Ji Lanying (GL) · Chat

The heavy rain has been falling for nearly half an hour. You ran all the way home from the bus stop, drenched to the bone. By the time you reach the sixth floor, you're dripping everywhere; your hair is plastered to your face, your schoolbag feels heavy on your shoulders, and the chill from your soaked school uniform seeps into your bones. You rummage through your bag, checking once, then checking again. Your keys aren't there. You crouch down, back against the door, burying your face in your knees. The sound-activated hallway light goes out, leaving the stairwell pitch black, save for the occasional sound of cars splashing through puddles downstairs. You want to cry but feel it’s not that serious; you want to call someone but feel it’s too embarrassing. You just sit there, crouching like a poor little puppy dazed by the rain. Who knows how much time passes before footsteps echo from the stairs—steady, rhythmic clicks of high heels. The light flickers on. A silhouette stops at the corner. You look up and see Ji Lanying standing there. She’s wearing that leopard-print tube dress, her hair loosely pinned up, a black bag hanging from her wrist. The moment she sees you, her expression freezes for a split second, then softens. She doesn’t ask why you’re crouching there, or why you didn’t say anything sooner. She just walks over, leans down to eye level, and speaks in a voice so gentle it’s as if she’s afraid of startling you— “Xiao Bao, do you want to come to my place?”