The elevator went up and down several times, and the person outside its doors, oblivious, stood there with her head down, as if she’d forgotten the passage of time, not even aware of when exactly her call with Zhong Ya had ended.

“Are you getting on?”

A neighbor stepped into the elevator in the hallway and, seeing Zhu Wenshu standing there for so long, couldn’t help but remind her.

“Hm? Oh, sorry.”

Zhu Wenshu quickly stepped in just before the doors closed.

The floor numbers ticked silently downward; the elevator descended at its usual steady pace.

But Zhu Wenshu felt an unprecedented sense of weightlessness, the world spinning, as if she might lose her footing at any second.

The elevator stopped at the ground floor, but she didn’t even notice.

The neighbor had already stepped out, then turned back, a little concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Oh… I’m fine.”

Zhu Wenshu stepped out of the elevator mechanically, then stopped again after a couple of steps, off to the side.

How could this be?

How could this possibly be.

As Zhu Wenshu emerged from her dizzy daze, the question surfaced in her mind, gradually growing, then scattering wildly through her thoughts like a flock of startled sparrows.

Her ears buzzed, her thoughts tangled like chaotic threads, snarling around her feet like wildly overgrown vines.

It must be a misreading.

She lowered her head and opened her phone again, staring at that hacked message over and over.

Those four ordinary, common characters had begun to look strange under her scrutiny, almost unrecognizable.

She even wondered if she’d somehow picked up the wrong phone.

Her mind went blank one moment, then spun in circles the next, unable to convince herself this was real.

Then another message came in from Zhong Ya.

【Zhong Ya】: ?

【Zhong Ya】: Where’d you go?

【Zhong Ya】: We were talking and you just hung up on me.

Zhu Wenshu’s fingers felt oddly unsteady; it took her a long while to type a reply.

【Zhu Wenshu】: Got another call just now.

【Zhong Ya】: Oh, did you see it? What’s your nickname, hahaha, tell me?

Lit-tle. Silk-worm.

She mistyped the four characters several times before finally completing them.

Just before sending, Zhu Wenshu suddenly snapped back to herself and deleted it immediately.

What if she’d gotten it wrong.

That would be so embarrassing.

【Zhu Wenshu】: It’s just my name.

【Zhong Ya】: Ugh, fair enough.

【Zhong Ya】: Though I already guessed as much, I have to say, Ling Chen really does play favorites.

【Zhong Ya】: How come you get an actual name and I’m just Sixth Person, Row Five! Just because you’re pretty?

Was it because she was pretty?

Zhu Wenshu had always known she was fairly attractive.

But her life had always followed a very ordinary path, never even leaving the world of education for work—Ling Chen, this celebrity classmate of hers, was practically the sole exception.

She’d never had any contact with the glitz and glamour of that world; even at Ling Siyuan’s birthday party, held in an ordinary home, she’d felt out of place just from the presence of a few celebrities. She’d never once thought she could be more beautiful than the actresses around Ling Chen.

So she didn’t think, either, that she could be the “unforgettable,” “unrequited” first love Zhang Yuming had spoken of.

Zhu Wenshu lowered her head again, scrolling back through the class group chat.

After all, with something like a hacked account, there was a good chance of errors.

Same crowd chattering away enthusiastically; the topic had long since shifted from the nicknames to other things.

Zhu Wenshu scrolled through slowly, reading one message after another—there were quite a few, like Wang Junguan’s, where names had clearly been gotten wrong.

Could hers have been a mistake too?

But if it were a mistake, it should have come out as something like “Zhu Shuwen” or some similar mix-up of her actual name—how could it turn into four completely unrelated characters instead?

Without realizing it, Zhu Wenshu had already reached the entrance of her apartment complex.

A taxi passed by, and seeing her standing on the roadside, slowed down.

The driver turned to glance out the window, and meeting Zhu Wenshu’s gaze—she hadn’t looked away—assumed she wanted a ride and pulled over.

“Miss, are you getting in?”

Zhu Wenshu answered blankly, and got into the taxi like someone without any will of her own.

The taxi pulled away, and after a while, with Zhu Wenshu still silent, the driver spoke up first. “Where to?”

Zhu Wenshu’s mind went blank again; for a moment she’d forgotten where she was even headed.

She struggled to gather her thoughts—”West District Bus Terminal” nearly made it to her lips, then got swallowed back down.

After a while, just as the driver was about to pull over, he finally heard Zhu Wenshu say quietly from the back seat, “The concert. Ling Chen’s concert.”

“Oh, that’s a bit far.”

The driver had seen the massive posters hanging at the provincial gymnasium a few days earlier, so he didn’t need to ask for the specific address. “Highway or the ring road?”

