It’s never a good thing when a student dies at school, and of course, efforts are made to keep the news from spreading too far.
Someone asked, "How did that student end up dead in the underground warehouse?"
Teacher Wu shook his head. "I’m not sure either. I only vaguely heard from a colleague that he must have died horribly—drained of all his blood, yet no body was found. Why he went to the underground warehouse on the night of May 4th, whether it was murder or suicide, remains unresolved to this day."
"What a shame," Teacher Wu sighed. "I taught their class too. He was a brilliant kid, deeply interested in physics. If not for this tragedy, he would’ve surely become a successful physicist by now."
Since May 4th is Youth Day, Teacher Wu remembered the date clearly. At the time, other teachers also lamented the loss of such a promising young man, but as years passed, fewer and fewer people recalled the incident.
The topic was too heavy, and Teacher Wu didn’t want to dwell on it. The others didn’t press further.
Xia Miao was about to leave right at the clock-out time when the evening class teacher had to rush home—his wife was going into labor. So, Xia Miao had no choice but to cover his shift.
By the time the evening class ended, it was already late, and to make matters worse, a storm had rolled in—thunder rumbled, and rain poured outside.
Sitting alone in the empty office, Xia Miao glanced at the raindrops streaking the window. Without an umbrella, she decided to wait for the rain to ease up before heading back to her dorm.
Bored, her gaze drifted to a plastic bag on the desk. Out of curiosity, she pulled out its contents.
A dusty letter, a grime-covered small box, and a tattered student ID—all of them stained with a deep, unsettling brown. A strange thought crossed her mind: Had these items been soaked in blood long ago?
She grabbed a tissue and wiped away the dust, carefully unfolding the letter first.
The paper had lost its original color, bearing signs of liquid damage. Most of the words were illegible, only a few faintly visible, though the elegant, forceful handwriting still shone through.
It took Xia Miao a long time to decipher just a few words:
"...like...always...forever..."
The rest was impossible to read.
She guessed it must have been a love letter—one destined never to reach its recipient.
Gently, she folded the letter back into place and picked up the worn student ID. The boy’s face was blurred, but the name was still clear.
"Shen Chi."
The name rang a bell.
Back in their student days a decade ago, Xia Miao had always been in the top two in every exam. And on the rankings, one name from Class 2 constantly competed with her for first place.
She had seen "Shen Chi" countless times.
But rumor had it he disliked the spotlight, never stepping onto the stage as a representative speaker. Xia Miao had never met him in person—only remembered his name.
Then, one day, his name abruptly vanished from the rankings.
Lost in thought, Xia Miao opened the small box. Inside was an SD card—the best-preserved item among the lot, thanks to the protective case.
Almost as if guided by some unseen force, she pulled out her laptop, inserted the SD card, and to her relief, the data was intact. A folder labeled "C.M" appeared. A strange thrill ran through her as she clicked it open, revealing a video file.
The screen went black for a split second when she double-clicked, then the video began playing.
A boy suddenly appeared on-screen, adjusting the camera. After a few seconds, seemingly satisfied, he stepped back, revealing his face fully.
Neat black hair, striking and refined features, a loose white T-shirt adding to his clean, bright demeanor.
Yet he seemed reserved, visibly uncomfortable in front of the camera.
"My name is Shen Chi. I want to apply to MIT because I’m deeply interested in physics."
He introduced himself in fluent English—clearly, this was part of his application materials for his dream school.
Outside, lightning split the night sky in two. As thunder roared, the power went out—both in the video and in the real world—leaving only the dim glow of the laptop screen.
Xia Miao jumped. Maybe it was her imagination, but the boy on-screen seemed to pause, his expression shifting to one of surprise.
Frowning, she felt an eerie sensation—as if he was looking straight at her. A cold sweat broke out on her back, and she reached to shut the laptop when suddenly, the boy spoke.
"Xia Miao."
Her hand froze. She looked back at the screen, and across time and space, their gazes locked.
He asked, "Why are you here?"
Xia Miao: "You can see me?"
The boy nodded.
Goosebumps erupted across her skin. Her mind spun into chaos.
A knock sounded from his side. "Shen Chi, it’s time. Let’s go."
Acting on pure instinct, Xia Miao blurted, "What’s the date where you are?"
Shen Chi replied, "May 4th."
The knocking persisted.
Xia Miao shot to her feet. "Don’t go out! Stay in your room—don’t go anywhere!"
Shen Chi looked puzzled.
"If you leave tonight, you’ll die!"
Her blunt declaration would’ve made anyone think she’d lost her mind.
The knocking grew more urgent.
Shen Chi glanced toward the door.
Desperate, Xia Miao pleaded, "Don’t go! Trust me, you absolutely cannot leave tonight!"
He turned back to her, his dark eyes glimmering with something unreadable.
Another thunderclap boomed. A spark flashed—the laptop short-circuited, emitting a burnt smell as it died, now nothing but a useless hunk of metal.
Xia Miao stood dumbfounded in the pitch-black office, unable to process what had just happened.
It all felt like a bizarre, surreal dream.
A third bolt of lightning struck, thunder shaking the world.
Suddenly, the room spun. A wave of vertigo overwhelmed her, and she collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud.
"Hey, Xia Miao."
"Wake up! Time to hand in your assignment!"
"Xia Miao!"
The girl jolted awake at her desk, blinking at the familiar sight of her old university classroom—surrounded by faces she once knew but had mostly forgotten.
The class monitor frowned at her dazed expression and raised his voice. "Xia Miao, you’re the only one who hasn’t submitted Teacher Wu’s paper. Hand it in, or he’ll fail you!"
A classmate in front suddenly turned. "Xia Miao, Shen Chi’s here to see you!"
Xia Miao froze, then looked up.
The tall, lanky boy looked like he had just come from P.E. class, his dark tousled hair slightly damp. His usually pale skin now carried a healthy flush from exercise. The loose white T-shirt and black shorts did little to hide his well-built frame, paired with clean white sneakers—broad shoulders, a narrow waist, long legs—he stood out effortlessly.
He stood silently at the classroom door, his dark gaze fixed solely on her.
Xia Miao’s heart pounded wildly. She sprang up and dashed toward him.
Class monitor: "Hey, you haven’t handed in your homework yet!"
Xia Miao grabbed Shen Chi’s hand and pulled him into the empty stairwell. Breathless with excitement and nerves, she stared at him, running her hands over his arms again and again, confirming he was solid and warm to the touch.
She nearly screamed, clutching her head. "What’s going on? Why am I here? And why are you here?"
The boy looked down at her, his fingers brushing her cheek as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His thumb lingered on her skin. "Miao, are you still mad at me?"
Xia Miao: "...Huh?"
"Yesterday, Teacher Wu kept us late, so I couldn’t come on time. I didn’t mean to make you wait so long." He leaned in closer, far past the usual boundaries between friends.
His nose brushed hers, his dark eyes filled with nothing but her. Wrapped in the intoxicating warmth of his presence, he murmured, "Don’t be angry with me, okay?"
Then he kissed her.
In that instant, a flood of memories rushed into her mind.
—Today was April 1st.
And their three-month anniversary.
