After ninety-nine online romances, I finally met my ex in person when school started.

The bell rang, signaling the end of get out of class.

The classroom was silent for two seconds, then it was like a hornet's nest had been stirred up.

"'The Milky Way is not as beautiful as you'? What's going on?"

"He...he confessed to Professor Fu before? Not only is he handsome, but he also acted so quickly?"

"Seriously? He's only a freshman, and Professor Fu is already twenty-seven. Is this even possible?"

"Zhu Xun Chuan is only a freshman, but he's handsome! It's hard to guarantee that the professor won't date a younger woman!"

"A relationship between an older woman and a younger man! It's definitely a relationship between an older woman and a younger man!"

Whispers arose from all directions. Zhu Xun Chuan sat in the last row, feeling the gaze of more than sixty pairs of eyes in the class, but pretended to be calm and continued reading his book.

Shen Tianxi sat beside her, slowly closing her textbook.

She didn't look at Zhu Xunchuan.

She was looking at Fu Xinghe on the podium.

My gaze moved from Fu Xinghe's face to his waistline, and then to his legs encased in black stockings.

"Brother Chuan".

"Um……"

"Your taste has always been quite consistent."

These words came out of nowhere, but Zhu Xun Chuan sensed a murderous intent in them.

On the podium, Fu Xinghe had already put away her lesson plan. She didn't look at Zhu Xunchuan again, and walked out of the classroom with a steady clatter in her high heels.

Gu Qinghan stood to the side of the podium, watching Fu Xinghe leave.

As the two brushed past each other, Gu Qinghan spoke softly, "Professor Fu, when calling on students in class... please be mindful of your manners."

Fu Xinghe didn't stop walking, but turned his head to glance at her.

His amber pupils swept across Gu Qinghan's face.

"Ms. Gu," her voice was even softer, "you should be more mindful of your words than I am. After all, it seems like you two have something going on, don't you?"

Gu Qinghan snapped the pen cap back on with a click.

Fu Xinghe had already walked out of the classroom.

Only the echo of high heels fading into the distance remained in the corridor.

Zhu Xunchuan grabbed his schoolbag and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Shen Tianxi asked him, looking up at him.

"Go...hand in your homework."

"What homework do you need to hand in?"

"My thoughts after reading last week."

"Didn't you give it to Teacher Gu?"

"Professor Fu also made arrangements."

Shen Tianxi stared at him for three seconds.

"Zhu Xun Chuan, you've started lying without even thinking about it anymore."

Zhu Xun Chuan didn't reply and turned to walk out.

Shen Tianxi's voice came from behind, sweet enough to be cloying: "Then come back soon. I'll wait for you in the cafeteria. I made your favorite omelet rice today."

Everyone in the corridor on the entire floor turned around and looked, then started talking amongst themselves.

Zhu Xunchuan quickened his pace.

……

The fourth floor of the School of Arts, at the easternmost corner.

A dark brown wooden door with a plaque that reads: Fu Xinghe, Distinguished Professor.

The door was ajar.

Cool air from the air conditioner seeped out from the crack in the door, carrying a faint scent of sandalwood.

Zhu Xun Chuan knocked twice.

"Enter."

He pushed the door open and went in.

The office was a size larger than Gu Qinghan's. The wall by the window was lined with solid wood bookshelves, filled with Chinese and foreign literary classics and academic journals. On the windowsill sat a potted asparagus fern, its leaves slender and a dark, almost black, green.

The blinds were half-open, and the afternoon sunlight was cut into strips of light that fell obliquely onto the floor.

Fu Xinghe stood next to the bookshelf.

The suit jacket was off, draped over the armrest of the office chair. The white custom-made shirt clung tightly to the upper body, the waist was extremely narrow, and the fabric at the chest was stretched into a full curve, with the third button slightly taut.

She was facing away from him, moving something from the bottom shelf of the bookcase.

When she bent over, the hem of her black pencil skirt rose an inch, revealing the fine sheen of the black stockings on the back of her thighs.

Zhu Xun Chuan shifted his gaze to the ceiling.

"Close the door."

He shut it down.

"Lock it up."

"..."

Why do all my ex-girlfriends have a habit of locking the door?

I had no choice but to lock it.

Fu Xinghe took out a camphor wood box from the bottom of the cabinet.

It was neither too big nor too small, about the thickness of a palm, with the wood grain on the surface wiped very clean, and the edges wrapped with copper sheets.

She carried the box in both hands to the desk.

"Bang".

The box was placed on the table with a dull thud.

It's not light.

Fu Xinghe sat down in the office chair, crossing her legs. Black stockings extended from under her skirt, their light and shadow contrasting under the beams of light.

She looked at Zhu Xunchuan, her fingers resting on the lid of the box.

He didn't speak.

Zhu Xunchuan's heart began to race.

He recognized the box.

It's not the box itself... it's the two words engraved with a ballpoint pen on the bottom right corner of the box lid.

"Galaxy".

He carved it himself.

When he was sixteen, he bought a camphor wood box at a stationery store near the school gate, saying he wanted to give it to "Starry River" to store his credit.

He thought she had thrown it away a long time ago.

Fu Xinghe opened the box.

Inside was a neatly stacked stack of envelopes.

White, blue, kraft paper. Each envelope had a handwritten date label on it, the handwriting was hers, so neat it looked like it was copied from a calligraphy book rather than handwritten.

A total of forty-one letters.

Everything is here.

Fu Xinghe's fingers slid over the edge of the top letter, gently, as if touching something fragile.

