Li Xun’s reaction to the news that Zhu Yun and Gao Jianhong wanted to enter a competition was one of profound, undisguised contempt.

According to Gao Jianhong, Li Xun’s original plan had been to use this trip as an opportunity to take the two of them on a proper tour of the surrounding area. He’d had no interest in the event to begin with and had treated the whole trip as a vacation — a chance to reward his people — but now…

The cafeteria.

Zhu Yun: “Where is he?”

Gao Jianhong: “He went out.”

Zhu Yun: “Where to?”

Gao Jianhong: “He left right after the event ended. Probably off having fun somewhere.”

Zhu Yun pursed her lips, picked up her tray, and sat down beside Gao Jianhong.

“Why did you suddenly change your mind?” Gao Jianhong asked.

Zhu Yun said, “No particular reason. I just felt like entering.”

Gao Jianhong said, “Since we’re entering, we should aim for a good result. When we get back, let’s sit down with Teacher Lin and talk through the specifics. And we’ll need to bring in one more person.”

“Find another person…” Zhu Yun was only half paying attention. She glanced up absentmindedly and caught Gao Jianhong’s eye — both of them instantly knew what the other was thinking.

Who to ask? Who better to ask than the top scorer himself — the one who never missed a shot, the ultimate guarantee.

“This is going to be rough,” Gao Jianhong said first. “I already asked him when we were heading back to the room just now, and there’s absolutely no hope. I think he’s dug his heels in specifically over this — after all, the two of us suddenly decided to enter a competition and threw the whole base’s plans into disarray.”

Zhu Yun puffed out her cheeks in agreement. Having spent so much time around him, she had yet to see anyone successfully persuade Li Xun of anything. If anything, Li Xun’s ability to persuade others was what was truly impressive.

“You go…”

“Hm?” Zhu Yun looked up, and Gao Jianhong continued: “You go talk to him. I think there might still be the tiniest sliver of hope.”

Zhu Yun let out a dry laugh. “You think too highly of me.”

Gao Jianhong: “Give it a try. Unless you have someone better in mind?”

After dinner, back at the hotel, Li Xun still hadn’t returned. Outside it was already dark. Zhu Yun lay on her bed thinking for a while, then sent him a text.

Where are you?

She waited a long time. No reply.

She called him. It rang a few times, then a woman picked up — the noise on the other end was deafening, unmistakably some kind of entertainment venue. Zhu Yun hollered a few times without knowing whether the other person could hear her, then took a deep breath and shouted at the top of her lungs: “Hello?! Can you hear me?! Is Li Xun there?! Tall guy, blond hair!!”

The student in the next bed nearly jumped out of her skin. Zhu Yun quickly turned and mouthed an apology.

From the phone came faint crackling sounds — something like a door closing — then sudden silence.

“What do you want?”

Zhu Yun was caught off guard by how clear his voice was. She’d assumed he’d be completely drunk by now.

“Speak.”

“…” Her instincts as a woman told her that blurting out the real reason for this call right now would result in swift and merciless rejection. “…Um, the teacher asked me to let you know — come back soon, there’s still stuff going on tomorrow.”

“Got it.”

The call ended. Zhu Yun narrowed her eyes and thought at top speed — exactly how was she supposed to get Li Xun in a good enough mood to drag him into this?

In the middle of the night, her phone buzzed. A text from Gao Jianhong: Li Xun was back.

I’ll hang out in the senior’s room for a bit. You go talk to him.

Zhu Yun set down her phone, went to the bathroom, bent and kicked her way through five minutes of warm-up stretches, and then set off with her prepared supplies.

Li Xun was staying one floor above her. The whole building was full of students from across the country who had come for the event — late as it was, faint voices still drifted through the corridors.

The computer science department: a breeding ground for natural-born night owls.

Zhu Yun arrived at Li Xun’s door, took a deep breath, and knocked.

“Who is it?”

“Li Xun, it’s me.”

A few seconds later, Li Xun opened the door. “What do you want?”

Zhu Yun held up what she was carrying.

“Have you been drinking? This is some yogurt I just bought.”

“I didn’t drink.”

Never mind.

Zhu Yun switched to something else.

“Want a late-night snack? The cafeteria’s late-night menu here is really good.”

“Already ate.”

That’s fine.

Zhu Yun rummaged in her bag and produced another item.

“Did you bring enough spare clothes?”

Li Xun: “…”

After a few seconds of silence, Li Xun crooked a finger. “Give me that bag.”

