HYSE - 2

Chapter 2: Plum Juice and Midsummer (2)

There was still a little plum juice left in the glass, which Shi Yin tightly clutched in her hand as she stood at the door, lost in thought.

It was Zhao Editor who first snapped out of it. The two stared at each other for half a minute before he lowered his raised hand and blinked at her: “Teacher Shi Yi, why did you close the door?”

Shi Yin’s expression was slightly dazed as she stared at him for a long while before uttering an “Ah,” and said in a trance-like manner: “What did he just say?”

Zhao Editor: “...”

Zhao Editor: “He said he is the new chief editor of ‘Red Moon.’“

Shi Yin nodded: “His name is Gu Congli.”

Zhao Editor responded: “Yes, Gu Congli.”

Shi Yin gazed pensively at him: “You don’t need to repeat it; I know his name.”

“...”

Zhao Editor felt that since this was their last time working together, some things were better not dwelled upon.

He took a deep breath: “Teacher Shi Yi, please open the door. That’s our chief editor himself, not some suspicious person.”

Shi Yin fell silent again.

She stood there at the door, gripping the glass with great force, her fingertips turning white.

After staring blankly for several seconds, she slowly looked up again, licked her lips, and nervously asked: “How do I look now?”

Zhao Editor didn’t catch on: “Huh?”

“Do I look good?”

“...”

To be fair, though Shi Yin’s features weren’t particularly striking, she was undoubtedly a pretty girl.

Even though she was wearing a set of cotton long-sleeved pajamas, fluffy slippers, and had a light pink rabbit-eared towel headband on her head, her hairline brushed up to reveal a smooth, full forehead, making her look like the kind of internet-addicted shut-in seen in Japanese dramas and manga.

Her skin was very fair, her nose straight and perky, her almond-shaped eyes dark and bright. Despite her overall lackadaisical demeanor, when she looked at you, she gave off an impression of intense focus.

It was as if nothing in the world mattered more than listening to you speak.

Zhao Editor honestly replied: “You look good.”

Shi Yin finally relaxed, looking up solemnly: “Then I’ll open the door.”

Her expression was so serious, her slender frame standing erect, as if she were about to meet the President of the country.

This made Zhao Editor feel inexplicably tense too; he unconsciously straightened his back and nodded: “Go ahead.”

Shi Yin turned around again, her hand reaching for the doorknob.

She never expected to see Gu Congli again, especially under these circumstances, and even becoming her chief editor.

From teacher to responsible editor, Gu Congli’s range of involvement was indeed extensive.

Shi Yin recalled the word “teacher” that had slipped out of her mouth earlier.

He must have heard it, but he acted as if he hadn’t.

The way he looked at her showed no hint of surprise; his calm, indifferent demeanor made Shi Yin’s intense reaction seem overly strange.

Shi Yin felt a bit regretful as she lowered her eyes and tried to relax her stiffened lips.

A woman reuniting with an old acquaintance after a long separation should be elegant.

She should be composed, calm, cool, and act as if nothing happened.

Especially if this old acquaintance was someone important.

She took two deep breaths, adjusted her facial expression to appear as natural and dignified as possible, and smoothly pressed down the doorknob to open the door: “Sorry, I—”

No one was at the door.

Shi Yin’s voice abruptly stopped.

She stood at the door holding her glass of plum juice, expressionlessly staring at the empty corridor in front of her.

The mighty Chief Editor Gu had vanished without a trace.

Gu Congli had a temper.

Shi Yin had discovered this many years ago.

Although he appeared cold and aloof, as if nothing could catch his attention or concern him, it was all a facade.

He was a spoiled young master who couldn’t tolerate even the slightest inconvenience.

The living room window was open, the morning air fresh, the sunlight thin. Shi Yin lay backward on the sofa, her legs hanging over the backrest, staring fixedly at the ceiling.

Liang Qiushi walked over holding a bowl of milk in one hand and cereal in the other, placing them on the coffee table, pouring the cereal, setting the spoon aside, and tapping the edge of the table with his fingers: “Teacher.”

Shi Yin slid her body down, her head facing the floor, looking up at him upside down.

Liang Qiushi’s lips twitched: “Practicing yoga?”

Shi Yin sighed deeply: “Qiushi...”

“...”

