But this station, she was really familiar with it because not far from here was where she used to go to school. Every time she left or returned to school, she had to pass through here.
Seeing someone approaching as if they wanted to strike up a conversation, she quickly left the station and headed in the direction of her memories. If she were to be surrounded here, she would probably be stuck for a while. That wouldn't be a relaxing outing; she'd become the center of attention.
The school she used to attend was not far from here, just a ten-minute walk away. The small shops along the way that were etched in her memories would be replaced by tall buildings and skyscrapers in ten years, making it hard to imagine that she would ever see them again.
Ten minutes later, the school gate finally appeared before her eyes. The metallic gate, the artificial hill in front of it – almost nothing had changed from her memories.
Laila silently stood outside the school gate. She knew it was summer vacation right now, and the students had already left. Perhaps it was her black hair that made the security guard mistake her for a student, but no one came over to check on her.
She looked at the familiar place, and a complex mix of emotions surged within her. Past life... present life... who was she really? She wasn't a sentimental person, but being in this place at this time made her unable to help but start contemplating.
"Classmate? Classmate?" a voice suddenly rang out behind her.
Laila didn't pay attention at first, but when a hand touched her shoulder from behind, she turned around in confusion. She saw a young man calling out to her.
"Class... um..." The young man was momentarily stunned when he saw her. He never expected to encounter a foreigner here. Why would a foreigner have black hair? Was this some kind of international joke?
The young man mentally groaned in frustration, then looked back at his friends who were laughing at a distance. He had to muster the courage to say, "Sorri."
Laila chuckled. She could imagine how frustrated the young man must be. If she were in his shoes, she might have developed some psychological trauma.
"I can speak Chinese. Is there anything I can help you with?" she smiled.
"Wow!" The young man widened his eyes in shock but quickly realized that he had just cursed in front of a foreigner, and she spoke fluent Chinese. "I didn't mean anything bad; I just wanted to compliment your excellent Chinese!"
Laila was amused by the young man's awkwardness. "Thank you."
"Um, actually, I'm a new student at this school, and I came early with my friends to make some arrangements. We wanted to take a photo, and I didn't expect you to be a foreigner. Heh heh," the young man scratched his head awkwardly.
"Take a photo? Of course, I can help with that. I'm pretty good at photography," Laila replied confidently.
The young man breathed a sigh of relief. "Great, I'll set the focus, and you just need to make sure we're all in the frame and press this button." He handed her the camera and explained it to her as if she were a beginner.
"Okay," Laila smiled, not bothering to explain that she had experience. After all, it was just a group photo.
"Just a moment," the young man waved and ran over to his friends. He first scolded them for betraying him and then, feeling relieved, walked back to his smiling friends.
"How about over there?" he pointed to a pile of rocks near the school gate.
"Sure, that works," his friends agreed. While discussing it, they occasionally stole glances at Laila. It was their first time seeing a living foreigner up close. Moreover, this foreign woman was tall, attractive, and seemed oddly familiar. Could she be a model or actress?
This was an art school, and it wouldn't be unusual for an actress or something similar to emerge from here.
The young man had his friends stand in front of the rocks, selected a spot to focus on, and then, once everything was ready, said to Laila, "You can stand right here, make sure we're all in the frame, and then just press this button." He explained it to her as if she were a complete beginner.
"Okay," Laila smiled and took the camera. To her surprise, it was a decent DSLR camera, indicating that the young man was likely a photography enthusiast.
Once the young man rejoined his friends, they all struck funny poses, and Laila pressed the camera's shutter button to capture them all in the frame.
"Thank you so much!" The young man took the camera back and thanked her profusely. "Are you a student at this school too?"
"No," Laila's expression darkened slightly. "I was taking a walk nearby and happened to pass by here."
"Oh," the young man sounded disappointed. "Are you here as a tourist in the capital?"
Laila thought for a moment. "Strictly speaking, I'm here for work, but I'm also taking the opportunity to do some sightseeing."
The young man grinned with a sly look. "I'm from the capital. If you want to go anywhere, you can call me." He took out a notebook from his bag, wrote down a number on a page, tore it out, and handed it to her. "I'm Gu Yong."
Laila didn't want to refuse his enthusiasm, so she took the number and replied with her own name. "Call me Laila."
"Okay, Laila." The young man was overjoyed that she took his number, and he squinted his eyes in a big grin.
Laila waved goodbye and turned to leave.
Gu Yong watched her walk away and wanted to say something more, but he was pounced on by his friends.
"What's wrong, Old Gu? Feeling romantic?"
Gu Yong angrily pushed his friends aside. "Get lost! This is about promoting internationalism, you know? Didn't you see how lost and helpless that foreign girl looked?"
"Whatever!" Several friends simultaneously gave him the middle finger.
"Forget it, if she were ugly, I wouldn't believe you'd be promoting any internationalism!" one of his friends chimed in.
"Right! If she were ugly, I'd bet you wouldn't care about internationalism either!"
Gu Yong proudly huffed, "I can't talk to you guys; you're all so ordinary."
One of his friends looked at him with confusion. "Is she some kind of celebrity? I feel like I've seen her somewhere, she looks familiar."
"Oh? So you feel that way too? I thought it was just me," another friend added.
"By the way, what's her name?"
"She's called Laila, a cute name, right?" Gu Yong pronounced her name with relish. "I gave her my number, do you think she'll call me?"
One of his friends reached into his bag and pulled out a magazine. He quickly found an article with pictures and, as if electrified, pointed at a photo. "Isn't this her?"