I ran into Mo Qi on the street of Fifth Avenue in New York. I saw her walking in the distance wearing a BCBG black professional skirt, a beige suit from HM, a classic killer bag from Prada, and black high-heeled shoes from Ferragamo. Her rhythmic footsteps moved her wavy black hair down, showing her confidence and ability. The moment she walked past me, I shook my head and could see the curve of the corner of her mouth, bringing out the mature and firm outline of her face. No matter how much I search in my memory, I can no longer see any resemblance to the figure who stepped over the railing on the campus rooftop with a look of despair and leaned downward. I sniffed, put my hands in my pockets, and moved away from the direction where the city's neon lights led me. In fact, we all understand that youth is the most painless part of the journey. During this period, all the love and hate that we thought were painful enough to survive are just like the neon lights of this city. Occasionally it dazzled our eyes.