“Whichever…”

“Highway means toll fees, just so you know.”

“…Mm.”

After nearly thirty minutes on the road, the taxi pulled up outside the provincial gymnasium.

Getting out, Zhu Wenshu checked the time and only then realized it wasn’t even three o’clock yet.

Yet the plaza in front of the venue was already packed—aside from vendors selling glow sticks and merchandise, there were also clusters of fans, holding all sorts of things, taking photos in front of various standees.

Standing there alone, Zhu Wenshu felt momentarily lost, unsure whether she should find somewhere else to go or just wait here.

Looking up at the LED screen on the venue, Zhu Wenshu eventually found a spot on the edge of a flower bed and sat down.

Looking around, all sorts of advertisements of different sizes surrounded her—some Ling Chen’s photo, some just his name—even the fans who’d arrived hours early seemed to carry the label “Ling Chen” as if branded onto them.

Taking it all in only pulled Zhu Wenshu, already dazed, into a murkier state of mind.

She found it harder and harder to imagine that she could be that person.

Never mind whether Ling Chen, someone in the entertainment industry, could really be unable to forget a high school classmate.

Even if he could—it shouldn’t be her, of all people.

Zhu Wenshu thought back to her high school years, and she really didn’t feel there had been any unforgettable moments between her and Ling Chen.

Ling Chen hadn’t even once initiated a conversation with her.

Back in high school, Zhu Wenshu had been quite popular, not only because she was a good student and pretty, but also because of her easygoing personality, with none of the aloofness that often came with being a top student—she often helped classmates with problems.

Having rarely experienced being snubbed, Zhu Wenshu was fairly proactive by nature; she never had thoughts like “if I approach this person, I might get a cold shoulder.” From a young age, she’d always been able to get along easily even with more introverted classmates.

Ling Chen was one of the very few exceptions.

Zhu Wenshu tried to trace back, searching for any detail suggesting Ling Chen had liked her back in high school, but found nothing no matter how hard she racked her brain.

She pulled out her phone again, scrolling to her chat with Ling Chen, staring blankly at their message history.

Their conversation had stopped two days ago, when Ling Chen sent her a photo from rehearsal.

Now that the concert was actually here tonight, he hadn’t asked again.

Zhu Wenshu sighed, her fingers hovering repeatedly over the keyboard, but she still couldn’t figure out how to bring it up.

This kind of thing—how could she possibly ask.

Suddenly, an incoming call interrupted Zhu Wenshu’s daze.

Her breath caught, then relaxed once she saw the caller ID.

“Xue’er, what’s up?”

“Teacher Zhu, are you coming? You never replied to my messages.”

Shi Xue’er asked.

Shi Xue’er had asked before, but Zhu Wenshu had never given a definite answer.

She must have sent more messages recently that Zhu Wenshu hadn’t seen, and right now she didn’t have the mind to go check.

“Sorry, I’ve been busy and missed your messages.”

“Oh, no worries. So did you already go home for your birthday?”

“No.”

Zhu Wenshu looked down at her knees. “I’m still in Jiangcheng.”

“Really?! So you’re coming to the concert, then?”

Zhu Wenshu didn’t have the heart to admit she was already there.

“Mm, I’ll be there.”

“Great!”

Shi Xue’er continued, “But won’t you miss your birthday at home, then? Didn’t you say your relatives were all waiting for you?”

After a pause, Zhu Wenshu said, “I got the date wrong. I thought the concert was on Christmas Day.”

Shi Xue’er, busy doing her makeup at the moment, didn’t scrutinize the logic and just laughed.

“I really can’t believe you didn’t even check the date on your ticket properly?! Ling Chen’s Christmas concert has always been held on Christmas Eve.”

Backstage, in the middle of the hectic pre-concert rush, everyone was moving around like they had wings on their feet.

Only the area centered around the green room remained quiet.

Today, the partnered video platform’s own media team had come to conduct the pre-concert interview, and all the staff passing through this area seemed to instinctively soften their footsteps, keeping their mouths shut, wary of interfering with the recording.

Ling Xingyan stood behind the camera with Lu Manman, glancing at his watch every so often, his expression growing worse and worse.

This host wasn’t very professional, reading straight from the script without deviation, clearly not having done enough preparation. Many times, she failed to dig deeper into Ling Chen’s answers.

Ling Chen himself was someone who spoke carefully and reservedly in front of cameras to begin with, and the whole interview played out like a dull game of question-and-answer.

And with a flow this awkward, the host still couldn’t manage the pacing well—the agreed interview time was almost up, and there was still plenty of content left uncovered.

He turned and shot a look at Lu Manman; she caught his meaning and found a good spot to signal the host with body language to watch the time.

