The exam period was drawing to a close.

The final subject was C Programming.

Old Professor Lin served as the invigilator, and his supervision was, to put it generously, relaxed. Glasses perched on his nose, he sat at the front podium drinking tea and reading the newspaper. The inspection supervisor came by twice to remind him to actually watch the students, but the moment the supervisor left, up came the newspaper again.

Zhu Yun finished quickly. This time, no one looked at anyone else — she simply walked straight out of the exam hall.

It was midday. The entire building had gone quiet. She came to stand by a window, the sunlight sharp against her eyes.

What a brilliant scheduling decision by the school.

Ending on C Programming gave her an inexplicable sense of calm — as if the entire semester had been neatly, satisfyingly resolved.

Back at the dormitory, Fang Shumiao was packing her things. Zhu Yun asked, “Are you heading home? When’s your ticket?”

Fang Shumiao: “I have to wait a few more days. Student council still has some things to sort out.”

Zhu Yun nodded thoughtfully.

That afternoon, she called her mother to report on the exam progress.

“You’re already done?” her mother asked.

“Yes, the last one was this morning.”

“Are you coming home tomorrow? Tell me what you want to eat and I’ll get it ready for you in advance.”

“…I’ll stay a few more days. There’s still something at school.”

“What kind of something?”

Zhu Yun’s eyes darted around the room.

“You know Fang Shumiao, right? Our class president. She has so many student council commitments and wanted me to help her out. She’s from out of province and is in a rush to get home.”

“I see.” Her mother considered this for a moment. “All right, stay a couple of days then. But don’t linger too long — the Spring Festival comes early this year, and I still need to take you shopping for new clothes when you get back.”

Victory.

Zhu Yun hung up the phone and headed to the base.

The software, too, was entering its final stretch. One look at Li Xun told her he had pulled another all-nighter.

The room smelled heavily of cigarettes. He turned his head.

“What are you doing here?”

Zhu Yun set down her bag. “Working.”

Li Xun: “It’s the holiday — what is there to work on?”

Zhu Yun opened her laptop. Li Xun continued grumbling beside her.

“Go home already. Get out, get out, get out!”

Do you have some kind of condition?

Zhu Yun ignored him. The exams were finally over, and all the miscellaneous obligations had been wrapped up — she could finally throw herself wholeheartedly into… wait, since when had exams become a miscellaneous obligation?

Zhu Yun wordlessly pulled up Li Xun’s latest progress from the shared files.

“You’re done with this?” She was surprised to see the software had been almost fully integrated. She clicked through — the interface ran smoothly.

“Still need another round of optimization.”

More optimization…

“But it won’t take long.”

Listening to that hoarse, worn-down voice of his, Zhu Yun said, “Can you please stop smoking?”

Li Xun paused, then curled his lip with obvious displeasure. “Since when is that your business?”

Fine, smoke yourself to death then.

“Let me run a test for you.” Zhu Yun moved the cursor across the shoulder region on the body diagram. An animation played instantly — the figure brought its hand to its shoulder, adopting a pained posture. A window popped up listing several shoulder-related conditions, guiding her to click further down.

“Oh? There’s a dietary recommendations section now?” That feature hadn’t been there before.

“Added it last week.” Li Xun pressed his fingers against his temple and said quietly, “Forcing product recommendations too hard can have the opposite effect. Adding a section on dietary therapy makes the software feel more approachable — even if someone isn’t buying, they might come back just to browse. It’s one way to retain users.”

Zhu Yun looked at Li Xun. His gaze seemed to be drifting, his focus already softening at the edges.

Is he going to suddenly collapse right here?

Zhu Yun scratched her head and exited the software.

“Huh?” She blinked as she returned to the desktop. Li Xun stifled a yawn and asked, “What’s wrong? Something running poorly?”

Zhu Yun pointed at the screen.

“The logo on the home page hasn’t been done — it’s blank.” She clicked open the asset folder. “Where are the cut image files? You rest, I’ll handle the import.”

A few seconds of silence passed. Li Xun stared at her like a reanimated corpse.

“The images?” Zhu Yun waved a hand in front of his face. “Tell me where the images are before you fall asleep. Are you sleeping with your eyes open?”

