CTJM - 10

Chapter 10: Borrowing Books

Perhaps out of curiosity, or perhaps out of genuine interest, Yin Mengxi devoted a great deal of effort to the School of Liberal Arts course that semester.

This wasn’t easy, given the heavy workload of her journalism courses. On top of that, she had joined the university’s art troupe under the Youth League Committee as a publicity editor, which brought its own set of challenges. University life was incredibly fresh, and coming from a small southern city, she often felt overwhelmed. Things others might have learned in middle school took her much longer to catch up to—like standard spoken English, using software to design posters, or expressing her thoughts and feelings naturally.

Everything moved at a fast pace, with something new to learn every day. She struggled to keep up, fearing she’d fall behind. Amidst the chaos, the liberal arts course stood out—it was so soothing, quiet, rich, and light.

...She found herself growing fond of Su Shi.

The name wasn’t unfamiliar; there were many of his works she had memorized during middle school. But back then, her understanding of the great literary figure was limited to the exam syllabus—she knew nothing of his life or anecdotes.

He was actually quite an interesting man: he loved calligraphy and painting, adored fine food, and was a bit of a show-off due to his extraordinary talent. He had a poor relationship with the Neo-Confucian scholar Cheng Yi and shared a complicated, love-hate dynamic with Chancellor Wang Anshi. Oh, and then there was his younger brother, Su Zhe—a total brother-complex case who spent his entire life running around to clean up after his troublesome older sibling. When Professor Jia recounted stories of the two brothers, the whole class collectively “shipped” them, and during that time, there were countless fanfictions about the pair circulating on social media.

She listened intently, feeling for the first time that the distant, ethereal era was real—that the people who lived in it were as vivid and human as those in the present. A great literary figure from over a thousand years ago suddenly became her friend, and she could immerse herself in his tumultuous yet colorful life.

“Regarding the midterm assessment...”

It was late October, nearing the midterm season when professors typically assigned grades for participation. Professor Jia was a kind man, usually giving everyone a generous B+. He didn’t intend to assign a formal essay for the midterm.

“Students who are interested can sign up to give a special topic presentation—it can be on anything related to Song Dynasty literature. This isn’t mandatory; if you don’t want to participate, that’s fine too. However, those who do will receive extra credit for their participation grade.”

At times like these, the ones who eagerly volunteered for presentations were usually the grade-grubbers—whether they were truly interested in Song Dynasty literature or not, boosting their GPA was the priority. Thus, students aiming for graduate school or studying abroad raised their hands one after another, about twenty in total.

...And Yin Mengxi also raised her hand, despite not being the type to confidently speak in front of a large audience—and this wasn’t even a course in her major. Yet, inexplicably, she still raised her hand.

“Alright, alright...”

Professor Jia seemed pleased by the students’ enthusiasm. He picked up his teacup from the podium, took a sip, and glanced at Xiao Zhi sitting on the left side of the classroom.

“After class, please register the names of the students who signed up,” Professor Jia said kindly to his student. “You’ll also be responsible for evaluating the midterm presentations.”

...And so, Yin Mengxi unexpectedly gained a second opportunity to speak with him.

It was after class, and the students who had raised their hands gathered around him to register their names. She slowly made her way from the back of the classroom, the distance between them shrinking with each step.

Her heartbeat quickened, and she felt her palms begin to sweat. An inexplicable nervousness clouded her mind, and by the time it was her turn, her breathing had grown uneven.

“Name?”

He didn’t look up, only lowering his eyes to write, his brow beautifully arched in a way that was mesmerizing.

She hesitated slightly in her response, which prompted him to raise his head. His clear, piercing eyes met hers, nearly causing her heart to leap out of her chest.

“...Yin Mengxi.”

She answered dryly, but a bold thought crept into her mind—would he remember her? They had exchanged a few words on the day of orientation.

“Could you specify which characters?”

—But he disappointed her. His handsome features remained calm and polite as he asked how her name was written.

“Yin is just Yin. Meng is from ‘Mengchun’ (early spring), and Xi is from ‘Xiguang’ (radiant light).”

After a pause, fearing he might mistake it for “Xi” (as in dawn), she quickly added, “...the ‘Xi’ in ‘busy and bustling.’”

He nodded to acknowledge her response, then smoothly wrote down her name on the paper. Before finishing, he asked, “Do you already have a general direction for your topic?”

In truth, she didn’t. But unwilling to appear timid in front of him, she forced herself to act confident.

“Yes,” she tried to sound calm. “I want to focus on Su Shi.”

He nodded again and wrote “Su Shi” next to her name. As he neatly finished his stroke, he gently advised, “Pay attention to choosing a specific angle. Don’t make it too broad or vague.”

