Zhu Yun returned to her room and collapsed face-first onto the bed. Her senior asked how she was doing, but Zhu Yun couldn’t get a single word out.

From her abdomen all the way up to her shoulders, it felt as though every organ inside her had been stolen away. Even breathing felt like an effort.

Just sleep.

She buried her face in the pillow and forced herself to think: sleep it off, and everything will be fine.

That night, Zhu Yun dreamed. In the dream, heaven and earth had just come into being — chaotic and formless — and she was pinned beneath enormous boulders, unable to move even a fraction.

When she woke, her chest was still tight, her breathing shallow, and the nausea was unbearable.

The following day the school had other activities scheduled. Gao Jianhong came to find Zhu Yun and go together, but Zhu Yun declined, saying she wasn’t feeling well and would sit it out.

“What — you’re not going out either?” Gao Jianhong said, baffled. “What’s going on with everyone? Is it the local food not agreeing with you? It shouldn’t be.”

Zhu Yun hadn’t slept properly all night. Her eyes were threaded with red. She looked at Gao Jianhong.

“Li Xun…”

Gao Jianhong said, “He didn’t sleep last night either — stayed up the whole time working on something. This morning Xu Lina came to find him and the two of them talked for over half an hour.”

Zhu Yun’s mind was sluggish. She had no desire to think about anything. “I’m going back to sleep a while longer. Go on without me.”

Gao Jianhong looked at her with some concern. “You sure you’re alright?”

Zhu Yun shook her head. Gao Jianhong said, “Want me to go get you something to eat?”

“No need.”

She had no appetite whatsoever.

Even though Zhu Yun had turned down Gao Jianhong’s offer, he went and bought her breakfast anyway — all light, easy-on-the-stomach dishes.

Gao Jianhong arranged the bowls and plates, then picked up a second portion, sweat beading on his forehead.

“Now I’ve got to deliver this to Li Xun too — I swear, I’m basically a babysitter for the two of you!”

Though Gao Jianhong grumbled non-stop, Zhu Yun knew him well enough to see that his mood was actually quite good. Most likely because their group’s results were practically guaranteed to take first place.

“Eat something,” Gao Jianhong said.

Not wanting to refuse his kindness, Zhu Yun picked up her chopsticks and started eating.

As she ate, she asked, “What’s Li Xun been up to — did the lab take on another project?”

“No idea.” Gao Jianhong shrugged. “Can’t get a word out of him either. He’s been dark and brooding — honestly a bit unsettling.”

Zhu Yun chewed absently on the plastic spoon.

Over the remaining days, Li Xun seemed to have completely vanished. Calls went unanswered, messages unreturned. He left at the crack of dawn and didn’t return until well past midnight — sometimes not at all.

Zhu Yun and Gao Jianhong could barely catch a glimpse of him. Right up until the evening before the competition, when the old teacher Lin called all the students together for one final run-through of their work and to go over key reminders, Li Xun was still nowhere to be found.

Old Lin’s moustache bristled with indignation. “These reminders are meant precisely for him! And he’s still not here!”

Everyone quietly looked down at the floor.

“What’s going on — where has he gone off to?” Old Lin asked Gao Jianhong and Zhu Yun. Zhu Yun played dumb. Gao Jianhong answered in a low voice, “We don’t know either…”

“The competition is tomorrow! And we still don’t know where he is?” Seeing Old Lin’s blood pressure clearly on the rise again, Zhu Yun quickly handed him his teacup. “Teacher, have some water.”

Old Lin gulped down several large mouthfuls of tea, then said to Gao Jianhong, “Get yourself ready. If he still doesn’t show up tomorrow, you’ll be doing the defense.”

Gao Jianhong nodded. “Alright.” After all the preparation they’d put in, both he and Zhu Yun already knew their project inside and out.

Old Lin sat back down but couldn’t resist muttering under his breath, “That insufferable boy — not a single day goes by without him causing worry…”

Zhu Yun silently agreed.

Honestly, where on earth had he disappeared to? One moment inattentive, and he’d gone completely off the grid.

The day of the final.

