Li Wu stared at the message for a while. Not wanting her to worry too much, he replied: "Yes."
In reality, throughout the entire afternoon, only his roommate, the boy sitting in front of him, and the girl Cheng Rui mentioned named Táo Wǎnwén had initiated conversation with him. None of the other classmates had.
They were accustomed to their established social circles and harbored a natural wariness toward unfamiliar intruders. Rather than interacting, they seemed to prefer observing from a distance.
The entire afternoon, aside from going to the restroom, Li Wu had remained in his seat. Only this small, confined space could bring him a sense of calm.
He also realized that he had indeed fallen behind in his coursework—in every subject. The pace of learning at this prestigious school felt as if it had been fast-forwarded.
Cen Jin quickly replied: "Male or female?"
Li Wu was taken aback, his ears warming slightly: "Male."
Cen Jin: "Hmm? No girls?"
Her tone carried a hint of surprise and disappointment.
Li Wu swiftly denied it: "No."
Cen Jin: "Then focus on your studies."
Li Wu: "Okay."
Cen Jin: "Good night."
Li Wu: "Good night."
Cen Jin's question wasn't without reason.
To be fair, Li Wu was quite good-looking, especially now that he had grown into his features more. His facial features had gained a sharper edge—thick eyebrows, a high nose bridge, and large, clear eyes—making him the typical handsome youth with striking features.
After a few days of interaction, she noticed that the impression this kid gave was closely tied to his emotions.
If he was open with you, he appeared fragile and easy to bully; but if he deliberately kept his distance, the sharpness in his expression could deter most people.
Wearing the clothes she had picked out for him, and not a single girl had approached him?
Cen Jin found it hard to believe.
But then again, she thought, perhaps she had developed a maternal bias toward Li Wu, seeing everything about him as perfect, while others might not share her perspective.
Cen Jin didn't dwell on it further and began contemplating her own future plans.
She had resigned too abruptly, and she still had no idea where she would go or what she would do a month from now.
Reflecting on the past, every decision she had made had been impulsive—her college application choices, university relationships, studying abroad for graduate school, and later, marriage and pregnancy—all accompanied by a sense of self-indulgent whims.
But she was also aware that the capital for such whims came from having no worries about the consequences; even if she fell from great heights, her family would always be there to support her.
Thinking of this, Cen Jin quickly called her father.
He answered promptly, and Cen Jin sweetly called out, "Dad!"
He responded with a serious and hearty tone, "Yes—"
"Thank you," Cen Jin said. "That kid started school today."
Cen's Father sounded pleased: "Good, good. Now you can rest easy."
Cen Jin sighed softly: "Dad, how's Mom? Is she still mad at me?"
"She is," her father replied with a chuckle. "She was still complaining about you before bed."
Cen Jin lowered her gaze, staring at a small pattern on her nightgown. "Please apologize to her for me. I sent her a WeChat message, but she didn't reply."
"How could she really stay mad at you? There are no lasting grudges between a mother and daughter," her father laughed, assuring her she was overthinking it. "Your mom is fine. Focus on yourself—are you still resting these days?"
Cen Jin said, "No, I went back to work today."
"Did you see Wu Fu?"
"I did," Cen Jin resolved to be honest. "I'm planning to resign."
"Ah?" Her father was momentarily surprised but quickly understood. He deliberately kept his tone calm and reassuring: "Alright then. Given the circumstances, staying at your old workplace would only make things harder."But Cen Jin heard it clearly. She raised her hand and rubbed her temple vigorously, as if trying to drive away the sudden surge of bitterness: "I might really get a divorce."
Her voice choked: "I feel like I’ve wasted all these years, accomplished nothing."
"Nonsense!" Cen's Father’s tone grew urgent: "You just helped that child get into school. That alone deserves a heavy entry in your Merit Ledger. How can you say you’ve accomplished nothing?"
Cen Jin’s speech quickened with anxiety: "Today I asked my boss, choose Wu Fu or me—he chose Wu Fu. I’m just worse than him."
Cen's Father replied: "He has two more years of work experience than you, holds a higher position, and bears greater responsibilities. Your question wasn’t set on equal footing—there’s no comparison. If I were your leader, I’d choose Wu Fu too."
"I know, but it feels too real," Cen Jin took a deep, quiet breath: "I’ve lived too easily, haven’t I?"
"Jinjin, my daughter," a nearly inaudible sigh came through the receiver: "Don’t negate yourself entirely because of these things. Life isn’t always smooth sailing. If work dissatisfies you, change jobs. If marriage pains you, end it. What matters most is having the courage to choose. You’ve been making choices all these years and taking responsibility for them. You’re not wrong—this isn’t your fault."
Cen Jin wiped her damp left cheek hard with the back of her hand, pouring out her words tearfully: "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 habit or if I still love him. The thought of not living with him anymore, not even talking to him, feels unbearable. Why can’t I be more detached? I know it’s irreparable, I know the outcome is set, there’s no going back—but I really can’t stand it. I can’t stand this relationship ending like this, can’t stand being the one who was abandoned…"
Every time she thought of these things, she felt shattered into fine dust, impossible to piece back together.
After a brief silence, Cen's Father sounded helpless too: "I can’t help you either. Marriage is a two-way choice."
Marriage is a two-way choice—who doesn’t know that?
A suspension bridge, anchored on both sides—if either support gives way, there’s nowhere left to go.
Cen Jin had a long dream. One year, she and Wu Fu went on a mountain vacation where there was a Glass Trail.
