Chu Hang’s emotions swung between hot and cold. The moment he thought of Tan Yin now, only one word surfaced in his mind: disaster.

But even if he admitted to himself that he really did have feelings for Tan Yin, so what? Was he really supposed to go and become “the other man,” just as Chen Ziqiang suggested?

That was simply beneath him.

Though there was a grain of truth to what Chen Ziqiang said, Chu Hang felt that stealing someone away like that went completely against everything he’d been raised to believe — it was shameful, dishonorable. And once someone became known as a homewrecker, that reputation would follow them for life. How could he possibly do something like that?!

Tan Yin was decent enough as a person, sure, but there were still principles and boundaries one had to uphold no matter what. Besides, Zhou Ming clearly wasn’t a good match for Tan Yin — the two of them had already run into friction and conflict multiple times right in front of Chu Hang, and each time, he’d personally stepped in to show Tan Yin the difference between one kind of man and another. Surely Tan Yin would come to her senses eventually and see the situation clearly — realize that Zhou Ming might make an adequate friend, but was thoroughly unqualified as a boyfriend. It wasn’t even about eating first before returning some books at noon, and yet he’d refused to help; and when his own girlfriend had supposedly twisted her ankle — whether faked or real — he’d been ready to just leave her behind while he kept climbing to the summit. Someone like that — how could you keep him around?

Chu Hang was confident that Tan Yin and Zhou Ming would break up soon.

Unfortunately, Chu Hang’s usually smooth-sailing life had hit a wall when it came to this particular matter. It had already been a full three days since that confident prediction of his that night, and yet there was still no sign whatsoever of Tan Yin and Zhou Ming breaking up.

With the deadline for design submissions approaching, Tan Yin spent most of her time holed up in the now-repowered studio, but once she finished drawing, she’d pack up and go eat with Zhou Ming in the dining hall. The two of them seemed to be getting along wonderfully, never at a loss for conversation. Tan Yin was clearly in good spirits, eating nearly a full bowl and a half of rice, downing two pieces of pork cutlet in one sitting — while Chu Hang, by contrast, had lost his appetite entirely these past few days, unable to stomach even good food.

Yet even as Chu Hang had visibly lost a pound or so over these three days, Tan Yin — who spent nearly every day lurking around him, invisible or not — seemed to have completely overlooked the change in him.

Sitting across from Xu Yu, Chu Hang kept absentmindedly glancing over, as if by accident, toward Tan Yin and Zhou Ming not far off, barely registering a word Xu Yu was saying…

“Oh, by the way, Chu Hang, my sister’s classmate saw a photo of you and me on her phone and fell for you at first sight. She’s been begging my sister to set you two up — since you’re single anyway, want to grab dinner together sometime and get to know her?”

“Mm.”

“Duan Yingfei’s birthday is coming up. She asked me if you’d be willing to play a piano piece at her birthday party — should I tell her you’re okay with it?”

“Mm.”

“Also, how come you two still haven’t made up yet? Why does she keep asking me to pass messages instead of just talking to you directly?”

“Mm.”

Xu Yu frowned. “‘Mm’ what? Are you even listening to me?”

Only then did Chu Hang seem to snap out of his daze. “What?”

Xu Yu sighed, exasperated. “What’s going on with you lately, Chu Hang? You’ve been so spaced out — you’re starting to remind me of my heartbroken roommate.”

At the word “heartbroken,” Chu Hang nearly glared at Xu Yu on reflex, denying it flatly: “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Though Xu Yu found Chu Hang’s fierce reaction a bit odd, he really had no evidence of any heartbreak, so he let it go. Once he’d pulled Chu Hang’s attention back, he confirmed the earlier questions again — only this time, all the answers that had been “mm” turned into “no” or “no time.”

Lately, Tan Yin had been worked half to death by her design coursework. Before, when she hadn’t taken her studies seriously, she’d always just cram something together last minute to turn in. But now that she was genuinely putting in the effort, she found flaws everywhere she looked, never satisfied with her own work, always feeling she could do better, striving for perfection.

