The allure of the 10 senior high school girls' dormitories remains strong.

Senior year of high school is probably the most depressing and painful year of many people's lives.

I was no exception, only the reasons for my suppressed pain were different. Actually, for a period initially, I studied very easily and confidently, and my relationships with classmates were harmonious, including normal interactions with some girls and boys. Unfortunately, my conservative homeroom teacher misunderstood me and held individual talks with each of us. It's true that in the previous graduating class, one of the class leaders openly dated, and not only did neither of them do well on the college entrance exam, but it seems other students also didn't perform as well. He compared me to that previous graduating class leader, which I couldn't accept, and I argued my case. But arguing was pointless; the homeroom teacher was just trying to be helpful. Considering the stability of the entire class, I finally accepted the homeroom teacher's request, obeyed the overall goal of maintaining a good class atmosphere, and kept my distance from girls after returning home.

However, in the days that followed, I felt increasingly awkward interacting with my classmates. Even with the ones I hadn't interacted with before, I didn't know how to get along, and I became increasingly unsure of how to maintain appropriate boundaries in our interactions. What I had previously considered straightforward interactions inexplicably became somewhat ambiguous, and my heart was no longer at peace; other thoughts began to flutter within me. I felt increasingly embarrassed, so I decided to stop interacting with them altogether. Caught between these conflicting thoughts, I felt incredibly exhausted. My exam results also fluctuated dramatically, with several consecutive failing grades confirming the teachers' suspicions: "See, it's affecting your grades."
I couldn't find that confident feeling I had at the beginning of my senior year. I spent most of my time alone. I increasingly found quiet places to space out, and sometimes, when I was really depressed, I would run to some remote mountains or fields and shout. My grades plummeted in the first semester of my senior year. I couldn't care less; I went home after the exams and even refused to attend the winter break tutoring classes organized by the school.

When school started again, I felt incredibly discouraged, and my studies were exceptionally poor. It was purely mechanical listening to lectures, doing homework, and taking exams. My grades fluctuated wildly, and there was absolutely no improvement. When the test papers were handed back, my scores were so low I couldn't believe it.

In this state of depression, I developed insomnia. I studied from five or six in the morning until ten or so at night, and apart from a few classmates who stayed up late, everyone else fell asleep quickly. But at night, I was surprisingly energetic and couldn't sleep no matter what. I didn't want to read any books related to exams; it would be pointless. After a while, I simply bought some literature books, such as Tagore's *Stray Birds*, specifically to read before bed.

As I read, all my classmates went to sleep, but I still couldn't fall asleep. Lying in bed with a flashlight to read was tiring and stuffy, so I thought about going outside for some fresh air. While urinating in the toilet, I saw the lights in the girls' dormitory toilets behind me through the glass window. The urge, which I had suppressed for most of the year, finally surged up again. I sneaked into the girls' dormitory once more.

For a long period of time after that, even until a few days before the college entrance examination, I would sneak into the girls' dormitory every now and then.

The countdown to the college entrance exam has begun, and my grades show no signs of improvement; in fact, the easier the test, the worse I do. I'm incredibly frustrated. My homeroom teacher is ignoring me. I don't care, though; I'm becoming increasingly withdrawn, living like a mindless, lifeless robot. What's even more frustrating and helpless is that I'm increasingly frequenting the girls' dormitory at night, a route I know all too well. As the weather gets hotter, I'm getting bolder, no longer content with just hiding in the girls' dormitory hallway. Often, I'll pick up the clothes hanging out to dry, secretly imagining which girl they belong to, indulging in fantasies in the darkness.

It was so hot that sleeping with the door closed felt uncomfortable. I was occasionally surprised to find that some girls' dormitories actually left their doors open at night for ventilation and coolness. Once, I mustered up my courage and went in, quietly crept to the head of a girl's bed, and saw a girl sleeping soundly in the dim light through the mosquito net, feeling the strong scent of her body.

I ultimately didn't reach out. Instead, I quickly retreated, ran out of the girls' dormitory, and onto the playground, running around in circles like a madman. During the weekend, I rode my bike alone around the county town, searching and searching until I found the county police station. For almost the entire afternoon, I hovered near and far from the station's gate, waging a fierce internal struggle: "Go in, ask them to save me," or "No, I can't go in. If I go in and tell them, everyone will soon know about my dirty deeds in the dark." In the end, I returned, hoping to control myself and get through this ordeal.

After the first mock exam in my senior year of high school, the scores of all senior students in the city were ranked, and I was ranked around 100th. The school held a college entrance exam mobilization meeting, and they invited someone to speak to us; he was introduced as someone who understood psychology. I really wanted to talk to him; I hoped someone could help me. After the meeting, I waited specifically at the school gate for him to come out. However, he only asked about my mock exam score, and when he heard I was over 100th in the city, he just said, "That's very good." When I expressed my desire to have a psychological consultation with him, he said he wasn't a psychology teacher, waved his hand, and left.

Nobody can help me!!!

After obtaining permission from the school, I decided not to attend class and instead studied and reviewed on my own in the lab, only attending classes for one subject that I was relatively weak in. Although I had barely passed any math exams in the past six months, I still maintained strong self-confidence. I also frequently went to the reading room with first and second-year high school students to read newspapers and magazines, and tried to resume my habit of exercising and playing sports. Many senior high school homeroom teachers had already strictly prohibited their students from playing sports.

I gradually started to sleep better at night. In order to break the bad habit of leaving the dormitory alone late at night, I tried my best to go to bed as early as possible.

A few days before the college entrance exam, I noticed a distinct unease among the girls in my class. Listening closely to their gossip, I learned that a man had entered a girl's dormitory in the next class the previous night and had even started undressing one of the girls. The girl, sensing something amiss, woke up abruptly, screamed in fright, and the man immediately ran away. Apparently, there was another man in the dark! The students were speculating whether it was a passerby or something similar, given the lack of security measures on campus and in the dormitories. Outsiders could easily climb over the wall and enter the dormitories.

Although the man wasn't me, I was still warned not to do such a foolish thing again. The school has therefore increased security, reportedly assigning male teachers to take turns standing guard on the first floor of the girls' dormitory at night to ensure the girls' safety.

The college entrance examination proceeded as scheduled. Except for the subject I focused on reviewing, which I unexpectedly underperformed in, I performed normally in all other subjects, ensuring that I could enter a top 10 university. It's just a pity that I couldn't get into my ideal major at a top 2 university. My homeroom teacher smiled at me again.

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The allure of the 10 senior high school girls' dormitories remains strong.

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