Liang Qiushi remained expressionless: “Qiushi.”

“Qiushi...”

“Qiushi.”

“Ball Ball.”

“...”

Liang Qiushi had been Shi Yin’s assistant for a year and knew that the more attention she received, the more she would continue talking nonsense. He no longer bothered to correct her and simply sat down on the adjacent sofa with a comic book, ignoring her.

Shi Yin swung her leg to the side, flipping herself over on the sofa, sitting cross-legged, and drooping her eyelids listlessly: “Ball Ball, have you ever been in love?”

Liang Qiushi paused, raising his head and looking at her warily: “No.”

Shi Yin picked up the spoon and stirred the cereal in the bowl absentmindedly: “Oh, do you have someone you like?”

Liang Qiushi lowered his head again, focusing on the comic in his hands: “I will always love Sakura Kinomoto.”

Shi Yin pondered for a moment before slowly asking: “What if you met someone from high school and, due to various reasons, you’re supposed to have close interactions with them in the future? What would you do?”

Assistant Liang suddenly realized and immediately understood: “Old flame? Teacher Shi Yi, you dated in high school?”

“...”

Shi Yin casually grabbed a cushion from the sofa and threw it at him: “Who said anything about an old flame? I said it was someone we know. Can you keep your thoughts clean?”

Liang Qiushi understood well: “Anyway, it’s just someone you liked.” He leaned forward, mysteriously saying, “It depends. What do you want to do?”

Shi Yin: “Do I have any choice?”

Liang Qiushi: “Of course. If it’s someone you liked when you were younger, then it depends on whether you still like him.”

Shi Yin was stunned.

After a while, she hesitantly asked: “What if I still like him?”

“Create conditions to sleep with him,” Liang Qiushi replied bluntly.

Shi Yin looked at him with mixed feelings: “What if I don’t like him anymore?”

“Tell him to get lost.”

“...”

Liang Qiushi was, after all, a man without any romantic experience, someone only interested in comics and light novels besides anything else. His girlfriend was D.VA, Saehwa, and Sakura Kinomoto. Shi Yin didn’t expect him to offer any constructive advice or suggestions.

Three days ago, Chief Editor Gu had simply walked away after being locked out. For three days, he hadn’t shown up. Since he was her new responsible editor, Shi Yin had gotten Gu Congli’s WeChat from Zhao Editor, spent an entire night preparing mentally, wrote countless drafts of speeches, and finally decided to add him as a friend before going to bed, intending to apologize and discuss work matters.

Man proposes, God disposes. Shi Yin maintained a frequency of sending a friend request every night at 10:30, doing so consecutively for three days, but he still hadn’t accepted it.

What a diva.

On the first day, Shi Yin was dazed; on the second day, anxious; on the third day, she gnashed her teeth in anger, shaking like Parkinson’s disease while staring at the WeChat interface on her phone. Finally, with a loud smack, she threw the phone onto the bed, glaring furiously at the glowing screen.

You’re amazing, you’re great.

Feel free to add me or not!

Can I just stop serving you already?

Frustrated, Shi Yin ruffled her hair, got up from the bed, and went to take a shower.

In the bathroom mirror, the girl’s hair was messy, her complexion pale, dark circles under her eyes heavy, looking completely exhausted from lack of rest.

She slumped her shoulders, took a shower, changed into new pajamas, climbed into bed, and curled up under the covers against the headboard.

— She picked up her phone again, staring blankly at the WeChat interface.

...

The first time Shi Yin met Gu Congli was during high school when she was seventeen.

At the best age, having just been sorted into arts and sciences classes, Shi Yin, ranked first in her grade, was placed in the key science class. She was called into the principal’s office for a talk, where everyone clearly expected her to get into Tsinghua or Peking University.

After ten minutes of discussion, the girl left the principal’s office, transforming from her previously obedient demeanor, her once rigid back now softening as she lazily yawned, heading towards the cafeteria.

Passing by the art building, she saw groups of art students, not wearing uniforms, coming out and heading toward the convenience store.

Experimental High School No. 1 was not only outstanding in academics but also served as the province’s fine arts education experimental base. The basement of the art building housed a large studio for art students’ regular classes and intensive training for seniors.

