was either studying or you.

Cen Jin couldn’t resist this kind of honesty, this complete openness. Her smile wouldn’t leave her face, and if it weren’t for her father asking during a red light “Jingin, what are you looking at that’s making you so happy?”, she might have kept smiling until she got out of the car. She quickly composed herself, switched to Weibo, and said: “Just funny videos.”

Not daring to be too unrestrained, after returning home, Cen Jin retreated to her room and advised in an elder’s tone: Even though you’re a university student now, you still need to study diligently and consistently.

Li Wu returned to being that obedient good child: Okay.

Cen Jin continued her reminders: Remember to get along harmoniously with your roommates. Although the university doesn’t have as much classroom time as high school, dorm relationships aren’t any simpler than in high school.

Li Wu responded with an “mm”: I just went to the library with Xu Shuo.

Cen Jin asked: How is it?

Li Wu said: Feels like we couldn’t finish reading all the books here in four years.

Cen Jin recalled the image of her alma mater’s library: Of course not. Did you visit the Guanghua Building?

Li Wu: Yes.

He was walking the paths she once walked—brilliant sunlight, dense green shade—Cen Jin imagined it this way and suddenly felt at peace about Li Wu’s questionable school choice. She sighed slightly and replied: It’s a new crossroads, Li Wu, keep running forward freely, this time you don’t need me to lead the way.

The chat box was quiet for a moment, then came the reply: Then you stand still.

Cen Jin laughed: I can’t stand right now.

Li Wu replied: Then sit still.

Cen Jin knew what he wanted to say, but still couldn’t help asking: Why?

The youth replied without hesitation: Wait for me to run to you.

—

After military training, Professor Zhang from the department connected with Li Wu, along with his roommate Xu Shuo.

Xu Shuo’s academic achievements weren’t particularly outstanding, but he had won several physics competition awards in middle school. He was naturally gifted from a young age, curious about everything, and determined to pursue this path to the end and dedicate his life to it. In this broad direction, he coincidentally aligned with Li Wu.

After joining the laboratory, the two freshmen didn’t have enough theoretical foundation yet and could only make up for it by reading more literature and materials. Usually, they followed senior students around, helping out while learning operational mechanisms and data recording.

Besides attending required, elective, and general education courses, Li Wu would go jogging on the track early every morning, mentally reciting English in the thin mist. The rest of his time was spent in the library, studying professional books. Of course, he also joined a niche club, the Bridge Club, making card games one of his few leisure activities.

The neighboring drama troupe, seeing his good looks and voice, tried several times to recruit him, but Li Wu declined, saying he had no time for rehearsals.

When Cen Jin learned of this, she nearly laughed out loud at the company, mocking him: Your mental age can’t be less than forty.

The youth responded matter-of-factly: So you shouldn’t complain about me being too young anymore.

Seeing how good he was at turning things to his advantage, Cen Jin couldn’t help but put him down: I don’t like middle-aged men either.

Li Wu replied: Average it with my physical age, and I’m exactly your age.

Cen Jin’s hands paused over the keyboard, smiling without words. After a while, her smile gradually faded, slowly giving rise to a sense of disconnection and desolation about “young men growing up and away.”

She could feel that the rich and colorful university life was making this child increasingly outgoing and confident, radiating youth.

Everything was as she had predicted—under the vast sky and earth, besides studying, he didn’t need just her anymore.

Although Li Wu would vividly describe and report his daily life to her every day, she remained an outsider, an observer.

He would also ask about her work and life, but Cen Jin couldn’t say much, usually summarizing in a few words, mainly because the repetitive corporate life had nothing worth elaborating on, mostly negative complaints that would only dampen spirits and make him worry prematurely about future social life.

She preferred not to say anything.

The consequence of not saying anything was that the youth felt neglected, and occasionally when it reached that threshold, he would call her or send voice messages, wanting to hear her voice. At home, Cen Jin would answer and chat for a while, but at work during overtime, she would basically hang up immediately, sometimes not even replying with a single word.

After several times, the youth was somewhat dissatisfied, but wouldn’t confront the woman directly, just silently exercising in the dorm to cope.

The other two in the dorm particularly admired Li Wu’s abundant energy, feeling that he and Xu Shuo had seventy-two hours a day to arrange their activities.

Especially after a busy day, he could still do several sets of sit-ups on his bed without changing his expression.

Although roommate Zhong Wenxuan was used to it, he couldn’t help asking: “Li Wu, aren’t you tired? You even had basketball class this afternoon.”

Li Wu paused his movement, let out a quick breath, picked up his phone from beside his pillow, and after confirming that Cen Jin still hadn’t sent any message, said “not tired” with a stern face, then continued.

At midnight, the young men with their vigorous hormone secretion would occasionally talk about girls in their class or beauties from other departments.

Zhong Wenxuan was from the Northeast, with an extremely amusing accent: “That senior Gu Yitong from our School of Economics and Management is so pretty, and she’s from the same place as Xu Shuo, those Jiangnan water towns nurture people well.”

Xu Shuo asked: “Got any photos?”

Zhong Wenxuan quickly scrolled through his Moments: “Yes, she just posted a selfie today, wait, I’ll send it to the dorm group.”

Xu Shuo opened it and looked, his tone flat: “Just okay, girls like this are all over the streets back home.”

Zhong Wenxuan exclaimed: “Damn, I’m going to your place for graduate school then.”

