The wind was fierce on the rooftop.
Su Xiaoyue sat on the concrete ledge at the edge of the building, her legs dangling over the side. The wind whipped at her skirt, making the fabric snap and flutter violently.
Her hair was a mess. Several strands clung to her cheeks, soaked through with tears and plastered together. Yet she had no thought of brushing them aside. She simply kept her head lowered, all her attention fixed on the phone in her palm.
The screen was still lit, displaying a WeChat conversation.
The contact pinned at the top was saved as “Brother,” but the profile picture had already changed to the default icon shown after an account was deleted.
The chat was packed with green message bubbles, every single one sent by her—from early this morning until now.
“Brother, are you asleep?”
“I scored 712! I’m the Provincial Top Scorer! Did you fall asleep?”
“I was really happy today, but you’re not replying to me, so I’m not that happy anymore.”
“Brother, did something happen to you?”
“Please don’t scare me…”
“If I did something wrong, tell me. I’ll change…”
“Brother, I’m begging you. Can you just say something to me?”
A red exclamation mark appeared beside every message, accompanied by the system notification: [The recipient has enabled friend verification. You are not yet friends.]
She kept resending the messages, again and again, as though persistence alone might somehow force them through. Green bubbles gradually filled the entire screen. Eventually, even the notification changed.
[The recipient has deleted their account.]
Su Xiaoyue had no idea how long she had been sending messages. The battery icon in the upper-right corner had already turned red, showing only 10% remaining.
She glanced at the number but didn’t move.
She had already made up her mind.
That remaining 10% would be her countdown.
When the phone finally died, when the last trace of light on the screen went dark, she would stand up and take one step forward.
It wouldn’t take long.
Just a few seconds.
Then she could leave.
The area below the building was deafening. Police sirens, voices shouting through loudspeakers, and the steady drone of blowers inflating the rescue cushion all blended into one indistinct roar.
Yet Su Xiaoyue wasn’t afraid. Nor did she find the noise disturbing.
Those sounds seemed to be coming from somewhere impossibly far away, from a world that had nothing to do with her anymore.
Her life had been given back to her by Brother. Without him, she would have left this world long ago.
She simply stared at the screen, her fingers mechanically tapping the keyboard.
“Brother, I’ll wait a little longer for you, okay?”
“Just reply to me once. Just once.”
“I know you must have a reason. Is there something you can’t tell me?”
“I don’t blame you. I really don’t blame you…” The source of this chapter is g.com.
“Please come back, okay?”
Another message was sent.
A red exclamation mark appeared beside it once again.
Her thumb froze above the screen. After several seconds, she suddenly smiled.
The corner of her mouth twitched upward, yet tears spilled from her eyes at the same time. One landed on the screen, spreading into a small watery stain.
“Liar,” she whispered, her voice scattering in the wind. “You’re such a liar.”
Yet even as she said it, her fingers continued typing.
It was as though her body remained more loyal than her mind, stubbornly making one last futile struggle even after all hope was gone.
At that moment, hurried footsteps sounded behind her.
The metal door was shoved open with a harsh creak.
“Xiaoyue!”
Su Xiaoyue’s back stiffened, but she didn’t turn around.
She knew that voice.
She knew it far too well. She had been hearing it since childhood.
“Xiaoyue, don’t move!” Xia Anmian’s voice was trembling, something Su Xiaoyue had never heard from her before. “Just stay right there. Don’t move. I’m coming over.”
The footsteps advanced another two steps.
“Don’t come any closer!” Su Xiaoyue suddenly spun around, her voice sharp and hoarse.
Xia Anmian immediately stopped.
She stood about five or six steps away from Su Xiaoyue, her chest rising and falling violently. Sweat covered her forehead.
Two steps behind Xia Anmian, Jiang Yi also came to a halt. He still hadn’t caught his breath. His gaze passed over Xia Anmian’s shoulder and landed on Su Xiaoyue’s face.
It was the first time Jiang Yi had ever seen Su Xiaoyue cry like this.
