What did that mean?

Bad people?

How bad did someone have to be before they counted as a bad person?

Before Zhu Yun could work out why he had asked that, she heard Li Xun say, “You’re like a flat tire right now.”

Zhu Yun: “…”

How was she supposed to argue with that.

Her fighting spirit really had deflated.

Li Xun headed for the door. “Go back and get to work. We’ve wasted the whole afternoon.”

Zhu Yun couldn’t muster the energy.

It was only now that she realized she had been giving everything she had to the lab without a break for a very long time — she didn’t think she had even been this exhausted during her last year of high school.

The taut string had gone suddenly slack. All the relentless pushing, all the fatigue she had been too busy to notice — it all caught up with her now.

“I want to go home and rest today,” Zhu Yun said.

Li Xun stopped in the doorway.

The atmosphere turned a little strange.

Five seconds later, Li Xun turned back. He walked straight up to Zhu Yun and placed both hands on her shoulders.

Zhu Yun was so startled by the earnest, soul-deep gaze he fixed on her that she felt her very spirit flinch.

Li Xun spoke in a low, grave voice. “Zhu Yun, do you know something?”

Know what.

“Everything is only its truest self at the very beginning. The further along it goes, the more it drifts from what it was.”

That… actually sounds about right.

“But it’s still worth fighting for.”

Why.

“Because by fighting, we can keep it from drifting even further.”

Oh.

“Don’t you think so?”

Well…

Zhu Yun looked into Li Xun’s sincere gaze. She had no choice but to stiffen her neck and slowly nod.

She had barely dipped her head once when Li Xun’s expression had already snapped back into its usual imperious look.

“So whine about it if you need to, but don’t actually think about doing anything drastic.”

He shoved both hands into his pockets. Those sharp, cutting eyes looked down at her as he lowered his voice to a quiet threat: “Try bailing on me and I’ll crush you.”

Zhu Yun: “………………………………”

To avoid being crushed, Zhu Yun went back to the lab to work.

While her computer was booting up, she stole a glance at Gao Jianhong. He was deep in concentration coding, though he caught her look from the corner of his eye.

“What is it?”

“…Did Li Xun give you the inspirational speech too?”

Gao Jianhong kept typing, his face fighting back a laugh. He said under his breath, “Yeah… scared the life out of me.”

Same.

Zhu Yun’s efficiency that evening wasn’t great, but she stayed until the very last moment all the same. When she finally left, Li Xun was, as ever, still curled in his chair hammering at his keyboard.

The night after the rain was hushed and crystalline.

Zhu Yun passed by the sports field and glanced in — rainwater pooled in the overgrown grass, not a soul in sight. She looked for a moment, then changed course and made for a print shop in the residential part of campus.

“What would you like to print?”

“A photo.”

“USB drive?”

“It’s on my phone — do you have a data cable?”

“We do. How many copies?”

“Just one.”

She printed out the photo she had secretly taken of Li Xun during the Langan Company presentation, and tucked it into the very bottom of her bag.

It worked beautifully.

When she returned to the lab the next day, the fatigue was completely gone. She no longer felt the hollow helplessness that had come over her after meeting Han Jiakang. She was no longer a flat, deflated tire with no will to do anything.

She was bright-eyed and full of energy.

This method worked far better than any inspirational speech. She was practically traveling with a power source strapped to her back.

The collaboration with Zhang Xiaobei’s lab began.

Because Old Lin had a heavy load of teaching duties and placed a great deal of trust in Li Xun, he had only ever shown up at the lab when the project hit a real snag since the place was first established. Day-to-day, the students ran things themselves.

Zhang Xiaobei was different. She took an keen interest in both her own research lab and this practice lab, and approached both with what she presented as a spirit of equal investment — coming by the lab every single day, with or without reason. She checked on the project’s progress, raised suggestions for revisions, tested the web pages, and took the completed portions back to her lab each day to log and compile.

Life carried on steadily and busily. Things held together well enough at first. Then, gradually, problems began to surface.

The first major area Zhang Xiaobei moved to claim for herself was the front-end visual design of the website. Her particular passion was endlessly fussing over the colors of dialog boxes.

