[The convenience store became the perfect place for dates.]

Their playful bickering continued all the way to the hospital entrance.

Hospitals, of course, were somewhat frightening. However, Zhou Leqi had imagined some negative scenarios about psychiatric hospitals beforehand, so seeing the actual situation was somewhat reassuring—she thought everyone coming in and out would be shouting lunatics with disheveled hair, but it turned out they were all ordinary people, no different from anyone else.

She breathed a small sigh of relief.

Since Hou Zihao had made an early appointment for an expert consultation, they didn’t need to queue. When they arrived at the entrance, a young man in his twenties walked out, crying with swollen eyes, startling Zhou Leqi.

Instinctively, she clutched Hou Zihao’s sleeve tightly, feeling a bit scared. He patted her hand and reassured her, “It’s okay,” then softly asked, “Shall I go in with you?”

Zhou Leqi wanted to nod at that moment, but she realized Hou Zihao was two years younger than her, and she felt she couldn’t lose face in front of him. After much deliberation, she feigned calmness and said, “No... I can manage on my own.”

Then she lowered her head and prepared to walk into the room.

He chuckled, pulled her back, and instructed, “I’ll wait here. If you’re scared, call me.”

...Almost like a novice parent sending their child to kindergarten.

Zhou Leqi was somewhat speechless but nodded accommodatingly.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her forehead and said, “Good luck, Teacher Zhou.”

Frankly speaking, the diagnostic process that day was far more ordinary than Zhou Leqi had imagined.

No one shocked her, no one restrained her, and there were no isolation rooms in sight—all her terrifying imaginings did not come true.

The doctor who diagnosed her was a very gentle and kind auntie. She chatted with her about recent weather, asked about her studies, and whether she was happy with her friends—it was just like normal conversation. The part involving real checks was also friendly; she went for routine hormone tests and filled out psychological questionnaires, and the whole process was without unpleasantness.

When the doctor asked if anything unpleasant had happened recently, Zhou Leqi hesitated before mentioning her family issues, telling the doctor about her exam failures, continuous insomnia, and declining memory. Since she had already told Hou Zihao, voicing it again was slightly easier, but she still couldn’t help crying and feeling anxious. The doctor gently consoled her, telling her she had done very well.

She prescribed medication to stabilize her mood, instructing her to take it on time without stopping arbitrarily. She also emphasized that psychological counseling was more important than medication, hoping she could communicate more with her parents, make more friends, and express her inner thoughts.

These suggestions reminded Zhou Leqi of Hou Zihao.

She knew she couldn’t tell Yu Qing about her illness because Yu Qing’s condition wasn’t good either. After repeating a grade, she had no friends around her. Thinking about it, the only person she could talk to seemed to be Hou Zihao.

...Was she becoming too dependent on him?

Zhou Leqi was somewhat downcast when leaving the hospital.

Hou Zihao had already sneaked a peek at her medical records; the doctor’s diagnosis was “severe depression,” and the medication had relatively noticeable side effects. He assumed she was upset about this.

He understood he should comfort her, and his words needed to be as natural and relaxed as possible. This was difficult, and after much thought, he still didn’t know how to start. Unexpectedly, she spoke first: “Hou Zihao.”

Based on Hou Zihao’s observation of his parents’ interaction patterns, whenever Su Ruini addressed Hou Feng by his full name, it meant she was in a bad mood and needed to vent. He vaguely sensed some danger in his current situation, so his response was slightly hesitant.

Sigh... What had he done now.

Zhou Leqi’s brows were furrowed, and after he responded, she stared at him seriously for a while, making him feel uneasy. He couldn’t help but ask, “...What’s wrong?”

She pursed her lips, remained silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, “When is your birthday?”

Hou Zihao: ?

He paused, speechless. Zhou Leqi urged him, “Tell me, when is it?”

“July 12th,” he cautiously replied, “Why?”

Her serious expression didn’t waver, and her brows furrowed even more: “Which year?”

Hou Zihao: “...1996—what’s going on?”

If she didn’t explain soon, his composure would crumble.

Upon hearing the year 1996, Zhou Leqi felt a slight relief: she was born on January 3, 1995, meaning she wasn’t two years older than him, but only a year and a half—rounded off, it was just one year.

Although this didn’t change her excessive reliance on him, it somewhat alleviated her feelings of shame and guilt. Satisfied with this reasoning, she said, “Nothing, just asking.”

Hou Zihao: ?

He was somewhat speechless, but judging from her expression, he guessed she wasn’t angry or upset, which was a positive sign for him. He decided not to probe further into why she asked about his birthday and simply asked, “So when is your birthday?”

She glanced at him and said, “I won’t tell you.”

