I was forced to hand over love letters to three boys: the aloof academic tyrant with trembling fingertips, the school boss reading it aloud in public, and the student council president reporting to the Academic Affairs Office. The system sneered: "The strategy failed and you will die in 300 days."
When my mother burst into the classroom and slapped me, no one knew I had a fourth letter hidden in my underwear—a letter to my brother.
Until Liang An kicked open the toilet door, grabbed my neck and raised the phone: "Your brother jumped off the building."
And my bamboo horse was stroking the corner of my mouth with a bloody finger: "Now, we are the only ones left."
——He is pretending to be gentle, but paranoia is his true nature.