The competition was held in the convention center of the administrative building. To match the occasion, the school had hung up a great many banners and slogans, and the entrance was lined with flowers and large display posters. The sponsors, unwilling to miss any opportunity for publicity, had brought along several photographers, with camera positions set up so there were no blind spots.

Volunteer staff at the entrance guided the competing students to their designated seats.

The atmosphere in the venue was charged. Zhu Yun took a deep breath and looked around. Staff moved through the aisles, and students gathered in small groups, all making final preparations for their upcoming defenses.

Li Xun still hadn’t come, as expected.

Something must have happened.

Although Li Xun’s way of doing things had always been unconventional, when he committed to something, he never backed out halfway. Zhu Yun knew for certain that something had come up.

“Let’s go find Li Xun together once today is over,” Zhu Yun said to Gao Jianhong. “He probably ran into some urgent matter.”

“Sure.” Gao Jianhong’s attention was entirely focused on the upcoming competition, his expression intent. Zhu Yun wasn’t sure whether he’d really taken it in.

Zhu Yun looked toward the front. Not far ahead, Fang Zhijing was seated next to Liang Yuxin. Liang Yuxin wore light makeup and a pale blue dress, sitting beside Fang Zhijing. Since they weren’t competing, both of them looked perfectly at ease.

Someone poked her from behind. Zhu Yun turned around — Xu Lina was draped over the back of the seat in front, swaying her head from side to side.

“Hey, where’s Li Xun?”

Zhu Yun said, “We don’t know either.”

“How strange.”

Zhu Yun suddenly remembered what Gao Jianhong had mentioned earlier — that Xu Lina had gone to see Li Xun. She asked, “You saw him recently?”

“A few days ago. He asked me for Fang Zhijing’s project.”

Zhu Yun was mildly surprised. “Fang Zhijing’s?”

Xu Lina pouted. “He probably just wanted to look it over. Even though the way their group operates is genuinely revolting, if they can sell a patent, they must have something exceptional going on — can’t deny that.”

Right, of course…

Zhu Yun lowered her head.

…

“Why do you look like you’re half-dead again?”

A clear, crisp voice, laced with a trace of disdain and weariness.

Several people seated nearby were stunned in the same instant. Zhu Yun turned her head and saw the figure standing in the aisle.

Li Xun wore a white shirt and black trousers — clearly freshly changed. He had rushed in, lips pressed together, keeping the faint rise and fall of his chest under control.

He was exhausted. Yet that exhaustion somehow made him look all the more solid — feet planted on the floor as though anchored by a tremendous weight.

“What are you all staring at.” His gaze settled on Zhu Yun’s eyes, which had gone wide and round with surprise. He stepped forward and gave her shoe a light tap. “Move over.”

Zhu Yun shifted to make room. Li Xun sat down. Gao Jianhong said, “You’re finally back.”

The competition quickly got underway. Zhu Yun watched Li Xun while half-listening to the lengthy opening remarks from the officials on stage.

“…Our competition is a public-interest university technology initiative, with the purpose of raising awareness of information security, fostering students’ capacity for innovative practice, nurturing a spirit of teamwork, and broadening the scientific horizons of university students…”

Xu Lina draped herself over the seatback. Her own defense content was thoroughly prepared, so now her attention was completely fixed on Li Xun, pressing him about where he’d been. “Going dark on everyone — not a sign of you for so long. Where were you?” Li Xun hadn’t caught his breath yet and didn’t answer. Xu Lina turned to Zhu Yun instead. “Is he like this back at school too?”

Zhu Yun didn’t answer either.

“Water.”

Zhu Yun pulled a bottle of water from her bag and handed it over. Li Xun twisted it open and drank half of it in one go.

The officials’ remarks finally concluded, and the event quickly moved into the presentation and defense phase. Gao Jianhong turned to Li Xun. “Get ready — we’re near the front of the order, so I’m heading backstage now.”

Gao Jianhong made his way to the back. Zhu Yun craned her neck to look ahead. In the very front row sat the panel of experts — varying in age, each with a microphone in front of them. Students would go up to present, and afterward face questions from the panel. The first few who went up were noticeably nervous, but all made it through smoothly.

