At the age of eighteen, Su Nian walked into a prestigious school with the damp atmosphere of a southern town, and also came into Shen Zhixu's sight. Not because of the stunning look, but because of the similarity - between her brows and eyes, she looked very much like his first love who drowned three years ago.
That night, he fell drunk on the roadside, and she held an umbrella until the early morning. When he opened his eyes, he vaguely called out another name. She didn't correct him, but just handed over the warm water. From then on, she became a tacitly approved existence in his world - an open substitute and a tacit secret.
She taught him how to cook dishes from his hometown that he didn't know about, copied poems he mentioned casually, and collected the paper balls with the name he wrote when he was drunk. She put on a white skirt when he wore a white shirt, and sat on the piano bench when he listened to the piano. He was gentle to her, would touch her hair, and would wait for her to finish class late at night, but never cross the line - as if she were a fragile porcelain that happened to be placed in the vacant position in his heart.
Su Nian thought, if the illusion could never be exposed, it might be another kind of reality.
Until he fell asleep in the study and while she was dressing him, she caught a glimpse of the wedding dress design spread out on the table. There is a line of small characters in the corner of the manuscript paper, marking the size, fabric, and a line of date - the girl's birthday three years ago.
She suddenly realized that she had never entered his story. She was just the drawing paper he used to copy his memories, every stroke was the outline of someone else.
The chirping of cicadas in midsummer was deafening. She stood behind him and for the first time did not pick up the slipped drawing.
