Chapter 9: Hormonal Warfare (5)

Gu Congli used to be a teacher, and his skills were undoubtedly impressive. Shi Yin had seen his artwork before—pieces that only someone truly talented could create.

But that didn’t mean he could finish thirty-four pages of original draft in two days.

Manga was different from regular paintings or portraits; it required storytelling through paneling and framing. Professional mangakas, even with assistants, could typically complete two to three pages of original draft per day, and color manga took even longer.

There was no way Gu Congli could finish it.

Unless he had twenty hands.

Shi Yin felt confident, lounging in the backseat of the taxi like a boss, legs crossed, her body slumped sideways, exuding an aura of invincibility.

She had been on top for too long, feeling unbeatable for far too many years.

Now, not even Gu Congli could touch her.

What was the point of this boring world anymore?

Shi Yin reveled in her self-satisfaction in the backseat, as if she were about to ascend to the heavens. Gu Congli glanced at her through the rearview mirror, calmly remarking: “I never thought you’d finish it,” he paused, “and I knew you wouldn’t draw it.”

Shi Yin choked.

How to describe that feeling?

It was like a middle schooler arguing with a thirty-year-old man.

Something you took seriously, something you were genuinely upset about, he brushed aside effortlessly, like throwing a punch into cotton—utterly powerless.

And yet, he acted so nonchalantly, as if he didn’t want to bother with a kid like her.

Shi Yin fell silent for three seconds, her shoulders slumping as she gritted her teeth: “I didn’t hear what you said.”

Gu Congli: “You cursed at me.”

“…”

Didn’t I just call you an idiot?

Did you just graduate from kindergarten?

Shi Yin nearly choked on her own saliva. She leaned forward from the middle of the backseat, peeking between the driver’s seat and the front passenger seat. Her expression was both pitiful and angry, looking as though she wanted to lash out but didn’t dare: “Do you have to keep bringing up homework all the time? All my classmates were there! Don’t I have any pride…?”

Gu Congli rested his elbow on the window frame, one hand supporting his head, tilting slightly. Perhaps due to the influence of alcohol, his voice sounded relaxed: “Being around people will help you remember.”

“…”

Why did you ask him this? He always has a reason.

Shi Yin rolled her eyes, leaning back into the rear seat again, unwilling to say anything more.

If she didn’t speak, Gu Congli naturally wouldn’t initiate conversation either. The restaurant wasn’t far from her home, and when the car stopped under her apartment building, Shi Yin opened the door, got out, and turned to bid him farewell: “Chief Editor, thank you for driving me home today.”

Gu Congli grunted.

Shi Yin hesitated for a moment, then cautiously asked: “Will you come by tomorrow?”

Gu Congli turned his head: “How’s the new serialization coming along?”

Shi Yin quickly replied: “The first chapter’s storyboard is done!”

“What about the finale of ECHO ?”

“…”

Shi Yin’s gaze wandered: “A few more pages left…”

She looked incredibly guilty, bowing her head, unable to meet his eyes.

Gu Congli didn’t press further, simply nodding: “Finish ECHO , don’t rush the new serialization’s original draft. Send me the first chapter’s storyboard tonight.”

Shi Yin nodded fervently like a pecking chick.

Under the dim streetlights in the residential area, small insects and moths fluttered around.

He spoke, and she obediently responded.

Gu Congli raised his eyes.

She wore a white dress today, outlined by a soft glow under the yellow lights. Her large, bright, watery eyes looked earnest, resembling a herbivorous animal hidden deep within the forest.

He withdrew his gaze: “Go on up.”

Shi Yin felt relieved, exhaling deeply, waving at him: “Goodbye, Chief Editor!”

She scampered off like a rabbit, hopping away into the building.

The taxi driver, having listened to their entire exchange, found it amusing. Turning the steering wheel, he chuckled: “Why does that girl look so scared of you?”

Gu Congli remained silent.

The driver, likely in his forties or fifties, might have never seen young people interact this way before, teasingly remarked: “You should be careful, young man. You can’t always be so harsh with girls. That girl looks pretty, and if you’re too tough on her, she might get scared and run off, wooed by someone else.”

“…”

Was this considered harsh?

Gu Congli finally reacted.

His eyelids lifted slightly, a faint smile curving his lips: “If I’m not strict, she’ll go wild.”

Shi Yin, who was almost ready to “go wild,” didn’t sleep well. She had a long dream.

In the dream, there was a vast ocean. She rode a surfboard, darting through waves like a fish. Suddenly, a huge wave crashed over her, completely submerging her.

Salty, bitter seawater poured mercilessly into her nose and mouth, stinging her senses. Tears flowed uncontrollably as the massive wave battered her body, leaving her nearly numb with pain. Drifting aimlessly with the current, Shi Yin closed her eyes, unsure where she was being swept.

Voices filled her ears.

Cries, shouts, sharp and unrestrained laughter, and a man’s low, faint sigh.

The seawater seemed to contain countless souls, relentlessly drilling into her eardrums.

When she opened her eyes again, she faced a stark white ceiling.

Shi Yin lay motionless, still feeling the illusion of floating and sinking in the sea.

After a while, she sat up, wiping her eyes.

They were wet.

