[The boy who always stubbornly walked towards her, silently accompanied her, and gazed at her with affection.]

Yu Qing was terrified by her state. At first, she didn’t even dare to comfort her, feeling as if her daughter was possessed. The slightest bit of pressure would be enough to completely break her down.

But later, she had to persuade her, because she wouldn’t eat, drink, or sleep. In just a few days, she lost weight and her face became terribly haggard. She didn’t look like someone who had just become the provincial top scorer and encountered a great happy event at all.

Moreover, the deadline for submitting college applications was tomorrow, and she still hadn’t decided on her final destination. Teachers from the Tsinghua and Peking University admissions teams kept contacting them, and some schools like the University of Hong Kong were also offering conditions, giving out hundreds of thousands in scholarships to try to get Zhou Leqi to sign an agreement. They were still waiting for her news, but Zhou Leqi seemed completely uninterested, unable to muster even a bit of energy.

...Her heart was only filled with Hou Zihao.

She only wanted to find Hou Zihao.

This matter was too serious, so serious that even No. 1 High School had to send teachers to their home to communicate. Old Pan came in person and kept sighing after entering, saying that this year was truly a pile of strange events: the most stable Yan Lin actually missed the English exam, Zhou Leqi, who got the provincial top score, refused to fill out her application properly, and as for Hou Zihao, he simply disappeared, and even the principal couldn’t contact him.

Wasn’t this a disaster?

Old Pan was so worried that he lost more hair. After much persuasion, he finally brought Zhou Leqi back to school. Teachers from Tsinghua, Peking University, the University of Hong Kong, and a bunch of other schools were still waiting for her, but she only focused on grabbing Old Pan and asking: Has Hou Zihao signed the agreement?

Old Pan sighed again and could only tell the truth: No.

The school had already contacted his parents, but neither of them gave any feedback, as if they didn’t plan to let him fill out the application at all.

The light in Zhou Leqi’s eyes shattered once again.

No one could understand how lost and lonely she was at that time, because no one knew what Hou Zihao meant to her.

He had suddenly barged into her life when she was most distressed, bringing a light and warmth that she couldn’t refuse, opening layer after layer of her guarded heart, and directly walking into her heart. He was like the light in the corridor of her building, becoming her only comfort in a dark and narrow world. Whenever she passed by him, the warm light would flicker slightly.

He was the only pillar in her once-shaky little world.

But now... he had disappeared without a trace.

Zhou Leqi completely broke down.

She cried loudly, helplessly, completely unaware of what she had done wrong, and not knowing what to do to salvage everything. She felt that her longing for that person had become so intense that it broke through the limit, which made her even run back to the classroom of Senior Year Class 1 like a fool,趴 on his desk trying to find comfort.

It was just a very cold desk, not him at all, and there wasn’t even a trace of him left. Only at this moment did she realize how important he was to her. Without him, the classroom they had spent time together in instantly seemed empty and desolate, even though the sunlight and cicada chirping outside the window were the same as when he was there, even though everything in this world was no different from when he was there.

She didn’t want to look up at anything anymore, because everything within her sight might evoke her memories and sadness. For example, the blackboard newspaper at the back of the classroom would remind her of the scene when they drew it together, and the broom and dustpan in the corner of the classroom would also remind her of how he accompanied her when she was on duty.

...He existed in every corner of her life.

So she really could only lie趴 and cry, but even if there was only darkness in front of her, she would still think of him. Even darkness became an important connection between her and him, reminding her that he had appeared in her life in such darkness.

She was obsessed.

She cried until her head was dizzy, immersed in desperate longing and unable to extricate herself. At this moment, she faintly heard a sound of footsteps, someone was approaching her.

Her cold heart then had a hint of wanting to become warm again, because she fell into a beautiful fantasy again, imagining that the person coming was him.

He would reappear in front of her, and when he saw her crying, he would hug her and comfort her. He would apologize to her, saying he was wrong, saying he would never suddenly disappear again, saying he was just playing with her. She must not forgive him quickly, she must keep being angry and throwing tantrums at him until he swore that he would never do this again in his life before she could let it go.

With this fantasy in mind, she raised her head, and almost his deep eyes and that casual smile appeared before her eyes, but...

...but the person who appeared before her was not him.

It was Pei Qiming.

He was standing in front of her, neither too close nor too far. Because she had been趴 in the darkness just now, her eyes were still a bit unable to open when she suddenly saw the light, so she didn’t see the expression on his face at that time very clearly, a bit distressed and a bit pitying.

“Le Qi...”

He called her name once, and then stopped talking, pulled out the chair in front of her and sat sideways, as if he would stay with her forever.

He actually had something to tell her too.