Zhu Yun was responsible for the UI components. Each time she received a design file from the lab, she would build the plugin right away — only for the lab to release a revised version shortly after, with changes to colors, dimensions, form layouts, and fine details, forcing Zhu Yun to spend entire afternoons overwriting the work she had just done. After several rounds of this back-and-forth, Zhu Yun had had enough.

She went to Li Xun, explained the situation, and Li Xun put down his laptop and called Han Jiakang in.

Han Jiakang appeared with the same blank, skeletal expression as always.

“What’s the matter?”

Li Xun asked him to pass a message to Zhang Xiaobei: the Langan Company project manager would be coming soon to review their progress. He made the point indirectly — if they couldn’t produce a single complete page by then, it was going to be very embarrassing for everyone.

Han Jiakang listened without saying a word, not inserting himself once.

Zhu Yun noticed that when Han Jiakang turned to leave, his steps faltered slightly — as if he had something to say — but in the end he left in silence as usual.

After that, the chaotic situation improved somewhat. The Langan project manager came by several times, and Zhang Xiaobei handled all the receptions herself.

Li Xun’s pace kept accelerating.

Zhu Yun at one point began to suspect he didn’t need sleep. He attended every daytime class without fail, and spent every other waking hour in the lab, surrounded by stacks of books and documents.

Zhu Yun herself felt as though she’d been given a shot of adrenaline — her goals clear, her thinking sharp. It felt as if a rope had been tied around her, the other end held in Li Xun’s hand.

The faster he moved, the faster she moved. If he wasn’t tired, neither was she.

After the friction of the early stages, the project found its footing. Communications with the company’s project manager went smoothly. Zhang Xiaobei was in high spirits, and one day had Han Jiakang deliver several boxes of imported snacks to the lab as a reward for everyone.

The room erupted in delight.

Aside from the three of them, the other students at the lab didn’t know the specifics of the Langan project. They had a vague sense that the lab was collaborating with a graduate research lab, and now here was a graduate supervisor sending treats their way — everyone was happy to share in the good fortune.

Zhu Yun looked up from the pile of snacks at Li Xun.

Same as always.

His face, turned toward the screen, was cool and unreadable as ever.

Laptop closed, he was brash and insufferable. Laptop open, he was severe and remote. Zhu Yun bit into a piece of dried mango, wondering which version of Li Xun was more maddening.

Her conclusion: fifty-fifty, roughly.

“What are you picking apart about me this time?”

Zhu Yun: “…”

Did you plant a bug in my head?

Li Xun had barely glanced over at her when Wu Mengxing came up to him with a question. Li Xun heard him out and said with a smile, “Encapsulation? That’s a question for Zhu Yun.”

Zhu Yun ate her dried mango with perfect composure.

Li Xun said to the thoroughly bewildered Wu Mengxing: “Didn’t you know? Our class representative is a master of encapsulation. She’s got enough inner monologue to fill a whole book, and yet says absolutely nothing out loud — no one can see any of it.” He tilted his chin toward Zhu Yun. “Isn’t that right?”

It absolutely is not.

Li Xun pointed at her. “There she goes again.”

Zhu Yun turned calmly in her chair and simply stopped looking at him. Li Xun called from behind her: “Come here.”

Who, me?

“Yes, you.”

Zhu Yun turned back. Li Xun pointed at the pile of snacks. “Pick out some good ones and pack them up…”

Zhu Yun: “You’re saving them for a midnight snack?”

Li Xun continued, “…and take them over to Liu Sisi.”

Zhu Yun’s expression went blank for a full five seconds. Then she nodded. “Sure.”

Though now that she thought about it — she finished packing the snacks and asked Li Xun, “I feel like I haven’t done her homework in quite a while. Has she been fending for herself?”

Li Xun was busy typing code, and it wasn’t clear whether he heard her or not.

Zhu Yun carried the large bag of snacks over to the Fine Arts College to find Liu Sisi, who happened to be in the middle of a class. She came straight out after getting Zhu Yun’s text message.

“Li Xun asked me to bring these to you.”

“Mm, thanks.”

Zhu Yun asked casually, “How come you haven’t come by the lab lately?”

“We broke up.”

