The atmosphere grew incredibly tense.

But in reality, only Shi Yin felt the stiffness.

Liang Qiushi, having just recovered from his bout of over-the-top behavior, was now extremely docile. He remembered seeing Gu Congli last time when he’d caught him pinning Shi Yin against the sofa.

Lowering his gaze, Liang Qiushi noticed the shopping bag in Gu Congli’s hand and suddenly seemed to understand. Leaning closer, he whispered to Shi Yin, “So that’s how it is.”

“…”

Shi Yin cleared her throat. “What?”

“Teacher Shi Yi, the editor-in-chief must be worried you’ll starve yourself in the hospital again so you can have a legitimate excuse to delay your manuscript.”

“…”

Shi Yin rolled her eyes. “In your mind, I’ll stop at nothing to delay my deadlines, huh?”

“Not just in my mind,” Liang Qiushi said calmly. “You see, the editor-in-chief thinks the same way.”

Shi Yin tapped the tip of her pen on the coffee table. “Go back to what you were doing.”

As she spoke, she stole a quick glance at Gu Congli.

The man walked into the kitchen with the shopping bag. Liang Qiushi followed him, taking the bag and placing it on the counter. He began taking out the ingredients one by one. “Thank you for your hard work.”

Gu Congli responded indifferently. “It’s fine.”

“Teacher Shi Yi is completely helpless when it comes to daily life. If no one takes care of her, all she does is order takeout or cook instant noodles.”

Gu Congli remained silent.

“I used to buy her some fruits and vegetables, but recently…” Liang Qiushi paused, clearing his throat softly. “I’ve been busy, so I haven’t come by much.”

Still, Gu Congli didn’t say a word.

“You don’t know this, but after every deadline, Teacher Shi Yi would be absolutely starving. Back then, before you came, she could eat a 400-yuan hotpot all by herself.” Liang Qiushi was clearly in high spirits today, talking much more than usual.

Finally, Gu Congli raised his head and gave him a calm glance.

Shi Yin’s heart nearly leapt into her throat.

She was terrified that in the next second, Gu Congli might snap Liang Qiushi’s wrist and drag him out.

Three seconds later, Gu Congli coldly averted his gaze, rolled up his sleeves, and pulled out a knife. From another bag, he retrieved a live fish. Its gills fluttered as its body thrashed weakly.

With pale, slender hands, he pressed the fish firmly onto the cutting board. The sharp blade sliced through cleanly, gutting it with practiced ease. Blood seeped out, spreading across the wooden surface.

Liang Qiushi fell silent for two seconds before remarking, “Editor-in-Chief, you’re quite skilled.”

Shi Yin covered her eyes.

Gu Congli had brought over a variety of ingredients. Standing in the kitchen with his back to the living room, he methodically prepared everything. The fabric of his shirt stretched neatly along his waist and back, creating crisp folds that were oddly pleasing to look at.

Liang Qiushi helped for a while, but Gu Congli barely spoke throughout—only uttering a word or two if necessary. After washing the vegetables, Liang Qiushi shook his hands dry and stepped out of the kitchen. Leaning close to Shi Yin, he whispered, “Don’t you feel cold?”

Shi Yin quickly withdrew her furtive gaze from Gu Congli and pretended to focus on her phone. “It’s December. Do you really expect the indoor temperature to feel like 25 degrees Celsius?”

“No, not that kind of cold. It’s more like… an eerie chill.” Liang Qiushi mimicked a karate chop, raising his hand high and slashing it downward dramatically. “Just now, when Editor Gu was gutting that fish, I suddenly felt a sharp pain in my stomach for some reason.”

Shi Yin: “….”

“Didn’t you feel it? That menacing aura made me so nervous.”

Shi Yin stared blankly. “Are we filming a wuxia movie now?”

Liang Qiushi didn’t respond.

An awkward silence settled over the living room, broken only by the sound of running water from the kitchen faucet. Shi Yin glanced at Gu Congli again, this time more discreetly.

So… he was here to cook?

Isn’t he supposed to be extremely busy lately?

Shi Yin thought back to the sandwich she’d found that morning—and the glass of milk that had gone cold.

Turning slightly, she asked Liang Qiushi in a low voice, “Did you make that sandwich for me this morning?”

Liang Qiushi looked genuinely confused. “What sandwich?”

“…”

Shi Yin pursed her lips and turned away. “Never mind. I must’ve been mistaken.”

She had been mistaken.

Only two people had keys to her apartment—Liang Qiushi, because they’d known each other for so long and it was convenient, and Gu Congli… for reasons unknown, somehow he’d ended up with one too.

Since Liang Qiushi had already been there when she woke up, she’d subconsciously assumed it was him.

She let out a long sigh.

Was this his way of apologizing?

Who apologizes like this…

Gu Congli worked quickly. Four dishes and a soup later, his Spanish seafood paella looked even better than what restaurants served. It was generously packed with mussels, shrimp, squid, and golden rice.

During dinner, Liang Qiushi received a call from home asking when he’d return.

Having finished eating, he bid farewell to Shi Yin and Gu Congli, packed up his laptop and notebook, and prepared to leave.

Shi Yin walked him to the door. As he stepped into the elevator and the doors slowly closed, she hesitated for a moment, lowered her eyes, then suddenly raised her hand and waved enthusiastically toward the empty doorway. “Thanks for the sandwich this morning!”

She shut the anti-theft door and returned to the dining room.

Gu Congli sat quietly at the table. He had probably finished eating too and was now scrolling through his phone.

Now alone together, the atmosphere grew somewhat awkward.

She sat down, and he put his phone aside, sitting opposite her as he watched her eat.

