Zhu Yun was on the verge of exploding.

The sheer volume of information coming at her from every direction lately had been overwhelming, and she felt she needed to carve out some time to properly process it all.

As for what Li Xun had said that day, Zhu Yun gave him the same polite, composed answer she would have given anyone —

“I’ll think it over. Thank you for the invitation.”

Upon hearing this, the top-ranking student let out a single dismissive snort and walked straight into the office.

The tightness in Zhu Yun’s chest deepened.

And yet the human mind is a genuinely strange thing — in the days that followed, Zhu Yun found herself replaying the whole incident often. That final laugh of Li Xun’s had absolutely deserved a smack, but on the whole, the positive feelings the episode had stirred in her far outweighed the negative ones.

Especially that line — you come, and I’ll cover it — set alongside the earlier you are so insufferably fake, and savored together, they produced in her a deep, spontaneous, welling-up sensation of pure triumph.

This, she thought, was one of the genuine pleasures of being alive.

After a few days of this quietly radiant mood, Zhu Yun more or less settled back down and began to think the matter over properly.

Li Xun’s base… did she want to go?

As she turned the question over in her mind, something Fang Shumiao had said kept drifting back to her unbidden.

“The base has stabilized at around a dozen people or so, but the real core team is only a few of them. Li Xun and Gao Jianhong are the center of it all.”

The core team…

Zhu Yun rested her chin on the library study room table and rocked it gently from side to side. She made up her mind.

In Old Man Lin’s class, Li Xun took his usual seat beside Zhu Yun. From the moment he entered the room, he was fiddling with his laptop; the only time he looked up was during the few minutes when there were in-class exercises to work through.

He never once brought up the matter of the base again.

Zhu Yun entirely understood. For someone of Li Xun’s standing to extend an invitation once was already a considerable condescension. Expecting him to come a second or third time would be like waiting for a cactus to bloom.

“About that…” She seized a moment while Old Man Lin was covering foundational material and spoke in a low voice.

Li Xun kept his eyes on his laptop screen, fingers still moving. He made a sound of acknowledgment.

“The thing from before…”

Li Xun slanted his eyes toward her.

Zhu Yun had noticed that whenever he was concentrating, Li Xun’s expression took on a particularly cold cast.

“Go on,” he said, prompting her.

Zhu Yun didn’t dance around it. “I’ve thought it over. I’d like to join your base. The projects seem genuinely challenging, and I want to develop my practical skills.”

In reality, Li Xun had already turned his head back to the screen by the time she’d finished the first half of the sentence. When she completed the whole thing, he gave a perfunctory sound of acknowledgment, signaling that he’d registered what she said.

Toward this prospective superior-of-sorts, Zhu Yun had decided that patience would be her strategy in all things. She asked: “What are the scheduled activity hours?”

“No scheduled hours. Come whenever you have time.” Li Xun tapped at his keyboard and said lightly: “I’m always there.”

Zhu Yun looked at him for a moment, then finally said:

“Alright.”

Back in the dormitory, the sight of Fang Shumiao reminded Zhu Yun she still hadn’t told her. Once she’d explained, Fang Shumiao stared straight at her.

“Why are you suddenly joining the base?”

Zhu Yun didn’t mention Li Xun’s invitation. She only cited Old Man Lin.

“He suggested I get some hands-on experience there.”

Fang Shumiao said ah, then quickly added: “So you told Li Xun that you were the one who helped me with that program?”

“No.”

Now Zhu Yun understood what she’d been worrying about. “Don’t worry,” she said reassuringly, “I won’t say a word. When I go, I’ll pick a different feature to work on.”

Fang Shumiao nodded.

That afternoon there were no classes. After lunch, Zhu Yun packed two freshly borrowed web design books and headed over to the base.

Li Xun’s base was on the ground floor of Experimental Building A. Though Zhu Yun had drifted past it any number of times, she had never actually gone inside.

The corridor was slightly cool and dim. She found Room 102 — the base entrance — and without knocking, pressed herself quietly against the outside wall and listened.

A faint, soft scratching sound, barely audible.

Zhu Yun’s heart hammered. She was a little nervous.

Just as she was about to take a steadying breath, the door swung open.