This dream felt too real.

Her pajamas were soaked with sweat. Shi Yin climbed out of bed, took a shower, and gradually emerged from the haze. As she dried her hair, she received a call from Fang Shu.

“So, how did things progress with Teacher Gu yesterday?” Fang Shu blurted out immediately.

“…”

Shi Yin was speechless: “What do you mean by ‘progress’?”

“We left you two alone yesterday. Don’t tell me he left you there while you were drunk and pretty?”

“…”

Shi Yin questioned: “Are you possessed today? Was the alcohol fake yesterday?”

“Are you uncomfortable with someone caring about you? Can’t I be concerned about your romantic development?”

“Well, sorry to disappoint you, but there’s no romantic development, and there won’t be. Okay?” Shi Yin shuffled to the bed in her slippers, plopped down, tossed her phone aside, and pressed speakerphone. With both hands, she dried her hair with a towel. “He’s my editor now. We didn’t exchange a single word outside of work.”

No one else among her classmates knew she was a mangaka except Fang Shu. Ergou assumed she worked in design or something similar. Many people thought she was unemployed because her social media often showed her not getting up until noon.

Teacher Shi Yi, already labeled as a freeloader by relatives and friends, didn’t care. But Mother Shi was very concerned about this. Each time relatives kindly remarked that she spoiled Shi Yin too much, pointing out that a year after graduation, she still relied solely on her parents, and started introducing her to jobs, Mother Shi would feel extremely helpless and annoyed.

Shi Yin and Fang Shu chatted casually for a while before hanging up. She hung the towel on the doorknob, grabbed her laptop from the couch, and powered it on.

She had been exhausted last night, so she sent the new serialization’s storyboard to Gu Congli while lying in bed and left the laptop aside afterward.

It was about ten in the morning, and the email had already been read.

Shi Yin pondered, stood up, picked up her phone from the bedside table, and opened WeChat.

Her WeChat was usually flooded with unread messages, hundreds or even thousands of red notification dots. She couldn’t be bothered to check them, so they accumulated. A couple of new messages blended in unnoticed. Sometimes, she wouldn’t notice them for four or five days.

But if the message was from Gu Congli, even a minute’s delay in reading it made her heart ache.

Staring at the tiny red number “1,” Shi Yin froze for a few seconds before realizing and widening her eyes. Trembling, she tapped to open it.

A message from 7:30 AM: [Woke up briefly.]

She checked the clock—it was already ten.

Frantically, Shi Yin scrambled out of bed, rushed to the wardrobe, pulled out some clothes, hastily combed her damp hair, grabbed her bag, and dashed out of the house.

Red Moon was a monthly manga magazine under Yaoguang Publishing. It took about half an hour to get there. Arriving before ten-thirty, she could pretend she woke up early, enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, and came over elegantly.

The towering office building’s glass facade reflected the azure sky. The large Alkaid logo greeted visitors at the entrance. Shi Yin had been here before, and the receptionist recognized her. After calling Gu Congli, she was led to the meeting room on the manga department floor.

When she entered, Gu Congli was already there, a brown envelope in front of him.

His gaze flickered briefly over her damp hair, then shifted away. He gestured toward the sofa with a tilt of his chin, indicating she should sit.

Shi Yin sat opposite him.

“This isn’t acceptable,” Gu Congli stated bluntly.

“Hmm?”

“The theme is fine, but it’s not groundbreaking. To make it innovative will take effort. The setting is relatively good, but the core story is thin. Expand it,” he closed his eyes, rubbing his temples, “and the paneling has significant issues. Adjust the pacing. Revise it and bring it back to me.”

Only during moments like these would he speak so much to her.

Shi Yin leaned back into the sofa, propping her head with one hand, tapping her cheek rhythmically with her fingertips.

She listened attentively, furrowing her brows as she thought: “Chief Editor, when are you free? I’ll bring the manuscript for you to explain. Some parts are still unclear otherwise.”

Gu Congli didn’t respond, pushing the envelope toward her.

Shi Yin pulled it over, opened it, and took out the contents, stunned.

It was her new serialization’s storyboard.

The thirty-four pages she sent last night had been printed out by him, page by page. There were numerous red circles and boxes marked on them, along with rows of handwritten annotations.

The message he sent her at seven in the morning indicated he had stayed up all night reviewing them, meticulously marking issues and areas needing improvement on every page.

She blankly raised her head.

Gu Congli leaned forward slightly, extending his long, pale index finger, tapping the paper, looking at her indifferently: “Do you understand now?”

…

Shi Yin was momentarily dazed.

It was as if she had fallen back into the previous dream. The towering waves carried her across the timeline, back to her high school days, those familiar afternoons.

In the spacious studio filled with plaster statues and still-life objects, Gu Congli stood behind her, holding a pencil. His back slightly bent, arms extended forward, head bowed, he carefully and intently helped her revise her drawing.

The clean, crisp scent of him wafted to her nose, and she felt the warmth of his forearm almost brushing against her flushed ear.

She sat in front of the easel, feeling as though she were enveloped in his embrace.

In the silence, the man’s cold, low voice mingled with the sound of pencil on paper, carrying faint breaths that layered softly and ambiguously near her ear:

“Do you understand now?”