The fourth period on Wednesday morning for Class 3, Senior Year was self-study. With no teacher present, the classroom buzzed with chatter and empty seats. Thwack-thwack sounds of basketballs and referee whistles drifted from the playground. Students too restless to study had turned self-study into P.E.

The classroom split into two worlds. The front three rows sat quietly, buried in endless exam papers. The back three rows slouched lazily, many scrolling on phones.

Passing the classroom door, Qi Yan glanced inside. No sign of anyone resembling Rin Qin.

Unfazed, he knocked. "Excuse me—is Rin Qin in there?"

"Nope. Vice Principal Zhang called her away. She hasn’t come back."

"Sorry to bother you."

Burning with anxiety, Qi Yan didn’t linger. He had no time to check on his sister next door. Human life outweighed everything—finding Rin Qin came first.

*Where could she be?*

The playground? Too vast. From here, students looked like ants. Finding Rin Qin—knowing only her back, not her face—was like searching for a needle in a haystack. He’d never find her before dismissal.

Outside the school gates? Possible. Though the security guard wouldn’t allow it, hidden paths might let students slip out.

Blindly rushing around was useless. He’d start where danger most likely lurked.

The school rooftop—the place stained with blood, where too many young lives had ended.

Eastgrain Middle School had half its classrooms empty. Dust-coated desks filled the fifth and sixth floors, casualties of students flocking to private academies. Competition existed everywhere; schools were no exception. If private academies drew students away, they simply offered something Eastgrain couldn’t. Everyone deserved to choose their future. Qi Yan saw nothing wrong with that—if money allowed, he’d send his sister to one himself. Every parent wanted better education for their child. With their parents gone, an elder brother took on a father’s role. Qi Yan felt the same.

The rooftop’s iron gate hung unlocked, cigarette butts littering the ground. Delinquents clearly used it to kill time. Qi Yan pushed the squealing gate open. The rooftop stood empty. Moss-blackened grime and rain-soaked, sun-baked playing cards covered the floor.

"Not here... Guess I’m just being paranoid," Qi Yan sighed in relief. Few truly didn’t cherish life. News reports were just that—news. This was a quiet town, far from paparazzi and city chaos.

He gripped the railing, gazing up at the autumn sky where a few white clouds drifted.

*"The first time I saw you, you harmonized with that azure sky, radiating the warmth of gentle sunlight..."*

A soft, elegant voice floated up from below—like a breeze sweeping through Qi Yan’s heart, scattering all his thoughts. He forgot his purpose entirely.

*Singing? A music class? Could it be Lemon?*

But this voice held deeper power. No instruments, just pure a cappella—truly heavenly. Lemon’s voice was softer, like endless ocean waves: soothing, addictive.

When the voice sang, *"When will we finally meet?"* Qi Yan’s heart jolted. A strange familiarity washed over him.

He’d heard this song before. Not just the lyrics—the melody, the vocal runs, the breath control, even the tearful quiver. Every detail felt unnervingly familiar.

If he’d only suspected earlier, now he was certain. Long ago, on this very rooftop, someone had sung this to him.

*"Memories are the greatest liars. The hazier they are, the more they deceive."*

Muttering this cryptic line, Qi Yan hurried downstairs before the song ended.

Step by step, the voice grew clearer.

He stopped before a paint-chipped door. A rusted sign hung crookedly: "ART ROOM."

*Shouldn’t this be the music room?*

Ignoring the oddity, Qi Yan pushed inside. Dust choked the air. A chipped David plaster statue lay discarded. Upside-down chairs sprawled on the floor. Dried, cracked paint cakes replaced watercolors. Crumpled paper, soda cans, and plastic bottles littered the ground.

A girl with lavender hair sat hugging her knees on the windowsill, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes.

*Crunch—*

Qi Yan stepped on a plastic bottle. The sharp noise shattered the song’s spell. The girl’s sweet voice cut off abruptly.

"Ah—"

She looked up, startled by the intruder. Hands flew to her mouth, eyes wide as saucers.

Her sudden movement threw her off balance. She tipped backward off the windowsill.

"Careful!"

Qi Yan lunged forward—but he wasn’t some anime protagonist. He never caught girls’ hands at the last second. Tripping over the plaster statue, he face-planted hard. His palms scraped raw, blood beading on the skin.

Ignoring the sting, Qi Yan’s blood ran cold. The girl had vanished from the windowsill.

*Did she fall?*

Tomorrow’s headlines flashed in his mind: *"Teacher assaults student in art room—girl jumps to escape..."*

*Is my life over?*

He leaned out the window. Instead of blood, he saw polka-dotted pink panties. Below lay a small flower-filled balcony. The girl’s skirt had flipped up, revealing everything—including the shadowed dip between her thighs.

Qi Yan patted his pounding chest, gasping. "You scared me half to death! Strangers don’t pull stunts like that—and we’re old friends, Guoguo..."

The girl covered her flaming face. "Brother Qi... this reunion is awful. Not... romantic at all..."

"After all these years, you still haven’t grown up. Romance only exists in fairy tales."