Tan Yin had just reached the doorway of the room when she heard rolling thunder from outside. She looked toward the window — the drizzle from before had turned into a full downpour, the sky had gone completely dark, and lightning flashed alongside the thunder.

“Ugh! No umbrella!”

“Guess it’s either get soaked or get stuck here waiting it out.”

“So annoying, my movie’s about to start, I can’t wait — guess I’ll just brave the rain…”

The hallway outside the private rooms was full of complaints from people without umbrellas, but Tan Yin didn’t care at all. She pushed the door open and strode boldly down the corridor, thinking about how in a few days she’d get the cast removed — walking around with it on just wasn’t efficient.

Actually, the cast could have come off two days ago, but because of the whole banner incident, Tan Yin was terrified her father would break her leg all over again if she removed it too soon. So she’d gone home and thoroughly played the tragic disabled victim before planning to return to being fleet of foot.

Tan Yin reached the café entrance and found the downpour was quite heavy, with several people holding umbrellas standing near the door, about to head out.

“This umbrella’s too small.”

“Whoever’s holding this one is too short.”

“This umbrella’s bright green — from a distance it looks like they’re wearing a cuckold’s hat. Bad omen.”

“This umbrella doesn’t look sturdy — one gust of wind and it’ll flip inside out.”

…

Tan Yin critiqued each one as she scanned the cluster of umbrellas, and after a while, she finally found a suitable one. This umbrella had a solid black canopy, high-quality material, clearly sturdy, and a large canopy — plenty of room to squeeze underneath without any issue at all. The person holding it was quite tall, and from Tan Yin’s angle, she could just make out the hand gripping the handle — pale, slender, with well-defined knuckles.

Although the person holding the umbrella had already started walking into the rain, they’d only just left, still not far from the café.

That’s the one, Tan Yin thought.

She covered her head with her hand and, braving the rain, sprinted straight toward him, then deftly ducked under his umbrella.

“Phew, phew, barely got wet at all.” Tan Yin wiped the raindrops from her head and instinctively looked up. “Hey, buddy, mind if I borrow your—”

Her words caught in her throat. The person holding the umbrella — who else could it be but Chu Hang?

Chu Hang stood ramrod straight, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the umbrella, his gaze fixed straight ahead, still evidently carrying the mood from earlier, his face rather sour. Yet toward the person who had suddenly ducked under his umbrella, he showed complete indifference, coldly watching the rain outside.

Of course, this wasn’t really Chu Hang being rude — it was simply that he genuinely could not see her.

Not long after Chu Hang had gone abroad on exchange, Tan Yin had indeed been struck by lightning. Whether it counted as heaven’s punishment, she didn’t know, but for a long while after being struck, she’d felt nothing unusual at all — not even a lightning-shaped mark on her skin. She’d even started to think of herself as some chosen one who’d survived a lightning strike unscathed, and, buoyed by that psychological effect, had eaten even more heartily and gained three pounds.

It wasn’t until several months after being struck, during another thunderstorm, that Tan Yin discovered something was off.

Whenever it rained, or was about to rain, if thunder struck as well, she’d turn invisible — not only could people not see her, they couldn’t hear her speak either. And the moment the storm passed, Tan Yin would return to normal.

Being struck by lightning had, bizarrely, given her a superpower.

And once she’d accepted this new reality, Tan Yin actually found it rather thrilling! Like right now — secretly crouched beneath Chu Hang’s umbrella, there was an odd, secret little thrill to it.

With that thought, she carefully edged closer to Chu Hang’s side, taking care neither to touch him nor to get rained on herself. Chu Hang was tall with long legs, so Tan Yin had to jog to keep pace with him, staying tucked beneath his umbrella the whole way.

Xu Yu, also holding an umbrella, came up beside Chu Hang and teased, “Honestly, Tan Yin’s really pretty, and she’s so devoted to you. I think you should just give in and be with her.”

