Embedded Files
Psst! We're moving!
The drive from the airport to the city center usually took about an hour, but Gu Congli drove exceptionally fast today. In less than an hour, the silhouette of Yaoguang Publishing was already visible in the distance.
When they reached the building, Gu Congli slowed down and parked the car nearby.
Shi Yin sat quietly in the passenger seat like a little chick. She watched as Gu Congli unbuckled his seatbelt, got out of the car, and walked over to a woman standing by the roadside in front of Yaoguang Publishing.
The woman had her hair neatly styled in an elegant updo, her makeup impeccable—red lips, sharp eyes, and a slender brow.
She looked very young, with hardly any signs of aging on her face. Her demeanor exuded an aura of aloofness and refinement. Standing on the dimly lit winter street in her white coat, she resembled a noblewoman stepping out of a painting from the Republican era.
As an art student, Shi Yin almost immediately recognized her.
The genius and legend of the art world—the renowned young female painter, Bai Lu.
Bai Lu came from a wealthy family and had loved painting since childhood. At fourteen, she entered the Paris Academy of Fine Arts. At sixteen, she held her first solo exhibition. By the age of twenty, she had swept all the highest-level art awards in the country, reaching the pinnacle of her career.
Then, this prodigious young painter vanished from the public eye.
At first, no one paid much attention. Artists often needed privacy and personal space, so everyone eagerly awaited her new works, hoping that China would produce its youngest recipient of the prestigious Alexander Lucchi Painting Award.
But six months later, news of Bai Lu’s marriage flooded the media.
The highly talented young painter had put down her brush, married into another family, and devoted herself to domestic life. The art world lamented her departure for a while, but eventually, her name faded from public memory.
Shi Yin rolled down the car window and watched as Gu Congli approached the woman. The woman tilted her head slightly and smiled gently: “A-Li.”
Gu Congli lowered his gaze. “Mom.”
Bai Lu raised her hand, palm facing upward, hovering faintly in the air. “It’s snowing.”
Shi Yin looked up. The night sky was clear, the cold air carried moisture, but there was no sign of snow or wind.
Gu Congli’s voice was calm. “Mm, it’s snowing. It’s cold outside. Let’s go home.”
Shi Yin hesitated for a moment, then opened the car door and stepped out. Hearing the sound, Gu Congli abruptly turned his head.
She cleared her throat and cautiously asked, “Should I go home first?”
Gu Congli’s gaze darkened. “I’ll take you.”
Shi Yin smiled faintly. “It’s fine. I can go by myself. There are plenty of cars here.”
He pressed his lips together, saying nothing.
Shi Yin could tell he didn’t want her to interact too much with his mother.
But at the same time, he didn’t seem to want her to leave alone either.
Bai Lu took a couple of steps forward, looking at Shi Yin with a gentle smile. “Is this your classmate?”
Gu Congli lowered his eyes and reached out to pull her arm. “Mom—”
Bai Lu suddenly understood. “Is she your girlfriend?” She carefully examined Shi Yin, then broke into a smile and moved forward to take her hand. “It’s so late. How could we let a young girl go home by herself?”
Gu Congli reacted quickly, grabbing Shi Yin’s wrist and pulling her behind him, shielding her completely.
Bai Lu’s hand grasped at empty air. She paused, her pale hand suspended in midair.
Turning her head, her beautiful eyes were slightly red. “What do you mean?”
“Can’t even Mom touch her?”
She stared directly at him, her voice soft. “I won’t hurt her. I just want to see… what kind of girl our A-Li likes…”
The woman’s voice was eerie, floating through the night air and melting into the damp coldness, carrying an oppressive strangeness.
Shi Yin felt a chill run down her neck. Standing behind Gu Congli, she instinctively leaned closer, raising her hand to tightly grip the back of his clothes, feeling the warmth radiating from his body.
Feeling his jacket being tugged at, Gu Congli turned his head, lowered his gaze, and reached out to ruffle her hair. “Can you get home by yourself?”
Shi Yin tilted her head up, biting her lip as she looked at him.
He patted her back reassuringly. “Go ahead. Don’t be afraid. Let me know when you get home.”
Shi Yin nodded, took two steps back, and cautiously glanced at Bai Lu.
Clearing her throat, she gave a slight bow. “Goodbye, Auntie.”
Bai Lu seemed not to hear. Her eyes were red, staring blankly at something in the distance, unfocused.
Shi Yin turned and ran across the street, hailing a taxi.
Only after getting into the taxi did Shi Yin finally let out a long breath.