"The first letter, March 7th." She pulled out the letter and unfolded it.

Zhu Xun Chuan saw his own handwriting from when he was sixteen.

Fu Xinghe lowered his head and read aloud.

"'Sister Xinghe, did you receive the letter? It was the first time I'd ever written a letter to a girl, and I wrote it three times before I dared to send it. You said you like things made of paper, so I wanted to give it a try. Actually, my handwriting is a bit ugly, please don't mind.'"

She read very slowly. Her voice was clear and cool, but her lips were slightly pursed as she enunciated each word, as if she were savoring the taste of each one.

"PS: You said last time you wanted to see snow in Kyoto. I checked, and it does snow in Kyoto in winter. When I get into university in Kyoto, I'll take pictures of it snowing and show them to you."

She put down the first letter and picked up the other.

"Seventh letter. April 18th."

"Sister, I got scolded by my math teacher today, and I was in a really bad mood. But when I got home and opened my mailbox, I saw your reply. I read it three times, and my mood improved. You said you're preparing your doctoral dissertation and are very busy and tired, and I can't help you much. But I want to tell you... the vast starry sky is not as beautiful as you, but I dare not tell the stars."

When she read the last sentence, her voice softened.

The office was silent for five seconds.

Fu Xinghe gently put the letter back into the envelope.

Then she looked up.

The afternoon light fell on her face, and her amber pupils glistened with moisture.

Her eyes welled up with tears.

It wasn't just a little red. It was the kind of red where you were holding back your tears, your eyelashes trembling.

Zhu Xunchuan was stunned.

From the moment he entered the classroom until now, the Fu Xinghe he had seen was... cold, quiet, impassive, and completely domineering.

He had never seen Fu Xinghe like this before.

"Forty-one." Her voice trembled slightly, but she forced a steady tone. "Thirty-one were written by you, and ten were replies. I can recite every single one of them by heart."

"Sister Xinghe..."

"Even the year you disappeared, I still checked the mailbox every month." She lowered her head, her fingers pressing on the corner of the envelope, her fingertips turning white. "Empty. Every month it was empty."

She sniffed.

The movement was so light it was almost inaudible. But Zhu Xun Chuan noticed her shoulder twitch.

"I was 26 years old, I had completed my doctorate, published 12 papers in core journals, and received a special appointment from Kyoto University. Every line on my resume was spotless."

She looked up, a tear hanging in the corner of her eye.

"But I only have one reason for applying to Kyoto University: you said you wanted to apply to Kyoto University."

Zhu Xun Chuan opened his mouth.

"I was too young then, and I forgot a lot of what I said afterward..."

"You forgot." Fu Xinghe stood up.

She walked around the desk, her high heels clicking on the floor, each step conveying a sense of pushing forward.

Walk up to him.

The distance was less than half a meter.

She was half a head shorter than him, but when she looked up at him, there was something unyielding in her amber eyes.

"You forgot, but I didn't."

"For a whole year, from the second year of high school until you disappeared, you were the only one who wrote things for me, stroke by stroke, with a pen on paper. Others sent me WeChat messages, made phone calls, or sent me emails, but only you wrote letters."

Her voice was trembling.

But the next second, she took a deep breath.

She wiped away the tear from the corner of her eye with a swift and decisive motion, like crossing out a typo while grading a paper.

The emotions have subsided.

It's too fast for reality.

When he spoke again, it was Fu Xinghe, standing on the podium with a serious expression, once more.

"I know you're not the only one."

Zhu Xunchuan's heart skipped a beat.

"Shen Tianxi, classmate. Gu Qinghan, teacher. Jiang family's daughter. And that... idol in the entertainment industry."

She recited them one by one in a flat tone, as if reading a reference list for a literature review.

Zhu Xunchuan's back was completely pressed against the door panel.

"What are you withdrawing from?"

Fu Xinghe took a step forward. The collar of his shirt reached just to his chin, and when he looked down, he could see the white skin below his collarbone.

She tilted her head back, a very faint smile playing on her lips.

It wasn't a laugh. It was a sense of certainty.

"Zhu Xunchuan, in my twenty-six years, I, Fu Xinghe, have only written letters, waited for letters, and saved letters to one man."

She took a step back.

"I won't fight anyone for it. I'll let you come back on your own."

She turned around, walked back behind her desk, sat down, opened a drawer, took out a document, and began to read it.

"Get out. Don't keep me from preparing my lessons."

Zhu Xun Chuan stood still, watching her profile as she looked down at the documents.

The skin where that tear had just touched was still faintly red.

"Sister Xinghe".

"Call him Teacher Fu."

"...Teacher Fu."

"go out."

"That box..."

"The box is mine." Fu Xinghe didn't look up, turning a page of the document. "The letter is mine too. You wrote it, and once it was mailed, it's mine."

He paused for a moment.

"You will be one sooner or later."

Zhu Xunchuan opened the door and went out.

The moment the door closed behind him, he heard a very soft sound from inside the office, like a deep exhale.

The corridor was bathed in sunlight.

Zhu Xun Chuan stood against the wall for ten seconds, then took out his phone.

The screen lit up.

Four unread messages were at the top of the chat list.

Shen Tianxi, Gu Qinghan, Jiang Yao, Su Mucheng.

He didn't open it; he was wondering what terrible things he had done!

Then his gaze settled on the fifth message.

A dialog box that had been silent for ten days suddenly lit up.

"Sweet Strawberry".

She posted her location.