The wind on the roof of the school’s science building was so strong.
Chen Ya stood before the railing, thinking this.
Her ponytail was blown into the air by the wind, as if an invisible hand was grabbing its end, pulling her scalp tight.
She was a little confused, not understanding why things had turned out this way. Her head felt numb, as if her brain had flowed out with her tears as she cried. Her brain still looked like a brain, but in reality, it was already empty.
That thing I said to Zhen Huan, even if I was wrong, should I have to take all the responsibility?
It was Zhen Huan! The one who decided to jump was only Zhen Huan! No one was pushing her from behind!
Right, I’m not wrong, I’m not wrong at all…
As she thought this, her body, which had been pressed against the railing, had just moved away from the cold boundary when the phone in her pocket vibrated again.
“Buzz—buzz—”
She flinched as if struck by an invisible whip, her whole body trembling.
No, no, don’t call, don’t call…
Thinking this, she fumbled to turn off her phone, but instead, the call connected.
“It’s all your fault!” Xu Shijin screamed wildly over the phone. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be like this! It’s all your fault! It’s all your fault!”
It’s not me, it’s not…
At first, she tried to summon the courage to go back down, but her courage and will dissolved rapidly in Xu Shijin’s fury, like ice meeting the scorching sun.
No one stood behind her, no one pushed her.
It seemed she didn’t really want to die…
But after her brain lost its function, her body made its own decision. She pressed against the railing again, the cold metal making her shiver. She lifted her leg, climbed over the railing, and looked down.
The trees were like toys, the people like ants.
The pull of gravity is so strong.
A hundred, a thousand times stronger than usual.
Will it hurt to jump?
Following the path from the back gate, one would pass the school’s rubber track. The track had two forks: one leading to the academic and dormitory buildings, the other to the cafeteria and the science building.
Zhou led Ji Xun straight toward the cafeteria and science building.
He explained methodically: “There are no ponds or rivers in the school, so drowning is not an option. If Chen Ya can’t think straight, the most likely method is to jump from a rooftop. There are three buildings in the school tall enough for suicide: the academic building, the dormitory building, and the science building.”
“The dormitory has strict access control. It’s not after school hours yet, and there’s an attendant on duty who won’t easily let students in. The academic building is full of teachers and students, so if Chen Ya chose to jump from there, teachers and students would be able to spot her. Also, ever since Xu Shijin attempted to jump from the academic building, the door to its roof is usually locked and not easily opened. So, the most dangerous place left is…”
They had already arrived at the base of the science building.
The two of them looked up at the rooftop almost in unison.
On the edge of the roof, a dark figure was straddling the railing, teetering precariously.
Ji Xun cursed.
“Call the police!” he turned and said to Chi Wenlan who was catching up behind them. “Then call the grade director and her homeroom teacher—”
They rushed into the science building. There was an elevator, but it wasn’t operational at night. They had to take the spiral staircase in the center of the building. The winding stairs seemed endless. He felt like he had been running for a long time, but when he looked up, the top was still far away. What was more terrifying was that when he looked back down the way they came, it also looked long and distant.
A predicament as if suspended in mid-air, unable to go up or down, just spinning in place like a headless fly.
In the midst of this anxiety, Ji Xun suddenly noticed that Zhou’s steps had slowed.
He was no longer taking two or three steps at a time like when they first started climbing, but had shortened his stride, going up one step at a time.
Was his stamina exhausted?
Ji Xun thought, but he quickly noticed a faint but definite expression of disgust on the other’s face—no, not disgust, but resistance.
He was slowing down not because of exhaustion, but because he was resisting the rooftop, resisting the terrible scene unfolding up there.
Ji Xun understood what was going on in the other’s mind, but there was no time to sort through or attend to his feelings. And Zhou wasn’t truly delaying them.
He seemed unhappy, seemed resistant, yet his shortened steps continued to climb upward at a steady pace until they reached the top floor of the science building, the entrance to the roof, and through the opening, saw Chen Ya at a glance.
Chen Ya, who had been straddling the railing, had, in the time it took them to run up, already climbed over it and was now truly standing on the outside of the ledge. Her arms were hooked backward over the railing, which provided a flimsy layer of security, as fragile as paper.
Ji Xun, having rushed up, wanted to go forward but hesitated. It would be fine if he rushed over and saved her, but what if he provoked the already agitated Chen Ya into doing something?
When would the police and teachers arrive?
Just as Ji Xun was anxiously trying to buy some time, Chen Ya, standing outside the railing, turned her head and saw Ji Xun and Zhou at once.
“Don’t come any closer!” she screamed.
“We won’t, just calm down!” Ji Xun quickly stopped in his tracks and shouted back. He shot a look at Zhou and continued speaking to Chen Ya, “Chen Ya, you can tell me whatever is upsetting you. Are you trying to jump because of what happened with Zhen Huan?”
Zhou understood. While Ji Xun distracted Chen Ya, he silently moved along her blind spot, quietly approaching her from another direction.
“Zhen Huan!” Her face twisted with resentment. “I was ruined by Zhen Huan! If I had known she was so fragile, I would have stayed far away from her, not said a single word to her, not even given her a single look!—”
Ji Xun listened patiently.
At this critical moment, he had only one wish: that Chen Ya would talk endlessly, until the end of time—or if not that long, at least until the police and teachers all arrived and all safety measures were in place.
But the more you want something, the less likely you are to get it.
Fate is a mischievous child, always playing little jokes on you.
Its little jokes are your shattered life.
Suddenly, a phone started buzzing on the rooftop. Chen Ya, who had been talking to Ji Xun, visibly broke down. “Turn it off, turn it off! Shut up, shut up, I don’t want to hear it! Get it away from me, take it somewhere I can’t see or hear it!”