His cool gaze lingered on her silently, unbroken and steady.

After five minutes, Shi Yin couldn’t take it anymore. She set down her chopsticks and looked up.

His light brown eyes met hers calmly.

Her expression was strained. “I’m full.”

“Mm.”

“Thank you for dinner.”

“Mm.”

Silence.

Gu Congli stood up, leaning forward to clear the plates.

Shi Yin moved quickly, pressing down on the other side of the plate. “I’ll take care of it later.”

Gu Congli released his grip, his eyelashes lowering as he stood silently by the dining table.

His quiet demeanor seemed a little gloomy, like a mischievous kitten who had caused trouble and now cowered nearby, too afraid to approach.

She had never seen Gu Congli like this before.

Her heart softened. Biting her lip, she lowered her head and muttered sullenly, “Do you have anything else to say?”

Gu Congli didn’t respond.

After a long pause, he said indifferently, “No. I’ll leave first.”

That night, Shi Yin had another dream.

The avocado and smoked bacon sandwich grew hands and feet, hopping around on her bed while singing a self-composed song. The melody resembled the SpongeBob SquarePants theme, and the lyrics consisted of just one line—

“My master is Gu Congli~ My master is Gu Congli~”

When Shi Yin woke up, she instinctively scanned her bed from head to foot, confirming there were no sandwiches with limbs before sitting up in a daze.

After two days of cold war, she had dreamed about Gu Congli for two consecutive nights.

Fortunately, tonight’s dream was relatively innocent, much easier to accept than yesterday’s.

Shi Yin wasn’t sure if this was due to Gu Congli’s overwhelming resentment. She got out of bed, intending to go to the bathroom, but paused mid-step. Walking to the door, she opened it and headed to the kitchen.

On the dining table sat a white porcelain pot, placed on a heat-resistant mat. Shi Yin lifted the lid—inside was congee with preserved eggs and lean pork, cooked until soft and mushy. It had cooled slightly, forming a thin layer on top.

Beside it was a sticky note—one she often used, casually left in a basket next to the fridge. On the pink rabbit-shaped sticky note, bold and striking handwriting read: “If it’s cold, remember to reheat before drinking—Gu Congli.”

The three characters of “Gu Congli” were written particularly large, as if emphasizing or reminding her of something. The strokes were sharp yet elegant, eye-catching and handsome.

Shi Yin burst into laughter, unable to hold it in.

She had deliberately tried to provoke him yesterday, assuming he hadn’t reacted because he didn’t care.

But it turned out he had been waiting for her here all along.

This man was unexpectedly childish in certain ways, like a child seeking praise.

Still smiling, Shi Yin went to the bathroom to shower. Afterward, she carried the porcelain pot into the kitchen, reheated the congee, ate it, browsed Weibo for a while, then entered her study to turn on her computer.

ECHO had concluded some time ago, and the final collected volume was about to be released. A few weeks earlier, she had finished the exclusive bonus chapter for the final volume. Now, all that remained was a color poster illustration.

Coloring had always been Shi Yin’s weakness. Every time she worked on a color page, she would agonize over it, losing clumps of hair in frustration. Her perfectionism compounded the issue—she would revise endlessly, working painstakingly slowly. Adding to the workload was the ongoing serialization of Hong Ming Long Que . This single poster took her over a week to complete, from drafting to coloring.

During this period, Shi Yin received a different breakfast every morning—both Chinese and Western styles.

She wasn’t angry anymore, though she still felt somewhat unsure how to face him.

It was difficult to change someone’s personality. If this was simply who Gu Congli was, Shi Yin couldn’t force him to become some idealized version of himself—Wang Congli, Zhang Congli, or whoever else.

Finally finishing the color poster, Shi Yin hesitated for a moment before clicking open Gu Congli’s chat icon and sending him the file.

Not long after, Gu Congli replied. He sent over a flowchart of some sort. Shi Yin opened it—it was the schedule for ECHO ‘s signing event.

Shi Yin had never held a signing event before. Partly because she disliked going out and being in the spotlight, and partly because her popularity had been moderate, without any completed works to promote.

Now, however, she had ECHO , a finished work, and Hong Ming Long Que was gaining momentum. For several consecutive issues, it ranked in the top five of voting polls. The first collected volume of Hong Ming was set to release early next year.

Unbeknownst to her, Shi Yi, the mangaka herself, had also gained significant popularity. Following the incident involving “Trembling Cat,” her Weibo followers had grown at an alarming rate.

Many people began following her because of that incident. With her meticulous art style, humorous daily interactions, and likable personality, casual passersby were flocking to become fans.

In a way, it was thanks to Trembling Cat—an unexpected blessing born from adversity.

The marketing team suggested capitalizing on the buzz by holding two signing events—one in S City and one in the capital—to boost hype, give her debut work a perfect conclusion, and simultaneously promote the new series’ collected volumes.

Moreover, it was rumored that Teacher Shi Yi was quite attractive. The Crimson Moon editorial department suddenly felt eager to show off their prized daughter, countering online rumors that she was an overweight, balding recluse with questionable hygiene.

Shi Yin had already attended the newcomer awards ceremony, so she didn’t mind participating. Her only question regarded the signing event in the capital.

Having grown up in the south, she had never been to the north. After pondering for a moment, she typed: [Do I really need to go to the capital? I’ve never been there.]

This marked their first conversation on social media since the cold war—and it was, surprisingly, work-related.

As Shi Yin reflected on this irony, he quickly replied.

[Gu Congli: Yes, consider it a business trip. The company will send an editor to accompany you. Don’t worry.]

[Shi Yin: Who will it be?]

She hoped it would be an editor she was familiar with.

[Gu Congli: Me.]