Her back was soaked with cold sweat, her fingertips numb. When Bai Lu’s gaze had locked onto her, she felt as though she had forgotten how to breathe.
Those eyes were beautiful, the same light brown as Gu Congli’s. They should have been warm and translucent, yet they seemed to hide an abyss, devoid of emotion, icy and dead when fixed on someone.
The disjointed contradictions in her speech, the strange tone, the wild swings in emotion.
Slowly, Shi Yin began to form a suspicion.
Her mental state… didn’t seem quite right.
Shi Yin returned home, locked the door behind her, and turned on all the lights in the house.
The bright light illuminated the room as she sank into the sofa, staring blankly at the fruit platter on the coffee table.
She thought about Gu Congli’s reaction in the car earlier.
He was afraid.
At first, Shi Yin hadn’t understood what was going on. But now, she thought she might.
Was he afraid that if she found out, she would reject his family?
She remembered when her relatives had visited during the holidays. While her mother chatted with them, Shi Yin had overheard some things. Her second aunt’s son was about to get engaged, but the fiancée came from a divorced single-parent family. Her father was a gambler, and her second aunt had complained for an entire afternoon, clearly dissatisfied with the match and hoping her son wouldn’t marry her.
Shi Yin’s eyes widened with sudden realization.
She went into the study, grabbed her laptop, and settled onto the sofa. After some thought, she searched for information on mental illnesses.
Opening an encyclopedia, she read through the entries line by line. She froze when she reached the final sentence:
—Under the influence of pathological psychology, there may be suicidal tendencies or actions of aggression or harm toward others.
For some reason, Shi Yin suddenly recalled the burn marks on Gu Congli’s hand and the thick, long bandages on his forearm.
Panicking slightly, she tossed the laptop onto the sofa and pulled out her phone to call Gu Congli.
After a short wait, he picked up. His voice sounded normal, only slightly hoarse. “Are you home?”
“Where are you?” she asked anxiously.
Gu Congli paused. “At the hospital.”
Her voice immediately tensed. “Are you hurt again?”
He didn’t respond.
The silence stretched between them. After a while, when he still didn’t speak, Shi Yin felt her suspicions confirmed and blurted out, “Say something!”
Gu Congli chuckled softly. “No, I brought my mom here.”
Shi Yin let out a sigh of relief and leaned back into the sofa. After a moment’s hesitation, she cautiously asked, “Is Auntie… mentally unstable?”
Gu Congli gave a faint “Mm” in response.
Shi Yin didn’t know what to say.
Shi Yin thought for a moment about which hospital was closest to Yaoguang Publishing, then asked, “Are you at the First Hospital?”
Gu Congli gave another faint “Mm.”
Shi Yin lowered her gaze, her eyes falling on the rows of text on the laptop screen beside her.
His arm was wrapped in such a long bandage—how severe must the wound be? How much pain must he have endured?
And if the person who had hurt him was his own mother—the person in the world who should love and protect him most…
Shi Yin’s nose tingled. She couldn’t fathom what that must feel like.
Silence stretched between them for a while. From Gu Congli’s side, it sounded like someone was calling him.
He pulled the phone away and responded briefly.
Shi Yin’s nose felt sour, her eyes growing moist. Fearing he might detect something off in her voice, she quickly said, “Is someone calling you? You should go. I’ll hang up first.”
She ended the call with a click and rubbed her red-rimmed eyes.
Shi Yin began to feel regretful.
She shouldn’t have acted the way she did before.
If she had been braver, if she hadn’t deliberately avoided getting closer to him, if she had tried to understand him earlier, could she have helped ease his burden even just a little sooner?
________________________________________
The next morning, Shi Yin woke up unusually early.
She had spent the night researching extensively, even calling a friend studying medicine. By the time she finished showering, it was already past three in the morning.
After only a few hours of sleep, she naturally woke up as dawn broke, the sky still dim.
Her body screamed exhaustion, her eyelids heavy and reluctant to open, but her mind was wide awake, thoughts racing nonstop.
Shi Yin opened her eyes, staring at the snow-white ceiling, letting the events of yesterday sink in over the course of the night.
Painter Bai Lu was Gu Congli’s mother, and it seemed she wasn’t in good health—likely having run away from the hospital or somewhere similar.
Shi Yin lay in bed, picked up her phone, and considered calling Gu Congli.
She had already pulled up his number but hesitated, worried he might be busy. In the end, she decided against it.
Sighing, Shi Yin didn’t know what to do about the situation.