Applause rippled through the audience.

The person beside her shifted. Zhu Yun turned her head.

Perhaps feeling warm, Li Xun used one hand to undo the cufflinks of his shirt, and once that was done, he undid the top two buttons at his collar as well.

Zhu Yun asked quietly, “What exactly have you been doing these past few days?”

The applause faded. The panel entered a brief deliberation, and the next group was almost up.

Li Xun stood. He faced her, leaning forward slightly at the waist, and from Zhu Yun’s angle she could just see the collarbone exposed in the gap of his collar.

He stood before her with a smile on his face, lowered his voice, and said close to her ear: “…I was out doing something wicked.”

With that, he straightened up, the corners of his mouth still curled, and walked directly toward the stage.

Zhu Yun watched his back, his golden hair — and her heart began to hammer again, as though some premonition had stirred within her, formless yet insistent.

Every gaze in the room landed on him — on his face, his hair. In those looks there was shock, curiosity, and above all, the eager anticipation of people waiting to be entertained.

Li Xun brought nothing with him — only a small USB drive held between his fingers. He walked up, inserted it, and pulled up a slide presentation with no title at all.

He placed both hands on the podium, swept his gaze across the audience below, and spoke directly —

“It is a great honor to participate in this competition!”

Li Xun’s brow arched slightly, his lips lightly pressed together, each word enunciated with perfect clarity.

The moment Li Xun spoke his first word, Zhu Yun sensed something was off.

She wouldn’t claim to know Li Xun inside and out, but she had grown somewhat familiar with his character. Li Xun had never been particularly invested in the competition. Though he’d agreed to take part, at most she’d expected him to do his share and nothing more. But now…

The person standing on that stage was not the attitude of someone going through the motions — but equally, it was not the attitude of someone preparing to defend calmly and professionally.

That expression, that unguarded directness in his eyes, that surge of excitement and energy breaking through the weight of exhaustion like something forcing its way up through the soil — every bit of it communicated one unmistakable thing to everyone present —

He was here to cause trouble.

“This competition has let me encounter many outstanding people, and their outstanding work!”

His voice carried through the air, cutting through the silence, piercing the eardrums, reaching straight to the brain.

Li Xun was tall, long-limbed, carrying that particular quality of his alongside that unusual hair color — he was already impossible to ignore. Now, under the stage lighting, his presence felt as if it could burst wide open.

“In keeping with the competition’s spirit of friendship first, competition second, before our group presents our own work, I’d like to first explore something else with everyone.”

The moment he finished speaking, a faint stir ran through the audience. The experts on the panel exchanged bewildered glances with one another, as if no one had anticipated this kind of interruption.

“Excuse me — this student, you—” The host stepped up from the side of the stage, intending to clarify the rules with Li Xun. Li Xun gave her no chance to finish. “This will be brief.” In that instant, his eyes shifted subtly toward Fang Zhijing’s position in the shadows, the corners of his mouth holding a cold smile. “After all, it’s quite a simple matter.”

His finger came down lightly on the mouse. The slide advanced.

It was an extraordinarily plain slide presentation — no template, no fade-in or fade-out effects, just stark black text on white, spare to the point of being startling.

“Let us first discuss—” Li Xun reached into his pocket and produced a small silver object, held between two long, slender fingers. “The method for cracking the encryption relay interface of a particular device model, along with three low-cost solutions for replicating that device.”

…

Every single person in the entire venue went blank for five full seconds — and then erupted into uproar.

The person on stage paid absolutely no attention to the commotion below and began laying out his analytical reasoning in an orderly, methodical way.

In the midst of the clamorous noise, Zhu Yun slowly raised her hand and covered her mouth.

She had always thought that Li Xun’s arrogant streak was capable of nothing more than driving the people around him to distraction with his antics.

She had never imagined that when the day came for that blazing, reckless spirit to turn genuinely toward an adversary — it would awaken within the human heart something as vast and tumultuous as crashing waves.