My name is Jiang Xu, and I've had a crush on Lin Zhi for sixteen years. When she casually said she wanted to take the exam for Linjiang, I gave up the guaranteed admission to Tsinghua and Peking University. The camera she glanced at more than once was something I bought after eating instant noodles for three months. My diary is filled with her name—yet into her world burst a flash arrival named Gu Yanzhi. On the day of her wedding, I sat at the very back of the crowd, smiling and applauding as I locked sixteen years of affection into the deepest drawer. Before my mother passed away, she taught me how to make a bowl of noodles, saying that if you like someone, you have to say it out loud. But I no longer have the chance.