She wanted to help him in some way, but she had no idea how.
Rolling over onto her stomach, she clutched her pillow and held her phone above her head.
Opening Weibo, she was greeted by a flood of notifications. Scrolling through, she found several videos uploaded from yesterday’s book-signing event in the capital.
There were two main clips.
The first included part of the masked girl’s question and the subsequent backlash from Shi Yin’s fans.
The video cut off just before Shi Yin began responding.
After watching the entire clip, Shi Yin couldn’t help but chuckle.
Sure enough, scrolling through the comments and shares revealed a chaotic mess.
Blind fan loyalty, accusations of fans being uncivilized, criticism of the crowd attacking the girl—and even complaints that Teacher Shi Yi hadn’t reined in her readers.
Shi Yin laughed softly. How much money must have been spent on bots to orchestrate this kind of reaction?
Reflecting on her career so far, she had always kept a relatively low profile, mostly active only in her small corner of Weibo. Though many criticized her art as ugly or accused her of dragging down the overall quality of Crimson Moon , Shi Yin had never paid much attention to such comments, ignoring both the negativity and mentions altogether.
She wasn’t currency; she didn’t expect everyone to like her.
But aside from that one incident with Trembling Lynx, she hadn’t offended anyone else. This level of targeted backlash felt too deliberate.
Closing that tab, Shi Yin scrolled further and found the second video—her response during the book-signing event.
Compared to the first clip, this one had significantly fewer shares and interactions.
After some thought, Shi Yin retweeted the less popular video and dug out a photo she had taken earlier—the promotional illustration board set up outside the book-signing venue: Echoes of Chinese Comics .
No sooner had she posted it than, after refreshing her feed, Lin Youhe had already retweeted it.
Shi Yin froze. Since their last encounter at the karaoke bar, she hadn’t spoken to Lin Youhe again.
She had assumed that someone with his domineering personality might sever ties with her entirely.
Before she could process it, her phone rang. It was Liang Qiushi.
Liang Qiushi was well aware of her routine and usually contacted her in the afternoon. A call this early in the morning was almost unheard of.
As Shi Yin stepped out of bed and slipped into her slippers, she answered the call with a sleepy “Hello.”
Liang Qiushi’s voice sounded urgent, slightly hoarse from just waking up. “Teacher Shi Yi, I saw that video on Weibo.”
Shi Yin hummed noncommittally, walking into the kitchen. Her tone lacked enthusiasm. “I saw it too.”
“That girl—the one wearing the mask,” Liang Qiushi paused, seeming hesitant. “Well, I’ve had dealings with Yang Culture before and visited their company a few times. I’ve seen that girl a couple of times.”
Shi Yin retrieved a carton of milk from the fridge and carried her phone tucked under her chin as she tied up the trash bag in the living room bin. With genuine curiosity, she asked, “Who’s Linián?”
“…That’s her—the one who’s your rival, the prodigy shoujo manga artist.”
Shi Yin made an “Oh” sound and walked toward the door, unsure whether she fully remembered.
Liang Qiushi continued, “Anyway, I’ve seen her a few times. She looks a bit different in person compared to photos. And just now, when I watched that video of the girl asking the question—though she was wearing a mask—I’m not entirely sure, but I think she resembles Linián. Even her voice sounds a bit similar.”
Shi Yin froze, raising her hand to press the door handle, only to realize she hadn’t unlocked it yet. Then she remembered she had locked the door last night.
This neighborhood was usually very safe, so she rarely bothered to lock the door, which was why she had forgotten.
Twisting the lock and opening the door, she held her phone in one hand and the trash bag in the other, setting it down by the entrance.
Turning her head, she saw Gu Congli standing at the doorway, a cigarette dangling from his lips.
Shi Yin froze.
Liang Qiushi was still talking on the other end. “Hello? Teacher Shi Yi? Did you hear what I said? Teacher! Wake up!”
Shi Yin blurted out, “What are you doing here?”
Liang Qiushi: “…Teacher, are you sleep-talking or actually awake?”
Shi Yin looked at Gu Congli and hung up the phone.
Gu Congli didn’t answer her question, instead saying flatly, “You locked the door.”
He was still wearing the same clothes from last night, his presence exuding a cold, lifeless stillness.
The door stood open, allowing the chilly winter air to rush in. Shi Yin shrank back slightly. “I locked it last night. I forgot.”
He extinguished his cigarette, lips pressed tightly together, his voice hoarse. “Were you afraid I’d come in?”
Google Sites
Report abuse