Wu Mengxing stood there with a broom in one hand and a rubbish bag in the other, dripping with sweat from the effort.

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of her.

“Oh — what are you doing here?”

Zhu Yun: “…”

So you’re here too. Haven’t had enough abuse from Li Xun, apparently.

Pleasantries exchanged, Zhu Yun stepped aside to let Wu Mengxing out with the rubbish and went inside.

The base was roughly the size of a standard classroom, with twenty computers arranged in small clusters — four per group, pushed together in a ring.

When she walked in, there were five people inside, herself included.

No wait — six. Wu Mengxing came back.

Of those present: one cleaning up, one eating, a couple flirting with each other, and one person actually working at a computer — and that person was, of course, not Li Xun. Li Xun was in the flirting contingent.

Zhu Yun stood in the doorway and took in the sight of the plastic Barbie that was Liu Sisi draped across Li Xun, the two of them feeding each other ice cream, a picture of perfectly cocooned bliss.

How exactly was she supposed to announce herself here.

She was still puzzling over this when Gao Jianhong, at the computer across the room, spotted her and threw up a hand.

“Zhu Yun!”

Li Xun turned around and, seeing her, said simply: “You’re here?”

Zhu Yun could only nod.

Li Xun gestured vaguely around the room. “Pick wherever you want to sit.”

Zhu Yun picked up her bag and headed toward the seats along the wall, but Gao Jianhong called out to stop her. “Come here, come here, Zhu Yun — sit over here.” He pointed to the seat beside him.

Too close to the center of things. She wasn’t sure she could handle that.

“I’m fine here.” She set her bag down at a cluster one removed from Li Xun’s. Before long Wu Mengxing came over and settled in beside her. “I’ll sit here,” he announced.

Zhu Yun gave him a nod.

The room was quiet, broken only by the occasional contented smack of lips from the student in the corner who was deeply absorbed in a bowl of rustic stir-fried pork. Zhu Yun sat for a while, noted that Li Xun and Liu Sisi were still working through their ice cream, and leaned over to ask Wu Mengxing in a low voice:

“When does it start?”

“Start what?”

“The activity.”

Wu Mengxing opened his mouth, then understood. “It’s already started. This is just how it is here — when he’s not handing out assignments, everyone does whatever they want. The computers are all connected to the internet. You could play around online for a bit — there are loads of games on these machines.”

…

Why did I come all the way here to play games on the internet.

Zhu Yun opened her bag, took out the web design book, and began to read.

She got thoroughly absorbed. When she next looked up, over an hour had passed. The room had a few more people in it, and it was still quiet.

She turned around. Liu Sisi had disappeared at some point; Li Xun was now curled back in his chair, tapping away at his laptop.

She glanced over at Wu Mengxing. He was writing code with a focused, serious expression; she caught a glimpse of it — something that looked like a search function he was refining.

Zhu Yun ran her tongue over her teeth.

She suddenly felt terribly out of place.

She went back to her book, this time with the attitude of I might as well read the whole thing in one go, immersing herself completely in the sea of it — until a slender finger tapped the cover.

Zhu Yun looked up, and found an impatient face.

Li Xun: “Come. Do some work.”

He’s finally going to give me an assignment?

Zhu Yun closed the book and waited for him to speak.

Li Xun tossed a notebook in front of her. Zhu Yun looked down at it, then raised her eyes with an expression entirely drained of feeling.

“What is this for?”

Liu Sisi’s little head popped out from behind Li Xun, beaming at her with a cheerful grin.

Zhu Yun: “…”

Li Xun looked every bit as exhausted by Liu Sisi as Zhu Yun felt, and said to her: “Help out. Nothing complicated.”

Liu Sisi bounced up on her toes and patted Li Xun’s shoulder. “What do you mean nothing complicated — don’t say nothing complicated~”

Li Xun’s brow creased deeply. He reached out and grabbed Liu Sisi by the scruff of her collar.

“Hey hey hey! Be careful, you’re going to stretch out my top!”

He hauled her around to Zhu Yun’s side. “Stay here.” Liu Sisi stuck out her lower lip in a tremendous pout, clearly deeply displeased, and sat down.

