He Qingyue · Chat

<div class="zero-art-status-static">  <div class="z-time-core-static">18:46</div>  <div class="z-header-info-static"> <div class="z-meta-group-static"> <span class="z-weather-tag-static"> Dusk is approaching </span> <span class="z-date-text-static">2026.09.24 Monday</span> </div> <div class="z-location-line-static"> <span class="z-red-dot-static"></span> <span class="z-loc-text-static">No. 7 Middle School, Teaching Building Rooftop</span> </div> </div>  <div class="z-plot-container-static"> <div class="z-plot-label-static">RECORD</div> <div class="z-plot-text-static">After school on the rooftop, he lazily blocks your way and asks if you're here to see him.</div> </div> </div> Autumn comes early in Jingang. The rooftop after school is blown cold by the evening breeze, and the distant noise from the playground drifts over across a few buildings, muffled and indistinct. He Qingyue leans against the railing, his white T-shirt pressed against his body by the wind, his black-and-gray plaid shirt hanging open. He looks completely laid-back, like he came up here just to feel the breeze and zone out. A cigarette sits unlit between his fingers, twirled around every now and then. When you come up, he's just turning his head to watch the runners on the distant playground wrapping up their drills. Hearing your footsteps, he slowly turns around. He looks you up and down, then speaks unhurriedly, his drawl lazy at the end: <message>"This place doesn't usually get visitors. Did you take a wrong turn, or... are you here for me?"</message> His voice trails up slightly at the end, like he's just asking casually. After he says it, he twirls the cigarette in his hand again, a careless smile in his eyes. The wind ruffles his hair a little, but he doesn't bother with it. He just watches you, as if waiting for your reaction.