Chapter 20

Who was Song Yiwen?

It was her.

Song Jianan.

But then… who was Song Jianan?

She didn’t know.

Who exactly was this person?

Was she the Song Jianan of the past, the one who had carefully fabricated the identity of “Song Yiwen” in order to hide who she really was in front of Su Li?

Or was she simply another identity she had immersed herself in during those years when she couldn’t escape the past?

Who had she really been during that period of her life?

Yes.

She wasn’t Song Jianan.

Because Su Li had never known who she truly was.

In his life, only someone named Song Yiwen had quietly passed by without leaving a trace, before gradually drifting away until she disappeared completely.

Even when she had once been so close to him…

The one identity she could never bring herself to reveal…

Was simply the name Song Jianan.

But why couldn’t she say her own name?

Why had she needed to hide who she really was?

The rustling of paper suddenly pulled her back to reality.

The feelings she had struggled so hard to hide in her youth were exposed all at once.

Embarrassment.

Humiliation.

Regret.

Every emotion surged together.

She lunged forward and snatched every letter from Song Rui’s hands.

Song Rui jumped in fright and blurted out without thinking,

“What are you doing? You scared me to death! They’re just a few love letters! Jianan-jie, you’re incredible. You even used a fake identity to write letters. Why didn’t you just use QQ? Was it an online romance?”

“Song Rui, can you stop talking for once?”

Song Jianan’s voice rose sharply.

“My business isn’t yours to comment on.”

“And don’t touch other people’s belongings.”

“Also, don’t ever leave any of your things at my place again.”

“If I see them, I’m throwing everything away.”

“What did I do now?”

“I’m in a bad mood. Don’t talk to me.”

“You found what you came for, so hurry home.”

“Otherwise, I’ll call your mom.”

“Fine! I’m leaving! Who’s afraid of you?”

Bang!

The door slammed shut violently.

Footsteps gradually faded into the distance.

The apartment became utterly silent.

Only her faint breathing remained…

Along with the slow, heavy beating of her heart, painfully torturing every fragile emotion she still possessed.

The snow-white sheets of paper slipped from her hands onto the floor.

The fountain pen ink had faded slightly with time.

Yet it felt as though she had received them only yesterday.

The memories she had carefully sealed away crawled back out like ghosts.

Beautiful cursive handwriting.

Su Li’s handwriting.

So familiar…

So familiar that after deliberately imitating it countless times, her own writing had begun to resemble his.

> “A friend introduced me to a history forum. I read one article about the Spring and Autumn Period and another about famous traditional Chinese physicians.

The article on the Spring and Autumn Period was humorous and entertaining. No matter how many times I read it, it never became dull.

The one about the physicians was delicate and bittersweet, full of twists and turns, impossible to put down.

My own reading of history has always been rather simple. I used to enjoy military strategy and biographies. Most of the historical figures who left the deepest impression on me came from the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods.

Turbulent times produce more remarkable people…

More heroes.

Reading history makes me worry about the present.

Deep down, I admire chaotic eras—their freedom, their openness.

In the end…

I suppose I’m simply someone who worships heroes.

Perhaps only when the entire world chooses to stop and reflect does a new era truly arrive.

After finishing those articles, I suddenly realized how sincere this genius was—someone who has already drifted far away from us… or perhaps was never close to us at all.

I’ve read so much over the years that I’ve learned to recognize words without truly understanding life’s principles.

I’ve reached the point where I can no longer believe anything outside myself.

Isn’t that contradictory?

What do you think?

And one more thing…

Please sign your letters with your real name.”

That night…

Song Jianan had a dream.

It was the long staircase at their high school.

Students ran past, laughing and playing.

She held her books tightly and climbed the steps one by one.

She didn’t dare look up at the passing crowd.

Su Li was walking just ahead of her.

She secretly watched his back.

The staircase stretched endlessly before her.

Students in blue-and-white school uniforms blurred together as they passed.

Yet she couldn’t even see herself clearly.

Was she the capable, mature twenty-five-year-old she had become?

Or the delicate seventeen-year-old girl she once had been?

Suddenly…

The boy ahead of her turned around.

His slightly hoarse voice sounded beside her ear.

“What’s your name?”

She desperately tried to answer.

But no sound came out.

She slowly opened her eyes.

It had only been a dream.

Yet even after waking…

That scene remained astonishingly vivid.

Winter sunlight rested quietly beside her.

If she opened her hand…

She could hold a ray of warmth.

But the moment she closed her fingers…

It became cold again.

She arrived at the newspaper office slightly later than usual that morning.

Immediately she noticed that everyone’s expressions were unusually serious.

Curious, Song Jianan flipped through the day’s newspaper before quietly asking the colleague beside her,

“What happened?”

“Wang Kejia resigned.”

“She transferred to the Provincial TV Station.”

“She didn’t give any notice beforehand.”

“The department director is furious.”

