The next day, at the Below Zero anniversary event, Lin Youhe was brimming with excitement.

Shi Yin, however, had barely slept all night due to her concerns about Liang Qiushi. By morning, she had dark circles under her eyes and some puffiness. She rummaged through the fridge, pulling out two cartons of yogurt. Lying flat on the sofa, she placed one on each eye. After ten minutes, she removed them, tore open one carton, and picked up her phone.

Lin Youhe had already sent her countless messages. Her phone sat on the coffee table, constantly chiming with WeChat notifications.

After replying, Shi Yin applied makeup, changed clothes, ate a quick bowl of cereal, and headed out.

She and Lin Youhe had agreed to meet at a Starbucks near Yaoguang Publishing.

Gu Congli had mentioned he would be working overtime today but hadn’t elaborated, so she didn’t ask. When she arrived by taxi, Lin Youhe was already seated by the window, frowning impatiently as usual. His expression looked stern, and beside him were two cups of Frappuccino.

As Shi Yin walked in and approached him, he glanced up without speaking, pushing one of the drinks toward her.

Shi Yin took a look—both were vanilla-flavored.

The sweet-toothed tyrant’s preferences matched his name perfectly, still a little sweet.

The two of them walked toward Yaoguang Publishing’s office building. Yaoguang was massive—it wasn’t just involved in manga but also ranked among the top in the book industry. It boasted an impressive roster of big-name authors. The boss was wealthy, owning the entire CBD skyscraper. The company’s logo, “Alkaid,” was prominently displayed on the glass curtain wall.

The anniversary event was held in the banquet hall on the first floor. By the time they entered, the venue was already bustling with people.

Next to Shi Yin stood two girls. One said to the other, “I interned at Yaoguang once and happened to see Teacher Qian An.”

Shi Yin paused, turning slightly. Sure enough, Lin Youhe froze in place, ears practically perked up.

The other girl gasped. “Really? Isn’t he notoriously elusive? How did you manage to see him?”

“Well, I was interning in HR at the time. One day, while running errands for our department head, I saw him at the elevator entrance. I didn’t get a good look at his face, but he was tall and slim—just looking at his back made me think he was incredibly handsome. I wanted to walk around to see his face, but before I could, someone from the manga department came out and called him ‘Teacher Qian An.’”

The girl’s companion let out a soft squeal.

The first girl continued, “I was stunned because I’m such a huge fan. Then he left with that person from the manga department. Ugh, I almost saw his face!”

The girl lamented dramatically, visibly distraught. The two nearly embraced in shared sorrow. Shi Yin didn’t quite understand their reaction but glanced at Lin Youhe.

He looked secretly pleased.

Shi Yin: “….”

She asked, “Teacher Apple Candy, do you want to meet Qian An?”

Lin Youhe replied bluntly, “No.”

Shi Yin didn’t believe him. “Oh, if you say so.”

Lin Youhe turned his head. “The reason I don’t want to see him—”

“….”

I didn’t ask why, okay? Why are you explaining this?

“Is that if he turns out to be more handsome than me, I might lose my fandom.” Lin Youhe continued.

“…”

Shi Yin forced a laugh. “I didn’t realize you had such a competitive spirit.”

Glancing at his muscular physique, which rivaled that of a fitness coach, she added, “Sorry, it’s obvious you’re the type who thrives on competition.”

Lin Youhe: “….”

In the end, Qian An himself did not attend the event.

Shi Yin had never interacted with Yaoguang’s weekly manga editorial department before. This event was organized by them, and the quality was impeccable. They even invited well-known cosplayers to portray several main characters from Below Zero . Aside from Qian An’s absence, everything else was flawless.

As the event neared its conclusion, Shi Yin searched the crowd for a long time but couldn’t spot Liang Qiushi anywhere.

Shi Yin sighed.

He was an adult capable of making his own decisions. She had already said everything she needed to say clearly the previous day. Whatever choice he made was his decision—she couldn’t interfere in his life.

Lin Youhe went to queue up to buy the limited-edition version of Qian An’s manga. Shi Yin bid him farewell and headed out.

Suddenly, she remembered Gu Congli mentioning he’d be working overtime today.

Shi Yin blinked, greeted the receptionist, signed in, and took the elevator to the floor where the Crimson Moon editorial department was located.

As expected, they were still working overtime. Standing at the entrance, Shi Yin peeked cautiously inside.

The first person to notice her was the same intern from last time.

The young man locked eyes with her for two seconds, blushed, and hurried over nervously. Licking his lips, he stammered, “Teacher Shi Yi, what brings you here…?”

Shi Yin stared at him intently for a moment before blinking slowly.

Her long lashes fluttered like butterfly wings.

She was impeccably groomed today—bright eyes, red lips, and a polished appearance. Her gaze carried an intense focus, making whoever she looked at feel as though they were the only person in her world.

The intern had noticed this the first time he met her.

Under her fiery gaze, the poor intern blushed all the way to his neck.

Just as Gu Congli stepped out of the elevator, he saw Shi Yin standing by the door, smiling radiantly at the young man. Her soft, melodic voice rang out, “Hello, may I ask if Editor-in-Chief Gu is here?”

Her smile seemed ready to bloom into flowers.

Gu Congli narrowed his eyes slightly, walked over, grabbed the collar of her coat, and pulled her back a step, creating some distance. He then cast a cold glance at the intern.

The young man fled in panic, rushing back into the office, both excited and flustered. “Teacher Shi Yi just came in!”

Editor Zhao raised an eyebrow, fully aware of how lazy Shi Yin was and how difficult it was to get her to leave the house.

“Teacher Shi Yi came? What for?”

