Li Wu stared at the message for a while and, not wanting her to worry too much, replied simply: “Yes.”

In truth, that afternoon, only his roommate, the boy sitting in front of him, and the girl Chen Rui mentioned—Tao Lanwen—had initiated a conversation with him. Not a single other classmate had spoken to him.

They were used to their established social circles and were naturally wary of strangers intruding. Rather than interact, they seemed to prefer observing from afar.

Throughout the afternoon, except for bathroom breaks, Li Wu remained at his desk. Only this small space allowed him to maintain his composure.

He also discovered that he had indeed fallen behind in his studies—in every subject. The learning pace at this prestigious school seemed to be set on fast-forward.

Cen Jin quickly responded: Boys or girls?

Li Wu froze momentarily, his ear tips warming slightly: “Boys.”

Cen Jin: Oh? No girls?

Her words carried a hint of surprise and disappointment.

Li Wu quickly denied: “No.”

Cen Jin: Then focus on your studies.

Li Wu: Mm.

Cen Jin: Good night.

Li Wu: Good night.

Cen Jin’s question wasn’t without reason.

Objectively speaking, Li Wu was good-looking, especially now that his features had matured somewhat. His features had gained a sharp edge—thick eyebrows, high nose bridge, large clear eyes—typical of a handsome young man with strong features.

After several days of interaction, she’d noticed this child’s impression of others was closely tied to his emotions.

If he was sincere with you, he appeared vulnerable and easily bullied; but if he deliberately kept his distance, the sharpness in his features could ward off most people.

Wearing the clothes she’d picked out for him, yet not a single girl had approached him?

Cen Jin found it hard to believe.

But then she thought perhaps she’d developed a maternal filter when it came to Li Wu, seeing only his good points, while others might not see him the same way.

Cen Jin didn’t dwell on it further and began contemplating her plans.

She’d resigned too suddenly, and she had no idea what she would do a month from now.

Reflecting on her past, every decision she’d made had been equally impulsive—her college application choices, dating in university, studying abroad for her master’s degree, and later marriage and pregnancy—all accompanied by some self-indulgent impulses.

But she also knew clearly that the luxury of such impulses came from having no worries about consequences, knowing that her family would always support her even if she fell from great heights.

Thinking of this, Cen Jin hastily called her father.

He answered quickly, and Cen Jin called out sweetly: “Dad!”

The other end responded with proper authority: “Mm—”

“Thank you,” Cen Jin said, “That child started school today.”

Her father’s tone was gratified: “Good, good, now you can rest easy.”

Cen Jin exhaled: “Dad, how’s Mom? Is she still angry with me?”

“She is,” her father’s words carried a smile, “She was still talking about you before bed.”

Cen Jin lowered her eyes, staring at a small pattern on her nightgown: “Help me apologize to her. I sent her a WeChat message, but she hasn’t replied.”

“How could she truly be angry with you? A mother and daughter don’t hold grudges overnight,” her father laughed at her overthinking. “Your mom is fine. Take care of yourself—are you still resting these days?”

Cen Jin said: “No, I went to work today.”

“Did you see Wu Fu?”

“I did,” Cen Jin decided to be honest, “I’m planning to resign.”

“Ah?” Her father was momentarily surprised but quickly understood. He deliberately kept his tone gentle and appropriate: “Well, given everything, staying at the original workplace would be difficult.”

But Cen Jin understood perfectly well. She raised her hand to roughly rub her temples as if only this could drive away the sudden surge of bitterness: “I might be getting divorced.”

She choked up: “I feel like I’ve wasted all these years, accomplished nothing.”

“Nonsense!” Her father’s voice grew urgent: “You just helped that child get into school—just this one thing earns you significant merit. How can you say you’ve accomplished nothing?”

Cen Jin’s speech quickened with anxiety: “Today I asked my boss to choose between Wu Fu and me, and he chose Wu Fu. I’m just inferior to him.”

Her father replied: “He has two more years of work experience than you, holds a higher position, and bears more responsibilities. The premise of your question wasn’t even on equal footing—there’s no basis for comparison. If I were your supervisor, I would choose Wu Fu too.”

“I know, but it’s just too real,” Cen Jin took a deep, quiet breath, “I’ve lived too easily, haven’t I?”

“Jin Jin, daughter,” a barely audible sigh came from the receiver, “Don’t completely negate yourself because of these things. Life can’t always be smooth sailing. If work isn’t going well, you can change jobs. If marriage makes you suffer, it can end. What’s most important is daring to make choices, and you’ve been making choices all these years, taking responsibility for your choices. You’re not wrong, this isn’t your problem.”

Cen Jin wiped her wet left cheek hard with the back of her hand, speaking through tears: “But I don’t want to separate from Wu Fu… Dad, I don’t want to leave him… I don’t know if it’s a habit or if I still love him, but just thinking about not being able to live with him anymore, not even being able to talk to him, I can’t adapt, can’t accept it. Why can’t I be more detached? I know it can’t be salvaged anymore, know this is how it ends, know we can’t go back to the past, but I really can’t take it, can’t take this relationship ending like this, can’t take being the one who was abandoned…”

Whenever she thought of these things, she felt herself crumbling into dust, never to be whole again.

After a brief silence, her father also sounded helpless: “I can’t help you with this. Marriage is a two-way choice.”

Marriage is a two-way choice—who doesn’t know that?

Like a suspension bridge—remove either foundation, and there’s nowhere left to go but a dead end.

Cen Jin had a long dream about a vacation she and Wu Fu took to the mountains years ago, where there was a glass walkway.

