The day Yu Jiang transferred to the affiliated high school, the weather bureau issued an orange alert for torrential rain.
He carried the astronomy journal his mother had left behind, but couldn't manage to say a single "hello."
Ling Han was the last president of the school's astronomy club: sharp-tongued, held back a year, and living in a rooftop storage room. His greatest wish was to win gold at the national Olympiad and then get as far away as possible.
On a stormy night, a journal blown open by the wind and a telescope that nearly got smashed brought two paths that had run parallel into a single point.
A boy who can speak only in front of the person he trusts most.
A runaway who pushed everyone away first.
They talk through star charts, send out calls for help with weather signals, and spend nights across the school helping each other mend their cracks.
As the provincial competition countdown begins, as only one early-admission slot remains, as flames engulf the storage room, as rain floods the rooftop once more,
they finally understand:
The universe is so vast, yet there's only one question that truly needs an answer:
Will they flee alone, light-years away, or stay together in the galaxy of this moment?
"If there aren't many sunny days ahead, then write your wishes a little brighter."
That page was later put up on the wall of an observatory three thousand meters above sea level in Lenghu Town.
It was signed with two names side by side,
and the name of a comet, C/2025.
Theme: "Even in a world where you can't speak, someone may still choose to be your echo."