Seeing this, the host’s expression flickered nervously, and her speech grew stiff.

“Let’s move on to our final question.” She quickly glanced at the script, skipping over some of the setup. “This year you only held today’s Christmas concert—do you have plans for a world tour next year?”

Ling Chen, still in his gray hoodie, hadn’t changed yet, his hand propped against his temple, his speech slowing further from the tedium of the host’s questions.

“There’ll be a new album next year. No tour plans for now.”

The host stumbled again, and Ling Chen glanced at her lazily before adding, “But the Christmas concert will go on as usual.”

“Oh… what a shame, that…”

The host laughed awkwardly. “But is Christmas next year on a weekend? What if it falls on a weekday?”

“…”

Hearing this question, the atmosphere in the green room grew even heavier; even the cameraman behind the lens couldn’t help but rub his forehead.

Sensing the shift in the air around her, the host coughed awkwardly, trying to recover, but her mind blanked for a second and her mouth carried the topic forward on its own.

“Since it’s called the Christmas concert, why isn’t it held on Christmas Day itself, but on Christmas Eve instead?”

Ling Chen, who had been politely watching the host the whole time, suddenly lowered his eyes at this question, seemingly looking at something.

After a few seconds, just as the host was starting to think Ling Chen wouldn’t answer this question, she heard him say quietly.

“Because.”

His gaze grew hazy, unfocused. “Today is my Christmas.”

Shi Xue’er and Zhu Qisen had dinner together, then arrived at the venue at five-twenty.

On the way, Zhu Qisen had grumbled the whole time, complaining that Shi Xue’er was arriving way too early—the concert didn’t start until seven, so what was the point of standing out in the cold wind?

But it turned out Zhu Wenshu had beaten them there by even more.

The two of them, hand in hand, wove around the crowd toward Zhu Wenshu, waving to her amid the festive commotion.

“Zhu Wenshu!”

The plaza was already packed by this point, chaotic and crowded.

But Zhu Wenshu sat at the edge of the flower bed in a daze, completely oblivious to their calling.

“Hello! Earth to Zhu Wenshu!”

Shi Xue’er swiftly slapped Zhu Wenshu on the shoulder. “What are you thinking about!”

Zhu Wenshu snapped back to attention, her eyes still hazy with confusion.

“Oh, you two are here.”

“We spotted you from a mile away, and you didn’t even respond when we called!”

Shi Xue’er squeezed in to sit beside Zhu Wenshu. “Why’d you come so early?”

“Nothing to do, so I figured I’d just come now.”

Just as she finished speaking, a gust of cold wind swept past and Zhu Wenshu sneezed unexpectedly.

Zhu Qisen: “…”

Truly couldn’t understand women.

“You two sit here, I’ll go get some hot milk tea.”

With so many people around, even traffic police had been dispatched to manage the crowd.

Zhu Qisen was gone for a long while. Meanwhile, Shi Xue’er pulled Zhu Wenshu along, wandering among the various vendor stalls.

Noticing Zhu Wenshu staring at a headband on one of the stalls, Shi Xue’er leaned in and whispered, “Don’t bother looking, that won’t fit over your hairstyle.”

Zhu Wenshu didn’t say anything.

Shi Xue’er pulled her along to another stall. “Did you bring your own glow stick? If not, let’s buy one.”

Getting no response for a while, Shi Xue’er tugged at her sleeve.

“Teacher Zhu? Why are you so out of it?”

“Hm?”

Zhu Wenshu, staring at the glow sticks on the stall, suddenly recalled the sticky note she’d received a long time ago.

“Let’s buy one.”

She picked one out, then turned to look around.

“Is there… anywhere selling flowers?”

“Flowers?”

Shi Xue’er laughed. “You don’t seriously think we can go up on stage and hand him flowers, do you?”

Zhu Wenshu wasn’t sure either.

She thought it over for a moment, then still said, “Let’s buy a bouquet.”

Shi Xue’er studied Zhu Wenshu’s expression and suddenly caught on.

“Ah, right, you’re his nephew’s teacher. Maybe he’ll give you that courtesy.”

Saying this got her excited too. “I’ll buy a bouquet too! Maybe I can ride your coattails and give him flowers as well!”

But scanning around, the two of them couldn’t spot any flower vendors.

So Shi Xue’er called Zhu Qisen, asking him to bring back two bouquets.

Nearly twenty minutes later, Zhu Qisen showed up carrying two bouquets and three cups of milk tea.

It helped that he was tall—anyone else might not have been able to carry two such large bouquets in one arm.

As he handed them over, Zhu Wenshu looked closely and frowned slightly.

“Why are these roses?”

Zhu Qisen said, “Roses were all that was left, unless you wanted chrysanthemums, but those are bad luck.”