The teachers’ skills were top-notch, annually sending many students to prestigious institutions like Qinghua Academy of Arts and Luxun Academy of Fine Arts. While some privately sought private training studios, most stayed.

That was when Shi Yin first saw Gu Congli.

The man stood at the exit of the studio, his expression calm, thin lips slightly pursed. In the sunlight, his light-colored pupils exuded both warmth and indifference.

His forehead, nose bridge, jawline, slender neck, sharp Adam’s apple—even the creases in his shirt seemed to casually attract attention.

Passing art students laughed cheerfully; some girls blushed and approached to greet him: “Good morning, Teacher Gu.”

He didn’t raise his eyes, only responding indifferently.

Shi Yin listened from afar, her throat moving unconsciously as she swallowed.

Suddenly, she felt inexplicably thirsty.

Only then did she realize that terms like “feast for the eyes” and “eargasm,” which she thought existed only in novels, could actually be real.

Initially, Shi Yin had no expectations of Gu Congli accepting her friend request.

In the sweltering July summer, the air was dry and stuffy. Shi Yin lazily slouched in a corner seat at the café, holding a sketchbook, drooping her eyelids, observing pedestrians through the huge floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”

“He works at a bank. I’ve seen his photos; he looks good too, speaks slowly and calmly—a steady personality.”

Shi Yin paid no heed, still appearing utterly uninterested, not even raising an eyebrow, which infuriated her mother: “You may not realize it now, but when you’re past twenty-five, you’ll understand. A woman’s youth doesn’t wait!”

Shi Yin didn’t lift her head: “That’s still twenty-five. I’m only twenty-three; give me another two years.”

Her mother slapped the table: “You’re already twenty-three! When I was your age, I was pregnant with you. It’s understandable that you didn’t date in college, but it’s been a year since graduation, and there’s still no sign of anything happening. If you were a normal twenty-three-year-old, I wouldn’t rush you, but look at yourself now. You don’t have a proper job, staying at home all day—how can you possibly meet excellent boys?”

Upon hearing this, Shi Yin finally lifted her eyes: “What’s wrong with my job?”

Her mother blinked, realizing her mistake, and fell silent.

No one in the Shi family agreed with Shi Yin’s decision to become a full-time manga artist.

The domestic manga industry wasn’t thriving. Calling oneself a mangaka might sound nice, and within the industry, they might even address you as “Teacher,” but truly profitable ones were only those at the top of the pyramid. Most barely made ends meet, and many couldn’t even achieve basic sustenance.

The manga industry was bleak. There were only a few reliable publishers with any scale in print media. Weekly and monthly magazines were fiercely competitive. Some struggled immensely just to secure a serialization spot, and even if they did, poor performance in popularity votes meant instant cancellation.

Later, with the advent of webcomics, the situation improved somewhat.

But older generations still hardly acknowledged the industry.

In their view, professions like web novelists, mangakas, and esports players were all considered idle loafers. They believed finding an office job in a company, earning a few thousand yuan a month, was much more stable and respectable.

When Shi Yin first decided to draw manga, she had a heated argument with her family. Her father even uttered threats of severing their father-daughter relationship. With her stubborn nature, Shi Yin found a place to live within a week and moved out.

This incident became a taboo topic in the family.

Her mother, speaking hastily, seeing Shi Yin’s reaction, awkwardly said: “Just go have dinner, consider it as meeting a new friend. If you don’t like him, let him introduce you to his friends.”

Shi Yin: “...”

The idea of having a blind date candidate introduce potential boyfriends was probably something only her mother could think of.

While Shi Yin was pondering how to convince her mother to abandon the idea of matchmaking, her phone on the nearby table emitted a crisp sound, and the screen lit up.

She put down her pen and sketchbook, picked it up, and swiped to check.

The next second, her eyes widened.

Accepted.

He actually accepted.

The mighty, petty, vindictive chief editor, after leaving her hanging for nearly a week, finally accepted her friend request.

I have accepted your friend verification request. Now we can start chatting!

Shi Yin blinked, blinked again, and after confirming she hadn’t misread, the accumulated resentment of the past few days vanished without a trace. Trembling, she carefully typed: [Chief Editor Gu, you finally added me!]

A minute passed before he slowly replied.

Three words.

Not even bothering with punctuation.

[Clicked by mistake]

Shi Yin: “...”

Shi Yin: ???