The mere mention of Tan Yin’s name was enough to sour Chu Hang’s expression instantly. He frowned in distaste. “What good is being pretty? Year after year she’s dead last in the architecture department, and she came in last place and had the nerve to celebrate it with banners. Being with her — am I trying to lower my own average IQ, or am I just bored of life and looking for a way to end it?”

“You’ve never heard the saying — a woman can be as outrageous as she is pretty, and there’ll still be men willing to put up with it. Given how Tan Yin looks, no matter how much trouble she causes, guys would still line up…”

Before Xu Yu could finish, Chu Hang cut him off coldly. “Can we change the subject? Or are you volunteering to be one of those guys lining up for Tan Yin?”

Xu Yu said playfully, “She’s so hopelessly in love with you, there’s no room in her eyes for me.”

But with that little interruption, the two of them naturally moved on to other topics.

Chu Hang, of course, would never have guessed that the very person he’d just criticized was standing right beside him, glaring straight at him.

Tan Yin decided, quite reasonably, to blame her urge for revenge on her star sign — after all, she was a proud Scorpio.

She pressed her lips together, raised her hand, rose onto her toes, and pulled at the edge of Chu Hang’s umbrella canopy…

Just then the rain grew heavier, thunder rolling in waves, and Chu Hang suddenly found his umbrella tilting entirely to one side. Though the wind wasn’t weak at the moment, it certainly wasn’t strong enough to cause this. Yet the umbrella tipped for no apparent reason, at an exaggerated angle, until his right shoulder ended up directly under the umbrella’s edge, getting thoroughly soaked by the rain sliding off the canopy.

Xu Yu, watching this, couldn’t resist gloating with laughter. “Chu Hang, haven’t you eaten? This little wind and you can’t even hold an umbrella steady? So weak for someone so young?”

Chu Hang pressed his lips together and straightened the umbrella, only to find that something on his left seemed to be fighting against him. He had to use all his strength to finally get it back upright.

Tan Yin, naturally, had no intention of letting go. She kept yanking on Chu Hang’s umbrella, determined to fight him for it to the end. But even so, Chu Hang still refused to pull the other hand out of his pocket to help fend her off, maintaining an air of relaxed nonchalance as he held the umbrella one-handed, desperately resisting Tan Yin’s force while outwardly projecting perfect composure.

They say don’t show off or you’ll get struck by lightning, Tan Yin thought. Why hasn’t the sky opened its eyes and struck Chu Hang instead?

Xu Yu had no idea what was going on, but Tan Yin and Chu Hang wrestled over the umbrella, neither giving an inch. Though the wind was mild, the umbrella kept tilting first left, then right, until finally — perhaps because their two forces were unevenly matched — the umbrella was torn apart entirely, the high-quality canopy ripped clean off the ribs by Tan Yin’s pulling…

Xu Yu stared, dumbfounded, at the bare umbrella ribs Chu Hang was still holding, then at the canopy fabric now sailing off in the wind. After a long, stunned pause, he burst out angrily, “This umbrella’s quality is terrible! Isn’t this a premium brand?! Such light wind and the canopy just separated from the ribs?!”

…

Fortunately, they reached Zhixing Building just a few steps later. Tan Yin, no longer bothering with Chu Hang, dashed inside at full speed, straight into the lecture hall. This period was the department head’s Structural Mechanics class. Judging by the bloody lessons of past students, scoring well on Structural Mechanics’ brutally difficult final exam was next to impossible, so passing depended heavily on accumulating as many participation points as possible. The department head’s name was Zhu Kangmei — a man in his forties who, true to the law of “brilliant minds go bald,” had long since lost every hair on his head. Despite his fiercely patriotic-sounding name, brimming with revolutionary passion for “beating America,” he was in fact a thoroughgoing pseudo-revolutionary — his favorite pastime was mournfully analyzing just how many leagues ahead America’s architecture industry was compared to China’s. In his view, even American bricks were laid better than Chinese ones.

“Tan Yin? Tan Yin? Is Tan Yin here?”