Having deposited Liu Sisi and nothing else, Li Xun went back to his work. Liu Sisi propped her chin on her hand and regarded Zhu Yun with wide, curious eyes.

“What’s your name?”

“Zhu Yun.”

“Junior, sorry to trouble you.”

So you’re actually my senior…

“It’s fine.” Zhu Yun smiled pleasantly and flipped open her English homework book with perfect composure.

“What does she need to write?”

“Translate an arts essay — she can choose one herself.”

“Have you found one already?”

“I have! Let me show you!”

Liu Sisi squeezed in close and happily commandeered the computer in front of Zhu Yun to search online.

She typed in the keyword: young painter Tian Xiuzhu.

A flood of pages came up instantly. Liu Sisi clicked into one with practiced ease. “This one!”

Zhu Yun looked it over. “This isn’t an arts essay. It’s a personal profile.”

Liu Sisi: “Oh, whatever.”

Fine. It’s your homework, you decide.

Zhu Yun took the mouse and skimmed it quickly. The article covered the young painter’s education and his current body of work.

“He’s so handsome, so sweet-looking…”

Zhu Yun glanced sideways to find Liu Sisi gazing at the screen in a state of pure, uncomplicated adoration. The article included a photograph: a young man with refined, delicate features and a shy, modest smile.

Zhu Yun scrolled down and came across one of his works. Something in her chest gave a small jolt.

It was a charcoal drawing titled Jagged Peaks — a stretch of dry, desolate mountains. The brushwork was at once accomplished and untamed, carrying a force like shifting mountains and oceans, sweeping aside everything in its path in a great sweep of wild, ungoverned energy.

Catching it unawares, Zhu Yun felt that the painting’s explosive force bore a faint resemblance to a certain someone in this very room whose name also contained the character for “rugged peaks.”

Someone poked her in the arm. Liu Sisi was looking at her with dissatisfaction.

“Scroll up. Look at the photo!”

Zhu Yun: “…”

She scrolled back to the top and began to translate. The article was short; she was done in under ten minutes. She gave it a light polish and handed it over in fifteen.

“Thank you so much!” Liu Sisi had long since been unable to sit still — she’d wandered all over the room while Zhu Yun was translating, and now, seeing it finished, she flung her arms around her from behind in a hug.

Senior… your chest…

Liu Sisi’s chest — more accurately described as two formidably armed weapons — pressed squarely into her back and left her no choice but to comply.

All at once, a flicker of curiosity struck Zhu Yun. She turned her head and asked Liu Sisi:

“Between Tian Xiuzhu and Li Xun — which one do you like more?”

Liu Sisi laughed and gave her a playful shove. “Why so pointed? That’s not very friendly.”

Pointed? Not friendly?

Liu Sisi pulled her close and murmured near her ear: “Whichever one you like more, I like more.” With that, she swept up the homework book in high spirits and floated off to find Li Xun.

Leaving Zhu Yun sitting exactly where she was, utterly at a loss for words.

As evening approached, Zhu Yun gathered her things and prepared to leave. Before heading out, she went to say goodbye to Li Xun, who spared her a brief, passing glance amid his busyness and offered a mild compliment: “Class representative, as expected — quick work on the assignment.”

“…”

Zhu Yun decided she needed to make one thing clear before she walked out that door.

“I didn’t come here to do other people’s homework.”

Liu Sisi tilted her head and looked at her.

Li Xun, still occupied with what he was doing: “It was just a small favor.”

His fingers flew across the keyboard. Zhu Yun was genuinely curious about what he was building, what logic he was working through — but from where she stood, she couldn’t see a thing.

Liu Sisi, assignment safely resolved, was in a state of pure, weightless relief. She draped herself over Li Xun and settled in serenely, every inch the decorative doll.

Something stirred in Zhu Yun’s chest — a breath of air that refused to be managed, that would not quietly dissipate.

After standing there for a few seconds, she finally spoke to Li Xun where he sat, head bent to his work:

“Hey.”

She hadn’t used his name. Li Xun looked up anyway.

Zhu Yun chose her words with deliberate care and reminded him:

“Don’t forget — I’m here because you invited me.”