Her eyes were swollen all around, her eyelids red and raw. Blood vessels covered the whites of her eyes, and tears continued spilling uncontrollably down her cheeks, yet she kept her lips tightly pressed together without making a sound.
Her entire face was wet with tears.
A single teardrop hung from her chin. The wind made it tremble before it finally fell onto the concrete ledge beneath her.
“Xiaoyue…” Xia Anmian took a breath, desperately trying to steady her voice. “What happened? Tell me. I can help you.”
Su Xiaoyue said nothing.
She merely turned away again and lowered her gaze to the phone screen.
“I’m Xia Anmian. Don’t you trust me?” Xia Anmian cautiously moved half a step forward. “You always tell me everything. When you can’t finish your homework, you complain to me. When you don’t want to go home, you complain to me about that too. You even told me first when you fell in love with someone…”
Her voice grew increasingly unsteady. By the final few words, a sob had crept into it. “Did your parents pressure you again?”
Su Xiaoyue’s shoulders trembled.
“If you don’t want to live with your parents, you can come stay with me.” Xia Anmian’s voice suddenly softened, almost pleading now. “You know my mom. She’ll definitely welcome you. We’re best friends, Xiaoyue. Whatever happened, you can tell me. I can help you. Please come down, okay?” The source of this chapter is g.com.
The wind howled between the two buildings and swept across every corner of the rooftop.
Su Xiaoyue’s phone screen dimmed again. She tapped it, bringing the brightness back up.
The battery dropped another 1%.
“Anmian.” Su Xiaoyue finally spoke, her voice so hoarse that it sounded as though someone had been squeezing her throat.
“I’m here, Xiaoyue. Tell me.” Xia Anmian answered immediately.
Su Xiaoyue lowered her head, then turned the phone toward Xia Anmian.
Countless green message bubbles and red exclamation marks glowed faintly on the screen as it trembled in the wind. However, she didn’t give Xia Anmian enough time to read them. She merely held the phone up for a moment before pulling it back and clutching it against herself again.
“Brother doesn’t want me anymore.”
Just five words.
Soft. Almost weightless.
Yet Xia Anmian stood frozen where she was.
Her lips parted. She wanted to say something, anything, but no words came out.
Of course she knew Su Xiaoyue had an online boyfriend. Xiaoyue had mentioned him countless times before—how kind the boy was to her, how they were each other’s salvation, and how they had promised to meet after the college entrance examination.
But Xia Anmian had never realized that Su Xiaoyue had fallen this deeply.
“…Just because of that?” Xia Anmian’s throat felt dry. “Xiaoyue, even if he doesn’t want you anymore, you still have me. You still have your parents. You still have—”
“You don’t understand.” Su Xiaoyue cut her off, exhaustion suddenly weighing down her voice. “You don’t understand what he means to me.”
She lowered her head again, her thumb sliding across the screen as though she were still sending messages to someone.
But that account had already been deleted.
No matter how many messages she sent, nothing would ever come back except another red exclamation mark.
“He’s the only person I can really talk to,” Su Xiaoyue whispered, her voice growing softer with every word. “My parents only ask what score I got and what rank I placed. My teachers only tell me I need to work harder and that I can’t disappoint everyone’s expectations. But him… Only he asks whether I was happy that day. Only he reminds me to go to bed early. Only he listens when I talk about all those pointless little things.”
As she spoke, another faint smile appeared on her face. “He told me his parents had a terrible relationship and that his life was miserable. He said I was the only light in his life.”
Her smile disappeared.
“But now he doesn’t want me anymore.”
Su Xiaoyue raised a hand and roughly wiped her face, smearing the tears across the back of her hand.
Her gaze finally left the phone screen and drifted toward the distant, gray horizon.
“Anmian, go away. I want to be alone for a while.”
“Xiaoyue, don’t—”
“I said go away!” Su Xiaoyue suddenly screamed.
She whipped her head around and glared at Xia Anmian, her bloodshot eyes trembling with desperation.
“Take one more step toward me, and I’ll jump!”