Tan Yin arrived just as the department head was calling her name. Gasping for breath, she shouted “Present!” — only to remember, right after shouting, that since the thunderstorm hadn’t stopped, the department head couldn’t see or hear her at all.

This superpower looked great most of the time, but it definitely had its inconvenient moments…

Zhu Kangmei, sure enough, frowned and marked a big red X next to Tan Yin’s name on the attendance sheet. “Absent again?! Already dead last in the whole department, and she still can’t be bothered to come to class. At this rate of participation points, unless she scores above ninety on the final, there’s no saving her…”

Jiang Yilu raised her hand, loyally trying to explain: “Professor Zhu, Tan Yin’s not feeling well, she—”

Zhu Kangmei glared coldly at Jiang Yilu. “Accomplice to skipping class. Same treatment. Points deducted.”

“…”

“All right, roll call’s done. Did I miss anyone?”

It was at this moment that Chu Hang finally strolled in, late. He stood at the classroom door, his handsome face calm. “Professor Zhu, you forgot to call my name.”

Zhu Kangmei pushed up his glasses, and the instant he saw Chu Hang, far from scolding him for being late, the sternness on his face melted into a beaming smile. “Chu Hang, you’re back from abroad? Quick, find a seat.”

If Zhu Kangmei were an emperor, Chu Hang would undoubtedly be his favorite consort — his double standard toward Chu Hang was blatant and unapologetic. When others were late, it was an unforgivable crime; when Chu Hang was late, it was treated with the tender indulgence of “let the flowers bloom slowly before you arrive”…

Sure enough, with his star pupil Chu Hang present, Zhu Kangmei couldn’t help but gush: “You should all learn from Chu Hang. With his grades and level, he could skip class entirely with no consequences, and yet he still insists on attending. What kind of spirit is that? A thirst for knowledge, respect for his teacher! And then look at Tan Yin — utterly self-destructive!”

Once he started on this topic, Zhu Kangmei couldn’t stop himself, and inevitably veered into his sweeping generalizations: “Honestly, I can understand Tan Yin, in a way. As a girl, finding architecture tedious — that’s normal. Our cohort has 54 students, half male, half female, but every single exam, the top 20% is entirely male. Why is that? Is it that the girls don’t work hard? No — it’s just that sometimes girls aren’t naturally suited to STEM fields, because girls’ thinking tends toward the emotional. Look at the great architects, domestic and international — how many of them are women?”

Besides his pro-America obsession, Zhu Kangmei’s other major prejudice was sexism.

The rest of the girls in the classroom looked visibly displeased, but cowed by the department head’s “tyranny,” nobody dared voice their anger. It wasn’t that girls were inferior to boys — it was simply that Zhu Kangmei habitually gave girls’ lab reports lower marks.

Tan Yin sat down beside Jiang Yilu with an irritated thud that made the desk shake slightly.

Jiang Yilu glanced at the seemingly empty seat beside her and lowered her voice. “Tan Yin?”

Tan Yin tapped the desktop twice, lightly and rhythmically.

Jiang Yilu’s expression brightened with understanding. She took out a pen and wrote on a piece of paper: “I heard Zhu Kangmei already wrote next class’s pop quiz. Go get a copy.”

Besides roll call, Zhu Kangmei regularly arranged pop quizzes, which also counted toward participation points.

Jiang Yilu was the only one who knew about Tan Yin’s ability to turn invisible. The two of them had been itching to sneak a look at the pop quiz for a long time — unfortunately, the weather hadn’t cooperated, and it wasn’t until today that the first thunderstorm in two months finally arrived…

Structural Mechanics class finally ended amid drowsy tedium. Zhu Kangmei dragged on for a bit longer, spraying a bit more spittle, before finally turning to Chu Hang with a smile. “Chu Hang, come to my office with me. The department has a new research project — see if you’re interested. You could work on it alongside a few of my graduate students.”

Chu Hang nodded and followed Zhu Kangmei out of the classroom. The moment they left, Tan Yin trailed right behind them.

The department head’s office was on the top floor, the sixth floor of Zhixing Building. Zhu Kangmei brought Chu Hang into the elevator, and Tan Yin naturally slipped in right along with them.

