Early the next morning, Shen You'an returned from his morning run, carrying the breakfast he'd bought.
He lightly knocked on the door next to his.
Normally, Rong Xianning would have obediently opened the door and come out by now.
But today, the room was silent.
Setting down the bun he'd taken a bite out of, Shen You'an frowned and walked over, twisting the door handle to open it.
The quilt was neatly folded, and beside it were two perfectly arranged sets of clothes.
A few comic books were tidily placed on the nightstand.
Other than that, the place was so clean it seemed as though no one had ever lived in it.
On the desk was a piece of paper. Shen You'an walked over and picked it up.
There were only four words written on it, the handwriting delicate and orderly.
"Thank you, goodbye."
The cool early-autumn wind swept in through the window, rustling the white curtains.
The boy had left, quietly and without a sound.
