[“Alright... then, I’ll wait for you.”]

After that day, Zhou Leqi never saw Hou Zihao again.

It was as if he had suddenly become incredibly busy. He no longer appeared under her apartment building as frequently as before. At first, he would still find time to call her a few times or send her some texts. Later, the texts stopped, and only phone calls remained. Eventually, even those disappeared, leaving her with no contact at all.

She had asked him if something was wrong. He kept telling her it was nothing, urging her not to “overthink things,” and promised, “I’ll come see you soon… can you wait for me a little longer?”

She said “okay” and began what felt like an endless wait.

In reality, this so-called “endless” period was exaggerated. They hadn’t been apart for long—six days? Seven days? But to Zhou Leqi, this stretch of time felt impossibly prolonged, every minute and every second unbearably agonizing, as though years had passed.

She had promised him she wouldn’t overthink things, but how could she truly stop herself? Gradually, she grew restless and anxious. After a while, she couldn’t help but secretly search on her phone: “Why does my boyfriend suddenly stop contacting me?”

The results were overwhelming.

“What else could it be? His feelings have faded. He doesn’t like you anymore.”

“He’s fallen for someone else.”

“Men are naturally wired to pursue mates. If he’s stopped chasing you, it means he’s lost interest.”

“Did you sleep together? If he ghosted you after sex, it’s because he got what he wanted and now finds you boring.”

“Laughing to death, the comment above is brutally honest.”

“That’s why women shouldn’t sleep with men before marriage. He got what he wanted and now thinks you’re worthless.”

“Easy, easy~”

…

Zhou Leqi turned off her phone.

She waited two more days, but still, there was no word from Hou Zihao. This kind of silence had never happened before—he had never made her wait, never left her feeling lonely. Now, his sudden absence was unbearable.

Unable to hold back any longer, she called him again. The first few times, he didn’t pick up. Finally, after what felt like forever, he answered. When he did, she heard a cacophony of noise in the background—it sounded like he was in a crowded place.

“Hello?” His voice came through the receiver, distant and faint.

Zhou Leqi felt as though she hadn’t heard his voice in ages. Hearing it now brought unexpected tears to her eyes. She took a deep, silent breath to steady herself and, after a pause, called out his name.

“...Hou Zihao?”

She had so much to say to him, and even more, she wanted to hear him speak. She hoped he would comfort her, reassure her, indulge her—even meaningless banter would have sufficed.

But instead, more chaotic noise came through the line. It seemed there were indeed many people around him. Someone was talking to him, their words indistinct, but she could tell there were both men and women. One voice sounded vaguely familiar...

Could it be... Yuan Jiahui?

She wasn’t sure, but the sense of loss and panic within her grew stronger by the second.

Finally, his voice came through.

“It’s a bit chaotic here right now…” His tone was hurried. “Can I call you back later?”

She didn’t know what to say, unsure if he could even hear her over the commotion. She curled up on the small sofa at home, feeling lonelier than ever before.

All she could do was force a smile and reply, “Alright... then, I’ll wait for you.”

He seemed to acknowledge her faintly—or maybe not at all—and then the call ended.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Only the endless dial tone remained.

________________________________________

June 25th, the day college entrance exam scores were released.

Even before the score-checking portal opened, Yu Qing’s phone was already flooded with calls.

There were calls from teachers at No. 1 High School, as well as admissions officers from Tsinghua and Peking Universities.

The teachers from No. 1 High were ecstatic on the other end of the line, informing her that Zhou Leqi’s score had come out: 741 , the top scorer in the province for science students. Meanwhile, admissions officers from Tsinghua and Peking were enthusiastically inviting Yu Qing to bring the student for interviews and sign admission agreements.

Provincial top scorer...

Those three words felt almost too surreal, far more impactful than being the city’s top scorer. Both Zhou Leqi and Yu Qing were stunned, staring at each other in disbelief, as though they were dreaming.

It wasn’t until the score-checking website finally reloaded after being overwhelmed that Zhou Leqi entered her ID number and exam registration number with trembling fingers and clicked the blue “Query” button. Only then did everything become clear.

Name: Zhou Leqi

Candidate Number: XXXXXXXXXX

Exam Registration Number: XXXXXXXXXXXX

Chinese: 143

Mathematics: 150

English: 150

Science Comprehensive: 298

Total Score: 741

…741.

Zhou Leqi stared blankly at the small number at the bottom of the webpage. Contrary to the expected emotional upheaval, there was only silence within her.

She didn’t know what to say, or even what to think.

Of course… she had once fantasized about this moment. Back when she was a freshman in high school, untouched by setbacks or shadows, her heart brimming with beautiful dreams and boundless energy.

Later, those aspirations had crumbled one by one. She had been pushed into the abyss, trudging forward against biting winds in the coldest, most desolate places. How could she dare dream then? All she could do was muster the last bit of strength to pray that fate wouldn’t torment her further, hoping for a shred of mercy to endure the hardships… That was all.

And now, her earliest dream had come true.

