The faint sound of teasing still lingered in her ears, and Yun Li dreaded this kind of situation the most. Flustered, she glanced up and met his gaze, instinctively touching the corresponding spot on her own face.
Suddenly, she understood—though not entirely sure.
But from his expression, Yun Li could tell he harbored no ulterior motives.
She tilted her body slightly, tentatively leaning the other side toward him.
The man moved closer at the same time, stopping about three centimeters from her ear. His breath hovered near, his voice barely above a whisper: "When the Bodhisattva Avalokiteshvara was practicing the profound Prajnaparamita, he perceived that all five skandhas are empty and transcended all suffering."
"......"
Perhaps to ensure she heard clearly, he spoke at a measured pace.
But his kindness was wasted.
Yun Li didn’t understand a single word.
To put it more bluntly—
At this moment, it made no difference whether she heard it or not.
What on earth was this?! Nonsense!!!
Was this Buddhist scripture?
Yun Li stood frozen in place.
Zhi Buliao, who was waiting to relay the message, couldn’t hold back a laugh. "What’s with that expression?"
She didn’t answer, not daring to delay any longer. Before her memory faded, Yun Li pieced together a barely coherent sentence, half guessing and half reciting.
Seeing Zhi Buliao’s equally confused look, she felt somewhat balanced.
At least she hadn’t dragged the team down.
Only after the tension faded did Yun Li have the mind to watch others play the game. It was then that she noticed some people also listened with their right ears—because speaking into the right ear meant their faces wouldn’t be turned toward the crowd.
Yun Li had been too self-conscious, thinking listening with the right ear seemed deliberate. But for those who didn’t care, they wouldn’t even notice which ear others used.
Just like she wouldn’t notice which foot someone stepped forward with first.
At this thought, she stole a glance at the man.
So when they played that virtual drop tower ride earlier, had he already realized she couldn’t hear with her left ear?
But he’d spared her dignity and hadn’t pointed it out directly.
The man didn’t notice her gaze, absorbed in a single-player game to pass the time—2048.
The highest tile he’d merged so far was 1024.
By now, the message had reached the last person: He Jiameng. Under everyone’s watchful eyes, she confidently announced the answer: "The Goddess of Mercy wants to eat jackfruit."
"......"
The room fell silent for a moment before erupting in laughter.
He Jiameng scratched her head. "What? Isn’t that right?"
"Of course not! What’s wrong with you, Xiao He? How did such a sacred sentence turn into this?" Fei Shui chuckled. "But I’m curious—how did it get passed along so quickly earlier? I thought the other team had a short phrase, and when I heard it, I was stunned."
Xu Qingsong laughed softly, both sheepish and unapologetic. "Sorry, I really couldn’t remember. I just passed along, ‘First passage of the Heart Sutra—recite it if you can.’"
The few people after him had been holding back laughter. "Same."
The relay ended with the man.
Once the goal was set, the topic didn’t linger. Everyone simply assumed he had broad knowledge, and since the Heart Sutra wasn’t long, memorizing the first passage wasn’t surprising. Soon after, the other table also finished their relay, winning by a single word.
After some lighthearted teasing, everyone began packing up to leave.
After much hesitation, Yun Li mustered the courage to speak to the man. "Um..."
He paused and looked up.His eyelashes were long and delicate, his eye sockets deep. With thin double eyelids and naturally upturned outer corners, his eyes outlined a cold and sharp contour. When devoid of emotion, they carried an elusive, intimidating force.
"You just told me to come closer..." Yun Li regretted it a little but had to continue, "Did you know..."
—Did you know I can't hear in my left ear?
Finishing the sentence would be like giving away the answer, so she stopped in time, staring at him expectantly.
The man didn't respond.
Yun Li mumbled awkwardly, "Why aren’t you saying anything?"
The man looked at her calmly and replied, "You didn’t finish."
"..."
Yun Li rephrased her question, "I mean... why did you ask me to come closer just now?"
Their eyes met.
Amidst the bustling crowd around them, the noise somehow felt silent. Just as Yun Li thought he was about to expose her in the next second, the man slipped his phone back into his pocket and said casually, "Rules. No third party should hear."
There happened to be a KTV nearby.
Xu Qingsong seemed to be a VIP here, as they didn’t need a reservation and were immediately led by a server to a party room. The space was large, divided into two levels by three steps, with more than enough room for another ten people.
Drinks, snacks, and fruit platters were brought in one after another.
A few outgoing people had already grabbed the microphones and started belting out songs, while the song-request station was constantly occupied. The rest split into groups, some playing cards, others rolling dice in drinking games.
There were also those like Yun Li, sitting aside chatting or listening to music.
This table seated about seven or eight people, several of whom Yun Li didn’t know by name. Xu Qingsong sat in the middle, clinking glasses with someone and smiling. The man who had arrived with him earlier was nowhere to be seen.
