HYSE - 19

Shi Yin had seen Gu Congli’s paintings, but this was the first time she saw his handwriting.

The red characters were sharp and clean, penetrating the paper with force. The long line of text was perfectly neat, each character seemingly identical in height and size, as if measured with a ruler.

Shi Yin, who had developed bad habits like slanted handwriting since childhood, couldn’t help but feel envious.

She brought home a stack of photocopies, tossed the drafts onto her studio desk, and prepared to watch a movie to relax.

After taking just a couple of steps, the image of the man rubbing the corner of his eye, looking slightly weary, flashed through her mind.

He had also been drinking at the class reunion the previous day.

Shi Yin paused mid-step, then backed up to the desk, lowering her gaze to the brown paper bag on the table, remaining silent for a few seconds.

Shi Yin let out a long sigh.

This was her work, set to be submitted for the Newcomer Award in August. She needed to give it her all.

At one o’clock in the afternoon, when Liang Qiushi arrived, the house was eerily quiet.

Usually, at this time, Teacher Shi Yi would be sprawled upside down on the couch, clutching a PSP in hand, surrounded by bags of chips and chocolate wrappers.

But now, the living room was empty, the coffee table spotless, with only two comic books spread open on the sofa—no other clutter in sight.

Liang Qiushi assumed Shi Yin was out playing and not at home, so he called tentatively: “Teacher Shi Yi?”

No response.

Liang Qiushi pushed open the studio door.

There sat Shi Yin in her loungewear at the computer, wearing a pink rabbit towel headband, her fine bangs swept up. Her entire body was sprawled over the graphics tablet, revealing only a dark crown of hair and half of her fair forehead.

Liang Qiushi felt as if he had encountered a ghost.

He had never seen Teacher Shi Yi working before nightfall.

As he approached, Shi Yin happened to raise her head, pen in hand, giving him a wary look: “How did you get in here?”

Liang Qiushi, accustomed to her periodic fits of madness, calmly replied: “You gave me the key six months ago.”

Shi Yin stared at him expressionlessly for a few seconds, then said, “Oh,” and lowered her head again: “I’ve already drawn the first few pages of ECHO . You fill in the backgrounds and add the screentones.”

Liang Qiushi put down his things and bent down to turn on the computer: “Teacher, have you finished the color illustration for the final chapter?”

“…”

Shi Yin pretended not to hear.

“What about the original manuscript for the last ten pages of ECHO ?”

Shi Yin feigned deafness.

“The Newcomer Award starts in August, and you’re still revising the rough sketches?!”

“…”

Finally, Shi Yin angrily threw down her pen: “What’s wrong with you?! What do you want?!”

Liang Qiushi ignored her anger: “Just reminding you how much work is left. Do you know what day it is today? Wake up, teacher. I heard the new editor-in-chief is nothing like Zhao. He’s very difficult to deal with.”

Of course, I know better than you how difficult he can be.

Instantly deflated, Shi Yin sighed deeply and waved her hand listlessly at Liang Qiushi: “I’ll finish revising the rough storyboard before dinner, pull an all-nighter to draw the color page tonight, and start on the remaining ten pages of ECHO tomorrow. Now leave, please.”

Liang Qiushi mockingly replied: “As you wish.”

Shi Yin rolled her eyes.

Shi Yin’s new manga was tentatively titled Hong Ming , featuring a sword.

According to legend, during ancient times, when the Yellow Emperor Xuanyuan forged his golden sword, the leftover material, still hot from the smelting process, flowed into the mold base, forming a blade shape known as the Hong Ming Blade.

Being self-formed, the Hong Ming Blade possessed strong self-awareness and power comparable to the Xuanyuan Sword. Holders with weak willpower could even be consumed by it. Realizing the potential danger, the Yellow Emperor attempted to destroy it with the Xuanyuan Sword, but unexpectedly, it transformed and escaped, disappearing from history.

It didn’t reappear until the Han Dynasty, by which time the blade had gained the ability to transform into human form.

After revising more than thirty drafts and completing one page of the original manuscript, it was already midnight. Outside, the sky was dark. Shi Yin pushed away her graphics tablet, groaned, and collapsed face-down on the desk, dizzy and disoriented.

Hunger had passed its peak, leaving her numb. Rubbing her eyes, she propped herself up on the desk and sent the revised rough storyboard to Gu Congli.

After sending it off, she pushed her computer away, massaged her sore neck, got up, and left the studio.

Liang Qiushi had already gone home, and the house was quiet. The living room lights were off. Barefoot, Shi Yin walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, brushing aside the lush green vines of the pothos plant. Beyond the window, the city lights shimmered, bathed in the gentle embrace of a summer night.

Having strained her eyes for over ten hours, the streetlights appeared blurred. She squinted and gazed absentmindedly at the long street outside.

Shi Yin hadn’t expected to see Gu Congli again.

For six years, she had lived carefree, thinking everything was behind her. Reflecting now, what exactly had she liked about Gu Congli back then? She knew almost nothing about him—the most direct attraction had probably been his face.

