At this hour, the apartment office was tightly closed, and many rooms were dark.
Standing outside the locked apartment door, I felt homesick, missing my father’s sternness and my mother’s nagging, wishing to cry on my bed.
I rubbed my frozen hands and looked up at the door next to me.
The name “Ye Zhengchen” and the warm light in his room were inviting on such a bleak night.
I pressed the doorbell twice, heard footsteps, and the door opened.
A warm breeze rushed toward me, mixed with the fragrance of Tieguanyin tea.
He was a bit surprised to see me. “Is something wrong?”
“Senior…” I glanced inside his room to ensure no one else was there. “I locked my keys in my room.”
He quickly moved from the doorway. “Come in.”
His room remained neat, with the blanket spread on the bed and a stack of Japanese materials on the desk. I scanned the titles, mostly about bacteria. “Sit!” He cleared the materials and poured me a cup of hot tea. “Have some tea to warm up.”
“Thank you!”
“I took the hot tea and held it in my hands, warmth spreading through my body. I tried to find a topic to deepen our neighborly relationship. ‘Still reading materials so late?’
‘Mm.’
Seeing he didn’t want to elaborate, I got straight to the point. ‘I… want to go through your balcony. Is that okay?’
Our balconies were connected, separated only by a composite wooden board over two meters high. Jumping over it was the only way I could think of to get home.
‘Balcony? Can you get over?’ He looked me up and down, somewhat skeptical.
‘Should be… no problem!’ I put down my tea cup, walked to the balcony, and stood by the barrier.
So high! I mustered my courage, rolled up my sleeves, and tried to jump, wanting to grab the top of the wooden board. After several failed attempts, I finally caught it once, hanging there, covered in cold sweat, completely unable to climb up.
Discouraged, I came down, wanting to ask Ye Zhengchen for a stool. Turning back, I saw him half-covering his mouth, eyes curved, clearly suppressing laughter.
I was mortified.
Awkwardly scratching my hair. ‘Funny?’
‘Not funny!’ He shook his head, his voice laden with laughter. ‘Want help?’
‘Can you? It’s very high.’
