The setting sun often heralds an end. Like a youth’s heart, it sank slowly below the horizon, yet still fought its last battle against the night. Its fiery embers painted half the sky crimson, setting the nearby school buildings ablaze with light.

But no one knew if this spark led to happiness or a lurking abyss. The boy just bit his lip, staring blankly across the playground. He was waiting for someone.

"After school, behind the playground swings, I’ll wait for you."

Could such crude, straightforward words truly convey his feelings? Or would they end up like all overreaching attempts—tossed into the trash as worthless paper?

The last ray of sunlight vanished reluctantly. The boy lowered his head, scoffing at himself with a sigh. Who did he think he was? Why would anyone come just because he snapped his fingers?

Darkness crept in around him. Birds returned to their nests; insects chirped. Yet the boy’s feet remained rooted to the spot.

After what felt like forever, the other swing suddenly creaked. It swayed on its own.

"Waiting for someone?"

The girl swinging in the air asked this.

The boy’s heart clenched, as if gripped by a giant hand. After a moment’s pause, it pounded even harder.

"Y-you, you..."

Unspoken joy and excitement surged through his blood to every limb, even his brain. Flustered in the dark, the boy couldn’t form a complete sentence.

The girl didn’t mind. She winked playfully, feigning annoyance. "What about me? I’m waiting too. Just ran late—wonder if that guy left already."

"No!" the boy blurted out.

The girl on the swing smiled sweeter in the dusk. Only two people were there—the grove by the swings, the whole playground. How could she not know who he was? It was just a joke. He regretted being so clueless, but he couldn’t help it. Around her, his rationality crumbled; his defenses shattered. Every casual smile or frown from this moonlit girl tugged at his heart.

"Got held up by some chores. The teacher asked me to help organize papers in the office."

The girl closed her eyes as if she hadn’t heard, letting the swing carry her. Her long black hair danced in the evening breeze, like the boy’s restless heart, swaying up and down.

No wonder she was late. His worries vanished. Evening, the quiet campus, alone by the swings, the faint fragrance in the air—everything was sweet and perfect. He almost forgot the purpose of that letter.

"Oh."

The boy, unsure how to respond politely, made a meaningless grunt. He just wanted this happy moment to last.

The girl giggled, opening her eyes slightly. Her clear eyes held a trace of mock annoyance but sparkled with laughter. "Hey, what’s with that attitude? You called me here, then go silent?"

"I, I..."

He feared that speaking would shatter this peaceful, beautiful moment.

"Hmm, right. What’s your name again?" The girl’s eyes twinkled; she licked her lips.

The white letter had no signature. The boy feared his bad reputation at school would ruin his last chance. Though classmates, she was a star—how could she see someone in the shadows?

Not surprised, the boy gave a bitter smile. "I’m..."

"Alright, alright, just kidding! You have no sense of humor!" She scolded him but couldn’t hide her smile. She wagged a slender finger. "Jiang Lan, right? How could I forget my classmate? Secret: I helped the teacher grade papers. You mostly hand in blanks, but you write your name. Your messy handwriting—I recognized it instantly!"

Though tricked, the boy loved seeing her playful face. He was thrilled that even a delinquent like him occupied a spot in her mind. Skipping class, fighting, ignoring rules—Jiang Lan’s place was always the last row.

"If you knew it was me, why did you still come...?"

"Yeah, why indeed?" The girl stopped the swing with her foot, turned, and rested her chin on her hand. "Hey, some say your family runs the underworld. Others say you run a Martial Arts Hall. And that Jiang Xiaoyu, the grade rep, is your sister. All sound fun—which is true?"

Except the first, the boy lowered his head in silence.

Unfazed by no answer, the girl clapped her hands and jumped up. She struck a karate pose. "Enough chit-chat. Bring it on!"

"Bring it on?" The boy looked confused.

"Mhm." She beckoned challengingly.

"Why?"

"Why? Didn’t you call me here? Remember what you did?"

"What did I do? I just wrote a few words... ‘After school, behind the playground swings, I’ll wait for you.’"

The girl nodded seriously, tilting her head cutely. "See? Coming from a delinquent like you, it’s basically ‘You punk, wait after school if you dare!’ It’s a challenge!"

After school, behind the playground swings, I’ll wait for you = You punk, wait after school if you dare!

"Huh?"

What equation led to that conclusion? The boy’s face darkened. Had it been a misunderstanding from the start? Was that sweet moment just pre-fight banter?

"Pfft!" The girl doubled over laughing, clutching her stomach. "Okay, okay, no more jokes. You’re adorably gullible—believe everything I say?"

Fooled again, the boy scratched his head and nodded instinctively.

"Seriously," the girl said, half-annoyed, half-amused. "The letter was neatly folded, no creases. Clear handwriting. Carefully slipped into a desk—it couldn’t be a challenge. Logically, it must be a..."

Her words cut off abruptly. Both blushed, eyes darting away.

"Y-you called me here to say something, right?"

Seeing her shy, exquisite face, the boy’s heart skipped a beat. He gathered courage and opened his mouth.