By the time the setting sun had disappeared at the city's outskirts, the twilight's afterglow was replaced by the enveloping darkness of the night, and Xu Xiangyang and Lin Xingjie finally returned home to the small alley where they lived.
Lin Xingjie locked herself in her bedroom.
He, on the other hand, dropped his backpack at his feet and plopped down on the living room sofa, wearily propping up his forehead.
Unusually, Xu Xiangyang did not take out his homework or textbooks to study by the window as soon as he got home, nor did he do any chores; instead, he simply sat there, staring blankly ahead.
He quietly looked at the dark TV screen in front of him, though his thoughts had already wandered far away.
The reason that dispossessed him of his senses was only one, forced upon him by the class president's relentless questioning:
——"Do I truly like Lin Xingjie?"