Song Jianan frowned slightly.

Her colleague leaned closer.

“Actually, transferring isn’t the real problem. She was responsible for interviewing several well-known cultural figures. Now all of those interviews have fallen through.”

“The work handover is a complete mess.”

“What a headache.”

“The Liang Jingru Spirit Night concert on December 25…”

“And the CHANEL China New Product Launch on January 3…”

“She was originally assigned to cover both.”

“They’re holding a meeting right now to decide who’ll take over.”

“Anyway, the director’s in a terrifying mood today.”

“Be careful not to get caught in the crossfire.”

Song Jianan simply smiled and shook her head.

She reached into her folder and pulled out the concert ticket.

Its design was beautiful.

A soft pink background.

Dreamlike.

Even the title looked warm and sweet—

Liang Jingru Warm Concert.

A sudden thought crossed her mind.

Perhaps…

Treating herself to an extravagant concert wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

At lunchtime, she went to the cafeteria.

She spotted Zeng Shuyi sitting alone by the glass window, looking just as gloomy as everyone else.

Song Jianan couldn’t help thinking these past few days had been cursed.

Why did everyone seem so miserable?

She walked over and gently patted Zeng Shuyi’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

“Problems at work?”

Zeng Shuyi smiled faintly.

“Song Jianan… let me ask you something.”

“Why did you become a newspaper reporter?”

“Tell me the truth.”

“Don’t give me one of those interview-style model answers.”

Song Jianan answered casually,

“There are lots of reasons.”

“I studied journalism.”

“And the timing happened to be good.”

“The newspaper was recruiting right after I graduated.”

Zeng Shuyi habitually brushed her hair back.

Her expression became even lonelier.

“I’m thinking about resigning.”

“Resigning?”

Song Jianan’s eyes widened.

She remained surprisingly calm.

“Why?”

“This isn’t the life I wanted.”

“Every day is exhausting.”

“You constantly worry whether your articles will be published.”

“If I go a whole day without getting one into print, the pressure is overwhelming.”

“Our business section looks glamorous on the surface.”

“But that’s all it is.”

“You know what our department director is like.”

“Everyone here has connections.”

“There’s no room for real advancement.”

Song Jianan smiled helplessly.

“It’s the same everywhere.”

“My department isn’t any different.”

“In the end, whether you succeed depends on luck.”

“I used to dream of becoming a successful career woman.”

“I thought I’d work hard every day, build everything with my own abilities, and eventually reach the top.”

“But that’s not how reality works.”

“I spent a long time thinking about it yesterday.”

“Reality isn’t like that at all.”

“Oh, right.”

“Didn’t Wang Kejia from your department resign too?”

“She did.”

“Our director was furious.”

“He almost had a stroke.”

Zeng Shuyi let out a long sigh.

“Well… let me tell you the truth.”

“Wang Kejia’s in the hospital.”

“Stomach cancer.”

“I don’t know exactly how serious it is.”

“What was the point of working herself into the ground?”

“One victorious general stands atop the bones of ten thousand others.”

“That’s exactly how it is.”

“I see…”

“So that’s what happened.”

Song Jianan slowly pushed open the window.

Cold winter air rushed inside.

She gently closed her eyes, enjoying a rare moment of clarity.

“I never thought that far ahead.”

“I only kept thinking…”

“If someday I stood high enough…”

“If I became noticeable enough…”

“If I had the chance to meet more people…”

“Would there be a day when one particular person would see me?”

“Would he realize…”

“That’s me?”

She smiled faintly.

“But now…”

“It doesn’t seem necessary anymore.”

It had been a long time since this ancient city had seen such brilliant sunshine and such a clear blue sky.

From the second-floor cafeteria, golden sunlight reflected against the carpet of yellow leaves below.

Sunbeams slipped through the gaps between the trees, scattering across the shaded pathway like countless tiny diamonds.

Although deep winter had already arrived, leaves still drifted lazily from the branches.

They seemed to kiss the sunlight before touching the ground.

Suddenly…

She smiled.

“My goal now is actually very simple.”

“To attend a warm concert.”

She looked at Zeng Shuyi.

“Do you still remember how that song goes?”

“If One Day…”

She hummed softly.

A smile lingered at the corners of her lips.

> “Now all I can treasure
Is our only photograph.
The street corner has faded from memory,
But I still miss the smile we shared back then.
Life is full of disappointments crossing paths.
The more I miss you, the lonelier I become.
If loneliness catches up with me again,
Then sadness is simply part of being alive.
If one day… we meet again,
Will time turn back just a little?”

Su Li…

If one day we meet again…

Time won’t return us to our high school days.

I’ll meet your eyes bravely.

I’ll give you the brightest smile I can.

Then…

We’ll simply walk past each other.

And I should finally…

Forget you.

Forget those years.

Forget the Song Jianan who once called herself…

Song Yiwen.