The next day at the base, the heavy atmosphere had been swept clean away, replaced by something altogether more elusive — a peculiar mood that had settled over the entire room.

Most particularly emanating from a certain individual in a leadership position: a strange energy, and that intoxicating look in his eyes… which made Zhu Yun’s skin prickle from head to toe.

“My, my.”

Through a haze of cigarette smoke, Li Xun made a quiet, appreciative sound.

Zhu Yun: “…………”

He found out about the Zhang Xiaobei situation?

Judging by that expression — definitely.

Zhu Yun settled into her seat with perfect composure and opened her laptop. She had no time to spare for Li Xun. She had been out of the loop for days, and needed to get back up to speed on the project as fast as possible.

Li Xun rested his head on his hand and said, “Your Royal Highness.”

Zhu Yun glanced at him. Li Xun wore the hint of a smile, as though turning something over in his mind. “An actual royal highness, as it turns out.”

Zhu Yun said nothing. Li Xun gave a long sigh of wonder. “You’ve really opened my eyes.”

Zhu Yun treated him as though he did not exist.

Li Xun turned to Gao Jianhong and said: “This is why I don’t get along with any woman whose IQ exceeds sixty.”

Gao Jianhong shook with laughter.

If the only choices are ‘IQ below sixty’ and ‘at odds with you,’ I would choose to fight you until the end of time.

Zhu Yun set her book down on the desk with a definitive thud and looked at him with perfect calm:

“Are we working or not?”

Li Xun tilted his head, a lazy smirk spreading across his face:

“We’re working.”

Back to it. Zhu Yun pulled up the project timeline and asked Li Xun: “It doesn’t look like we’re going to make it before the break.”

Li Xun said carelessly: “Just finish the part I assigned to you. Everything else isn’t your concern.”

Zhu Yun had a feeling the next week was going to be an all-out sprint.

And not just for the base project — there were also her final examinations. Her mother’s words were still ringing in her ears: “You study properly. I’ll be checking your final results.”

This mysterious, oppressive pressure…

Zhu Yun sighed inwardly, and in an unguarded moment accidentally caught Li Xun’s eye. He gave her an amused, knowing smile, then dropped his gaze back to his code.

Infuriating.

At noon, Zhu Yun was in too much of a hurry to go to the dining hall. She buried herself in revision at her desk while Li Xun typed away beside her.

The base was quiet — nothing but the rapid percussion of keyboards. After a while the sound trailed off on his end. Li Xun closed his laptop.

“Not eating?”

Zhu Yun shook her head. “You go ahead.”

Li Xun stretched out lazily. “Working that hard?” He leaned over to glance at her page. “Fundamental Principles of Marxism…” He paused two beats, then said with a dry drawl: “The intellectual heights of a true princess.”

“……” Zhu Yun looked at him. “Don’t you have to review?”

Li Xun: “Nope.”

Zhu Yun smiled sweetly, the pleasantness going no deeper than the surface. “Of course not. Your Marxism and Mao Zedong Thought scores always land within five points above the passing line, without fail. Very consistent — no revision needed whatsoever.”

Li Xun raised an eyebrow.

What of it?

He adopted the air of someone too magnanimous to argue with her, and turned to walk out.

Left alone in the base, Zhu Yun threw herself into cramming every key point she could.

Once properly absorbed, time passes quickly. Zhu Yun was deep in thought, analyzing the characteristics of the fundamental social contradictions in present-day society and examining the means by which such contradictions might be resolved — when a projectile appeared from nowhere and struck her squarely on the head, obliterating every thought in an instant.

“Ow!” She clapped a hand to her head.

The projectile rolled twice across the desk and came to rest.

A cream-filled bread roll.

Li Xun sat down beside her, satisfied and well-fed, releasing a comfortable yawn.

Zhu Yun turned back to her book. The characteristics of the fundamental social contradictions… first of all… what were they again?

Oh no. The hit knocked it all out of her head.