She was talking about the phone on the ground. Ji Xun had seen it the moment it started buzzing.
It was a small, silver Samsung flip phone with a light-up charm attached that was now flashing a cute pink light in the night.
Though stunned that a phone could provoke such a strong reaction from Chen Ya, Ji Xun immediately picked it up, removed the battery, and in an instant, the incessantly ringing phone went silent.
Chen Ya gasped for air, deep and heavy, like a drowning person finally rescued.
Her body trembled, leaning outward as if in relief. Her arms, hooked over the railing, slipped, leaving only her forearms holding on.
Ji Xun stared at her forearms. His heart pounded, his blood raced, and his body grew warm as he secretly gathered his strength, ready to rush forward at the first opportunity.
Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Zhou.
Zhou, having circled around, was now quite close to Chen Ya.
They were about five steps apart. If he took just two more steps forward, he could lunge and restrain her…
But just then, as if sensing something, Chen Ya whipped her head in the opposite direction and saw Zhou.
“Stop!” she shrieked.
Zhou stopped. “Don’t get agitated.”
He said the same thing Ji Xun had.
But the same words, spoken by different people, seemed to have a completely different effect.
Before, Chen Ya was just agitated. Now, her hateful gaze shot toward Zhou like an arrow. “You think I don’t dare to jump, don’t you?”
“No,” Zhou paused. “Calm down.”
“I know you think I don’t dare. You think I’m just seeking attention,” Chen Ya sneered. “Did you think I couldn’t tell? The way you look at me is the same way I looked at Zhen Huan! It’s a look of utter disgust, like you’re looking at trash. It’s saying… fine, fine, just die, die far away, die cleanly.”
“I will die,” Chen Ya said. “From now on, no one can accuse me with what happened to Zhen Huan and Xu Shijin. I’m not a murderer, I didn’t harm anyone. You did!”
She suddenly let go, her body falling toward the ground.
“No—” Ji Xun screamed.
The story of the past reached this point, and Ji Xun, like every author who knows how to create suspense, cast a hook, and whet the reader’s appetite until they want to stick pins in a voodoo doll and send razor blades in the mail, paused.
He asked Huo Ranyin, “How do you think this story will unfold?”
“Since you’re asking like that, there must be a twist,” Huo Ranyin said coolly. “Did the indifferent Zhou finally have a change of heart and save the person with you?”
“No.”
“Oh?” Huo Ranyin was surprised.
“It’s true that anyone with a conscience couldn’t turn a blind eye at such a dangerous moment. But to save someone, a conscience alone is not enough,” Ji Xun said.
“…” Huo Ranyin.
“He also needs a heart that wants to save people,” Ji Xun said slowly. “A compassionate heart that, in a moment of danger, disregards one’s own safety, life and death, and rushes to save someone with all one’s being. Zhou isn’t indifferent. Zhou has always been this kind of person.”
The moment he saw Chen Ya let go, Ji Xun was already rushing forward.
The wind cut his face like a knife. This was the fastest he had ever run in his life, but even at this speed, he couldn’t catch the life falling from outside the railing in time!
In the nick of time, another figure shot out. Chen Ya was falling fast, already past the edge of the rooftop. Merely bending over on the roof made it impossible to catch a falling person. So the figure that rushed out didn’t even think, vaulting over the railing, jumping out, and grabbing the falling Chen Ya, then falling with her!
His heart stopped, completely unprepared. His mind went blank.
But the absence of thought allowed his body to work without distraction.
Ji Xun finally reached the railing. Too slow, no matter how fast he was. He desperately scanned forward, his eyes finally catching Zhou’s hand stretching up toward the sky. He lunged forward and finally grabbed that hand.
The heavy weight in his palm pulled his senses back. His stopped heart started beating again as if it had been given a revival potion. He saw Zhou’s face, flushed red. He was holding onto Zhou’s arm for dear life.
He looked down further and saw Chen Ya, held by Zhou.
Chen Ya, whether she was scared stiff or had finally come to her senses, hanging dozens of meters in the air, finally burst into tears. “Save me, save me… I don’t want to die…”
“Shut up!” Ji Xun roared. “Conserve your strength and hold on tight to Zhou!”
Both of their hands began to turn red. They could feel their muscles tearing, their arms growing numb, becoming limbs outside their bodies. Every second felt like a year.
But neither Ji Xun nor Zhou let go of the hand that was saving a life, not from beginning to end.
Fate finally showed some kindness. At that moment, the teachers who had been notified finally arrived. Seeing the terrifying scene, they swarmed forward, grabbing Zhou and then Chen Ya with many hands. With this effort, they finally pulled Chen Ya, who had already jumped, back to safety.
The wind howled. The chatter, conversations, and shouts of the crowd, along with the distant wail of police sirens, turned the once quiet rooftop into a bustling marketplace.
The teachers who arrived later all crowded around Chen Ya, terrified that something else might happen to the student they had just saved.
Ji Xun and Zhou, on the other hand, were left behind.
Ji Xun turned his head and saw Zhou sitting on the ground, his arm hanging at an odd angle. He was looking up at the sky, stunned. Ji Xun walked over to him and reached out to touch his arm.
Zhou flinched.
“Your arm is dislocated,” Ji Xun said, only then realizing his own voice was hoarse, as if that moment had taken too much out of him, not just from his hands, but from his throat as well.
“So is yours,” Zhou replied.
Ji Xun sat down and bumped his arm against the other’s.
“Good work, partner.”
Zhou was silent.
“You saved someone.”
Zhou remained silent.
Ji Xun continued, “Zhou, I was wrong before. You don’t have to wait for the future. You already have your medal.”
He told him solemnly, “These injured hands have borne the weight of a life. You are a hero. You are now, and you always will be.”
