"Uh..."

"My phone’s dead."

Hua Xin stared at her blacked-out screen as she stepped out of the event hall. The device had turned into a useless brick, its last glimpse frozen on the clock: 9:24.

"Whatever... I’ll walk back anyway. No battery, no problem."

"Now that fake guy’s gone, I’ll bounce too."

"If only I could find some cash lying around again..."

Her phone was dead. All she had left was ten yuan in her pocket.

*Hmm... if only that duck stall I saw this morning is still open on my way back.*

*Duck frames are only five yuan each. I could buy two.*

Slipping the phone into her pocket, the girl gripped her backpack straps and walked silently down the quiet road. But her eyes sparkled with quiet joy.

Hua Xin was already content.

Streetlights cast soft halos of warm yellow—not harsh white—along the path. Alone here, she didn’t hunch like she did in daylight. Instead, she faced forward, gazing down the endless road.

Even with the lights, darkness clung stubbornly.

This place buzzed with life by day.

But now, past nine PM with the freshman welcome party in full swing, nearly everyone was probably laughing under stadium lights, soaking up youth’s fleeting rush.

Her steps grew lighter. She savored this solitary moment, humming a tune under her breath. Her hands slipped from the straps and clasped behind her back.

The night wind carried a chill.

Hua Xin hopped onto the raised curb, arms outstretched like a tightrope walker. But her balance betrayed her—after two wobbly steps, she stumbled off.

"Ugh..."

She turned away, silent.

She hated admitting it, but she’d never been athletic.

As a kid, she couldn’t even run fast enough to escape beatings. Two steps in, she’d twist an ankle, trip, or get caught because she was too slow.

*Just a born klutz, huh?*

She sighed, shaking her head.

Guess Niuniu leaving hadn’t changed that.

Brushing artificial turf stains and dust off her pants, she glanced at the distant teaching building. A strange impulse flickered in her chest.

*Why not...*

*...go see?*

Her decision surprised even herself. She abandoned her plan to go home.

Two minutes later.

*Ding...*

The elevator doors slid open. Darkness swallowed the floor—thick, suffocating. Only her soft footsteps broke the silence. Moonlight barely outlined the shapes around her.

"Left or right again?" she muttered, hesitating before choosing the right path.

The familiar heavy door still stood atop the steps, sealed shut.

She crept forward and tugged it open. A rusty *creak* split the air. Wind gusted through the gap, slamming into her slight frame and forcing her back two steps.

"Whoa!!!"

Hua Xin’s excited shout cut through the night. She dropped her backpack, dashed to the railing, and gripped the safety net. Below, neon lights pulsed across the steel veins of the city. Even the semi-trucks she feared crossing paths with earlier now looked like tiny, harmless specks.

"So pretty," she whispered.

She pushed back her hood, revealing a neat ponytail. The wind whipped her hair into wild ribbons. Even with her mask on, her stunning features glowed under the city lights.

Today had been good.

She’d eaten Auntie’s beef baozi, shared snacks with Mu Feng’s group, watched dazzling performances, and now stood here alone, soaking in the view.

Things she hadn’t done in years.

*Even if Xia Yan "balings" me later... it’s fine.*

*No big deal.*

Hua Xin closed her eyes, breathing deep as the wind rushed over her. Faint echoes of singing drifted from the party—voices riding the music, wild and free.

This day felt beautiful.

So different from her lonely room.

*Tap...*

*Tap...*

Footsteps echoed from the half-open door behind her.

*?*

Her eyes snapped open. Panic erased the calm. She yanked her hood up and scrambled toward her backpack.

*(Who the hell’s here at this hour?! Ghosts?!)*

*(Where’s my hammer?! Where’s my hammer?!)*

The door groaned wider. A tall figure stepped through, breathing hard.

"I knew I’d find you here."