Fair enough.

By the time the three of them got back to the flower bed, there wasn’t any space left, so they just found an open spot to stand.

As the time drew closer, Shi Xue’er’s excitement started showing physically, and she took out her phone to take photos everywhere.

“Teacher Zhu?”

Suddenly, Shi Xue’er waved her ticket in front of Zhu Wenshu’s face. “Teacher Zhu, are you there?”

Zhu Wenshu blinked. “Hm?”

“Take out your ticket, let’s take a photo together.”

“Oh, sure.”

The moment she reached for her bag, Zhu Wenshu’s mind suddenly exploded.

She’d originally planned not to come today.

Then she’d gotten that hacked message and had gotten into the car in a daze.

So—

She hadn’t brought her ticket!

Seeing Zhu Wenshu’s face go completely white, Shi Xue’er froze too.

“Don’t tell me you… forgot it?!”

“Wait.”

Zhu Wenshu immediately called Ying Fei.

But this was around the time her roommate would be sleeping; several calls in a row went unanswered.

Zhu Wenshu’s heart was pounding at an alarming rate. She breathed heavily and looked up at Ling Chen on the LED screen.

“I’ll go back and get it now.”

“What? Will you make it? It’s almost six!”

“I’ll make it or I won’t, there’s no other choice.”

Pressing her lips tightly together, Zhu Wenshu dropped this line and ran toward the exit of the venue.

Because of the traffic jam, she headed straight for the subway station without hesitation.

Once she reached an area with better traffic, she got out and hailed a taxi instead.

After a roundabout forty minutes, she made it home, ran upstairs, gasping for breath the whole way, and yanked open a drawer.

Ever since receiving the ticket, she’d kept it tucked inside her notebook.

Flipping the notebook open and seeing the ticket, she froze in place for a moment.

All she could hear was her own heart pounding.

She stared at it silently for a long while, then snatched it up—

It was now the peak of rush hour, and Zhu Wenshu still chose to take the subway back.

The car was packed tight; only after a few stops did the space around her loosen up a little.

By now it was already six-fifty.

With three stops still to go, Zhu Wenshu hurriedly pulled out her phone.

Only to find that Ling Chen had messaged her half an hour ago.

【c】: Are you here yet?

Her heart, which had only just calmed down, began racing wildly again.

Zhu Wenshu stood among the crowd, took a deep breath.

【Zhu Wenshu】: I’m here.

But Ling Chen didn’t reply again, probably already having set his phone down.

Zhu Wenshu, brows tightly knit, messaged Shi Xue’er instead.

【Zhu Wenshu】: Has it started?

【Shi Xue’er】: Not yet, but soon! It’s packed full! Teacher Zhu, where are you?

【Zhu Wenshu】: About to get off the subway.

The subway pulled into the station right at seven o’clock exactly.

Zhu Wenshu hurried out, and along the way Shi Xue’er sent another message urging her on.

【Shi Xue’er】: Lights are out!! It’s about to start! Teacher Zhu are you here yet!

Zhu Wenshu didn’t reply this time, just broke into a run.

【Shi Xue’er】: The musicians are on stage!

Seven or eight minutes later, she finally stood in front of the venue again.

Her clothes were already soaked with sweat where they clung to her body, and her heart hadn’t slowed down even after she stopped running.

Shi Xue’er’s messages kept flooding in.

【Shi Xue’er】: Countdown’s starting!

【Shi Xue’er】: Teacher Zhu, hurry up!

Just a few more steps and she’d be inside, and yet Zhu Wenshu inexplicably felt a wave of restlessness.

The anticipation she’d felt building suddenly turned to fear right at this final threshold.

Afraid that it was all fleeting, a dream that wouldn’t last.

Not until she heard the roar of tens of thousands of people from inside the venue did Zhu Wenshu finally take a deep breath and walk in.

The moment the staff pushed the door open for her, she was pinned in place again by a wave of cheering.

The originally pitch-black sky had been lit up by a sea of glow sticks.

She stood at the entrance, watching a single spotlight come on over the distant stage.

All the spectators fell silent at once.

Zhu Wenshu didn’t move forward either, just stood at the very back, gazing at the figure on the stage.

Every second now stretched impossibly long.

Zhu Wenshu held her breath, watching Ling Chen raise his arm, his fingertips falling onto the keys.

The piano’s sound drifted over from far away.

The notes floated through the air, piecing themselves together, note by note, into a melody. It was “Happy Birthday,” a song everyone knew, made somehow lonely by the solitary, unadorned piano notes.

Zhu Wenshu watched the figure on stage quietly, her chest rising and falling gently, all her hesitation dissolving into the notes.

She felt, at last, that she had found her answer.