Zhu Yun obediently surrendered her supplies, handing over the bag. She’d barely opened her mouth to say something when Li Xun said, “Alright. You can go to sleep now.”

Bang. The door closed.

Zhu Yun felt like crying. And that bag had been brand new. There was a saying among the ancients: paid with both the wife and the soldiers — this was exactly that kind of situation.

The next day, the teachers were organized into a joint meeting, and the host school also put on an exchange forum aimed primarily at students, held in the afternoon.

Li Xun, predictably, did not attend.

The forum was hosted by a third-year senior who had prepared very thoroughly — all of the award-winning projects had been loaded onto computers in a multimedia teaching lab in advance, with a navigation directory specially designed so that students attending the forum could browse through them.

Zhu Yun didn’t look at anyone else’s. She pulled up Fang Zhijing’s program directly. It was software built around screen-change capture and playback. The source code wasn’t visible from the interface, so Zhu Yun could only make a rough assessment of the code quality based on how polished and fluid the operation felt.

She had to admit — there was a gap between first and second place…Zhu Yun felt a quiet, settled sense of peace inside.

She really wanted to stretch that gap even wider in the actual competition.

Li Xun, oh Li Xun…

Her mind started drifting in a scheming direction again.

She hadn’t been at it long when someone tapped her on the shoulder from behind. She turned around and saw a pretty girl.

The girl had a sweet smile and greeted her cheerfully. “Hi there.”

Who are you?

Zhu Yun nodded politely. “Hi.”

“My name is Xu Lina — I’m a student here.” The girl was very outgoing. “I looked at your project and it’s amazing. A well-deserved first place, the level of completion is really impressive.”

Zhu Yun: “…Thank you.”

Xu Lina leaned in closer, and Zhu Yun caught a faint, light scent of fruit.

“I’m a first-year too, same as you guys,” she said quietly. “There are so few of us first-years here — just a handful, like rare animals.”

“There really aren’t many of us.”

The forum went on for a long time. When it wrapped up, Xu Lina extended an invitation to Zhu Yun and Gao Jianhong.

“Come hang out with us for a bit. You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

Zhu Yun and Gao Jianhong exchanged a glance. Guan Rong, the senior who had hosted the forum, had also come over.

“Come on. Our treat.”

Zhu Yun had assumed this would be a general invitation for everyone to go eat together in the cafeteria, but it turned out only about a dozen or so people had been invited — all of them among the top performers at the competition. They had a quick, simple meal, then all headed to a karaoke place together.

Guan Rong had booked an enormous private room. Xu Lina told Zhu Yun that their supervisor had footed the bill, creating an opportunity for his prized students to get to know talented people.

“That’s very generous,” Gao Jianhong said with a grin from behind, and Zhu Yun smiled back. “Ours is pretty generous too.”

Just with a worse temper.

Gao Jianhong grabbed two bottles of beer. The room was packed, mostly guys, everyone fairly relaxed and open. A few drinks in, the conversation grew more and more lively, the atmosphere easy and loose.

Zhu Yun couldn’t hold her liquor well. Xu Lina specifically ordered two cocktails for them — soft in color, mild in taste. Zhu Yun got careless as a result: she was thirsty and downed both glasses in quick succession, after which the room started spinning.

Someone nearby seemed to be singing Fang Zhijing’s praises. The corners of Zhu Yun’s mouth drooped practically to her chin.

Xu Lina pressed close to Zhu Yun and murmured: “Fang Zhijing is a first-year too. Their project is solid, but I think yours is better.”

At least you have taste.

Xu Lina: “Guan Rong and the others took apart your program — your code is so clean, the logic is so clear. Your lead programmer is incredibly talented.”

Zhu Yun very much wanted to laugh, but felt that laughing right now would look too immodest. She couldn’t pick up Li Xun’s habits.

How to respond in a way that came across as humble but not forced… Zhu Yun’s muddled brain turned it over and over, and in the end produced exactly two words —

“That’s right!”

Gao Jianhong burst out laughing.

Xu Lina continued: “His temper doesn’t seem great though. I tried saying hi to him on the day of the awards ceremony and got the feeling he couldn’t even be bothered to look at me properly.”

Please. You have no idea.

Zhu Yun pointed at herself, then at Gao Jianhong beside her, with the expression of seasoned veterans. “If we’re talking about being looked down on by him, the two of us are the true elders of that particular experience — we have more credentials in that field than anyone.”

Gao Jianhong smiled and took a drink. Zhu Yun added: “But thinking about it that way, we’re actually pretty impressive.”

Xu Lina: “Oh? How so?”

