HYSE - 1

The day Shi Yin’s third editor was leaving happened to be her 23rd birthday.

At 11:30 in the morning, Shi Yin’s soon-to-resign third editor stood at the door, his backlit figure emanating a sense of ‘finally free from this suffering, please let this end quickly’ with an expression of relief.

The girl held a glass of chilled plum juice at the door. She slowly sipped through the straw, eyes raised lazily as she looked at her third editor with a sorrowful expression, like someone watching their soon-to-be ex-boyfriend: “Are you really leaving me? I think we’ve worked pretty well together, and I really like you.”

Judging by Editor Zhao’s expression, he clearly did not share the same sentiment.

For a moment, he even appeared startled, his body unconsciously swaying backward before regaining composure, forcing a bitter smile: “Teacher Shi Yi, don’t joke with me. I’ve already finished the handover work; you’ll be taken care of by our new chief editor from now on.”

Shi Yin watched him with deep sadness for a long while, then wrinkled her nose in frustration and turned into the house. She pulled out a can of cola from the fridge and handed it over, sitting down on the opposite sofa with her straw in her mouth.

The living room was spacious, and the midday sunlight filtered through the large floor-to-ceiling windows, softened by the light-colored curtains, creating a gentle and bright ambiance.

Although Shi Yin had just graduated last year, she hadn’t been idle since her university days, having been in the industry for about three or four years and amassing some savings.

She had always been someone who enjoyed life, renting an apartment inside the city ring with considerable space. The decoration style carried a strong personal touch. In front of the large floor-to-ceiling window in the living room was a small indoor garden filled with potted plants.

The pothos vines were lush, hanging in transparent round glass containers, forming a large, glossy mass.

The sun was scorching in July, and it was very hot outside. Editor Zhao, who had just entered the house, still had beads of sweat on his forehead. He took the offered cola, thanked her, popped the tab, and eagerly gulped down several large swigs.

As the cold cola slid down his throat, he felt revived and swiftly got into work mode. He retrieved several revised storyboards and original manuscripts from his briefcase and meticulously went over the serialization matters from the monthly publication.

Shi Yin listened with a melancholic expression, raising her head to say sadly: “Alright, do as you say. I’ve followed you for almost a year now, and every time, haven’t I done what you said?”

“...”

Editor Zhao thought to himself: Don’t bullshit me. For almost a year, when have you ever listened to me?

Because of this troublesome person, despite being young, Editor Zhao had started experiencing severe hair loss this year, accompanied by migraines, a sharp decline in vision, and insomnia as deadlines approached. He would stay up all night doing nothing but making calls to desperately chase her for drafts, like a nanny.

After all, Teacher Shi Yi’s procrastination was infamous in the industry. It was rumored that during her university days, she was known as Shi Gugu, notorious for her delays.

Editor Zhao silently gazed at her with a heavy heart and finally sighed deeply: “That’s all for now. Our chief editor has something on today—”

Shi Yin looked up and continued: “So he won’t be coming?”

Editor Zhao: “He’ll be here a bit later.”

Shi Yin slumped her shoulders, casually grabbing a cushion and sinking back into the sofa, lazily responding with an “Oh.”

Talented manga artist Shi Yin, pen name Shi Yi, captured the grand prize for newcomers with her first short story at the age of eighteen. Later, she debuted with a serialized shonen battle manga in the comic monthly “Red Moon.”

However, the entire manga series lasted three years, during which she delayed submissions consistently for three years.

Every month, nearing the deadline, her editor would be tormented to the point of aging thirty years in three days, looking haggard with yellowish skin and bloodshot eyes, working overtime in her studio, painstakingly helping her with screen tones.

No one knew why such assistant tasks fell on the editor of Teacher Shi Yi, not even the editors themselves.

Though Shi Yin herself found it puzzling, feeling unlucky. Why did these editors always leave for reasons like getting married or transferring due to family needs? Wasn’t there anyone who could stay, help her grow, and accompany her endlessly until the end of the world?

So far, it seemed no one.

Today, after enduring prolonged and inhumane slow torture, Teacher Shi Yi once again bid farewell to yet another editor, welcoming her fourth.

However, like many internet-addicted girls, she shared a common trait: she didn’t particularly enjoy interacting with strangers. Every time she changed editors or assistants, she needed a long period to adapt, and work habits and rhythms had to be gradually adjusted, which was both troublesome and time-consuming.

Shi Yin wasn’t very enthusiastic and didn’t hold high expectations for the new editor: “How late is ‘a bit later’?”

Editor Zhao glanced at his phone: “He should be arriving soon.” As he spoke, he looked at the girl across from him.

