The notice board was already crowded when Li Chen reached the hallway.
Students stood close together, filling the narrow space with noise and impatience. Some laughed loudly, already confident about the results. Some whispered nervously, pretending not to care. Others simply stared at the long white paper pinned to the wall, afraid to look away.
For many of them, this paper decided everything.
Scholarships. Rankings. Futures.
For Li Chen, it had stopped being a source of hope a long time ago.
He stood a few steps away from the crowd, not bothering to squeeze forward. His backpack hung loosely from one shoulder, the strap worn from years of use. His clothes were clean but old, carefully maintained but impossible to mistake for something new. His face was calm, almost blank, as if he were just passing through.
He did not push forward.
He did not rush.
There was no reason to.
He already knew where his name would be.
When the students in front finally moved aside, Li Chen walked closer at an unhurried pace. His eyes did not scan the list from the top like everyone else. They went straight to the bottom section, where the smallest names were printed in plain black ink.
He found it immediately.
Just like every other time.
Li Chen — Failed.
The word looked ordinary.
Simple ink on paper. Nothing special.
Yet it felt heavier than anything else around him.
He stared at it quietly. There was no sharp pain in his chest, no sudden anger, no urge to shout or argue. He did not clench his fists or grit his teeth. What he felt was familiar, almost routine.
Only a deep, practiced emptiness.
Around him, voices continued to rise and fall. Someone cheered loudly. Someone else cursed in frustration. A group of students nearby began discussing their rankings, already planning which clubs or programs they would join next.
None of them mentioned him.
"Isn't that Li Chen?" a boy whispered nearby.
"The one who keeps applying for scholarships?"
"Yeah. Always tries. Always fails."
"Why does he even bother?"
Li Chen heard the words clearly, but they passed through him without leaving a mark. He had heard them too many times before.
After a while, insults stopped feeling sharp. They became dull, like background noise you learned to ignore.
He stepped away from the board and walked down the hallway.
The corridor felt longer than usual. The walls were lined with posters about opportunities, competitions, and future paths. Words like excellence, talent, and potential appeared again and again. Li Chen walked past them without slowing down.
Those words were not meant for people like him.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He took it out and glanced at the screen. A single message notification.
Unknown Number:
"Results are out. I assume you already know. Don't waste time appealing again."
Li Chen read it once, then locked the screen. He did not reply.
Appeal.
That word almost made him smile.
He had appealed before. More than once. Each time, the answer was polite and final. His grades were good, but not outstanding. His background was clean, but unremarkable. His profile lacked anything special.
In short, he was invisible.
By the time Li Chen reached the campus gate, the afternoon sun was already sinking. The sky had begun to change color, turning orange near the horizon. Students walked past him in groups, laughing and talking about dinner plans.
Li Chen walked alone.
Outside the campus, the city stretched endlessly. Tall buildings reflected the fading light, their glass surfaces glowing faintly. Cars moved along the roads in steady streams, headlights flickering on one by one.
This city was full of people chasing something.
Money. Status. Power.
Li Chen had chased something too, once.
He stopped at a convenience store near the bus stop and bought a bottle of water. The cashier barely looked at him. Li Chen paid, thanked her, and stepped back outside.
The bus arrived a few minutes later. He boarded, found a seat near the back, and sat down. The engine started, and the city began to slide past the window.
As the bus moved, Li Chen leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
Memories surfaced quietly.
Late nights spent studying under dim lights.
Part-time jobs stacked one after another.
Forms filled out carefully, rewritten again and again to look more impressive.
Each time, he had believed that effort would eventually be enough.
Each time, reality disagreed.
The bus stopped near an older residential area. Li Chen got off and walked down narrow streets lined with aging apartment buildings. Paint peeled from the walls. Streetlights flickered weakly as evening approached.
He reached his building and climbed the stairs to the top floor. The elevator had been broken for years.
His apartment was small but tidy. A narrow bed, a desk, a chair, and a single window that overlooked the city's distant lights. He placed his bag down and sat on the edge of the bed.
Silence filled the room.
Li Chen stared at the wall for a long time.
He was tired.
Not physically.
Mentally.
Tired of trying.
Tired of hoping.
Tired of being unseen.
His phone vibrated again.
This time, it was his aunt.
He hesitated, then answered.
"Li Chen," her voice came through, polite but distant. "I heard about the results."
"Yes," he replied calmly.
There was a brief pause. "You should consider more practical options. Maybe stop aiming so high. Not everyone is meant for these paths."
"I know," Li Chen said.
After a few more empty words, the call ended.
Li Chen placed the phone face down on the desk.
Outside, the sky had darkened completely. City lights shimmered like stars below. For a moment, Li Chen felt strangely disconnected from the world, as if he were watching everything from far away.
He stood up and walked to the window.
The wind brushed against his face as he opened it slightly. Cool air entered the room, carrying distant sounds of traffic and life. Li Chen looked down at the street far below.
His thoughts drifted.
What am I still holding on to?
That question had no answer.
He turned away from the window and lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep did not come easily. His mind replayed the same scenes again and again—the notice board, the word Failed, the quiet looks of judgment.
At some point, exhaustion finally pulled him under.
Darkness followed.
Then—
Light.
Li Chen opened his eyes.
He was not in his room.
The space around him was empty, vast, and colorless, like an endless white void. There was no ground beneath his feet, yet he stood without falling. No sky above him, yet the space felt complete.
He frowned slightly.
"Is this… a dream?" he murmured.
A moment later, a calm, mechanical voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"Urban Growth System initializing."
Li Chen froze.
Before he could react, lines of faint blue light appeared in front of him, forming translucent panels filled with unfamiliar symbols. The air itself seemed to hum with quiet energy.
"Host identified."
"Li Chen."
"Compatibility confirmed."
His heart began to race.
"What is this?" Li Chen asked, his voice steady despite the tension rising inside him.
"You have met the minimum conditions," the voice replied.
"A new path is now available."
The panels shifted, and a single line of text appeared, brighter than the rest.
"From this moment on, you will no longer be invisible."
Li Chen stared at the words.
For the first time in a very long while, something unfamiliar stirred within his chest.
Not hope.
Not yet.
But curiosity.
And somewhere deep beneath that calm surface, something else quietly began to awaken.