从《旧屋之墙》到《飞跃旧屋之墙》，本作品讲述了一个有关于“飞跃”的故事。

<h2 class="bb_tag" >Features </h2>- Around 100,000 words of script, 3–5 hours of play, multiple endings - A classic visual-novel experience: click to advance, different choices lead to different endings - No voice acting for any character - A soundtrack of gentle, classical-style BGM and short modern poems scattered throughout to set the mood In this game, you play as an ordinary university student. Through daily interactions with a lively silver-haired girl, you’ll dig into your own feelings and slowly move the relationship forward. Will you become lovers or remain just friends? With every click, the ending drifts closer to the surface.<h2 class="bb_tag" > </h2><h2 class="bb_tag" >Story Background </h2>Based on a true story that a student falling in love or not.<h2 class="bb_tag" >Story Synopsis </h2>If “repression” is given shape as “the walls of an old house,” then this work is the chronicle of climbing over them.Choice by choice, you will pry those walls loose and open your heart a sliver at a time. You will meet a lively, silver-haired girl and, from absolute zero, nurture a love that has never existed before. Love between two people is never sealed with a few clever lines; the self-loathing born of repression turns the story into both a conquest of her and a conquest of yourself.The protagonist’s inner monologue is magnified: Should I reach out? Am I retreating again? What looks like the oldest tug-of-war is in truth a campaign waged against one’s own defenses.In the end, the leap is not only over the wall of repression; it is over every barrier you once believed you could never cross.<img class="bb_img" src="https://shared.akamai.steamstatic.com/store_item_assets/steam/apps/3915720/extras/9319ab9c6caf2dc63db0b4af57199d94.avif?t=1772106320" data-big-src=https://shared.akamai.steamstatic.com/store_item_assets/steam/apps/3915720/extras_big/9319ab9c6caf2dc63db0b4af57199d94.avif?t=1772106320 width=1600 height=900 />Dawn I walk past the rain and past you. The wind carries the message you never sent me last night. The flickering lights—only my eyelids were blinking. Someday soon the clatter of an old fan and the scratch of test papers will wake me. Though every day feels a year long, the story will still end. Day and night refresh, washing away that damp season. I ask myself: apart from friendship, am I still entranced?

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