Afraid of heights, she didn’t dare take a single step. Wu Fu tried to reassure her but failed, so he carried her on his back. Clinging to his shoulders, she cried out: "Will the pressure from us crack the glass and make us fall?"
Wu Fu said lightly: "Then we’ll die together. We’ll be buried together when we’re old anyway."
She refused, kicking her legs stubbornly, insisting he put her down.
Wu Fu let her go, turned back, and smiled at her: "So afraid of death?"
She didn’t answer, only held out her hand and said sulkily: "Hold it tight."
That day, they walked the entire trail hand in hand, fingers interlaced.
But at the end of the dream, her hand suddenly felt empty—Wu Fu vanished without a trace. The entire trail was abruptly deserted, the dark mountains encircling her like ghosts closing in. Terrified, she screamed his name—
Cen Jin woke with a start, sweat on her back, her cheeks cold. She touched her face lightly—her hand came away wet with tears.She wiped away the moisture on her fingertips, stared blankly at the ceiling light for a moment, then curled up and began weeping with suppressed sobs.
Was reality like a dream, or did dreams reflect reality? Cen Jin had no way of knowing. She only understood that the days ahead would be torment, with no telling how long it would last.
An end to this situation, this state, these emotions.
Every day, Cen Jin waited with desperate yet fervent anticipation.
Every day, she avoided any direct contact with Wu Fu.
Someone must have leaked the news, as colleagues had more or less heard about the changes between them. No one joked about their relationship anymore.
The conflict at noon that day had minimal impact. Their team successfully secured the Crispy Aroma project, and Wu Fu was swamped with back-to-back meetings. Though Cen Jin remained at her desk, she had already drifted away from the team.
She had already found a new job—a rising advertising agency specializing in social media marketing, which had gained significant momentum in recent years and enjoyed an excellent reputation in the industry.
The position she applied for was senior copywriter, but she also expressed her desire to transition into planning.
Previously, Cen Jin had been somewhat lax in interpersonal relationships, content to sit in front of her computer crafting words. Now, however, she felt compelled to step out of her comfort zone.
Cen Jin’s individual abilities were solid. She had worked on projects for major brands and had an impressive portfolio of successful cases, so the interview went relatively smoothly. After asking about her earliest possible start date, the company expressed eagerness for her to join.
Though each day felt like a year, the weekend arrived in what seemed like a blink.
On Saturday, a little after six, Cen Jin clocked out on time.
Settling into the driver’s seat, she sighed with relief as if released from prison, but soon, the traffic congestion turned the car into a sluggish metal can. After enduring the commute, she finally drove into her residential complex and stopped by the parcel locker to pick up her deliveries.
After loading a stack of packages into the trunk, she opened Taobao to check them off one by one. Only one box didn’t match any order.
Glancing at the tracking number, Cen Jin remembered it was the pair of shoes that had been out of stock at the mall.
A name she hadn’t thought of in days surfaced in her mind. She took out her phone and checked the time.
Closing the trunk, she got back into the car, turned around, and drove out of the complex.
—
Li Wu sat at his desk, propping his head as he worked on a challenging geometry problem.
As soon as school ended in the afternoon, his roommates had cheered and headed home. Only Lin Honglang remained, packing his things.
Humming a tune, Lin Honglang carelessly stuffed his homework into his satchel, creating rustling noises. Hearing this, Li Wu felt restless and unsettled.
Before leaving, Lin Honglang gave Li Wu a curious look. "Aren’t you going home?"
Li Wu glanced at him and replied softly, "Mm."
"I’m heading out first," Lin Honglang said, zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow night."
Li Wu nodded. "Okay, see you."
Once Lin Honglang left, the dormitory was truly empty except for him.
To save electricity, Li Wu turned off the main light and switched on the desk lamp instead. The light cast his slender, faint shadow diagonally across the door. Catching it in his peripheral vision, he suddenly found himself unable to continue writing.
He set down his pen, then picked it up again after a moment, twirling it between his fingers.
A few seconds later, the teenager dropped the pen with a soft clatter, leaned back in his chair, and let his entire upper body slump.
His eyelids drooped slightly, his gaze grew unfocused, and he watched the pen roll away on the paper before gradually coming to a stop.
He raised a hand, took his phone from the drawer, and opened the messaging interface.
The conversation still lingered on that night—his first day at school.
Since then, Cen Jin had never contacted him again.Li Wu pursed his lips and was about to return the phone to its original spot when it vibrated in his hand.
Seeing the caller's name, his heartbeat suddenly quickened, and he hastily pressed the answer button.
"Hello, Li Wu?"
The woman's tone was calm and ordinary, yet it was enough to brighten his surroundings by ten degrees.
"Yeah." The teenager paused briefly before saying, "It's me."
"Do you have evening self-study tonight?"
"No."
"So you're on break, right?"
"Mm."
"I'm at your school's main gate. Pack your things and come over."
"Ah..." An unexpected surge of wild joy burst forth, instantly overwhelming him. His reactions grew sluggish, unable to respond promptly.
"Ah what?" The woman's tone rose slightly. "It's the weekend. Aren't you coming home?"
Home.
Home...
After hanging up, Li Wu immediately stood up, quickly stuffing books and test papers into his bag. After checking the windows and doors, he dashed out of the dormitory building as if afraid of being even a second late.
The cool night air rushed violently into his lungs, and the backpack thumped noisily against his back with each step. Yet the teenager seemed completely unaware, sprinting all the way toward the school gate, unable to contain his spreading smile.
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