Zhong Wenxuan went to seek Li Wu’s agreement: “Li Wu, did you look?”

Cen Jin was busy with work, and Li Wu had nothing to do, focusing on a puzzle game: “Not yet.”

“Look at it.” Zhong Wenxuan complained: “I picked the prettiest one.”

Xu Shuo said: “How could Li Wu find her pretty, she’s not as beautiful as Li Wu’s sister.”

Li Wu’s finger paused, then heard another roommate Wen Hui ask: “What does Li Wu’s sister look like? I’ve only heard Xu Shuo mention her, it’s a shame I came too late on registration day and missed the chance to see the beautiful sister.”

Xu Shuo recalled: “How to put it… unforgettable, she’s the type of sophisticated older sister I like.”

Zhong Wenxuan said: “I didn’t think so, I only remember her leg was lame.”

“She just had a leg injury, okay,” Xu Shuo asked: “Li Wu, is your sister’s leg better now?”

Wen Hui was dying of curiosity: “Li Wu, do you have any photos of your sister?”

Li Wu directly closed the game interface, remained silent in the darkness for a moment, and then spoke: “She’s not my sister.”

Xu Shuo was surprised: “Then who is she to you?”

Li Wu said: “My sponsor from high school.”

A chorus of exclamations rose in the dorm. Xu Shuo suddenly turned into an encyclopedia of questions: “So you guys are close, huh? She even came to see you off when she couldn’t walk. Is she local? Is her family rich? Is she married?”

“None of your business.” Li Wu spat out these four words severely, like planting an ice pick in the air.

Since they had been going everywhere together like brothers, this was the first time Li Wu had been so harsh to him. Xu Shuo was stunned for a moment, then said sheepishly: “I was just asking.”

—

After returning to work, Cen Jin was extremely busy. She held an important position, and when she took back her projects, they were basically all “difficult cases” waiting for her to solve one by one.

The male university student’s daily “schedule brief” in her WeChat became one of her few joys in her busy days, like a phone screen-sized ivory tower she could squeeze into, reliving the small happiness of student days.

Sometimes Li Wu would send her some photos, like new dishes in the cafeteria, the purple-red gradient sky at dusk, and his small medal from winning the bridge club tournament.

While finding it adorable, Cen Jin was also somewhat troubled, unable to think of anything equivalent to share in return, as the recent fatigue had worn away what little romantic sentiment she had left. She could only offer some casual praise to avoid disappointing the young boy.

As autumn turned to winter, after more than a month of running around like a hamster wheel, Cen Jin’s workload finally began to stabilize, and she found her previous order and rhythm.

When she had time, she bought a laptop of the same model as her own, planning to give it to Li Wu on his nineteenth birthday.

During a meeting that day, Li Wu again silently sent a voice message. Cen Jin glanced at the screen and immediately disconnected it.

She thought for a moment and explained the reason: Busy.

There was no more movement from the other side.

Cen Jin lowered her eyes and waited for a while, then turned her phone face down beside her, crossed her hands to support her chin, and continued watching the big screen.

—

On New Year’s Eve, Yi City encountered its heaviest snowfall in years. Heaven and earth merged into one color as snowflakes tumbled like goose feathers all day, only subsiding towards evening.

Buildings and alleys were wrapped in silver, with vehicles moving carefully on the roads.

Despite the bitter cold and poor road conditions, Li Wu patiently took several subway transfers to hurry back.

He wanted to give Cen Jin a surprise, so he hadn’t informed her in advance, planning to call her when he reached her company building.

By the time he reached the city center, small snowflakes were falling again, illuminated by the city lights like floating star particles.

Li Wu came out of the subway station, hands in his pockets, walking towards Jiuli Building. Just thinking about seeing Cen Jin soon made his smile unstoppable as he continuously exhaled white mist.

As he approached the crosswalk, the red light suddenly came on.

He stopped with the crowd, took out his phone from his grey coat pocket, and opened WeChat to look at the pinned chat, staring at it, thinking about when would be the right time to tell her.

After thinking, he put it back, fingered the small gift box in his other coat pocket, then raised his face again, his gaze carelessly sweeping across the crowd, looking towards the other side of the road.

The next moment, his dark eyes gathered light.

The woman he thought about day and night was standing on the opposite side, waiting for the same red light.

But she wasn’t looking straight ahead, slightly turning her head, chatting and laughing with a man beside her. The man was in a suit, half a head taller than her, looking down at her, also smiling. They were very close, and after a moment, he suddenly raised his hand, lingering near her temple for two seconds before lowering it back. She was surprised for a moment, touched the same spot, then pointed at his suit lapel. Hearing her words, the man’s smile deepened as he went to brush his chest.

Li Wu guessed he might have removed a snowflake from her hair.

At that moment, the snow seemed to freeze in the sky.

The green figure on the traffic light began to rhythmically alternate its legs.

Crowds from both sides moved towards the center of the road, converging. Only one person remained motionless.

Li Wu’s jaw tensed, his eye sockets rapidly reddening, and his legs seemed glued to the ground, completely unable to step forward. He just stood there, watching the two of them walk this way, not even watching where they were going as if they had endless topics to discuss.

In that second, he realized that in Cen Jin’s multiple choice question, he wasn’t even worth being option A, he didn’t even qualify for D, and there would never be a place for him.

Just as the woman was about to turn her head, bang—like a bell struck in his mind, Li Wu seemed to pull himself out of a nightmare, his senses reviving, and he quickly turned and left the spot.