“………………………………………………”

She had always heard that Li Xun cycled through girlfriends quite frequently, but experiencing a stretch of it firsthand was a different thing entirely.

“You broke up?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Liu Sisi pursed her lips.

The memory of Liu Sisi singing at the karaoke bar floated into Zhu Yun’s mind, and she felt an inexplicable pang of something like sadness.

Liu Sisi seemed to be doing all right, but Zhu Yun felt it was only right to offer some comfort.

“Well, don’t be sad — there’ll be someone better in the future…”

She stopped halfway through.

There’ll be someone better.

Will there?

Of course there will — considerate boys, kind and humble boys… there are plenty of them out there.

Then why did you stop?

Zhu Yun argued with herself in her head. Liu Sisi said, “It’s fine, I’m not sad. I was the one who ended it.”

Zhu Yun said nothing.

“Really.” Liu Sisi, worried Zhu Yun didn’t believe her, added: “All those girlfriends he’s had — he was actually the one who got dumped every time.”

This…

So the brilliant and unruly Li Xun had a side to him that few people knew about.

“He doesn’t chase anyone, doesn’t end things with anyone, and doesn’t try to keep anyone either. The girls all come and go on their own terms.” Liu Sisi smiled. “See how easy he makes it for himself.”

Zhu Yun couldn’t help asking, “Why do they leave?”

Honestly speaking — she had gotten used to that head of golden hair, and Li Xun really was quite good-looking.

“They get bored.” Liu Sisi leaned against a magnolia tree along the path, gazing out at the Fine Arts College garden. “I didn’t think too much about it when I went to him in the first place — just liked the way he looked. He was the same. For him, dating is just about relaxing, letting off some steam.” Liu Sisi looked at Zhu Yun. “You know, when we were together, we never once had a phone call that lasted more than three minutes. If I wanted to see him, I had to come to your practice lab.”

Zhu Yun: “…”

Liu Sisi: “It was fine at first. Once the novelty wore off, there was nowhere left to go. And I’m not being conceited — I have plenty of admirers of my own, you know. Spending every day glued to a computer screen, who could put up with that?”

Zhu Yun thought it over, then offered in earnest: “You could have talked to him about it.”

Liu Sisi was quiet for a moment, not answering right away.

A mild breeze drifted through. Most of the magnolia blossoms had already fallen.

Liu Sisi said, “I’ve been in quite a few relationships.”

Zhu Yun made a small sound of acknowledgment.

Liu Sisi: “Boys are actually pretty easy to read. Who’s genuine, who isn’t, who’s acting on a fleeting impulse, who’s willing to stick around — I can tell. “

Liu Sisi straightened up and stretched lazily. “There’s a difference between a boy being stirred and a boy being moved. Anyway, don’t bother trying to comfort me — we parted amicably. Neither of us owes the other anything.” Then, as if remembering something, she added: “Oh, right — his next girlfriend will be from the Broadcasting College. Better student than me, so you probably won’t need to help with her homework.”

Zhu Yun genuinely had no idea what to say to that.

Liu Sisi picked up the bag of snacks, then said suddenly: “Is learning to code hard?”

That came out of nowhere.

Zhu Yun: “It’s manageable, I think. If you have a solid foundation in math and English, and if you have an interest in—”

“All right, all right.” Liu Sisi waved her off. “Stop right there. Every word out of your mouth is something I have no desire to hear. Let’s leave it there.”

Watching Liu Sisi, who a moment later was rummaging through the snack bag with gleeful excitement, Zhu Yun reflected — no wonder Li Xun said he liked “simple girls.”

Simple girls really did have it good. Light and easy, uncomplicated. A bag of snacks after a breakup and you could be all smiles again, then go your separate ways without a second thought.

Back at the lab, Li Xun was in the exact same spot he had been when Zhu Yun left — hadn’t moved an inch.

Zhu Yun went over to report back on her mission.

“Delivered. She loved them.”

Li Xun gave a brief sound of acknowledgment, fingers clattering away at the keyboard. Zhu Yun leaned in to look — he was reorganizing her code and Gao Jianhong’s, moving at tremendous speed.

She had been thinking of bringing up Liu Sisi, but looking at those eyes fixed in total concentration on the screen, she swallowed everything back down in the end.