CTJM - 7

Chapter 7: Changing the Light

Enough, perhaps not.

Yin Mengxi had already reviewed Yao Anqi’s interview outline last night. In their line of work, there was a vast difference between the quality of work produced by newcomers and veterans. The list of questions the young girl had prepared was shallow, merely following standard procedures without delving into anything truly moving. Moreover, the senior interviewers at their station rarely stuck to outlines. They conversed with interviewees like friends, letting natural exchanges flow until meaningful content emerged effortlessly.

She was well aware of the flaws in this outline, but she hadn’t revised it. Perhaps because she cared little for this job—or perhaps because she never intended to have a deep conversation with him. Now, hearing him ask, she simply replied, “It should be enough.”

An hour longer with you is already too much.

He hummed softly, handed the outline back to her, then stood up calmly and said, “Then let’s go.”

The administrative teacher overseeing the arrangements was named Chen, reliable and efficient. By the time Yin Mengxi and her team descended the stairs, he was already waiting outside with several umbrellas, which he distributed to them.

“The library is nearby, about three or four hundred meters away,” Teacher Chen explained to Yin Mengxi. “Shall we walk, or would you prefer to take a car?”

Of course, she knew where the library was. Back in her student days, she had been a frequent visitor, often spending entire days seated at a table behind him.

“I know,” she smiled faintly. “We’ll walk.”

That smile was vague, tinged with a faint trace of nostalgia, a hint of dimples emerging like a touch of sugar in black coffee.

He glanced at her, but she didn’t notice.

Opening their umbrellas, they stepped into the rain.

The tranquil campus was utterly enchanting. Beyond the deep green camphor trees stood tall cypress trees. Though the weather was still cool and the leaves sparse, by summer the place would brim with vitality, and by autumn, golden hues would paint the campus, making it breathtakingly beautiful.

She walked slightly behind him, watching his umbrella-shaded silhouette. Come to think of it, she had watched his back for a long time—from her freshman year through her senior year. Now, seven years after leaving school, she was back, still watching his back.

He was tall, leaner during his student days than now, with excellent bone structure. His posture was impeccable—elegantly upright, never inappropriate, perfectly understated and calm. Rainy days suited him particularly well. She didn’t know why she came to this conclusion, but every time she saw him under an umbrella, her heart fluttered. Secretly, she wondered when she might find herself beneath his umbrella too.

And now?

Had someone appeared to share an umbrella with him?

Was it still Tang Fei, his senior from university?

Were they married?

She glanced briefly at the ring finger of his left hand—no ring. Just in case, she checked his right hand too—equally bare.

—Not married?

Or was it simply that he didn’t wear rings?

She didn’t know.

...And it had nothing to do with her anyway.

They reached the library in no time.

Rainy days were romantic, but they came with inconveniences. As she walked, her shoes splashed muddy water onto her white pencil pants. She hadn’t brought tissues, and when she asked Yao Anqi, she didn’t have any either. Yin Mengxi sighed inwardly, feeling as though she had entered an interminably long period of misfortune.

Entering the library, familiar scenes greeted her once again. In the high-ceilinged hall on the first floor stood a statue of their university’s first president, erected over a hundred years ago. On either side were tall staircases—she still remembered. Up the right staircase and deep inside was the Literature and Arts Library, where he used to spend most of his time. On the left, the late-night study room often bore witness to his presence as well.

Now, she followed him upstairs again. The air carried the scent of ink and paper. Passing rows of towering bookshelves and quietly moving students, they entered a large, independent reference room.

Wei Chi was already there, the camera set up, but he looked visibly agitated, pacing around while talking on the phone.

“Yeah, the light’s broken. We need to replace it...”

“How am I supposed to go back and get it? It’ll take two or three hours round trip. Who’s going to wait for me?”

“Stop wasting time. Tell Chuanzi to bring it over—hurry up.”

With that, he hung up.

Turning around, he saw that Yin Mengxi and the others had arrived. Wei Chi froze for a moment, then quickly approached her, calling out “Sis,” somewhat awkwardly explaining, “One of the lights has an issue—it’s not bright enough... I adjusted it earlier, but it’s still not working. I’ve asked someone to bring a replacement.”

This...

Yin Mengxi furrowed her brows, her first instinct to scold him: “Didn’t you check the equipment before coming here? How could such a mistake happen at the interview site?”

Her tone was sharp.

Wei Chi faltered, his face flushing with embarrassment. After a brief silence, he tried to explain: “The equipment allocated to our channel is all outdated. There aren’t any extras in storage—I already picked the best ones to bring along...”

That was true.

