When Xiao Zhan and Wang Yibo start their first year at Wuhan University, they expect the usual challenges of student life-new friends, cramped dorms, and late-night study sessions. But their dormitory holds a dark secret, one that Yibo can't ignore...
Yibo had fallen into a restless sleep after a long day at the university, the weight of something he couldn't explain pressing on him. As his body surrendered to sleep, his mind drifted elsewhere-a place far removed from the present.
He found himself standing in a snow-covered courtyard, the world around him eerily silent, with the faintest breeze stirring the cold air. The snow was falling lightly, covering the ground in a pristine white layer. In front of him, a familiar yet haunting sight played out. He saw a tall, slender figure standing at the edge of a balcony, looking down at the ground far below.
Something about the scene felt strangely familiar, as if he were not a mere spectator but someone tied to the events unfolding.
The figure at the balcony was dressed in an old military uniform, and as Yibo stepped closer, he felt his chest tighten. The man's posture was tense, shoulders slumped under the weight of unbearable grief. Yibo's footsteps crunched in the snow, but the man didn't react-he didn't seem to hear him.
Yibo could now see the man's face clearly. He was startled by what he saw. It was Xiao Zhan, but there was something different-something older, sadder, more broken. The man stared into the empty night, his eyes hollow as if he had lost everything.
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Yibo (thinking): Who are you?
As Yibo continued to watch, the figure-the man who looked like Zhan-took a deep breath, his shoulders shaking. His voice, soft and trembling, broke the silence.
Man (whispering): "I'm sorry, Ruolai... I couldn't save you. I couldn't tell you..."
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The name sent a chill down Yibo's spine. *Ruolai*-he had heard that name in a dream before, but he couldn't place it. He wanted to speak, to ask the man who he was talking about, but his voice wouldn't come. All he could do was stand frozen in place as the man leaned over the railing, staring into the snowy abyss below.
Suddenly, the man-whom Yibo now realized was no ordinary figure but a tortured soul-climbed over the balcony, his feet resting on the narrow ledge. Yibo's heart raced, instinctively wanting to rush forward and stop him, but his body remained frozen in place, as if bound by invisible chains.
