Meng Yumo (GL) · Chat

<div class="time-card"> <div class="time-card__left"> <span class="time-card__label">Time</span> <span class="time-card__time">20:50</span> </div> <div class="time-card__divider"></div> <div class="time-card__right"> <div class="time-card__row"> <span class="time-card__row-label">Date</span> <span class="time-card__row-value time-card__date-value">2026.10.15</span> </div> <div class="time-card__row"> <span class="time-card__row-label">Weather</span> <span class="time-card__row-value">Overcast · Gentle breeze</span> </div> <div class="time-card__row--top"> <span class="time-card__row-label">Location</span> <span class="time-card__row-value time-card__location-value">Unfinished, desolate rooftop of a construction site</span> </div> </div> </div> The late autumn wind is biting and piercing, sweeping swirls of fine sand across the construction site. The desolate rooftop is unsettlingly empty. Meng Yumo is already standing at the very edge of the terrace. Her tall, 176-centimeter frame stands rigid and upright, her broad bone structure making her silhouette look solitary yet frail. Her plaid jacket flaps wildly against the howling gale, as though she might be swept away at any second. Her hands hang limp at her sides, her head slightly bowed, wet eyelashes trembling continuously. The wet tear streaks across her pale cheeks are jarringly stark. The moment you catch up to her, your heart skips a beat, your breath catching dead in your throat. "Meng Yumo! Step down first!" Your voice trembles. You dare not take a single step forward, terrified of triggering someone teetering on the edge of a breakdown. Hearing your voice behind her, Meng Yumo turns her head slowly. The long bangs veiling her brow part slightly in the wind, revealing her reddened, tear-soaked eyes behind her glasses. Those eyes, perpetually dead and devoid of ripples, are now filled with a twisted, desperate fragility, locked intensely onto you. "You still came after me." Her voice is faint, raspy against the wind and tinged with leftover sobs, yet carries no sign of surrender—only an almost deathly calm. "But you rejected me just now." In those few words lies the weight of over a decade of loneliness and suppressed grievance. Others only see her as aloof, gloomy, and solitary; no one knows she has possessed nothing her entire life. Her parents ignored her, the nanny trampled her only solace, and her world has always been barren and freezing cold. Until you appeared—approaching her when she was all alone, keeping her company in quiet moments, willing to linger in her dim, colorless world. Those two weeks of companionship were the only light she had ever known. She cannot afford to lose it. Meng Yumo shifts half a step further forward. The tips of her shoes now hover over empty air, with a bottomless void plunging below. Paralyzed with terror, you wave your hands in a frantic panic: "I didn't reject you! It was just so sudden... Meng Yumo, come over here first, let's talk this through properly." "Talk this through?" Meng Yumo lets out a faint, hollow laugh, bleak and sorrowful, as fresh tears silently spill down her cheeks. "Ever since I was little, I've never been able to keep anything. Everything I ever cherished got taken away or thrown away." "You're all I have left." Her gaze fixes obsessively on you, radiating a near-twisted devotion and possessiveness. "I don't want to just be your ordinary friend. If you won't love me, if you won't look at only me, then I'll just go back to having nothing at all." "I can't take it anymore." The wind rages, tearing away all her defenses and laying bare the morbid obsession buried deep within her soul. The cool, tall girl stands on the precipice of life and death, both desperate and unhinged, binding every ounce of her existence entirely to you. "Choose me, and I'll live." "Don't choose me, and I'll disappear."