Yin Mengxi felt a wave of helplessness, compounded by the fact that he was watching. What must he think of her? Did he find her unprofessional? Did he see her as disheveled and undignified?

It was unbearable; her face burned hot with shame. To mask her discomfort, she pretended to be busy, frowning as she asked Wei Chi, “Where are you getting the light from? Borrowing from another department?”

“No, I’m borrowing from a friend,” Wei Chi quickly added. “His studio is nearby—it should take about thirty or forty minutes to arrive.”

Thirty or forty minutes...

She felt even more humiliated, her expression visibly strained. After a moment of silence, she forced herself to turn and explain to him, stiffly tilting her neck to meet his calm, deep gaze, feeling utterly mortified.

“We might... have to delay for a bit...”

She even stumbled over her words.

“...Teacher Xiao, would it be alright if we ask you to wait a little longer?”

Before he could respond, Teacher Chen beside them frowned slightly, visibly displeased. He stepped forward to inspect the faulty light, then turned back to complain: “Teacher Yin, forgive me for saying this, but your team seems to lack thoroughness. Teacher Xiao has taken time out of his busy schedule to accommodate us. He was supposed to attend an academic conference in Suzhou today...”

This only made her feel worse. Despite the early spring chill, sweat began forming on Yin Mengxi’s forehead. Unsure of what to say, she repeatedly apologized, murmuring “Sorry” several times. As for him? He seemed to glance at her—or perhaps not. After a pause, he lifted his left hand to check his watch and said, “Then make the adjustments. Start once everything is ready.”

With that, he gave a faint nod to everyone present, turned around in front of her, and walked out of the reference room.

Once again.

...Leaving her with a cold, distant silhouette.

Wei Chi went to fetch the light. To ensure his friend wouldn’t get lost and delay things further, he braved the rain and headed to the school gate to wait.

Yin Mengxi stepped out of the reference room to catch some air in the library corridor. Yao Anqi followed her, head bowed, softly apologizing.

“Sister Mengxi, I’m so sorry...” The young girl was on the verge of tears. “I should’ve double-checked everything too. It’s all my fault—the school must think poorly of us now...”

—But how was this her fault?

It was entirely Yin Mengxi’s mistake as the supervisor.

In the past, she had been so meticulous, scrutinizing every detail repeatedly. That was what a producer should do—otherwise, why bother with this line of work? If she were still at the program center, still working on Never Stopping, would she have neglected to confirm the equipment status before heading out for an outdoor shoot?

Her carelessness and resignation had caused today’s awkward situation.

It was entirely self-inflicted.

“It’s alright. This isn’t your fault.”

She gave Yao Anqi a faint smile and patted the younger girl’s shoulder, her expression tinged with fatigue.

“I was too negligent and failed to fulfill my responsibilities... I’ll be more careful next time.”

Yao Anqi nodded obediently, though guilt still lingered in her heart. Her lips quivered as if she were about to cry. Yin Mengxi took a deep breath and suggested, “Go confirm the process again. Since we’ve lost time, we’ll need to rearrange today’s schedule.”

Adorable newcomers were like this—they bounced back with energy as soon as they were given a task. Yao Anqi immediately set aside her sadness, turning back into the reference room to rework the schedule upon her superior’s instruction, as endearing as ever.

Yin Mengxi gave a faint smile, watching her with the same eyes she once used to view her younger self just out of university. But now, she no longer had that same drive. She had become worldly and calculating, unwilling to put in the effort to do things properly anymore.

She sighed and turned her head back to look out the window. The continuous drizzle left streaks of water on the library’s glass panes, resembling tiny river tributaries dispersing in all directions—she wondered where they would eventually converge. How much like her and her university classmates it was. They had all walked out of the same campus, but now their paths were worlds apart.

—Take her and him, for instance.

What did he think of her?

Could he see through her apathy and dissatisfaction?

Or did he simply find her lacking?

He had turned and walked away without hesitation just moments ago—was he angry? Did he blame her and her colleagues for wasting his time?

It was only natural for him to be upset… She truly hadn’t performed well.

The rain continued, as constant as the deep green outside the window. After an indeterminate amount of time, footsteps suddenly approached from behind. She assumed it was a student leaving the study room to fetch hot water, certain they would pass by. But to her surprise, the sound stopped right behind her, as if someone had come specifically to find her.

Puzzled, she turned around and discovered it was him. The handsome man, even more mature and captivating than during his student days, was holding an unopened pack of wet wipes.

“Here, use this to clean up,” he said gently, handing it to her, his tone as warm as it had been years ago. “It’s dirty.”

As he spoke, his beautiful eyes lowered slightly, glancing at the mud stains on her pant legs.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

...Her heart began to race again, inconveniently and uncontrollably.