Li Xun’s eyes slowly shifted toward her with a distinctly unsettling look.

So he wasn’t actually asleep.

“Damn it…” He muttered a cold curse, eyes narrowing. “Those two idiots from the animation department.”

“…”

Zhu Yun already understood.

“They forgot to do it?”

Li Xun was about to launch into another round of cursing when the cigarette smoke caught in his throat. He coughed sharply, then pressed a hand to his head, apparently feeling some discomfort.

Zhu Yun said, “It’s fine. There’s still time to make one from scratch. What style do you want? I’ll do it.”

She opened the design software and turned around —

Can you please stop looking at me like that?

“Forget it.” Li Xun finished coughing, brow deeply furrowed. “You do it. Ha…”

That single syllable — ha — carried the full weight of his contempt.

“Then you do it.”

Another ha.

“Should we call the seniors from the animation department?”

“There’s no time.”

“You’re in a rush to finish? Eager to get home for the New Year?”

Li Xun stubbed out his cigarette and said quietly, “I’ve already reached out to the people at Lan Guan. We’re meeting this weekend.”

…

Three days away.

Zhu Yun looked at Li Xun — exhausted, worn to the bone — and reached over and shut both of their laptops.

The boss erupted instantly: “Who told you to do that!”

“Come on.”

Zhu Yun picked up her bag and stood.

“What are you doing!?”

“Going for a walk.”

“What walk? Forget it.”

“Going for a walk to find inspiration!”

She went to the window and opened every panel in the row. The cigarette smell in the room was suffocating — it would need a long time to air out.

Li Xun was thoroughly exasperated: “Stop meddling. Just go home!”

Zhu Yun held her ground. “I mean it! Go wander around an art museum or something — you might find inspiration there!”

“Ridiculous.”

“Don’t dismiss it — the idea for the body diagram came to me when I was clearing my head at that traditional medicine clinic.”

“Get out of my sight.”

“Why are you so impossible to reason with!?”

Li Xun slammed his hand down on the desk and shot to his feet.

He looks completely different when he stands up…

Zhu Yun felt every hair on her arms stand on end.

Li Xun loomed over her, his expression fierce. “Miss Zhu, haven’t you always made a habit of keeping things to yourself? What’s gotten into you today — sprung a leak?”

Zhu Yun’s voice shrank.

“Didn’t you tell me to stop holding things in?”

“I’m rescinding that.”

Too late.

She snuck a glance at him and said sincerely, “Honestly, let’s go. Get out and walk around for a bit — you might get inspired. And even if you don’t, it’s better than being cooped up in here. Smell this room. My eyes are practically watering.”

After a long pause, he said quietly, “No.”

She gave a soft sigh, feeling an inexplicable, bone-deep weariness.

“Look at the time — the art museum is about to close. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

He turned away and powered his computer back on.

…

So had she accomplished anything just now, or not?

Early the next morning, Li Xun called and woke her up.

“Let’s go.”

Neither of them were fond of sleeping in — Li Xun least of all, going to sleep later than anyone and rising earlier than a rooster. By the time Zhu Yun had gotten herself together and reached the school gate, Li Xun was already waiting.

Some distance from the gate, Zhu Yun gradually slowed her pace.

In the early morning light, Li Xun stood alone.

Drawing closer, she noticed he had just showered, his hair dealt with — like on the first day of term, styled with some product and then tousled into deliberate disarray.

Such a show-off.

Such a good look.

Like the antagonist lead in a manga.

“How long do you plan to take over these last few steps?” Li Xun had his hands in his outer jacket pockets, watching Zhu Yun. “Should I arrange a carriage for Her Highness?”

…

At the junction, Li Xun flagged down a cab. Zhu Yun tried to stop him. “There’s a direct bus.” It was no use — Li Xun was already frowning and pulling the car door open. “It’s freezing. Who takes a bus in this weather?”

Oh, so now you know it’s cold…

The taxi pulled up directly at the entrance of the art museum. Li Xun paid and got out first. “I’ll get the tickets. Wait over there.”

The perks of going out with the boss — you never have to pay for anything.