Zhu Yun held up one finger.

“Because we don’t just know how to code — we can also keep up with his rhythm.”

Xu Lina asked with great interest: “And what rhythm is that?”

Zhu Yun raised one finger.

“Supreme and unchallenged.”

Gao Jianhong’s laughter shook through his whole body, then he suddenly caught himself, coughed twice, and sat up straight again. Xu Lina also swallowed her laugh and pressed her lips together, watching Zhu Yun.

Only Zhu Yun remained completely oblivious, talking away without a care in the world.

“If you can’t adapt to him, he’ll absolutely drive you to your grave. But once you can match his pace — he’s unbeatable.” Zhu Yun finished her drink, her eyes bright and gleaming as polished shoes. “You know, he’s been legendary at our school for ages. They call him the ‘Soaring Code Emperor’ — that’s him.”

Gao Jianhong finally couldn’t hold it. He spat out a mouthful of beer.

Zhu Yun was about to keep going when the back of her collar suddenly went taut, and she was hauled clean off her seat.

Gao Jianhong said: “Hey, easy.”

Xu Lina looked at the person behind Zhu Yun: “What took you so long? We told you a while ago — come sit down, do you want anything?”

Li Xun didn’t acknowledge anyone. Without a word, he dragged Zhu Yun out of the private room.

“Hey!” Xu Lina stood up to follow, but Gao Jianhong caught her arm. “Our boss is delivering a lecture. Give it a minute.”

The corridor.

Zhu Yun was pushed against the wall, her back pressed against the cool surface of the tiles. Through the multicolored corridor lights she could see that Li Xun’s expression was distinctly unpleasant.

“You really do lose your mind the moment you drink…” Li Xun said, chewing gum, his voice low.

Zhu Yun looked straight at him.

“Li Xun.”

Li Xun’s brow furrowed slightly.

Zhu Yun said quietly: “Come join the competition with us.”

Li Xun said nothing.

“It’ll definitely be a walk in the park for you.” Zhu Yun rubbed two fingers together. “If you take it even the slightest bit seriously, winning will be like reaching into your own pocket.”

Li Xun: “Why would I waste my time on something that’s a walk in the park?”

Zhu Yun couldn’t think of a reason and switched tactics.

“You know, someone in there was looking down on you just now, and they even—”

“Zhu Yun,” Li Xun cut her off, “do you think I’m stupid?”

“In what sense?”

Li Xun’s face darkened. Zhu Yun rushed to say: “Not stupid. Not at all.”

Perhaps feeling that there was genuinely no point in trying to have a conversation with someone who was drunk, Li Xun moved to leave. On pure reflex, Zhu Yun shot out her hand.

“Don’t go—!”

Li Xun had his jacket hanging open, a cotton-linen T-shirt underneath. He hadn’t had time to turn around before Zhu Yun had seized his collar.

With alcohol dulling her sense of her own strength, she tugged down with reckless abandon, and the neckline stretched grotesquely out of shape — a stylish fit instantly transformed into a saggy old man’s shirt.

Li Xun was furious. “Let go of me!”

Zhu Yun, past the point of caring about anything else, yelled: “Come enter the competition with us!”

Passersby in the corridor were all staring now. Li Xun muttered something under his breath and tried to shake her off — but in her drunken state Zhu Yun’s balance was completely gone, and her feet slipped out from under her. She went down face-first.

And even then, she didn’t let go —

So, entirely unsurprisingly, everyone heard a sharp tearing sound.

This time it wasn’t just a stretched-out collar. Half of Li Xun’s chest was now exposed.

Zhu Yun: “…”

Li Xun: “…”

Passersby: “…”

This time Zhu Yun truly was slammed back against the wall.

Li Xun’s skin wasn’t particularly fair to begin with, but it had never been this particular shade of thunderous dark.

“Zhu Yun,” Li Xun brought his face very close — close enough that Zhu Yun could almost hear the sound of him grinding his teeth, “if you were a man, I would have already hit you.”

Zhu Yun probably knew she had gone too far. She didn’t dare talk back.

Li Xun looked at her standing there in silence, head bowed. He was quiet for three seconds, then said in a low voice: “Why do you want to win this competition so badly? You’re not the type of person who cares about this sort of thing.”

Zhu Yun remained silent.

Li Xun waited. No answer came. He turned and walked away.

“Hey!” Gao Jianhong had just stepped out of the private room, and called after Li Xun’s retreating back: “Come on, join us.”

Li Xun didn’t look back. He gave the simplest, clearest reply possible.

“No.”