The girl lay listlessly on the sofa, feet resting on the edge, slippers hooked on her toes, swaying back and forth, eyes slightly lowered, looking somewhat dejected.

To be fair, Shi Yin was pleasing to look at, with a likable personality and good upbringing. Setting aside her atrocious laziness and procrastination, Editor Zhao genuinely liked this young girl.

But liking her or not, he didn’t want to invest his limited hair into an endless career.

Before leaving, he wished for rest. Now, upon resignation, recalling the countless nights spent pasting screen tones and revising storyboards, Editor Zhao became sentimental again, his eyes reddening: “Teacher Shi Yi, do you remember that time we worked on the draft till dawn, and it was already morning—”

Shi Yin looked up puzzled: “Which time weren’t we working till dawn?”

“...”

Editor Zhao choked, struggling to continue: “It was the time you made me a bowl of instant noodles, old pickled vegetable flavor, endorsed by Wang Han.”

Shi Yin remembered, gazing at him pensively: “Oh, that time. You also asked me to add an extra sausage, insisting it be pure meat. I had to visit several convenience stores to find it.”

“...”

Editor Zhao gave up struggling, feeling that this emotional appeal wasn’t going anywhere.

The moisture in his eyes instantly disappeared, and he coldly changed the topic: “The chief editor should be arriving soon. All your matters at Yaoguang Company will be under his charge, including the serialization in ‘Red Moon’ and single-volume publications. This new chief editor, though appearing cold and difficult to approach, is actually very capable and excellent.”

Editor Zhao patiently explained: “Moreover, the chief editor usually doesn’t take on individuals, but he will be solely responsible for you, ensuring more meticulous attention in all aspects.”

Upon hearing this, Shi Yin tensed up, asking cautiously: “Does he not eat instant noodles without sausages?”

“...”

Editor Zhao looked at her expressionlessly: “Teacher Shi Yi, this is our last meeting. Let’s leave each other with good memories.”

“...”

The two silently stared at each other for thirty seconds before the text message alert on Editor Zhao’s phone broke the silence.

Simultaneously, the doorbell rang.

Editor Zhao checked his phone, and Shi Yin stood up and walked towards the entrance. Halfway there, she turned around: “Is the new editor here?”

Editor Zhao put away his phone and stood up: “Yes, he’s at the door.”

Shi Yin nodded, directly heading to the entrance. Without checking the peephole or asking who it was, she unlatched the security door.

The corridor was shady and cool, with a breeze drifting through the open windows, softly rustling.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone standing right in front of her and raised her head.

The man looked down.

Shi Yin saw a small, blurred yet clear reflection of herself in the man’s light-colored pupils.

She was momentarily dazed, her eyes widening slightly, lips parting.

The straw slipped from her mouth, and the chilled plum juice felt ice-cold. Droplets of water on the glass slid down her fingers.

Her mind froze for a few seconds, then a subtle “pop” sound came from somewhere in her body.

It was like the cork of champagne or beer being opened, with translucent foam rising inch by inch along the bottleneck, stopping just shy of overflowing, looking precariously balanced.

Shi Yin felt not only her language center but her entire brain seemed to be soaked and intoxicated by the champagne.

Though it lasted only a few seconds.

Two or three seconds later, the foam dissipated, and she snapped back to reality, taking a clear look at the man in front of her.

Still the familiar face, with long, curved eyes and lighter-than-usual irises, exuding an air of detached coolness when looking at people.

Shi Yin’s mouth opened and closed, and two words escaped her throat, softly echoing in the quiet corridor.

The man kept his eyes lowered, his gaze calm and indifferent, as if looking at a stranger.

He seemed not to hear the two words caught in her throat, his eyes slightly narrowing, voice steady and tone cold: “I am Gu Congli, the chief editor of ‘Red Moon.’“

Like a thin sheet of ice, his words slowly slid into her ears, its sharp edges unable to be melted by warmth, slicing through tissue, cutting flesh apart.

“...”

Shi Yin swallowed hard, saying nothing.

The man stood tall and silent at the doorway, seemingly waiting for her reaction, not in a hurry.

All was quiet, the sour-sweet taste of plum juice spreading in her mouth, the passing wind and their breathing becoming distinctly audible.

Inside the door, Editor Zhao had come over too, seeing the person standing outside, a delighted expression on his face as he quickly waved and greeted warmly: “Chief Editor Gu! You’re here, please come in—”

Before he finished, Shi Yin’s shoulders trembled slightly, snapping out of her trance. She gripped the doorknob with one hand and, with lightning speed, pushed the door forward violently.

A loud “bang” echoed as she slammed the security door shut.

The force of the wind whipped the remaining strands of Zhao’s bangs askew.

Zhao’s hand was still raised halfway in the air: “—in...”