...And that was it.

She left, and he continued methodically registering the next student in line.

Afterward, she became a regular at the library.

Raising her hand had felt exhilarating at the moment, but actually preparing the presentation turned out to be torturous. A journalism student who hadn’t even fully grasped communication theory was now tackling Su Shi. Moreover, all the other students who had signed up for the midterm presentations were from the School of Liberal Arts—some of them juniors. She knew she would be utterly crushed.

...But she truly didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of him.

She had put herself in an impossible position, too stubborn to back down, so she had no choice but to struggle through it. Spending time in the library became her only option. During that period, she missed out on various dormitory outings. After classes and finishing her work with the Youth League Committee, she would head straight to the library to study, staying far from the social sciences section and immersing herself in literature, history, and philosophy.

The Literature and Arts Book Repository was the largest in University A’s library, likely because their major required reading numerous expensive books. The large reference rooms were spacious and deep, filled with the faint scent of ink and paper as soon as one entered. Some of the older, oversized books had a faint yellowish hue, as if they belonged to another ancient era.

Every time she entered, her heart naturally grew calm. She carefully placed her bag on the chair, poured hot water, set up her laptop, and turned on the small desk lamp. Within moments, she had arranged a comfortable spot for herself and would sit there for three or four hours straight.

When searching for books on the shelves, she was meticulous. She prepared a list in advance and searched for each book one by one. Occasionally, she stumbled upon two additional books that seemed helpful and decided to borrow them as well.

That day, she went to borrow more books. Slowly scanning the tall shelves, she easily found Wang Shui Zhao’s Biography of Su Shi on her list. After taking it down, she took a few more steps and looked up to discover a complete sixteen-volume set of Song Hui Yao Ji Gao on the top shelf.

This...

...It looked impressive.

Including it in her references would surely make her report look substantial.

She pursed her lips, deciding to first check the table of contents to borrow only the volume related to Su Shi. Unfortunately, when she reached for it, she realized the shelf was too high for her to reach, even on her tiptoes. As her hand stretched halfway, it unexpectedly brushed against someone else’s.

She turned her head—

...And saw Xiao Zhi.

He had seen her too.

The dim light between the shelves highlighted his strong features. His handsome brows were slightly lowered, and his dark pupils reflected her shadow.

“Do you need that book?”

His voice was low as he asked.

Her throat tightened, and her palms began to sweat. She didn’t understand why her heart always raced uncontrollably whenever she saw him.

“...Ah, no,” she quickly shook her head. “You—you can use it.”

Like a strange little stutterer.

He raised an eyebrow, glanced at her again, then looked up at the set of books on the top shelf. After a moment, he reached out and pulled down two volumes. The motion, performed by a tall, slender man, looked particularly elegant. She felt his height and subtly lowered her head, her face quietly reddening.

A few seconds later, his hand appeared in her line of sight—long, clean, and strikingly beautiful—holding one of the volumes from the set, seemingly intending to hand it to her.

Confused, she lifted her head. “This...”

“Research on Su Shi, right?”

Mindful of the library setting, he kept his voice soft.

“The Song Hui Yao is mainly historical material, so it might not directly help you. This volume contains historical records related to the Su surname—you can take a quick look.”

After a pause, he added, “If you want to research specific topics like official positions, regional divisions, or Daoist and Buddhist content, you’ll need to look in other volumes.”

With that, he gently handed her the book and walked away with the volume he needed.

Even after returning to her study seat, Yin Mengxi’s face continued to burn.

...He remembered her.

He still remembered her.

He remembered what she looked like, and even recalled that her topic was about Su Shi.

He...

A wave of intense joy surged within her, rising and falling like ocean waves. An 18-year-old girl who had never secretly harbored feelings for anyone or experienced love suddenly felt as though she had achieved something sweet and intoxicating, leaving her dizzy.

Opening the book he had personally handed to her, though precious, she found it hard to concentrate. Not long after, she used the book to hide her face while secretly scanning the vast reference room with her eyes, hoping to catch another glimpse of him and add a bit more magic to this almost surreal study night.

—Ah, there he was.

Far away at a window-side seat on the other side of the reference room, his back was turned to her. Even his distant, understated silhouette was beautiful, like a meticulously painted picture or a silent film.

No.

She couldn’t keep looking.

You’re here to study.

She scolded herself and forcibly withdrew her lingering gaze. Spreading out the book, she opened a Word document to take notes. However, while adjusting the angle of her laptop, she tilted it slightly so that between the blinking cursor and the warm orange glow of the desk lamp...

...She could see him in the distance.