“To see the editor-in-chief,” the intern sighed. “Teacher Shi Yi is so beautiful—she’s the ideal type.”

Editor Zhao snorted knowingly. “Even the ideal type won’t save you. Listen to your senior’s advice: your life is more important.”

“Thank you, Brother Zhao…” The intern looked utterly confused, clearly not understanding what he meant.

Meanwhile, at the office entrance, Shi Yin had been pulled back a couple of steps by Gu Congli, nearly bumping into him.

She quickly sidestepped, glanced around to confirm no one was nearby, and let out a small sigh of relief before turning to look at him.

The man was wearing a trench coat, clearly having just returned from outside. A chill clung to him. As her gaze traveled upward, meeting his icy brown eyes, Shi Yin froze momentarily.

The coldness in his eyes was almost palpable, condensed into a single point.

She reached out, suddenly touching his face.

Gu Congli was taken aback.

Shi Yin tilted her head, looking at him curiously. “Are you cold? You look so cold.”

He lowered his eyes, his voice faint. “Cold.”

Gu Congli disliked returning to Yangcheng.

Every time he returned from seeing Bai Lu, he felt something was off—like a repeated reminder of something buried deep within him.

Negative emotions swirled in the air, surrounding him from all sides. The density was overwhelming, laced with impurities that seeped into his lungs with every breath, suffocating him.

Shi Yin lowered her hand, carefully glanced around again, and pulled him to a corner. Smiling mischievously, she clumsily wrapped her trench coat around him, hugging him tightly.

He was taller than her, so she could only manage to cover half of him. Her hands clutched the edges of her coat at his waist as she tilted her head up, resting her chin against his chest. Her eyes curved into crescents. “Are you warmer now?”

Gu Congli stood motionless.

It felt as though his heart had been pulled out and submerged in warm water.

She held him gently for a moment before loosening her grip.

Suddenly, he bent down, pulling her into his arms. His embrace was strong, almost crushing, as he buried his face deeply into the crook of her neck.

In his arms, she was warm and soft, her scent—a mix of shampoo and detergent—filling his nostrils.

It was like the apricot trees in March, sunlight piercing through thin ice, the frozen earth of early spring thawing just enough for buds to peek out timidly after a long winter’s rest.

Shi Yin pushed him slightly, panic rising. “Hey… we’re still at the office…”

“Let me hold you for a little while,” Gu Congli’s voice was hoarse. “Just a little while.”

She blinked, then stilled, allowing him to hold her quietly. Softly, she asked, “Are you unhappy?”

It wasn’t long ago that she had asked the same question.

Are you unhappy?

Gu Congli denied it.

Shi Yin didn’t truly believe him. Since he didn’t want to talk about it, she wouldn’t press further. Everyone had secrets they only shared with their closest confidants.

She was conflicted about him. She was curious yet hesitant, wanting to understand him better but also reluctant to delve deeper.

Shi Yin realized she had never truly understood Gu Congli.

Whether as her teacher, her editor-in-chief, or her boyfriend—the person she liked—he always maintained a certain distance, as if separated by a pane of glass. He stood silently behind it, guarding his world, quietly rejecting anyone’s entry.

Before, Shi Yin hadn’t dared to cross that boundary.

Her courage was too small. A single mistake could haunt her forever. Changing editors or anything similar—she resisted any kind of change, unwilling to accept or face it.

She used to think this arrangement was fine. Accepting the real Gu Congli, stepping into his world, adapting to his changes—it all seemed too difficult.

What if he didn’t like it? What if he didn’t want to tell her, thinking she was overstepping or meddling?

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to retreat. Shi Yin had accepted him cautiously, taking one step forward but hesitating to fully embrace him. Stuck in place, she considered retreating altogether.

It wasn’t fair to either of them.

She no longer wanted to watch him from behind that glass pane.

Shi Yin pursed her lips, raising her arms to hug him back. Her voice softened. “If you’re unhappy, you can tell me. If you don’t want to talk to me, you can even vent your anger on me—I’ll help you cool off.” She paused, then added, “But you can’t hit me. And afterward, you have to apologize sincerely—with a 120-degree bow.”

Gu Congli chuckled softly, loosening his grip slightly as he looked down at her. “Anything else is allowed?”

She nodded solemnly. “Anything—but don’t be too harsh, okay?” Shi Yin reminded him. “What if I really run away because you scare me?”

Gu Congli fell silent.

Shi Yin started to regret her words, licking her lips nervously. “You won’t really get angry with me, will you? I was just trying to cheer you up…”

“I might,” he said seriously.

Shi Yin: “….”

There weren’t many people around on the weekend. The editorial department’s door was closed, but faint sounds of phone calls and voices from those working overtime filtered through, muddled together and isolated in another world.

The two of them stood in the corner of the corridor, next to the large floor-to-ceiling windows of the meeting room.

Gu Congli pulled her inside, closing and locking the door behind them. His fingers slipped into her hair, pressing against the back of her head as he leaned down to kiss her.

Shi Yin’s eyes widened in shock. She slapped repeatedly at the glass beside them, muffled protests escaping her throat—all swallowed whole by him.

If anyone happened to pass by or step out of the office, they’d see them immediately.

Shi Yin was terrified, tugging hard at him.

Gu Congli remained unfazed, his lips still locked onto hers. Without lifting his head, he reached out to draw the curtains shut, pinning her against the window half-supportively.

Once the blackout curtains were drawn, the light dimmed by half.

After a long while, Gu Congli finally released her. Forehead pressed to forehead, nose touching nose, their breaths mingling closely. His voice was low and rough. “Does this count as ‘using my hands’?”