741… That tiny number would never know how much effort, unseen and grueling, she had poured into achieving it, how much bitterness and repeated humiliation she had endured. And now, it had finally arrived… as if promising her the future she had always longed for.

In the news, other provincial top scorers and their families reacted with calm composure upon receiving their results. But Zhou Leqi and Yu Qing couldn’t manage that. They clung to each other, crying uncontrollably, sobbing until they were breathless, unable to recover for over half an hour.

It was only when her grandparents called to ask about her score that their emotional breakdown was interrupted. Yu Qing wiped her eyes and excitedly rushed to answer the call and share the good news. Joyful voices echoed from the other end. Zhou Leqi looked back at her mother, who was overcome with happiness, and felt her own joy and satisfaction swelling.

But there was still one thing weighing on her mind.

Hou Zihao… How had he done?

Hou Zihao had performed exceptionally well too.

Third place in the province, with a total score of 736 , even outranking Pei Qiming, who had been the city’s top scorer that year.

The teachers at No. 1 High were thrilled. They quickly hung bright red banners at the school gate, proudly displaying the names of Zhou Leqi and Hou Zihao to congratulate them on their outstanding achievements. Everyone passing by the school gate stopped to take a look, and parents with children turned to them and said, “Sweetie, you should study hard and aim to become a top scorer like these older siblings!”

A festive atmosphere filled the air.

But not all the news was good. The college entrance exam, after all, brings joy to some and sorrow to others. While some soared to great heights, others unexpectedly plummeted into despair.

…Like Yan Lin.

He scored only 572 points , failing to reach even 600.

Yan Lin’s performance had always been the most consistent throughout senior year. Across nine major mock exams, he was the only one who had never fallen out of the top three. Even Hou Zihao had dropped out of the top ten once, but Yan Lin remained steadfastly at the top.

Yet, his performance in the college entrance exam…

Tens of thousands of places? Or hundreds of thousands?

His fall was even more devastating than Zhou Leqi’s previous two failed attempts.

Rumors about him spread throughout the school.

People began discussing his background, saying his family was extremely poor, living in a slum that had recently been forcibly demolished. Apparently, someone in his family had gotten into trouble—whether they had died or not, it was unclear, but it was a big deal. Others claimed they had been in the same testing room as Yan Lin during the exam and personally witnessed him skipping the final English test altogether.

As for why he missed the exam… no one knew.

All anyone knew was that Yan Lin was finished. The 60-point reduction he had secured from Tsinghua was now useless—Tsinghua’s cutoff score was so high, requiring at least 700 points. Scoring below 600 rendered that generous policy meaningless.

Speculation abounded, accompanied by sighs and lamentations.

Zhou Leqi, who was somewhat acquainted with Yan Lin, naturally cared about his situation. But at that moment, she simply didn’t have the emotional capacity to worry about anyone else because…

…Hou Zihao had vanished.

He was gone.

On the day the scores were released, she called him, wanting to share her good news and ask about his results. But he didn’t pick up. Over the next few days, she called him seventy or eighty times, yet he still didn’t answer.

She called every other day, then every third day, then every fourth day… Always, there was no response.

Like a stone sinking into the ocean.

Like disappearing from the face of the earth.

She panicked—completely panicked—but forced herself to stay calm. She thought, surely she’d see him eventually. He had to return to school to submit his university preferences, meet with admissions officers, or at the very least handle his records.

If she just had patience, if she kept waiting, she would definitely see him.

She had to.

She encouraged and consoled herself this way, then began waiting at school every day. Most of the time, she wandered between classrooms and the teachers’ offices. Occasionally, she stood at the school gate, looking around anxiously.

Like a lost child, disoriented and desperate.

The joy of succeeding in the college entrance exam had completely evaporated. She felt even more miserable than when she had failed the exam twice before. She desperately wanted to find Hou Zihao—or at least catch a glimpse of him. At the very least, she needed to know where he was, whether he was safe and healthy, and why he had suddenly disappeared.

Unable to bear it any longer, she sought help, going to Old Pan to ask for Hou Zihao’s address.

Only then did she realize how inadequate a girlfriend she had been… She knew so little about him. He had delivered her home every day, even chased her all the way to D City, yet she didn’t even know where he lived.

With a heart full of trepidation, guilt, and sorrow, she found her way to Haoting International Community, following the address Old Pan had given her. Arriving at the building where Hou Zihao lived, she was stopped by property management staff on the first floor. This was a high-end community, and they refused to let her go upstairs. When she mentioned she wanted to visit the 33rd floor, their expressions turned strangely subtle.

A hint of surprise.

A touch of pity.

…Which only unsettled her further.

In the end, she still didn’t find him.

It was as if he had suddenly vanished, like a beautiful dream shattering and erasing all traces of its existence, leaving one to question whether such perfection had ever been real.

Zhou Leqi collapsed. She began crying day and night. When she wasn’t crying, she sat in a daze, staring at her phone. Every notification or call brought a flicker of hope, but when she realized none of them came from the person she was waiting for, the light in her eyes dimmed again.

Leaving behind only a dead silence.