Zhu Yun rallied herself urgently and tried to reconstruct.

The productive forces and relations of production; the economic base and the superstructure — these are the fundamental driving forces of social development. Class struggle, rooted in fundamental social contradictions; social —

“Go get me some water.”

……

Social revolution, as well as —

“Cold.”

Interrupted again. The chain of thought was broken and could not be rejoined — this sensation of being cut off midway through memorizing something was like being forced to stop mid-stream and hold it. Zhu Yun was about to combust.

Li Xun pressed her: “Hurry up.” Zhu Yun took his cup and went to fill it. Li Xun, still in relaxed mode, received the cup without thinking and took a large swallow — then immediately spat it all back out.

Watching Li Xun scalded red from face to the base of his neck by boiling water, Zhu Yun felt a deep and genuine satisfaction.

Watching him suffer really does brighten the day.

Her joy did not survive the next ten seconds. Li Xun threw the cup down, planted a foot hard against the desk, and sent his chair rolling back.

Zhu Yun spun around and ran — but she had clearly overestimated her own reflexes while grossly underestimating the reach of Li Xun’s legs. The moment his hand closed around her neck, Zhu Yun squeezed her eyes shut and thought with the resigned heroism of a soldier sacrificing himself on the battlefield —

So be it. Worth it.

She was hauled back to the desk.

Li Xun’s fingers were long and dexterous from constant typing — flexible, precise, and strong. He pressed her against the desk and looked down at her from above.

……

Whatever violence was being committed, the quality of light at midday was altogether too beautiful.

He was silhouetted against the sun.

His shoulders, his neck, his collarbone, the line of his jaw…

Zhu Yun had to admit: setting aside that explosion of bleached-yellow hair, and the thoroughly aggravating personality, everything about Li Xun was possessed of a certain refinement. It reminded her of the imported mechanical pencil she had saved up to buy as a child — how she had slotted in the lead and pressed it with great tenderness to the page of her workbook for the very first time.

That sensation — impossibly smooth and soft and effortless even on the roughest paper — was exactly like him.

“Choose your method of death.”

……

If only he could keep his mouth shut permanently.

Zhu Yun struggled. “You threw something at me first.”

“Hmm?”

Li Xun’s hand shifted; Zhu Yun’s legs went unsteady. His grip wasn’t a hard pinch so much as a press-and-knead from both sides — an upgraded version of his idle habit of rolling cigarettes between two fingers.

She attempted reason.

“I’m trying to memorize things… and you keep interrupting me.”

Li Xun made a noncommittal sound.

Zhu Yun: “I only have this one hour at noon to review. I barely paid attention to political theory in the second half of the semester. Exams are next week — if I don’t memorize it now there’s no time left.”

You have to be reasonable sometime!

Li Xun looked at her without expression, as though tasting something.

After a long moment, he smiled.

“Your neck is quite slender, actually.”

Her heart gave a single sharp beat.

The sunlight flooding the room seemed to shatter all at once into gold dust.

And at precisely that moment, a woman’s voice came from behind —

“Zhu Yun — what are the two of you doing?”

Cold water poured over her from head to foot. Zhu Yun’s entire back went numb.

Years off her life, right there.

Li Xun turned his head. Standing in the doorway was their homeroom teacher, Teacher Zhang, and beside him a middle-aged woman. It was she who had spoken — her face wore a pleasant smile; she looked kind.

Zhu Yun straightened, overrode the pace of her heartbeat, and walked over steadily. She greeted the teacher first. “Hello, Teacher Zhang.” Then she turned to the middle-aged woman and said quietly: “Mom — what are you doing here?”

Her mother said: “You saw your father yesterday, didn’t you.”

“Mm.”

“He has so much on his plate, no time to spend with you at all. As it happens, I have a few days off from my school, so I came to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine.”

Her mother smiled. Teacher Zhang said from beside her: “I knew you’d be here. Your mother came all this way to see you — take a break from all this and go have a proper meal with her.”

