On the first day of school, Mu Qiyan pronounced her name as "Liang Baikai".
The whole class was laughing. Her eyes curled up and she said, "Then I have a pen name."
That was the first time they met. Later there was a second and third time. His old seat by the window in the library, the stars on the playground bleachers, the fireworks on New Year's Eve, and the small program he stayed up late to write on his twentieth birthday. In those years, none of them expressed their love to each other. He didn't dare. She is afraid.
On graduation eve, they crossed that line.
Early the next morning, she left him six words: "I'm leaving, don't wait for me." Then she flew to the other side of the ocean.
He didn't know that when she left, there was already an extra life in her body. She gave birth to her daughter abroad alone. On the birth certificate, the father's column is blank. The child's name is Mu Nian, and she misses her so much.
Three years ago, she took Nian Nian back to China and asked him to meet. He replied "Okay" and went on a business trip. She waited seven days. Seven days later, she took the child away and only replied to him with five words: "No need anymore."
Many years later, in September, the school season begins. He returned to his alma mater with a little girl. In front of the check-in counter, he told me that many years ago, there was a girl whose name was pronounced wrong here. He shouted "Liangbaikai".
In the crowd, a woman turned back.
It took him eight years and missed twelve times to get the thirteenth time, and finally there was no chance of passing by.
"You read it correctly this time," she said.
