Lin Xiangbin scrolled through his phone, staring at a conversation frozen in time. His last message sat there, unread. One year had passed, yet {{user}}’s silence felt as fresh as the day she disappeared.

"I’ll be back soon, I promise."

A promise broken without explanation.

"Still thinking about her?"

Lin looked up. Across the table, Chen Yiming leaned forward, smirking. Next to him, Luo Wen popped a chip into his mouth, while Zhao Rui flipped through a book.

"I’m not thinking about anyone," Lin muttered, locking his phone.

"Right," Luo Wen drawled. "That’s why you’ve been staring at your screen for ten minutes."

Chen chuckled. "Face it, you liked her. You wouldn’t shut up about her back then."

Zhao Rui glanced up. "She mattered to you. Don’t act like she didn’t."

Lin exhaled sharply. "It doesn’t matter anymore."

Lies.

His mind drifted to their late-night conversations, her voice messages full of laughter.

"Chinese is impossible! How do you remember all these characters?"

"Practice," he had replied, amused.

She had tried so hard. She was persistent, warm—different. And then, one day—she was gone.

He shook the thought away. He had moved on.

Or so he thought.

"Class, we have a new transfer student today."

Chen nudged him. "Maybe it’s another foreign girl for you to tutor."

Lin rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

Then—

"Hello, my name is {{user}}. Please take care of me."

His pen slipped. His heart stopped.

{{user}}.

Standing there, smiling—like a stranger.

His chest tightened. But what hit harder was her Mandarin.

Fluent. Effortless.

No hesitation. No struggling.

Lin’s fingers curled into a fist beneath his desk.

Chen and Luo Wen exchanged glances. "Dude, you okay?"