Emily Harris sat in her seat, dazed for a moment. She glanced at her computer screen, then listened to the persistent guitar music lingering in her ears. In the end, she couldn’t suppress her curiosity—she snapped her laptop shut with a “pop” and walked out the door.

Standing in the hallway, the sound became much clearer, though she still couldn’t make out any words.

But just that crisp and melancholy guitar, just that winding melody, had already piqued her interest even more.

Listening carefully, the sound seemed to be coming from upstairs?

Emily Harris looked around the empty campus, then craned her neck to look up. Finally, she resolutely turned back and left her office door ajar, then started up to the fourth floor.

Hmm, it was even closer now. It should be... the rooftop.

By the time she reached the fifth floor, the sound was already quite clear—at least clear enough to make out what the person was singing.

“...

When we grow old one day,

Will you still be by my side?

Watching those promises and lies

Drift away slowly with the past.

So many people once admired your youthful beauty,

But do you know who is willing to endure the merciless changes of time?

So many people have come and gone in your life,

But do you know that as long as I have you, I’ll always be by your side.

...”

The guitar was crisp and clear, the male voice rising and falling.

That faint, utterly unpretentious sadness made Emily Harris shiver involuntarily.

It felt as if something had suddenly struck her!

She took a deep breath, gently lifted her foot, and softly set it down—step by step, slowly climbing the last stairs to the rooftop. Her footsteps were as light as a cat’s, as if she was afraid that even the slightest noise would disturb the singing upstairs.

Then, her steps grew slower and slower.

Suddenly, the guitar stopped abruptly.

Emily Harris immediately froze in place, her raised foot suspended in midair, motionless.

She heard someone cough, the sound of drinking water, and the “clack” of a cup being set down. Then, the guitar started up again—

“Because I dreamed of you leaving,

I woke up from my tears.

Watching the night wind blow past the windowsill,

Can you feel my love?

When we grow old one day,

Will you still be by my side?

...”

“I don’t think I’ve heard this song before?” Emily Harris thought carefully. She really had no impression of this song, so she stopped wondering about it. She just couldn’t help but nod her head lightly as she listened, thinking, “But it’s sung really well.”

When the person on the rooftop finished the song and the guitar paused for a moment, she became even more certain of her judgment: this song was indeed quite good, and the person upstairs sang it very well.

Of course, she didn’t want to go up and disturb someone practicing, and she didn’t want anyone to know she was still at school after hours. She’d even parked her car outside the school for that reason. But then she thought, since she couldn’t focus on her book anyway, it wasn’t bad to just sit here and listen to some music. Hesitating, her eyes happened to glance at the steps beside her and found them quite clean. She thought for a moment, bent down and wiped the step, found it really was clean, and then carefully sat down.

By now, the guitar had started up again—it was still the same song, and the person was actually singing it from the beginning once more.

“Looks like this person is practicing,” she thought, “but there haven’t been any school events lately, have there? Then it must be for chasing a girl. Well, this song is actually quite suitable for that.”

The music flowed like a spring, trickling into her ears.

Emily Harris sat quietly on the steps like a little girl, listening to the song, feeling as if everything around her was peaceful and quiet, and even her own heart seemed to become calm.

The same song was sung four or five times by the person on the rooftop.

Even someone as untrained as Emily Harris could tell that he seemed to be constantly changing the guitar accompaniment, making the same song sound gentle at times, and at other times, full of rhythm. Of course, he was also constantly changing his singing style—though Emily Harris couldn’t quite put her finger on exactly what was changing. She just felt that, if she had to describe it, it would be: the person on the rooftop seemed to be singing more and more freely.

Yes, he was really opening up.

It was as if... he was getting better and better at using his voice.

So, the more he sang, the more skillful he became, and the better it sounded.

Then, the guitar on the rooftop stopped again, followed by more coughing and the sound of drinking water.

When the guitar started up again, Emily Harris quickly noticed that the person had suddenly changed songs.

“You said your favorite flower is lilac,

Because your name is hers.

Such a melancholy flower,

Such a sentimental person!

When the flower withers,

When the picture freezes,

Such a delicate flower,

Still can’t escape the wind and rain.

Drifting and swaying through a lifetime,

How many beautiful dreams woven,

And just like that, you left in a hurry,

Leaving me a lifetime of longing.

The grave is covered with fresh flowers,

It’s the beauty you longed for so much,

Look, the hills are covered everywhere,

Do you still feel lonely?

Listen, someone is singing,

That song you loved the most,

In this world, with all its繁芜,