A Young Woman's Heart

Zhou Yong looked at them for a while and chose one as his desktop background.

Then exit and continue to see what new things the people you follow have posted.

But the downward-sloping pointer stopped in front of one user.

This is a user named Winter Cicada, who is not well-known on the forum. Zhou Yong only started following her because she once posted a thread about the "entire process of gender reassignment surgery".

The process in that post was entirely hand-drawn, which was quite intriguing to him.

I wonder where this person got such a rare resource from.

The reason I think this is a copied resource is because the other party hasn't posted any other posts besides this one.

However, Zhou Yong did have some conversations with the other party.

At first, I was just curious and asked if there was a real-life version.

The answer was, of course, no, but that didn't stop. We chatted on and off. After all, private messages are like emails; they're there and won't disappear. I can just check them when I have time.

Before they knew it, they had chatted for quite a while. In Zhou Yong's opinion, the other person should be a rather cheerful guy. According to the information from the chat, he also lived in Hangzhou and studied at Zhejiang University School of Medicine.

Last time I jokingly said I wanted to meet this guy and go to West Lake, and he jokingly sent me an address, of course, only the apartment name, not the specific house number.

He said his name was Tian Tingchan, but Zhou Yong didn't know if that was his real name.

This time, his personal profile has changed.

It used to be lively and playful, but it's different now.

I don't know when it was changed, but it always feels like it conveys a sense of despair.

Zhou Yong leaned closer to the computer screen, feeling that he might have become a little nearsighted lately: "Hmm... my life is meaningless, death is actually the only relief."

"Huh? What's going on? Is depression a new trend?"

Zhou Yong smiled and thought of those short essays with a touch of melancholy that had recently become very popular among students.

Those things have a feeling of forcing a new poem to express sorrow.

Zhou Yong was forced to read a few of them, and he forced a laugh and said several times, "It's very well written."

He shook his head, then opened his private messages and found that in addition to a message from the system, there was also one from "Winter Cicada".

The last private message Zhou Yong sent was: "Haha, you're quite humorous, aren't you? It's just that this joke was a bit lame."

The message Tian Tingchan sent at midnight on Wednesday read: "Don't contact me anymore. I might just disappear sometime."

"Huh?" Zhou Yong paused for a moment, then remembered the personal profile he had recently revised.

"No way?" he muttered to himself, shaking his head.

But my body started moving involuntarily.

"It's raining outside, where are you going? Dinner's almost ready!" Zhou Yong's mother was chopping vegetables on the cutting board.

"Something came up, so I might not be home for dinner tonight! Or I might not come back at all!"

"Hey kid, aren't you back yet? Where are you going?"

"Ahem, we arranged to go to a classmate's house. His parents aren't home, and he's afraid of the dark."

"Afraid of the dark, man or woman?"

"Male, male."

"Fine, whatever." The mother waved her hand dismissively. "You'd better be back tonight, you hear me!"

"Okay, okay!" Zhou Yong squatted down, put on his shoes, and ran downstairs with his umbrella while making up a lie.

Then he opened his umbrella and ran wildly in the heavy rain.

"I hope I'm wrong," he muttered to himself. "What's wrong with this guy? Is he really thinking of doing something drastic?"

He stomped on the ground, splashing up rainwater and wetting his trouser legs.

Perhaps it was because it was a shower that each time it rained, it seemed to release all the rain that should have lasted for most of the day, finishing in half an hour.

Even with an umbrella, he could hardly keep out the rain that was being blown sideways by the strong wind.

Zhou Yong felt the few coins in his pocket, calculating whether he would have enough for the round trip.

Just then, a No. 187 bus stopped next to the platform, and a large group of people rushed onto the bus, while another large group climbed off.

Zhou Yong folded his umbrella as he ran toward the bus, which was just about to start moving.

"Master (dialect: used to address lower-level technicians)! Master! Stop! Open the door!" Zhou Yong hurriedly shouted.

The car door reopened, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He jumped into the car and casually tossed a coin into the automatic coin slot.

Hangzhou is gradually reducing the number of buses that require conductors to sell tickets.