This time, it wasn’t out of any desire to compete with Chu Hang or land him some resounding slap in the face. She’d secretly noted down the books she’d seen on Chu Hang’s list in the architecture section of the library that one time — not just technical textbooks, but also quite a few biographies of famous architects, like Frank Lloyd Wright’s autobiography, as well as biographies about Lin Huiyin and Liang Sicheng.

Tan Yin had always assumed architecture, aside from sketching, was nothing but dry technical work — calculations, surveying, structural and load analysis, dull as anything. Even her initial motivation to catch up and outdo Chu Hang had only been fueled by external pressure. But as she read through these autobiographies and researched the works of these renowned architects, she discovered that architecture was far from just a boring academic subject.

Take Wright’s masterpiece Fallingwater, for instance — selected by the American Institute of Architects as one of the best works of twentieth-century American architecture, and thoroughly deserving of the honor. The moment Tan Yin saw photos of Fallingwater, she was utterly captivated — this wasn’t just dry surveying and structural design. This was art.

If Tan Yin had once thought of comics as a form of self-expression through art, then after seeing a work like Fallingwater, she came to feel that architectural design was true art, and that entertainment comics, however creative, simply couldn’t compare. Great architectural design was the perfect fusion of humanity and nature — architecture demanded not just an engineering mindset, but an artist’s eye as well: drawing, drafting, expressive ability, imagination, conceptual thinking, inspiration and creativity — all essential, and far more demanding than simply drawing comics.

Fallingwater’s design concept was remarkably distinctive, organically merging man-made architecture with the natural trees, rocks, and streams around it, striking a perfect balance of tension and grace, layered and intricately arranged. Wright designed two staggered platforms at different heights, creating a sense of depth while letting the stream flow gently down from the platform above — the whole effect utterly seamless, like stepping into some otherworldly paradise, romantic yet unpretentious and elegant.

The house had originally been designed by Wright for Kaufmann, the Pittsburgh department store magnate, as a private vacation retreat. Yet years after Wright’s death, Fallingwater’s owner Kaufmann made the resolute decision to donate the estate for public viewing, believing that a work like this — created by humanity for itself, not by one person for another — carried such profound meaning that it belonged to the public as a shared treasure, not merely a privately held prize.

This wasn’t just architecture — it was the pinnacle of art, the crystallization of human wisdom.

As Tan Yin pored over the lives and works of these great architects, an indescribable excitement and passion stirred within her. She wanted to become someone like that too — someone who could prove herself, express herself, through her own work; someone who could leave behind something for society, something that belonged to everyone.

Though her original motivation for settling down and studying seriously had just been to prove a point, once she’d peeled back architecture’s surface and touched its artistic core, Tan Yin found herself genuinely won over by the discipline.

Now, Tan Yin threw herself wholeheartedly into her studies, completely forgetting the bet she’d made with herself and Chu Hang. Whether she beat Chu Hang no longer mattered — as long as she surpassed her former self, that was enough. Tan Yin studied with genuine passion now, and beyond the books Chu Hang had been reading, she also sought out reading lists recommended in professional architecture forums, working through them one by one. She’d practically gone through every worthwhile book on the architecture department’s shelves. Once she decided to commit to something, she really did have remarkable perseverance and drive.

Perhaps the heavens took pity on her, seeing she’d been burying herself in nearly eleven hours of studying a day and decided it was time for a break.

That day, just as Tan Yin was deep in her study groove, a thunderstorm rolled in.

Forced into an unplanned break, Tan Yin sat up and stretched a few times, relaxing for a moment before remembering she still had something else to take care of.

It had already been a week since she’d first started suspecting Chu Hang might be able to see her. During that week there hadn’t been a single rainy day, and between her studies, she hadn’t had time to think about the matter further. Chu Hang, meanwhile, had seemed to be in a foul mood all week — every time he ran into her, he’d shoot her a fierce glare, then turn and walk away. Probably taking his frustration out on her by association, since his hostility toward Zhou Ming had been equally undisguised.