She was afraid of heights and wouldn’t take a single step. When Wu Fu’s consoling failed, he carried her on his back. She clung to his shoulders, wailing: “Won’t our combined weight create too much pressure and crack the glass, making us fall?”

Wu Fu said lightly: “Then we’ll die together. We’re supposed to share a grave when we’re old anyway.”

She protested, kicking her legs, insisting on getting down.

Wu Fu let go, and turned to smile at her: “So afraid of death?”

She didn’t answer, just held out her hand to him, saying huffily: “Hold on tight.”

That day, they walked the entire path with their fingers interlocked.

But in the dream’s ending, her hand suddenly emptied, Wu Fu vanished without a trace, and the entire walkway became instantly deserted. The pitch-black mountains surrounding her seemed to trap her like lurking ghosts. Terrified, she screamed his name—

Cen Jin jolted awake, her back sweaty, cheeks ice-cold. She lightly touched her face and found a handful of tears.

She pinched away the moisture on her fingertips, stared vacantly at the ceiling lamp for a while, then curled up and began to cry with extreme restraint.

Was reality like a dream, or was the dream reflecting reality? Cen Jin couldn’t tell. She only knew that the days ahead would be torturous, with no end in sight.

An end to this situation, this state, these emotions.

Every day, Cen Jin waited in desperate eagerness.

Every day, she avoided direct contact with Wu Fu.

Someone had leaked the news, and company colleagues had heard about their situation. No one joked or teased about their relationship anymore.

The conflict from that noon had minimal impact. Their team successfully won the Pure Crisp project, and Wu Fu was swamped with work, attending meetings big and small all day. Though Cen Jin sat at her workstation, she had already drifted outside the group.

She had found her next workplace—an emerging advertising company mainly doing social media work, gaining momentum in recent years with an excellent industry reputation.

The position she applied for was Senior Copywriter, but she also expressed interest in transitioning toward planning.

Previously, Cen Jin had been somewhat lazy with interpersonal relationships, content to sit at her computer scrutinizing words, but now she wanted to break out of her comfort zone.

Cen Jin’s abilities were decent, and her previous projects were all major brands with many beautiful case studies, so the interview went smoothly. After inquiring about her earliest possible start date, they expressed eagerness for her to join.

Though each day felt like a year, the weekend arrived in a flash.

Saturday around six, Cen Jin left work on time.

Sitting in the driver’s seat, she sighed in relief like being released from prison, but soon traffic congestion turned the car into a crawling metal can. After finally enduring the after-work traffic, Cen Jin drove into the residential complex and parked at the package lockers to collect her deliveries.

After loading all the packages into the trunk, Cen Jin opened Taobao and checked them one by one, but there was one box she couldn’t match to an order.

Cen Jin glanced at the tracking number and remembered it was the pair of shoes that had been out of stock at the mall.

A name she’d neglected for days suddenly came to mind. Cen Jin took out her phone and checked the time.

She closed the trunk, got back in the car, and drove out of the complex.

—

Li Wu sat at his desk, supporting his head as he worked on a complex geometry problem.

As soon as afternoon classes ended, his roommates had jubilantly returned to their homes. Now only Lin Honglang remained, packing his things.

He hummed while roughly stuffing homework into his shoulder bag, creating subtle noises. The sounds reached Li Wu’s ears, making him feel somewhat restless and unsettled.

Before leaving, Lin Honglang looked oddly at Li Wu: “You’re not going home?”

Li Wu glanced at him and gave a soft “Mm.”

“I’m heading out then,” Lin Honglang zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder, “See you tomorrow night.”

Li Wu nodded: “Okay, goodbye.”

After Lin Honglang left, Li Wu was truly the only one left in the dormitory.

Worried about electricity costs, Li Wu turned off the ceiling light and switched to the desk lamp. The light cast his thin, dim shadow diagonally onto the door panel. Catching it in his peripheral vision, he suddenly couldn’t continue writing.

He put down his pen, then picked it up again moments later, twirling it between his fingers.

Seconds later, the young man set down his pen again with a clatter and leaned back in his chair, his entire upper body seeming to collapse.

His eyelids drooped slightly, his gaze growing somewhat scattered as he watched the pen roll away on the paper until it stopped.

He raised one hand, took out his phone from the drawer, and opened the messaging interface.

The chat history still showed their last conversation from that night, his first day of school.

Cen Jin hadn’t contacted him since.

Li Wu pressed his lips together, and just as he was about to put the phone back, it vibrated in his hand.

Seeing the caller’s name, his heart suddenly raced, and he hurriedly pressed the answer button.

“Hello, Li Wu?”

The woman’s tone was perfectly calm, yet it was enough to brighten his surroundings by ten degrees.

“Mm.” The youth paused, then said: “It’s me.”

“Do you have evening self-study?”

“No.”

“It’s the weekend, right?”

“Mm.”

“I’m at your school’s main gate. Gather your things and come out.”

“Ah…” A kind of unexpected wild joy erupted, instantly engulfing him. His reactions slowed, unable to respond promptly.

“What ‘ah’?” The woman’s tone rose slightly: “It’s the weekend, aren’t you going home?”

Home.

Home…

After hanging up, Li Wu immediately stood up, quickly stuffed his books and test papers into his bag, checked the doors and windows, and ran out of the dormitory building, afraid of being late.

The night air was cool, rushing into his lungs. His backpack clattered behind him, constantly brushing against his back, but the young man seemed completely unaware, sprinting to the school gate, unable to contain his smile.