#50: Balcony of Building 3.

When it came to unreasonable behavior like cheating, Cheng Wanyue was more skilled.

On the night Zhou Heng moved out, he told Qing Hang something: Qing Hang had only started acting like a real person in recent months.

It wasn’t that Qing Hang only cared about medical updates—he also knew how much chili peppers and garlic cost per pound at the supermarket. Zhou Heng wasn’t saying Qing Hang used to pretend to be aloof; rather, he was saying Qing Hang now felt more alive.

No one is perfect, and no gold is pure.

At their age, who doesn’t experience negative emotions?

People feel insecure, jealous, envious, restrained at times, and wild at others. Like jagged gears slowly grinding into smooth surfaces, Qing Hang revealed sides of himself that starkly contrasted with his usual self due to Cheng Wanyue, completing him piece by piece.

Not only Zhou Heng but everyone around Qing Hang noticed the change.

But only Cheng Wanyue knew—this was who he truly was.

Qing Hang leaned against the wall, and Cheng Wanyue knelt on his lap. The autumn night was a bit chilly, but his body radiated warmth. Her hand slipped under his shirt, quickly warming up.

She thought for a few minutes. “Alright, I’m generous. I’ll let you win this time. What do you want?”

“First, I need to apologize.”

“Apologize?”

Qing Hang knew she was sleepy. She had completely changed her chaotic lifestyle habits. Except for occasional mishaps, her routine was quite disciplined now. She ate breakfast regularly, didn’t stay up late, played fewer games, and though her diet wasn’t entirely healthy, she only indulged occasionally.

They had said her health was poor, and Cheng Yanqing mentioned how bad things were when she was sick.

“Eight years ago, when you called and said you were sick, I didn’t believe you.”

Her hand stopped fumbling inside his shirt. Qing Hang clearly felt her emotional shift. She was already upset about losing the earring.

Qing Hang rubbed his chin against her forehead, his palm gently stroking her back. “I’m sorry.”

“11:06 PM,” Cheng Wanyue checked her phone. “Before this moment, I hadn’t forgiven you.”

If something that weighs heavily on your mind is easily forgotten, it means the person wasn’t important.

“I was angry at the time, but later I realized I had indeed used being sick as an excuse to deceive you many times. There’s the story of The Boy Who Cried Wolf in elementary school textbooks. You didn’t believe me because you were disappointed in me, right? I was the youngest in the family, spoiled by everyone, getting whatever I wanted too easily without learning to cherish it.”

“I thought you’d never leave.”

“I thought you’d miss me so much that you’d definitely come back for me.”

Qing Hang was admitted to university without taking the college entrance exam that year. After leaving Baicheng, he didn’t completely vanish from Cheng Wanyue’s life. Classmates would mention his name whenever she was about to forget him.

Every year, he transferred money into Cheng Guo’an’s account.

In reality, Cheng Wanyue was using that bank card. Every time Cheng Guo’an received a bank notification, he informed her.

Even though only Cheng Yanqing had been studying in Beijing in previous years, he never mentioned Qing Hang in front of her.

“Ah Yu and Cheng Yuzhou took their wedding photos at Baicheng No. 1 High School. I went back too. The weather that day was perfect. In the evening, the sunset bathed the playground in golden light, and the school looked stunning. Guess what I saw?”

Qing Hang didn’t miss any of her expressions. He whispered, “What did you see?”

Cheng Wanyue smiled. “I saw our names, on the confession wall of the rooftop balcony of Building 3.”

Building 3 at Baicheng No. 1 High School housed the library, music classrooms, and art rooms. Art students frequently attended classes there, and rehearsals for school events were also held there.

The rooftop door had been locked for a while but reopened after new railings were installed.

That white wall wasn’t initially a confession wall—it was a wish wall.

Many students had written their wishes on it. When the lower parts filled up, someone brought a ladder to write higher up.

At that age, their wishes weren’t about houses or cars.

Thus, the rooftop of Building 3 gradually filled with the confessions teenagers were too shy to speak aloud.

As one graduating class left, the next arrived. At first, the wall seemed vast, but later it felt too small. Some secrets were buried under newer writings.

On the day of the wedding photo shoot, Cheng Wanyue, bored while waiting, climbed to the rooftop to watch the sunset. She originally wanted to find Zhou Yu and Cheng Yuzhou’s names but unexpectedly found hers instead.

The name was carved into the wall, repeatedly written over with a pen. Even after eight years, though the color had faded, “Cheng Wanyue” was still legible.

If it were just her name, she wouldn’t have guessed who it belonged to.

But beside it were two more characters: Qing Hang.

Cheng Wanyue was the tallest girl in her middle school class. She barely grew taller in her first year of high school, reaching only 165 cm by her second year.

It seemed as if he had calculated it—the name was carved precisely at her eye level.

Only the names, nothing else.

Qing Hang’s wish was her, and the person he confessed to was her.

“That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about you. What do you look like now? Are you thinner or heavier? Do you have a girlfriend, or… are you married? Many classmates got married in high school, even having kids. Qing Hang, did you ever think I might marry someone else?”

After a long silence, he said, “I dreamt about it.”

On the day of the college entrance exam, they all gathered at Grandma Cheng’s house for dinner. Even Yan Ci was there, but Qing Hang was absent. Yan Ci’s condition was terrible at the time, but he hid it well. He didn’t look at Zhou Yu all night and laughed while listening to Cheng Yanqing reminisce about old times. Cheng Yanqing even had a video of Cheng Wanyue and Zhou Yu performing as gourds during a Children’s Day celebration in elementary school, joking that it would loop on a big screen at their weddings.

Cheng Wanyue scoffed at that embarrassing history. She wasn’t getting married.

Indeed, before Qing Hang asked if she wanted to wear a wedding dress, she had never thought about marriage.

“People change. Maybe I impulsively got my marriage certificate. Cheng Yanqing used to love Qin Hua so much, and he was devastated after their breakup. But then he met Huo Zhi. Look, he fell in love again. Why wouldn’t I consider marriage? Qing Hang, all these years, why didn’t you contact me? Weren’t you afraid I’d marry someone else? I never changed my phone number. Why didn’t you call me?”

“...I called him.”

Qing Hang couldn’t afford rent in Beijing, let alone his grandfather’s medical expenses. Part-time jobs were too slow to earn money, so he worked selling alcohol at nightclubs.

Selling alcohol wasn’t simple; if you sold little, you didn’t get much money.

To sell more, you had to drink with the customers.

Alcohol was like poison, and that humble bit of self-esteem couldn’t withstand the surging longing after drinking.

Winter in Beijing was especially cold, and it snowed that night.

Qing Hang stood on the busy street, dialing that familiar number, but all he heard was the mechanical voice: “Sorry, the number you dialed is currently switched off.”