Baffled as it was, Tan Yin figured she could sort of understand — after all, once Anna had finished her research on A City’s architecture and wrapped up her visit, she’d already returned to the US, leaving her and Chu Hang as a long-distance, time-difference couple now. Having to separate from his girlfriend right at the start of a new relationship — no wonder his mood had soured.

And whether or not negative energy was really contagious, lately not only had Chu Hang seemed gloomy, but Zhang Chen too had seemed rather absent-minded. Tan Yin had run into him a few times at the Zhixing Building’s hot water room, so distracted each time that the water nearly overflowed before he noticed. She’d had to call out to him more than once to keep him from scalding himself.

But none of that was the point right now. The point was, Tan Yin needed to verify one thing first — whether Chu Hang could actually see her or not.

Finding Chu Hang wasn’t hard — she practically ran into him in the library every day lately, so chances were he’d be there now too.

Without wasting any time, Tan Yin made her way to the library under cover of her invisibility, riding out the rain, and sure enough, she found Chu Hang at a table across from her usual study spot, head bowed over an architecture journal.

If he really could hear and see her…

Steadying herself, Tan Yin walked over to Chu Hang’s table, circled around him a few times, and made several faces right in front of him. Chu Hang glanced up briefly, his expression perfectly composed, showing no reaction whatsoever, and quickly returned his attention to his reading.

Looked like he really couldn’t see her, then.

Still, to be safe, Tan Yin decided to try something else — she started telling jokes —

“When Xiao Ming was little, people always told him his face was too square, that he looked like a kite. At school, his classmates would say, ‘Haha, Xiao Ming, you really do look like a kite.’ In class, the teacher would say, ‘Xiao Ming, you really do look like a kite.’ At home, his family would say the same thing! Xiao Ming, heartbroken and despairing, jumped off the roof — and then… he flew away.”

But once Tan Yin finished, Chu Hang remained expressionless, still reading.

“Maybe that joke was too flat. Let me try another one.”

…

Tan Yin racked her brain for joke after joke, but Chu Hang remained utterly unmoved, whether the jokes were corny or so funny Tan Yin ended up cracking herself up midway through — he just sat there, unshaken, quietly reading his journal.

Growing a little thirsty from all the talking, Tan Yin sat down across from him for a short break. But once things went quiet, sitting there watching Chu Hang, she couldn’t help her thoughts wandering off—

If only Chu Hang would break up already. Once he did, right when he was at his most vulnerable, she could swoop in with a full round of gentle, comforting care, and try to win him over again — maybe…

What Tan Yin didn’t know, however, was that Chu Hang — who could have watched Mount Tai collapse in front of him without so much as blinking right now — was thinking the exact same thing she was.

These past few days had been genuinely agonizing for Chu Hang too. At first he’d been utterly confident that whatever Tan Yin and Zhou Ming had was nothing more than playacting, that they’d break up before long. But it had been far more than three days now — seven days, in fact — and there was still no sign of the two of them splitting up. Though, according to Chu Hang’s own observations, Tan Yin had been so consumed by her studies this past week — spending nearly all her time in the studio drafting or working on models, or camped out in the library — that she and Zhou Ming only really saw each other over lunch or dinner. Still, this did nothing to ease Chu Hang’s irritation and dissatisfaction. If she was going to bury herself in studying, shouldn’t she cut men out of the picture entirely? Suppress earthly desires, preserve heavenly principle! What was the point of still specifically making time to eat lunch and dinner with that Zhou Ming character? Absolutely pointless.

Well, once they broke up, everything would be fine, Chu Hang reassured himself. Once that happened, he’d extend a bit of warmth toward Tan Yin, show some concern — she didn’t seem that dense, surely she’d come around and see the light before long…

But before that, it seemed there was another matter to deal with first.