She lowered her gaze to her phone, deliberately or not scanning the surroundings.
Just then, a woman joked, "Director Xu, where’s that handsome guy you brought earlier? He lost the game—shouldn’t he be here to pay up?"
Yun Li’s attention shifted.
Xu Qingsong sighed helplessly, "He’s not feeling well. Cut him some slack."
The woman, Du Gefei, was—according to He Jiameng—a live-streamer from some platform who had already gotten almost every man’s WeChat today. Propping her chin on her hand, she probed further, "Was it his girlfriend checking up on him?"
Xu Qingsong neither confirmed nor denied it.
Du Gefei added, "I didn’t even get a chance to ask for his WeChat."
Pretending not to catch her hint, Xu Qingsong lamented, "What a shame."
"..."
Du Gefei was visibly stumped.
Someone at the table stifled a laugh.
Yun Li pressed her lips together, also fighting a smile. But afterward, her mood inexplicably dipped.
She didn’t know where this emotion came from—like a sun-scorched mimosa, wilted and lifeless.
Or like a coin meant for a wishing well that missed its mark.
After a while, He Jiameng leaned over and whispered, "Teacher Xian Yun, do you need to use the restroom? I don’t really want to use the sitting toilet in the room."
Yun Li snapped out of it. "A little. I’ll go with you."
Leaving the room, the corridor was dimly lit, the lights as if veiled by a layer of cloth. A public restroom was just a few steps away, and upon entering, the veil seemed lifted.
After finishing up, Yun Li stepped out to wash her hands.
He Jiameng was already outside and suddenly asked, "Why is your ear so red?"
Hearing this, Yun Li looked into the mirror.
He Jiameng studied her and added, "And it’s only the right one."
"..." Yun Li only just noticed. "I don’t know."
"Is it," He Jiameng grinned, "because that handsome guy was too close when he whispered to you?"
Yun Li hurriedly denied it. "No."He Jiameng didn't believe it at all and continued, "That handsome guy was like an iceberg. You saw how others couldn't even get a few words out of him when they tried to chat. I never expected him to take the initiative to flirt."
Yun Li couldn't handle the teasing and quickly changed the subject, "You don’t know him?"
"Nope, maybe because I was mostly at headquarters before and didn’t come here often," He Jiameng said. "I just heard from a colleague that they saw him in the store this morning too."
"Oh?"
"Seems like he’s a friend of the boss. He’s been helping out for the past few days and will be working at EAW later." He Jiameng said cheerfully, "What a treat for my eyes. When I saw him take off his mask earlier, with my boss sitting right next to me, I almost thought I was in heaven."
"..."
"But honestly, I’m a little worried too."
"About what?"
"Don’t you think this guy seems really hard to get along with? These 'connected hires' usually don’t take their work seriously." He Jiameng added, "Plus, he’s kind of gloomy—a bit scary."
Yun Li instinctively defended him, "Director Xu said he wasn’t feeling well, right? Maybe he just didn’t feel like talking."
He Jiameng: "Oh yeah, I forgot."
...
Most people had flights booked for the next day, so the second gathering didn’t last long.
Back at the hotel, it was barely past midnight by the time Yun Li finished showering. Exhausted, she flopped onto the bed, hugging the blanket contentedly, wishing she could sleep until the end of time.
Socializing really was exhausting.
She had no idea why she’d even agreed to go to the KTV.
After a long while, Yun Li opened her eyes, staring blankly at the white ceiling before suddenly raising a hand to touch her right ear.
Not warm anymore.
The next morning, Yun Li told He Jiameng she wouldn’t be returning to Nanwu anytime soon and asked her not to book a flight ticket.
He Jiameng understood and extended her hotel stay for another week.
With nothing much to do that day, Yun Li took her time getting up and ordered takeout. After some thought, she messaged Deng Chuqi to ask when she’d be free for a meal.
The next second, Deng Chuqi called her: "I’m eating and too lazy to type, so I’m calling instead. When are you coming back to West Fuling?"
"I probably won’t be going back."
"Huh? Why?" Deng Chuqi was baffled. "Isn’t your reporting date at the end of the month?"
The term "running away from home" was too embarrassing, so Yun Li avoided it: "There’s nothing to do back there anyway, so I might as well come here early to get familiar with the place."
"Oh, okay. Then do you want to stay with me?" Deng Chuqi offered. "My roommate’s really nice, but my room is kinda small."
Yun Li: "No need, my hotel stay still has a week left. Besides, I’m planning to rent a place. I’ve been checking rental listings—there’s one that looks pretty good. Can you come with me to check it out later?"
Deng Chuqi: "Sure! How about the weekend? I’m free then."