Exhaustion and relief tangled in his voice. Hua Xin froze, staring at Xia Yan. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

*Wasn’t he on a date with Lin Qingyu?!*

*How’d he track me down with my dead phone?! GPS?!*

*Is he dead set on bullying me?! (sob)*

She backed away, eyes locked on his hand hidden behind his back. *Definitely a hammer. Or a stun gun.*

*(I can take it. Hua Xin, you’ve got this. You’ve got this...)*

"Maybe I should’ve said this sooner, Hua Xin."

Xia Yan wiped sweat from his brow. His usually perfect hair was wind-tousled. His voice dropped, heavy with apology: "I’m sorry."

No preamble. No excuses.

Hua Xin blinked, stunned. Her grip on her backpack loosened.

*What’s happening?*

She couldn’t process it.

Gone was his easy charm. His voice flattened, raw: "Since elementary school—even kindergarten—I’ve always been alone."

"My parents love money. Earning it."

"They value work more than me. If I hadn’t been an accident, they might not have had kids at all."

"No one ever came to my parent-teacher conferences."

"When they bullied me—beat me till I was bruised head to toe—no one helped. I was too small, too weak."

"Teachers would say, *‘Why do they only pick on you? Not others?’*"

His smile twisted, bitter and broken. "They never gave me a chance to tell them."

*Tell them your kid’s been ‘balinged’ for a year. Tell them your lunch money’s stolen every day.*

"I only saw them once in all those years."

"The day my grandma died. She told me to be strong."

"I used to wonder: Why have a kid if you won’t love them? Why stay married? Do they have secret children somewhere?"

"Sounds messed up, right? Like some made-up story?"

He swallowed hard, forcing calm. "They never loved me. I realized that after middle school."

"Grandpa’s getting old."

His voice drifted, lost. "I noticed when his hands shook cooking egg fried rice—bits of shell in the pan. When he’d stare at his white hair in the mirror."

"I knew I couldn’t stay broken."

"So that summer, I changed."

"I lifted weights. Played basketball. Ran. Made friends. Studied like a maniac. Read books on talking to people. By high school, I became the ‘perfect kid’ everyone envied."

His voice cracked.

"Until now."

He skimmed over years of pain in one sentence.

"So... Hua Xin."

Xia Yan wiped tears he hadn’t noticed falling. His smile was shaky, real. He shouted into the wind: "I want you to be like me now. Strong enough to face the world. To walk out of that rotten past. To forget those cowards who pick on the weak—and the teachers who looked away."

Curses he’d never utter spilled out, raw and unfiltered.

Then his voice softened, tender:

"I’m asking you... to save the boy I used to be."

"Walk out with me."

"That’s why I want to be your friend."

Hua Xin didn’t panic this time.

Tears already shimmered in her eyes.

She’d understood his pain the moment he began speaking.

Only someone who’d lived it could read the storm in his voice.

*Haha... Xia Yan’s not a liar. He doesn’t want to "baling" me...*

*So this is it. We’re the same. He pitied me.*

She nodded.

*Wait—why did I nod?*

Her vision blurred with tears.

She wanted to scream. To ask her parents why they’d abandoned her. To demand why her bullies targeted her. To shake those teachers who did nothing while she was "balinged."

*I want to... I want to so badly...*

Her body trembled. Her backpack lay forgotten on the ground.

Her mask was soaked.

But the sky was dry.

*Whoosh! Boom!*

A brilliant pink-purple firework erupted over the field. Then another. And another. Crackling bursts painted the rooftop in rainbow light, flooding the darkness where they stood.

Xia Yan slowly brought his hidden hand forward.

His smile wasn’t the polished one he wore for the world.

Hua Xin hadn’t heard his last words.

Another firework boomed—deafening, dazzling. The light washed over Xia Yan’s tear-streaked face and the object in his hands.

Not a hammer.

A beautifully decorated cake. Creamy letters spelled: *Hua Xin – 19th Birthday.*

His smile wobbled. Tears carved paths down his cheeks.

His final words cut through the night:

"Hua Xin... happy nineteenth birthday."