On this first rainy day in a week, though Tan Yin’s invisible reappearance had lifted Chu Hang’s mood ever so slightly, what she did next left him with nothing to smile about at all.

Tan Yin had grown suspicious.

Chu Hang felt a pang of regret — his behavior back in that old campus classroom had probably drawn her attention.

Still, for every trick there was a countertrick — as long as he held steady, no matter what Tan Yin did, he could simply act as if he noticed nothing. After a couple more failed attempts, she’d probably give up her suspicions on her own. Right now, for instance, having gone through her whole repertoire of jokes, she’d already half given up, sitting across from him complaining about being tired.

But this time, Chu Hang had overestimated himself and underestimated Tan Yin. After resting her head on the table for a while, she rallied herself once more —

Not only did she persist in pulling faces and making a fool of herself in front of him, she also…

Though Tan Yin kept making faces and cracking jokes right by his ear, Chu Hang still showed no unusual reaction at all — yet for some reason, Tan Yin still had an uneasy feeling. Aside from lacking her invisibility power, Chu Hang was, after all, remarkably capable in every other respect, and there was no guarantee he hadn’t picked up on something after all this time.

Still, having run through all these tests already, with Chu Hang showing no unusual behavior whatsoever, it seemed reasonable to conclude her invisibility hadn’t actually been detected. Tan Yin tried to convince herself she’d just been overthinking things.

She watched him a while longer, and noticed Chu Hang had spread the journal open on the desk, working through some structural mechanics research problem on scratch paper. Tan Yin began chattering nonstop right by his ear, trying to disrupt his concentration.

Tan Yin’s plan seemed foolproof — even if Chu Hang was immune to cold jokes and funny faces, surely facing such a difficult technical analysis problem while surrounded by constant noise, he wouldn’t be able to think straight at all…

But before Tan Yin could even finish scheming, Chu Hang, apparently completely unaffected, as if he couldn’t hear her voice at all, calmly worked through the analysis of the problem with total composure…

At that, Tan Yin’s heart finally settled somewhat, and she relaxed. But for one final safeguard, Tan Yin decided to deploy her ultimate move —

She stood up, and right in front of Chu Hang, lifted the hem of her skirt. “Chu Hang, you really can’t see me, right? I’m wearing that high-slit skirt you hate the most today!”

By all rights, this was a skirt Chu Hang had once deemed thoroughly unsuitable for her, seeming to find it quite off-putting. So Tan Yin deliberately used it as a final test, wanting to see if walking circles around him in this particular skirt he disliked would provoke even the faintest flicker of expression on his face.

But nothing happened. Chu Hang looked perfectly normal — just his face turning slightly red, without a trace of annoyance or impatience.

Tan Yin let out a breath of relief. Looked like she was safe after all.

Tan Yin had observed before that Chu Hang’s likes and dislikes were quite distinct — whenever something bothered him, even if he tried hard to hold it in, the faint crease between his brows would still show it. But this time, despite her deliberately parading around in that eye-catching high-slit skirt, that little furrow between his brows showed no sign of appearing at all.

What Tan Yin failed to realize, however, was that while standing still the slit hadn’t been very noticeable, her deliberate walking around to show it off had, in fact, exposed her legs entirely.

Chu Hang’s skin was fair, so whenever he blushed, even faintly, it showed up clearly — yet Tan Yin didn’t think much of this change in him, since his expression otherwise remained so composed that she chalked the flush up to the heat, especially since she herself was feeling a bit warm too.

Even though it was a rainy day, the library windows were shut tight, making the air stuffy and oppressive. Tan Yin felt uncomfortably warm herself, and while fanning herself with one hand, she couldn’t help letting loose a little.