There were several young women queuing at the ticket window, styled with a certain artistic flair that suggested they were students from the fine arts college. After buying their tickets, the group made their way toward the museum entrance, glancing back repeatedly, huddling together and whispering behind raised hands, stifling laughter.

Zhu Yun shot them a look.

You dare laugh at the top scorer Li, you lot — are you looking to get yourselves sorted out?

A few seconds later, it dawned on her. That wasn’t laughter of mockery…

She looked over at Li Xun.

The man — indifferent to the weather — had only a mid-length deep navy jacket thrown over his shirt, worn open, a belt fastened at his waist. The whole outfit was sharp and structured, with zero insulation whatsoever, a perfectly form-fitting cut from head to toe.

Small wonder he felt cold.

From where she stood, Zhu Yun had a clear vantage point. Every girl who passed was sneaking a look at him.

So this is what they mean by “sacrifice one, bring happiness to thousands.”

“Let’s go.”

Li Xun had bought the tickets. He gestured for Zhu Yun to follow him inside.

The temperature inside the museum wasn’t exactly warm either, but at least the walls kept the wind out — considerably less biting than outside.

The first gallery was right at the entrance: an exhibition of works by a contemporary Japanese artist, the style distinctly eccentric. Zhu Yun stood in front of one piece for a long while, convinced the staff had hung it upside down. It had to be said — every field was a world unto itself. After a few pieces, Zhu Yun found herself unable to perceive any beauty in them whatsoever.

The museum was vast and utterly quiet. Zhu Yun’s thoughts soon began to drift. She found herself mentally designing a search and query system for the museum — something that would make it quick and easy to locate specific artworks and subjects of interest — running through how difficult the development and ongoing maintenance would be…

Her thoughts kept being interrupted by the sound of Li Xun’s footsteps. She had expected that with a temper like his, it wouldn’t be long before he started demanding to leave. Reality proved her entirely wrong. When she was well and truly bored out of her mind, Li Xun was the one displaying more than enough patience.

His reactions were easy to read from his expression. Some paintings he dismissed without a second glance; others held him in place for a long while.

By the time they reached Gallery Three, Zhu Yun’s eyes lit up.

“That one!”

Li Xun turned his head. “Hm?”

Zhu Yun went straight for the far end of the room. After so long in the museum, she had finally found something that actually interested her.

Li Xun followed. “You like this kind?”

Zhu Yun pointed at the charcoal drawing, visibly excited. “Look at the title!”

On the small label at the lower left corner of the painting, the details were printed:

Charcoal Drawing: Rugged and Jagged, by Tian Xiuzhu.

“Rugged and Jagged…” Li Xun’s mouth curved slightly — a look that was not quite a smile — as he glanced at Zhu Yun.

“I’ve met this artist before!”

“Oh?”

“It’s quite a coincidence.” It really was too much of a coincidence. Zhu Yun recounted the whole story — helping Liu Sisi translate that article, and the encounter at the traditional medicine clinic. When she finished, she marveled, “And now we run into his work again. At this rate, maybe one day he’ll end up collaborating with us.”

Li Xun made no comment. Zhu Yun continued, “He’s quite young too — looks about our age. The wholesome, gentle type.” Completely unlike you.

Li Xun gave her a withering sideways look.

Zhu Yun: “His work is really something, too.”

He snorted. “Do you even understand it? And now it’s ‘really something.'”

“Everyone says so.” Zhu Yun’s memory was formidable — every line of the article she had translated for Liu Sisi was still filed away in her cerebral cortex. “You know, when he was fourteen, he already—”

Li Xun stuck a finger in his ear, turned, and walked away.

Zhu Yun: “…………”

She hurried a few steps to catch up. “The media all call him a genius artist.”

Li Xun said lazily, “So what if he’s a genius? One more genius, big deal.”

Zhu Yun had been about to recite the entire article she’d translated for Liu Sisi from memory, but hearing that, her enthusiasm quietly deflated.

He’s right, honestly. One more genius, big deal. They still have to eat and sleep like everyone else. Dress too light and they still end up freezing like an idiot.

Thinking this, she fell into step behind that tall, unhurried silhouette — and secretly pulled a face at his back.