HYSE - 15

Countless times later, Shi Yin would wonder: if she had truly given up back then—let him teach his art, let her focus on her studies, take the college entrance exam as planned, and follow the path laid out by her family, treating him merely as a fleeting episode in her restless youth—would things have turned out better?

At seventeen, Shi Yin couldn’t foresee the future. She was young, vibrant, full of life, brimming with passion and stubbornness. She didn’t know how to yield or retreat.

After spending an entire day at home to recover, just before lunch on Saturday, she shook her head vigorously for two minutes, slapped her cheeks twice, and marched out the door with renewed energy. She told herself she was going out to clear her mind and reflect on life’s big decisions.

But deep down, she already regretted it.

The words she had spoken so confidently earlier now seemed hollow and reckless upon reflection. What had she been thinking? Pretending there was no misunderstanding, claiming she had feelings for someone else—the school prince, no less. Didn’t that make her sound like a fickle woman chasing after one man while secretly liking another?

Her words had left no room for maneuvering. Now, she had no excuse to approach him again.

It only took one rejection for her fragile heart to shatter. She cried all night.

She had known from the start that this was almost impossible. She had anticipated being rejected, yet still couldn’t help but feel sorrowful.

Even though she knew it was likely hopeless, she still wanted to try, to get closer, to convince herself with every reason she could think of. Against all logic, she couldn’t stop herself from harboring a tiny sliver of hope.

What if.

What if he suddenly went blind? What if she got incredibly lucky?

He was so outstanding, so perfect. Shi Yin didn’t dare wait even a moment, fearing that while she hesitated, some other girl might snatch him away.

So, she decided to forgive him this time, considering it his first offense.

After all, she liked him.

On weekends, the streets were lively. Shi Yin’s family lived near a school district, close to a primary school, middle school, and kindergarten, along with many private tutoring centers.

As she passed through a crossroads, she bought a shaved ice dessert and continued walking toward the affiliated elementary school.

The school was quiet on weekends, but nearby tutoring centers bustled with parents bringing their children in and out.

A little further ahead, around the corner, was an art studio.

This place used to be a music school where lessons were held. Occasionally, she’d hear the screeching sounds of violins like electric saws when passing by.

Now, it was silent. At some point, it had transformed into an art studio. The black signboard bore white letters—clean and sharp—simply reading: "Art Studio."

Not even a proper name.

Shi Yin paused at the entrance, hesitating for a moment before stepping inside.

Her mother had always aimed to cultivate her into a multi-talented young lady, enrolling her in countless classes over the years: flute, piano, drum set, guzheng, calligraphy, Latin dance—you name it. But painting had never been on the list, perhaps because her mother thought her lively personality wouldn’t allow her to sit still.

Shi Yin had never imagined she’d step foot in an art studio.

The interior was spacious, air-conditioned, with gray walls adorned by white decorative paintings. The minimalist decor exuded an understated elegance. Two people manned the front desk, and to the left, glass partitions separated consultation rooms, some with curtains half-drawn.

Seeing her enter, the receptionist greeted her warmly: “Hello.”

Shi Yin approached, clearing her throat: “Do you teach painting here?”

The receptionist smiled, finding her question endearing: “Yes, are you interested in learning?”

Shi Yin nodded.

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“So you’re taking the college entrance exam next year? Are you preparing for the art exam?”

Shi Yin touched her nose: “…Yeah, I haven’t decided yet, but I’m interested. I just want to check it out.”

“Do you have any prior experience? Have you studied painting before?”

“Does art class in elementary and middle school count?”

“…”

Apparently not.

The receptionist jotted something down, stood up, and led her into a nearby consultation room.

Twenty minutes later, Shi Yin walked out of the art studio, clutching an empty wallet, feeling dazed.

She had only stepped out to clear her mind and ended up spending two months’ worth of pocket money on a course.

What was she supposed to do for the next two months?

Survive on sheer willpower.

Shi Yin began to regret her decision and considered rushing back in to demand a refund. Just then, she spotted the same receptionist who had greeted her earlier.

The young woman smiled brightly: “Classes end at six in the evening. You can come anytime in the afternoon.”

“…”

“Okay,” Shi Yin replied with difficulty.

She wasn’t sure if all art studios operated like this. Tuition was deducted hourly, with no fixed class schedule. Classes started at four in the afternoon on weekdays and ten in the morning on weekends, ending at six in the evening. Students could come and go freely within that timeframe, and teachers were always present.

It didn’t sound like a legitimate art studio.

Shi Yin suspected she had been scammed.

But the money was already paid. Resigned, she went home, changed clothes, had lunch, and casually told her mother she was going to the library with classmates.

Having rarely caused her family concern about academics, Shi Yin’s diligent attitude earned her mother’s trust without suspicion.

She arrived at the studio at two in the afternoon.

The same receptionist greeted her and led her inside, down the corridor to a double door, one side open.

The receptionist turned back with a smile: “Go ahead. Today, our boss is teaching. He’s only here on Saturdays.”

Shi Yin, holding a bag with her name written on it, nodded and stepped inside.

Bright windows lined the walls, layered white plaster statues stacked neatly alongside easels, paints, oil pastels, and pencil leads.

Welcome to his world.

Shi Yin silently whispered to herself.

Perhaps because it was newly opened, the studio had few students. She wandered to an easel in the corner, unsure what to do next.

