Li Wanmei walked alone through the empty, silent stairwell.

Step by step, the winding stairs stretched on. Only a dim, eerie green light illuminated the words "QUICK ACCESS."

*Pat. Pat.* Her footsteps echoed. Late at night, alone, it sounded like someone was following her—chilling.

But Li Wanmei felt nothing. Her eyes hollow and lost, she climbed upward, one slow step at a time.

Near the rooftop, she spotted a small, tightly shut iron door.

She twisted the handle. It wouldn’t budge.

"Enough. Don’t waste your strength."

The sudden voice jolted her heart. She stiffly turned—and saw a face she never wanted to see, even in nightmares.

"Binge-watching too many dramas? Seriously thinking every hospital rooftop’s open for suicide attempts?" Chen Yuzhe leaned lazily against the railing, hands in his pockets. He watched Li Wanmei’s stunned face with detached amusement. "If you really wanna jump, find an empty bathroom stall. Close your eyes, leap before anyone notices—might take ten minutes for someone to find you. This rooftop drama? Pointless. Feels *meaningful*? Or just cool?"

"You… Why are you here?" Li Wanmei ignored his sarcasm, lips pale.

Chen Yuzhe shrugged. "Just passing by. You buy that?"

Li Wanmei lowered her head, silent.

Her quietness surprised him.

He chuckled softly. "I expected you to hate me. To lunge at me like a raving madwoman—hitting, scratching, screaming how I ruined your life, cursing me to hell. Then collapsing in sobs when you’re exhausted. That kind of scene."

"But," Chen Yuzhe raised an eyebrow, "you seem far more rational than I imagined."

A bitter smile flickered on Li Wanmei’s lips. "Yeah."

"I’m clear-headed now."

"Clearer than when Huang Yanchen grabbed my collar, roaring at me to abort the baby."

"I see. Good." Chen Yuzhe’s reply was flat.

"Then why choose death?"

Li Wanmei tilted her head slightly. "Hard to understand? I thought someone like you would approve."

Chen Yuzhe froze.

"My parents disowned me," she said calmly, as if discussing a stranger. "Cut ties. Refused to pay for my treatment."

"I don’t blame them. They didn’t raise me to support a college student who got pregnant—and HIV-positive."

Her lashes trembled. Her gaze dropped.

"I failed them. I’m sorry."

Chen Yuzhe stayed silent.

"I’m not pessimistic. I’ve thought clearly about my future."

She murmured like to herself: "No parents’ money. Huang Yanchen won’t help. HIV-positive. My choices are gone."

"Even if I bear this child… I can’t raise him. And if he inherits HIV? Condemned to a life under everyone’s stares from birth…"

"Then it’s better—" She flashed a heartbreaking smile.

This time, Chen Yuzhe had no rebuttal.

She was right. A college dropout, HIV-positive—she couldn’t care for herself, let alone a child.

The media circus had scared off friends. Jobs? Impossible.

Even if the child survived healthy… how could she bear watching him live under the shadow of infection?

Sometimes, prejudice kills faster than disease.

*Damn.* Chen Yuzhe frowned.

"I don’t want to die."

"But if my death ends this—"

In that moment, Li Wanmei’s expression became something Chen Yuzhe found hard to bear.