With no one else in the elevator, Zhu Kangmei chatted with Chu Hang about his exchange experience abroad, and as Chu Hang answered, Zhu Kangmei’s face showed unabashed admiration.

“Chu Hang, after graduation I’d suggest you go straight to America for further study, then stay abroad and work for a couple of years.” Zhu Kangmei said earnestly. “You’re a man, it’s fine to get a doctorate — men only become more valuable as they get older. Not like girls — they finish their PhDs and can’t even find a job. I don’t really take on female doctoral students myself; if they end up jobless afterward, it reflects badly on my reputation. Besides, girls just aren’t suited for architecture…”

Tan Yin, tucked in a corner of the elevator, was thoroughly disgusted by Zhu Kangmei’s rhetoric. Although she herself disliked architecture — her major had been entirely forced on her by her father, so her lack of enthusiasm did show in her grades — plenty of other women in the department were excellent. Just a few years back, a female senior who’d graduated top of her class had already made a name for herself in the industry. To so openly discriminate against women, to willfully ignore all these accomplished women in the field, and even, as department head, to routinely suppress female students by favoring male students for competitions and project opportunities — Tan Yin decided it was about time someone like Zhu Kangmei got a taste of socialist justice, superhero style.

From the first floor going up, several students from the literature school got on at the second floor, separating Zhu Kangmei and Chu Hang. Zhu Kangmei stood at the back of the elevator, Chu Hang near the door. By the third floor, the literature students got off, and the elevator returned to just Zhu Kangmei and Chu Hang.

And, of course, Tan Yin as well.

Zhu Kangmei was now leaning against the elevator wall checking his phone, while Chu Hang stood ahead and to his left, the two of them maintaining a front-and-back position.

This was practically the perfect crime scene!

Tan Yin crept quietly up behind Chu Hang, and then, swift as lightning —

grabbed a handful of Chu Hang’s backside.

Chu Hang was clearly caught completely off guard. His body tensed, and he frowned as he turned around. Behind him, Zhu Kangmei was still absorbed in his phone, oblivious to everything, and in the whole elevator, aside from Chu Hang himself, there was only Zhu Kangmei…

Chu Hang gave Zhu Kangmei a complicated look, but Zhu Kangmei remained thoroughly immersed in his phone.

Maybe I was mistaken, Chu Hang told himself, and turned back around.

But not long after turning back, his backside was groped again — playfully this time — and then, as if once wasn’t enough, given a firm squeeze.

This, he could not let slide.

Struggling to rein in his turbulent inner turmoil, Chu Hang considered for a moment, then said in a low voice to Zhu Kangmei, “Professor Zhu — do you… not like women?”

Zhu Kangmei looked up, somewhat baffled, but quickly nodded without a trace of hesitation. “That’s right, I don’t like women. Men are better.”

In the world of Zhu Kangmei, the sexism supervillain, this statement made perfect sense to him. But to Chu Hang’s ears, right now, it took on an entirely different meaning.

Even though she knew he couldn’t hear her, Tan Yin instinctively clapped a hand over her mouth, terrified she’d burst out laughing.

Chu Hang’s expression turned dreadful. He immediately moved to the farthest corner of the elevator from Zhu Kangmei and said, enunciating every word, “Professor Zhu, I don’t know if you’ve been reading some sort of trashy comic, but I want you to know — I like women.”

Zhu Kangmei: ???

“I’ve suddenly remembered I have something urgent to attend to. Let’s discuss the project another time.” The moment Chu Hang finished speaking, he practically bolted from the elevator, walking off on his own while Zhu Kangmei stared in astonishment. His strides were long, his expression subtly off, as if he’d just seen a ghost.

“Hey! Chu Hang! This project isn’t complicated, it’ll only take a few sentences to explain — come back!”

But the louder Zhu Kangmei called, the faster Chu Hang ran. Before Zhu Kangmei’s voice even faded, Chu Hang had already vanished down the stairwell.