Yun Li smiled: "Sounds good."
Deng Chuqi asked again, "But aren’t you staying in the dorm?"
Yun Li: "I will, but I need a place to film videos occasionally. Don’t want to disturb my roommate."
They chatted a bit longer before hanging up. Yun Li ate her takeout while watching an old drama.
Before she knew it, the afternoon had passed. As the sun set, Yun Li received a message from He Jiameng, saying she’d sent the videos corresponding to yesterday’s trial projects to her email.
Yun Li replied with an "Okay."
If she was going to rent a place, things were about to get busy.Yun Li wanted to edit the footage first. She pulled out the SD card from her camera and connected it to her computer. As she skimmed through the clips she had previously recorded, she paused at the VR bungee jumping segment.
After the project ended that day, Yun Li had accidentally left the camera mounted on the tripod behind and only remembered halfway back. This clip had also captured the scene after she left—
Du Gefe approached him and said, "I'd like to try this game too. How do you play?"
This time, the man couldn't even be bothered to feign politeness. Staring at the VR headset in his hands, he replied flatly, "Ask the staff."
Then Yun Li returned to retrieve the camera, and Du Gefe left without another word.
"..."
This indeed matched what He Jiameng had said—nepotism hires rarely did their jobs properly.
For some inexplicable reason, Yun Li scrolled back and rewatched the part where the man had fastened the safety rope for her. Though she knew he was probably just impatient, she couldn't shake the feeling of having been treated differently.
Then, feigning nonchalance, she opened her email and downloaded the compressed file He Jiameng had sent.
After waiting a while, she extracted and opened it.
Each clip was labeled with the project name for easy matching to the corresponding video. Spotting the thumbnail of one particular clip, Yun Li hesitated.
She wasn’t sure if He Jiameng had accidentally included it, but this wasn’t footage from any of the projects she had tried.
Instead, it was the face of the man she had just been staring at for so long.
Without a mask.
Yun Li licked her lips and clicked on it.
He seemed to have accidentally hit the record button, not looking at the camera. Holding a remote, he appeared to be adjusting something—or perhaps just fiddling absentmindedly.
The footage jerked up and down.
One moment it soared several meters high, close to the ceiling, clearly capturing the surrounding game setups; the next, it plunged to the ground, showing only the floor’s patterns.
Suddenly, Yun Li realized.
This seemed to be the drone she had seen at the club today.
At the end of the video, someone nearby seemed to call out to him, and the man abruptly stopped moving. A few seconds later, the perspective descended from midair back to the ground. The clip ended there.
This action made the man’s face even more familiar, sharpening the impression in her mind.
Recalling a fleeting thought, Yun Li had an epiphany. She quickly opened E-Station and scrolled to a video she had bookmarked long ago.
Originally posted in an E-Station discussion thread, it had later been reposted to the video section.
It was footage from a previous National College Robot Competition.
The video was edited to highlight one participant.
The young man was tall and handsome, dressed in a black team uniform with a moon-shaped badge pinned to his sleeve. On his back were the emblem of West Fuling University of Science and Technology and the team name: Unique.
Holding a remote, he focused intently on controlling the robot before him.
When victory was announced, his teammates jumped up cheering.
The young man was strikingly good-looking but remained solemn, standing calmly to the side. His demeanor was gentle and bright, unlike the gloominess he exuded now. Then, one of his teammates hugged him tightly. He frowned and struggled briefly before finally breaking into an uncontrollable smile.
It was an age of unbridled passion, where emotions needed no concealment.
The man in the earlier video overlapped with this one.
They were the same person.
Yet they didn’t seem like the same person.This video had gained some popularity online back then. Later, it was discovered that the young man had skipped grades to enter university and was only fifteen when he participated in the competition.
A life that seemed unreal.
At the time, the comments under the video were varied. The most popular one was a playful remark inspired by the moon badge he wore—"So the moon exists in the mortal world too."
When Yun Li saw this video, she was also fifteen, just starting her first year of high school.
Back then, her grades were average, yet she had unexpectedly scraped into the best high school in West Fuling. Introverted and quiet, she worked hard but had limited abilities, constantly overwhelmed by the brilliance of her classmates.
She, too, longed to be gifted, to stand out from the ordinary.
And then, the young man appeared on screen.
He became someone she briefly idolized and admired in her youth—someone she desperately wanted to become.
Years later, the fleeting internet fame had long faded, but traces of it remained.
Typing the keywords into the search bar, Yun Li could still find the interview the young man had given after his college entrance exam results were announced. Accompanying it was a casually taken photo.
The young man looked into the camera, his features still youthful. He carried an unshakable confidence, untouched by the mundanity of the world.
Below it was a line of text—
Fu Shize, the 2008 Science Stream Top Scorer of Nanwu City.
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