Shi Yin thought that perhaps she hadn’t truly liked Gu Congli that much. Her persistence stemmed from the delusions of adolescent obsession.

However, she had never encountered anyone quite like him again.

The starting point of her youthful fixation had been too high, leaving her unable to look at anyone else the same way. No one had replaced his shadow in her mind. Shi Yin felt a bit melancholy, wondering if she might end up single forever.

Even if she ended up alone, she still had to figure out how to approach Gu Congli now.

Sitting cross-legged on the carpet by the window, she opened the window wide despite the muggy heat of the summer night. Stretching her arm, she grabbed the air conditioner remote and set it to the lowest temperature.

Her phone lay nearby, silenced, its screen lighting up silently.

Unaware, she lowered her head, rubbed her eyes, and stumbled sleepily toward the bedroom.

In her haste to leave earlier, she hadn’t made the bed. Now, she collapsed into the covers and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The next morning, she was woken by the sound of the doorbell.

At first, Shi Yin thought she was dreaming.

In her dream, she stood in a place resembling a train station. The platform was deserted, without even a conductor in sight. Holding her ticket, she wandered aimlessly along the seemingly endless platform when she heard the sound—ding ling, ding ling .

The sound grew louder as it approached.

Shi Yin woke up.

Yet the ding ling persisted.

Slowly, at intervals of thirty seconds, it rang methodically.

Shi Yin blinked, lying in bed, tilting her head slightly.

Was that the doorbell?

Rubbing her hair, she crawled out of bed, still bleary-eyed and drowsy, and shuffled to the door. Leaning against the security door, she yawned, dragging out her words: “Who... is it...”

The person outside paused before responding: “Shi Yin.”

A jolt ran through Shi Yin, cutting her yawn short. She was instantly awake.

Hurriedly, she pressed her face against the peephole to look outside, seeing a cold, expressionless face.

Flustered, she fumbled to unlock the door, her mouth slightly agape, staring at him in a daze: “Editor-in-Chief Gu?”

Gu Congli scanned her from head to toe.

The girl stood barefoot at the door, her nightgown wrinkled from sleep, her long hair loose. Her eyes were moist, her face marked with red imprints, and she looked utterly disoriented, as if she hadn’t fully woken up.

He glanced at his watch—it was 9:30.

Gu Congli lowered his hand, stepped inside, and looked at her: “You drooled.”

Shi Yin blushed, hastily raising her hand to rub her mouth with the back of her hand. Her delicate face contorted under the pressure.

Gu Congli glanced down, lips curving faintly, but when he raised his eyes again, his expression remained impassive: “I told you yesterday morning I’d come over.”

Shi Yin blinked: “I didn’t see it. When did you say that...?”

“Five minutes after you sent me the draft.”

Shi Yin froze: “Were you still awake that late?”

“Overtime.”

Shi Yin admired his dedication, thinking being an editor-in-chief must be exhausting: “You worked overtime till midnight?”

“If my author hadn’t sent me the storyboard at midnight, I wouldn’t have had to.” Gu Congli said calmly.

“… Oh, I had just finished revising it, so I sent it right away. I thought you were asleep.”

He looked like someone who lived a healthy, early-to-bed, early-to-rise lifestyle.

Shi Yin scratched her already messy hair, feeling a bit embarrassed. Her hair, already tousled from sleep, now looked even more unkempt. She looked up: “So, have you reviewed it? Is it okay this time?”

As she spoke, she pulled out a pair of slippers for him from the shoe cabinet.

Bending down, her nightgown slipped slightly.

Gu Congli’s gaze lingered for half a second before shifting indifferently: “It’s passable.”

Shi Yin breathed a sigh of relief, watching him step inside. She began counting her remaining tasks on her fingers: “Then I can start on the original manuscript. ECHO is almost done—just one more page of color illustrations. And I need to finish the prologue of Hong Ming before August.”

As she calculated, her face fell, and she looked up plaintively: “Editor-in-Chief Gu, I can’t finish it all.”

Gu Congli walked to the coffee table, pulled out his notebook, and opened it: “I saw you at the gathering the other day, full of confidence, talking about going to karaoke.”

Shi Yin choked.

Someone—probably him—had held a grudge over her “accidental” insult and assigned her an impossible task while he went off to have dinner with some young woman.

Pouting, she muttered softly: “When I used to run out of time, Brother Zhao would always stay late to help me…”

Upon hearing this, Gu Congli paused his movements, turning his head slightly.

The young girl stood beside the sofa, head bowed, hands clasped behind her back. She swayed restlessly side to side, muttering to herself.

Her neck was slender, her collarbones sharp, flowing into the soft curves of a woman’s figure beneath.

Beneath her nightgown, her knees were delicate and well-formed, her legs slender and pale.

She seemed unchanged, yet somehow different.

Gu Congli narrowed his eyes slightly, tilting his head, then straightened up, his fingertips hovering lightly over the edge of his laptop: “Do you want me to help you?”

Shi Yin froze, looking up, her voice filled with hope: “Can you?”

His lips curled upward, but his light-colored irises, which should have seemed warm, remained cold and distant: “Dream on.”

“…”