He worked as a student assistant in the Tsinghua admissions office. This summer, he came out with the school teachers to recruit students. He was from City A, so of course he returned to his home province to do admissions work. When he first heard that Zhou Leqi had become the provincial top scorer, he was sincerely happy for her and did not have any grudges because of her gentle rejection of his feelings last winter.

He hoped that she would have a bright future and a promising future, and even more hoped that she could come to Tsinghua, enter the School of Economics and Management, and become his junior. He would definitely do his best to take care of her, help her, introduce her to the school’s professors and internship resources. They would definitely become the best partners, understanding and appreciating each other, just like in high school.

Now he wanted to persuade her to choose Tsinghua, but... she was crying.

He had never seen her cry before. Even when she failed the college entrance examination for the first time, she didn’t cry. But now, just because that junior high school classmate had disappeared from her sight, she had collapsed like this.

He didn’t quite know what to say, especially when he saw the light in her eyes suddenly dim when she looked up and saw that it was him. He was even more unsure how to enter her world, so in the end, he could only politely remain silent, sitting with her in this empty classroom, watching her silently shed tears.

Zhou Leqi lie down on the desk again.

Heaven knows how much time had passed. The sunlight outside the window changed from the brightness of the morning to the intensity of noon, and then gradually subsided and became light again, turning into the afterglow of dusk. She remained motionless in the same place, like a stubborn stone, completely an empty shell without a soul.

Until her phone in her pocket vibrated slightly, accompanied by a unique notification sound — it wasn’t from a social media app, but a text message.

An outdated method of communication.

At first, Zhou Leqi didn’t react. Perhaps the repeated cycle of anticipation and disappointment over these days had left her somewhat numb. As such, the text notification didn’t bring her pure joy. She could already imagine that when she opened her phone, it would either be an advertisement for real estate or a bill from the telecom company.

She rested on the table for a while longer. Days of insufficient food intake had left her physically drained, and even the simple act of lifting her upper body off the table made her dizzy. Still, she chose to push through the physical discomfort and pulled out her phone from her pocket, all for the sake of that tiny, almost impossible glimmer of hope.

…And this time, she finally received something.

It was from him.

The sender’s name was simply “he,” a notation inspired by him. She had seen his phone before; he had labeled her number as “she,” and her home landline as “her house.”

This was quite ordinary. Both “he” and “she” were common Chinese characters, practically meaningless pronouns. But when she first saw them in his phone, her heart softened. It was as if she was suddenly enveloped by an invisible tenderness. The depth and lingering affection behind that single character made her secretly moved every time she thought about it.

Now, “he” had finally responded to her.

Just three simple words.

“I’m sorry.”

No context, no follow-up, no explanation, no conclusion, not even a punctuation mark to indicate an end or pause — it started abruptly and ended just as quickly.

Leaving her with even more intense pain and profound loneliness.

She stared intently at those three small words on the large screen until the screen dimmed and went black. Then she turned it back on, continuing to stare, forgetting to reply or ask any questions.

It wasn’t until ten minutes later that she snapped out of it. By then, her dizziness had worsened, and her fingers trembled as she tried to dial his number, unsure if it was due to emotional turmoil or physical exhaustion.

Dial tone.

Dial tone.

Dial tone.

“Sorry, the user you are trying to reach is busy. Please try again later.”

She hung up and dialed again.

Dial tone.

Dial tone.

Dial tone.

“Sorry, the user you are trying to reach is busy. Please try again later.”

She hung up and kept calling.

“Sorry, the number you have dialed is currently switched off.”

She hung up and continued calling relentlessly.

Finally —

“Sorry, the number you have dialed does not exist.”

Only at this moment did she truly have to admit:

He was really leaving.

The boy who was late on the first day of senior year.

The boy who casually brought her pork floss bread and fruit ice porridge.

The boy whose drawings were bad but handwriting was beautiful.

The boy who took her to eat beef noodles, fried chicken strips, and lamb skewers.

The boy who, like her, calculated the final physics problem to 7.1 m/s.

The boy who accompanied her on the bus every night and walked her home down dark paths.

The boy who, in anger and panic, tackled her down from the hospital rooftop.

The boy who spent the whole night sitting by her bedside, soaked to the bone in the rain.

The boy who accompanied her to see a doctor at the psychiatric hospital.

The boy who appeared before her on New Year’s Eve after traveling 400 kilometers.

The boy who nonchalantly said, “That’s all, thank you,” under the gaze of the crowd.

The boy who gave up independent recruitment for her without hesitation.

The boy who, outside the college entrance exam hall, smiled and gave her a black pen.

The boy who was inseparable from her on the beach in midsummer.

The boy who stubbornly walked toward her, silently stayed by her side, and gazed at her with love.

He... had left.