“Alright.” She went to get her bag, and told Li Xun: “I’m heading out.”

Li Xun raised an eyebrow. Zhu Yun returned to her mother’s side. “Let’s go — I haven’t eaten yet anyway.”

Zhu Yun followed her mother out. At the last moment she stole a glance back into the room: Li Xun had settled back into his chair, opened his laptop, and was tearing open the bag of cream bread on the desk to eat.

In the dining hall, Zhu Yun collected her food and sat across from her mother.

“You’re not eating enough,” her mother said. “Are you getting proper nutrition?”

“I am…”

All forced down.

“I spoke with your teacher. He had no idea that graduate supervisor had pulled you in to work on a project. Why didn’t you tell your homeroom teacher? You have to trust your teachers, you know.”

Because telling him wouldn’t have done much good.

“Or is there another reason your grades dropped, unrelated to all that?”

Her mother’s mild, offhand question nearly made Zhu Yun choke. She looked across the table. Her mother’s expression was perfectly ordinary — impossible to tell if it was serious or said in jest.

“That practical training base — your homeroom teacher told me about it. It counts toward second-classroom credits, doesn’t it.”

“Mm.” Zhu Yun nodded.

“It’s only your first year. No need to rush.”

Zhu Yun nodded again.

“After this, don’t go anymore.”

There was nothing she could do but nod.

Satisfied with her daughter’s compliance, her mother picked up her spoon and tried the soup. It was a simple kelp broth. One sip and she frowned. “My goodness, why is it so salty?”

Zhu Yun: “The dining hall soup is always on the salty side. Should we go eat somewhere outside?”

“No, no — too much trouble, let’s just eat here.” Her mother looked around the hall and sighed with something like nostalgia. “University is wonderful. So full of life.”

Zhu Yun: “Your high school isn’t so bad either.”

Her mother shook her head repeatedly. “High school is a different matter entirely. The pressure to get into university these days — there’s no life left in them at all.”

After the meal, Zhu Yun asked: “Where are you staying? The school guesthouse?”

“No, I’m not staying. I just came to see you — I’ll be heading back shortly.”

“So soon.”

Her mother patted her head. “I still need to drop some things off with your father. I’ll be back tonight. Be good.”

“Mm.”

Zhu Yun walked her mother to the school gate and flagged down a taxi. Just before they parted, her mother said: “That person in the classroom just now — is he a classmate?”

Zhu Yun nodded.

“Keep your distance from him. He doesn’t look like a serious young man.”

No response.

The car door was already open, but her mother still hadn’t heard Zhu Yun answer.

She turned and looked at her daughter.

“Look at the way he dresses — that hair, dyed into some state like that. Is that any way to present yourself?” Her mother spoke in an easy, even tone. “Young people wanting to express their individuality is understandable, but everything has its limits. I walked through the entire school and didn’t see anyone else looking like that. What did Mom tell you from the time you were small?”

You told me a lot of things over the years… which one?

“You must get along peacefully with everyone around you. Don’t set yourself apart. Those who step outside the collective always find the path harder.”

Ah, that one. Zhu Yun nodded. “I understand.”

Her mother smiled with a look of warm relief and smoothed a hand over Zhu Yun’s hair. “Study hard — but don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Mom wants your grades to be good, but more than that, she wants you healthy and happy. You’ve always been Mom’s pride. Go back to your dormitory now, and make sure you rest at noon.”

Zhu Yun: “Okay.”

The base was perfectly quiet.

With the end of term approaching, people had drifted away to study. Fewer were coming each day, and with the winter cold added to it, the room felt especially sparse and still.

Li Xun was coding at speed when he stopped.

He turned his head, the focused sharpness that came with hours of staring at a screen still on his face. He said nothing.

Zhu Yun sat down and gave his shoulder a small poke.

“You ate my bread. Remember to buy me a new one tomorrow.”