One afternoon a month later, Chen Ying returned from school. John and Yona both went to work, and the house was quiet. Just after tea time, she didn't feel hungry. Assignments and group discussions are completed, folders for class are stacked in the corners of the room, and time is as lazy as the sun on mimosas. It's a fitting time to write something. Chen Ying opened the laptop with her hand. She wants to write a long letter to her best friend to fill in the void of what she has missed for the past month.

She went to the kitchen and brought a cup of hot tea, which reflected an oval halo in the sunlight. She expertly typed on the login password and began to write:

Dear Liang Jing,

Hope you're doing well when you receive the email.

After a month of hard work, I finally learned not to get lost on those similar gravel roads. It's a long way to school, and I often get up at half-past five to catch up for morning class and swallow a few loaves of bread while waiting in line for the bus. This bus is the only one in the town, and most of the passengers know each other, and there is a young man who does not speak English who always gives up his seat at the first place. The landlord said that he may have some kind of nervous disorder, so he often can't control the saliva at the corners of his mouth. Nobody knows his name, but I think if he's not in the car one day, everyone will miss him.

Copenhagen is one of Denmark's busiest metropolises. In addition to well-developed transport and high-rise apartments, there is also a port. Every morning, there are always boats of all sizes moored at the pier. Under the white canvas canopy on the shore, a crowd of people drinking morning tea gathered. If I hadn't been in time for class, I would have liked to be one of them someday.

The University of Copenhagen has no walls and is as free as its administrators would like. It has never been detached from society but has maintained an academic atmosphere, and I have not yet understood how this seemingly contradictory balance has been struck. Most of the exchange students here are Americans, with only a handful of Europeans and Asians. My English level was never taken care of, and even the Indian students spoke more fluently than me. It's really frustrating. For the first two weeks I even suspected I shouldn't be here, and each class was accompanied by hundreds of pages of reading material, and I could barely keep up with the hours I spent reading and looking up dictionaries all night. I don't know how long I'm going to have to go on a day like this, probably because of the choice of course, I haven't been able to go shopping like everyone else.

Still, I made time to visit the National Museum of Denmark, right next to the Little Mermaid statue. The delicate Persian gold coins and Egyptian pharaonic masks mesmerized mesmerizing as I lingered in front of ancient Roman sculptures, while the exquisite Viking-era compasses made me miss the last train back. Probably because of greed, I was always reluctant to leave everywhere I went. The camera's memory was running out, but the landlord and his wife agreed to help carve it into a disc, and I would mail you the first one I made.

As one of the American girls said in her speech at the beginning of the school year, you can see all kinds of creatures here. Copenhagen Square is full of pigeons, and they circle around my feet when I eat a sandwich by the fountain at noon. In the square, there are huge stray dogs, meekly lying together and occasionally picking up food by the trash cans. One night after school, I left the bread left over from lunch for a black Labrador. After eating, it followed me to the entrance of the subway station, and I could see it looking around the corner. Probably it also understands that pets are not allowed on the buses here, otherwise it will stick to the end.

Squirrels often pick freshly harvested apples when they are not looking, ignoring my presence and never giving up picking because I am standing by a tree. I always thought that they couldn't tell the taste of food, otherwise they wouldn't give up the sweet cherries next door. The only apple trees I had were nowhere to be found, so I had to turn to the expensive imported fruits in the supermarket. Bananas here are three times more expensive than in China, and most of them are not fresh. I've gotten used to the diet and don't get tired of boiling potatoes as a staple. Danish meatballs are my favorite food, and I would like to bring a box for you to taste when I return home, hoping that after an eleven hour flight, it has not spoiled.

The biggest pain here is not studying, not loneliness, but not being able to find oneself. Being in a foreign country, with classmates from all over the world and being forced to communicate in a foreign language, I didn't know where else to identify myself from my appearance. The hustle and bustle of the bars gave me a headache, the luxury goods in the malls kept me off, and the rows of shelves in the library didn't have a single book to answer my questions. I wandered the deserted country roads, attended the Sunday activities of different churches, sold children's paintings for charity to raise money for the church, distributed food to the needy elderly, or helped tidy up the garden. I've been running around all the time, and time is slipping away quietly. I had an Asian face and was peeked at everywhere I went; I was thin and short, and I was treated like a child everywhere.

It's a pity that I am far beyond my age as a child, but I still reveal my childish temperament everywhere. I can't even remember why I was so busy in the first place. In this place supported by nationality and far from its original borders, no one can tell me what to remember and what to forget. I miss those times with you, and what used to be a long conversation to share secrets has become even more precious. The students traveled all day long, and everyone walked on their respective tracks in an orderly manner like planets, except for classes and arranged activities, there was no intersection.