Reasoning that after so many rounds of testing, Chu Hang truly couldn’t see her, Tan Yin grew bolder. She undid a few buttons on her short-sleeved blouse — instantly turning the otherwise proper top into something more like a plunging neckline — but figuring it was still too hot, she undid a few more buttons, exposing half of one shoulder entirely; then she hiked up the hem of her slit skirt further and tied it off with a hair tie into an impromptu miniskirt, baring her bare legs as well…

That felt much better, Tan Yin thought with a sigh of relief. But Chu Hang, watching, seemed to grow even warmer instead — not just his face, but his neck and ears too had all flushed red with heat.

Still, this wasn’t really Chu Hang’s fault, because before long, Tan Yin found that even like this, she was still too warm. She thought it over, and seeing no sign that the group of girls blocking the branch library’s entrance would be clearing out anytime soon, she decided to go all in: “Forget it, might as well just take my top off entirely — I’ve got a camisole underneath anyway, and no one can see me. This rain’s not letting up any time soon…”

No sooner said than done — her hands began undoing the buttons again. But just as she reached the button at her chest, Chu Hang, who had been sitting there the whole time, seemingly absorbed in his reading with the composure of a monk in meditation, suddenly snapped, unable to hold back any longer —

“Tan Yin, button that shirt back up right now!!!” ???

This sudden, gritted-teeth outburst startled Tan Yin so badly she froze completely on the spot.

What?

Was Chu Hang… was he actually talking to her?

He — he could see her?!

At that moment, Tan Yin felt as though she’d been struck by lightning all over again, her entire body stunned into complete shock.

Not just Tan Yin — even the group of girls who’d been blocking the entrance a moment ago turned to look over curiously at the sudden shout…

Tan Yin stood frozen on the spot, completely unsure what to do with her hands, her mind caught in what felt like an electromagnetic storm. She even felt a wave of dizziness so intense that the ground beneath her feet seemed to be shaking. And not just the ground — even the bookshelf behind her, and every single book on it, seemed to be trembling.

Of course, it didn’t take her long to realize this wasn’t just her imagination, because the group of girls by the branch library’s entrance had also begun screaming —

“The ground’s shaking!”

“The desks and chairs are shaking too!”

“Is it an earthquake?!”

“Quick… take cover!”

“Help! Somebody help!”

In an instant, not just the branch library where Tan Yin and Chu Hang were, but commotion began breaking out across the rest of the main library too.

It really was an earthquake!

Tan Yin was still standing there, dazed, when she saw Chu Hang — who a moment ago had snapped at her without even looking her way — now moving with astonishing speed, all sense of proper decorum completely abandoned, not even sparing a glance for the chair toppling over behind him as he shot up. Before Tan Yin could even react, Chu Hang had already closed the distance between them at what looked like a full sprint. He reached out with one hand, unerringly grabbing hold of Tan Yin and pulling her into his arms, while with the other hand he braced against the bookshelf behind her, just barely managing to hold it steady as it threatened to topple in the shaking.

The bookshelf held — but the books cascading down from its tilted angle were another matter entirely.

Tan Yin, held safe in Chu Hang’s arms, could hear the books thudding down onto the floor above her head. This particular shelf held hardcover volumes, and the sound of them crashing down one after another was substantial — their thick, sharp corners striking the floor with heavy, muffled thuds, scattering around Tan Yin and Chu Hang’s feet. Many of them, unavoidably, struck Chu Hang directly on the back. Tan Yin, head bowed and eyes shut amid the dizzying tremors, could only hear the sound of book spines striking his body, along with his suppressed grunts of pain.

All around them was screaming, panic, chaos, and the continuing shudder of the tremor — yet Chu Hang, shielding her with his own body, seemed to build a solid wall around Tan Yin. Despite this being the first time she’d ever experienced anything like this, held in Chu Hang’s arms, Tan Yin didn’t feel afraid at all.

Her heart was racing wildly — but not out of fear. It was from nervousness, from confusion.

Tan Yin’s mind was a complete blank, a tangled mess she couldn’t begin to untangle. Whatever happened now, there was no point pretending anymore, no way to numb herself to it any longer.

Chu Hang could see her! He really could see her all along! Everything before this had all been an act!