Hou Zihao: ???

“Why?” he began to frown.

She smirked, looking as if she saw through him, and said, “If I tell you, you’ll definitely give me a birthday gift, right?”

Hou Zihao: “...”

“You can be a bit too generous sometimes,” she asserted, “I’m afraid you’ll do something extravagant that I can’t handle.”

Hou Zihao: “…………………………”

He was utterly speechless and somewhat indignant, saying, “How can you assume I’d prepare an expensive gift?”

She smiled, looked up at him, clearly having him wrapped around her finger, and retorted, “Oh, so you wouldn’t?”

He: “...”

Help.

She really saw through him.

Apart from the minor inequality in the birthday discussion, life after the hospital visit generally satisfied Hou Zihao.

They seemed to gradually return to normalcy.

Although Zhou Leqi still suffered from occasional insomnia, she no longer stayed silent all day at school like before. She responded to his little notes, smiled faintly when Ge Ao teased him and Yan Lin, and could concentrate when teachers called on her.

These were precious improvements.

Hou Zihao was delighted but dared not be too happy—he knew depression was a recurring process. While her condition might have improved for now, any trigger could cause relapses or even worsen. Therefore, he remained vigilant about her emotional fluctuations, fearing anything that might upset her, carefully maintaining a pure and relaxed environment for her.

His efforts paid off; her complexion improved significantly. Sometimes, when she was in a good mood, they could relax during breaks by buying snacks and drinks at the convenience store downstairs—a rare breather in their day.

And at the convenience store, they occasionally bumped into Mi Lan and Yan Lin.

Yan Lin was originally someone who didn’t frequent convenience stores. He disliked snacks and always adhered to the top-student habit of studying or doing homework during breaks. Even after nearly three years at A School, his visits to the convenience store were still few and far between.

Mi Lan was quite the opposite.

She loved all kinds of snacks—sour, sweet, spicy, salty—nothing she didn’t like. Her stance was always clear: break time was break time, meant for rest. If studying was required during breaks, why not schedule consecutive classes? Thus, she developed the habit of running out of the classroom as soon as class ended, returning only when the bell rang.

After Mi Lan and Yan Lin became “pretty good friends” post-third mock exam, her habit changed from “running out to play” to “running to Class One to find Yan Lin,” doing this seven or eight times a day, never tiring.

Who was Yan Lin’s homeroom teacher? Old Pan. If a girl from another class came to Class One seven or eight times a day, could he not notice something amiss? Yan Lin, being crisis-conscious and forward-thinking, tried several times to persuade Mi Lan not to visit him during breaks. They could meet after school if necessary. Of course, Mi Lan outright rejected this proposal, forcing Yan Lin to compromise again, sneaking out of the classroom every break to meet her.

The convenience store thus became the perfect rendezvous spot.

This opened a new world for Yan Lin: he never knew such a small storefront could hold so many things—various puffed snacks were overwhelming, and even spicy gluten came in different flavors, completely beyond his knowledge scope. More exasperating was that the convenience store owner was a profiteer. Dissatisfied with selling regular bottled drinks, she started offering strange homemade fruit teas and milk teas to students. Chocolate milk frozen in the fridge sold for almost twenty yuan, yet students still bought them enthusiastically, queuing up during breaks.

Mi Lan was the most enthusiastic queuer, dragging him along every day, chatting idly while waiting. Most of the time, they couldn’t get to the front—the break was only ten minutes, and they had to leave on time. But sometimes they managed to get their turn, and each time, Mi Lan would excitedly buy two chocolate ices, ignoring his protests and shoving them into his hands, forcing him to drink with her.

In November, the dead of winter, cold enough to freeze to death, she insisted on eating ice, her hands holding the plastic cups turning red. Yet, every time she looked at him expectantly with her big almond-shaped eyes shining brightly, sweetly asking if it tasted good.

He had no choice but to reluctantly say, “...Tastes good.”

She would then become very happy, pulling his sleeve and smiling, looking rather silly.

As they visited the convenience store more often, Yan Lin gradually noticed some issues. For example, among couples buying things here, it was usually the boy who paid. However, between him and Mi Lan, Mi Lan always paid.

She was a carefree person with thick skin, probably never realizing this issue, or even if she did, she wouldn’t care. She enjoyed being with him and didn’t mind anything as long as she was with him.

But Yan Lin couldn’t ignore it.

Originally, he had no plans to date, intending to quietly finish the college entrance exam and graduate. But now, things had changed, and he had promised to officially be with Mi Lan after graduation, making him feel responsible for her. Even if he couldn’t make Mi Lan live better than others for now, at least he should ensure she received treatment equal to other girls.