She didn’t see any teachers around.

After waiting for two or three minutes, she heard the soft click of a closing door.

Shi Yin turned her head.

The teacher had arrived.

He wore a gray shirt, sleeves rolled up, arms relaxed, fingers long and slender, with two droplets of water still clinging to the back of his hand.

His neat black hair framed pale skin, light-colored irises, and thin, slightly flushed lips.

The teacher looked somewhat familiar.

Shi Yin: “….”

If it weren’t for yesterday’s incident, she might have been overwhelmed with joy, dizzy with excitement, ready to soar to the heavens.

Shi Yin closed her eyes: “Hello, Teacher…”

The studio fell silent. His footsteps echoed clearly, one step, then another, approaching.

It felt like slow torture.

The executioner stopped before her.

She could feel his cold, emotionless gaze resting on her.

“Shi Yin.”

The girl trembled, instinctively retreating two steps, bumping her leg against the easel behind her with a dull thud.

She yelped, collapsing in pain, crouching on the ground for a few seconds before looking up at him pitifully: “Teacher Gu… I really didn’t know you were here. My house is nearby, and I just randomly picked an art studio to learn painting… If I had known you were here, I would have—”

She swallowed the rest of her sentence.

Gu Congli glanced at her: “Do your family members know?”

Shi Yin rubbed her bruised calf, standing up, avoiding his gaze.

He understood: “You paid the tuition yourself?”

She lowered her head, silent.

“The tuition can be refunded.”

Shi Yin’s head snapped up, staring at him in disbelief.

Was this an outright dismissal?

Gu Congli remained calm, seemingly oblivious.

Fine.

You win.

Shi Yin took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, her almond-shaped eyes curving slightly, lips lifting into a faint smile.

“Teacher Gu,” she spoke softly.

Gu Congli simply watched her, saying nothing.

“I have money,” Shi Yin said. “I’m willing to leave it here, enroll in a class, and not show up for lessons.”

“…”

After encountering him by chance at the art studio, Shi Yin hadn’t seen Gu Congli again.

Exams at Experimental High School No. 1 came one after another—three days for a minor test, five days for a major one. Even though they were only in their second year, every teacher reminded them incessantly of the urgency, as if the college entrance exam were tomorrow.

In one of the top high schools in the province, everyone was intense. Shi Yin had spent too much mental energy on Gu Congli, and when the monthly exam results came out, her ranking dropped eight places.

Coupled with her bruised heart from repeated rejections, Shi Yin decided to tuck Gu Congli away in a corner of her mind for a while.

Every night in the dormitory, this scene played out: Shi Yin paced back and forth, hands clasped behind her back, her head turning left and right—

“Shi Yin, have some dignity. He’s been so harsh to you.”

“Didn’t you already know what kind of person he is? Why are you being so dramatic?”

“You dropped eight places in the rankings and still don’t realize how much trouble you’re in? Beauty is distracting.”

“It’s fine. I’ll visit him regularly, daily or weekly.”

“No, no, you need principles.”

“What nonsense are principles.”

The dorm mates: “….”

After the monthly exam came midterms, with the only break being the autumn sports meet.

Shi Yin had always found sports meets boring. As a cheerleader, she had to jump around all morning under the hot sun, exhausted.

But this time was different because of Gu Congli.

The sports meet concluded with a relay race that required participation from all eligible male teachers—those physically fit enough.

"Physically fit" meant not like Old Baldy, who would pant after chasing students halfway around the classroom with a broom.

Shi Yin was very much looking forward to seeing Gu Congli in sportswear.

The stadium was large, semicircular, with a field surrounded by a track. Above were tiers of stands, and below were rooms.

Equipment rooms, locker rooms, and restrooms were all inside.

Shi Yin changed into her cheerleading uniform, emerging from the locker room while adjusting the sequins on her chest. After walking a few steps, she sensed something was off.

There was crying.

Soft, intermittent sobs drifted over.

The area beneath the stadium was cool and shadowy, sending goosebumps up Shi Yin’s arms. Following the sound, she stopped at the equipment room, one room away from the locker room.

The equipment room door was slightly ajar. After hesitating for a moment, she peeked inside cautiously.

Gu Congli leaned against the windowsill, legs slightly bent, standing lazily.

A woman faced away from the door. Shi Yin recognized her immediately as Ms. Pei, the teacher from before. Her shoulders trembled as she sobbed: “I’ve waited for you all these years. I rejected everyone who pursued me. How dare you say you feel nothing for me?”

Even when crying, a beauty’s tears were like pear blossoms in the rain. Just listening to her voice softened Shi Yin’s heart.

Feeling nervous, Shi Yin swallowed and focused intently on waiting for his response.

Gu Congli remained silent, suddenly raising his head to look toward the door.

Startled, Shi Yin quickly pulled her head back, pressing against the wall.

After a long pause, she heard him speak: “I’m sorry.”

Outside, cheers erupted, followed by the loud bang of a starting pistol, echoing like a shot to the heart.

Shi Yin exhaled deeply, looking up just in time to see Pei Shihao walk out, head bowed, covering her face as she hurried past.

Shi Yin felt a mix of happiness and relief, unable to suppress a small smile as she turned to leave.

Behind her, his low, indifferent voice rang out: “You had the guts to eavesdrop, so why run?”