After finally managing to stand still in the crowded carriage, Zhou Yong gradually calmed down.

He gave himself a wry smile, thinking to himself, "Was I too impulsive? Did I really run off just because of these ambiguous details and such a low probability? I'm not even sure if I'll find him."

But since we've already come out, let's go take a look. If nothing's wrong, consider it making friends; if something's wrong, then stop it.

If I can't find it, then forget it... consider it a wasted trip.

Consider it the price of youthful impulsiveness.

The maximum loss is two yuan...

On the way back, you can also buy some fried pork tenderloin.

Zhou Yong thought to himself with a smug satisfaction.

He's always very good at making himself happy.

This is normal. An ordinary person who doesn't know how to balance themselves would probably have already become biased towards various extremes because of the various 'unfairnesses' in reality, right?

Every ordinary person living a normal life actually has an optimistic and positive heart.

"Zhangjiaqiao Station, we have arrived. Passengers alighting, please use the crosswalk..."

When the announcement came on, Zhou Yong, who felt like he was being squeezed into a sardine can, squeezed out of the crowd and jumped off the bus.

The rain is still pouring down, and it seems like this shower is turning into a continuous downpour.

“West Lake…West ​​Lake…West ​​Lake Tomorrow Apartment, ah, there it is! I knew I wasn’t mistaken.” Zhou Yong thought smugly, “I saw it when I passed by here last time. My memory is really not bad, is it?”

A few hundred meters doesn't sound far, but it's actually quite a distance to run.

At this moment, Zhou Yong felt uneasy, excited, and nervous, just like a police officer participating in a case for the first time.

He rushed to the apartment building faster than usual and ran into the lobby, panting.

He asked the staff member sitting at the front desk in the lobby, "Excuse me, um... huff... excuse me... cough... there's a... a person named... huff... huff..."

Zhou Yong was panting heavily, unable to speak clearly.

"What?" The woman at the front desk frowned slightly, looking a little impatient.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Zhou Yong took a deep breath, trying to steady his breathing. "I mean, is there someone here named 'Tian Ting Chan'?"

There is only one person with the surname Tian.

"It's him?"

"Yes, I live on the fourth floor, room 413."

"Thank you!"

"Wait!" the woman called out to Zhou Yong.

"what?"

"Register first!"

……

Chapter 129 Ordinary People Bring Insignificant Tenderness

Zhou Yong filled out the visit information in handwriting that was barely better than a dog's crawl, and ran up the stairs.

This six-story apartment building does not have an elevator, apparently to save costs.

Zhou Yongfei rushed up to the fourth floor and then searched for each room according to its number.

"413, 413, 413... Ah, here? The end of the corridor, and why is this door narrower than the others?" He muttered to himself, hesitantly raising his hand, but finally knocking hard on the door, the sound as dense as the raindrops outside.

"Thump thump thump thump!"

"Open the door! Tian Tingchan! Is that you, Tian Tingchan?!" Zhou Yong wiped the rain off his face and tossed his umbrella aside. "Brother, open the door!"

Seeing that there was still no response from inside, he clenched his fists and pounded on the door.

The seemingly fragile door panel shook violently, as if it might fall apart at any moment.

Zhou Yong thought of the suicide scenarios that often appear in TV dramas.

At this point, it seems there's no way to wait for someone to knock on the door; should we just break in?

But who will pay for the damage to the door...?

Thinking this, he leaned forward, trying to see if he could push the door open directly.

Obviously impossible. The door isn't of good quality, but it shouldn't be so easy to open with a push. What kind of safety would the tenant have at all?

Just then, a sound of things falling to the ground and some clattering came from the room, and then the doorknob was turned.

Before Zhou Yong could react, he fell into the room and landed on a soft body.

"Ugh!" came a muffled groan from the latter, clearly indicating that he had hit his head.

"Are you alright?" Before he could even look at who it was, he quickly got up and instinctively used his elbow to push the door shut.

But the other person didn't answer; instead, they clutched their head and stomach in pain, curling up like a cooked shrimp.

Zhou Yong could see her face clearly by the dim light shining in from the window.

It's not quite what I imagined.