Shen Yusi realized how long it had been since they’d last talked. From her moments, Yu Shushu seemed to have been on a business trip recently.
She answered, “Hello, Auntie Shu?”
The ever-so-gentle voice came through. “Is everything going well at school?”
“Yeah, pretty good. Classes have officially started now.”
“Mhm. How are you getting along with your calligraphy teacher?”
Shen Yusi thought this was a bit strange. How well could she be getting along with the calligraphy teacher she was practicing with? Could Yu Shushu have some kind of mind-reading ability and knew about her little secret?
Secretly complaining, Shen Yusi joked, “The teacher said I’ve been improving by leaps and bounds. I’m planning to write a couple of couplets for you and my aunt during the New Year, to save you the money of buying them at the market.”
Yu Shushu, who had been stressed with work, felt much better hearing this. “That’s great! I’ll have to tell Shen Pei that I deserve the credit for those couplets.”
She changed the subject. “Oh, by the way, I need a favor from you.”
“Tell me, Auntie Shu.”
“Some time ago, the station did a special interview with Old Lin. Now we need some pictures of his past works. Those paintings are hanging in his office right now. Could you find the time to go take them for me?”
Yu Shushu had originally planned to send a photographer from the station. But Old Lin had said not to make such a fuss. Since her niece, Shen Yusi, was studying at the Academy of Fine Arts, she could just do it.
“Sure. Tomorrow is Saturday, and I don’t have any classes.” This was perfectly timed. Shen Yusi thought she could also deliver the opinion forms, killing two birds with one stone.
“Great. Thanks for the trouble.”
After hanging up, Shen Yusi rummaged through her cabinet for her dusty camera bag. After carefully checking it and finding no problems, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Her passion for things was fleeting. She would buy whatever she liked, regardless of practicality. This camera was heavy and expensive. After using it for a while when she first got it, she never touched it again. Fortunately, it wasn’t broken.
The next afternoon, Shen Yusi took a nice nap and, since the weather was good, washed her hair. With her damp hair loose, she crossed the tree-lined path and arrived at the dean’s office fifteen minutes before the agreed time.
Shen Yusi knocked on the door. Hearing a “Come in” from inside, she pushed the door open.
“Hello, I’m here to see Dean Lin.”
Her voice trailed off. Shen Yusi stopped in her tracks.
Behind the zitan desk, a figure slowly looked up, a half-finished wooden carving in his slender hand.
It was Lin Yingzhou.
He was here.
A look of pleasant surprise flashed across Shen Yusi’s face. An unexpected bonus.
She knew listening to Auntie Shu would be a good idea!
“He’s on a business trip.” Lin Yingzhou placed the carving knife back into the spiral-patterned brush pot. “You’re here to take pictures?”
Lin Yunzhi had said on the phone that morning, “Someone will come by my office this afternoon to photograph my early works. I’m on a business trip. You have the keys. Go open the door for them.”
Lin Yingzhou couldn’t understand why he had to make a special trip for such a small thing. He could have just sent anyone.
Before coming, Lin Yingzhou hadn’t known this person would be Shen Yusi. So, he wasn’t wearing his glasses.
“Yes, and I’m also here to deliver something.” Shen Yusi placed the neat paper bag on the table. “These are the opinion forms my roommate and I collected from the new students at the Academy of Fine Arts. Could you please tell the dean?”
“Mm.” Lin Yingzhou glanced at it, then stood up and walked towards the antique shelf. “I’ll get the calligraphy and paintings for you.”
He pulled out a few scroll paintings from the shelf full of them, checked them, and hung them on the wall.
As the scrolls unfurled, a flash of crimson suddenly invaded Lin Yingzhou’s vision.
Shen Yusi’s long hair fell over her shoulders. The midday sun amplified the red hair into a more dazzling flame, flowing over her plain-colored dress as she adjusted the camera.
It was too glaring. Lin Yingzhou’s brow furrowed. His knuckles rapped on the paperweight. “Put your hair up.”
Shen Yusi glanced at her flowing hair. It was in the way of the shot. “I don’t have a hair tie. Do you have one?”
As soon as the question left her mouth, she realized how stupid it was. Why would a single guy have something like that?
Lin Yingzhou was silent for a moment. Then he walked towards the desk as if he was going to get her one.
Shen Yusi’s expression froze. Oh no!
Don’t…
Don’t bring it…
I don’t want it now…
Stop…
Lin Yingzhou held out the wooden stick he had been carving earlier. “Do you know how to use this?”
In his palm was a snake-shaped hairpin. The tanmu surface was faintly etched with scale marks. It was clearly unfinished, so it looked a bit rough.
Shen Yusi breathed a sigh of relief. “I think so.”
In high school, she’d gotten hooked on a fantasy drama and bought a hairpin online, learning how to use it. It had just been a while since she’d practiced, and she was a little fuzzy on the steps.
Following the steps she remembered, Shen Yusi fumbled with it.
During this time, Lin Yingzhou didn’t look at her once. He was diligently arranging the calligraphy and paintings on the antique shelf.
Suddenly, he heard a sharp intake of breath. He turned around. “What’s wrong?”
“My hair is caught on my necklace.” Shen Yusi was fumbling at the back of her neck with both hands.
Seeing her face flushed red, and her struggling for a long time without success, Lin Yingzhou gave a soft sigh. Suppressing the discomfort in his body, he walked over. “Let me help you.”
Shen Yusi was a little surprised. “Then thank you, Senior.”
She gathered her hair to her left shoulder. The porcelain-white skin of her nape looked like fresh snow against the backdrop of her hair color.
Lin Yingzhou stared at this patch of white, his expression unreadable. A strange urge to reach out and crush it welled up inside him.
Startled by his own thought, he felt as if countless transparent slugs were crawling up his spine, spawning a cold, damp craving.
After regulating his breathing, Lin Yingzhou forced himself to discard those terrifying thoughts. He reached out and carefully teased apart the tangled strands. The metal clasp was icy, yet it couldn’t suppress the body heat his fingertips were touching.
He was so overly cautious that his barely-there touches sent a wave of goosebumps down the back of Shen Yusi’s neck.
Lin Yingzhou’s broad shoulders completely enveloped Shen Yusi’s slender figure. The glass cabinet door reflected two overlapping silhouettes, entangled in a lingering, ambiguous dance.
Shen Yusi smiled playfully. Using unavoidable physical contact to accelerate the heartbeat could create the illusion of a racing heart.
No matter how careful Lin Yingzhou was, he still broke a few strands. Staring at the hateful red hairs in his palm, his mind wandered for a moment.
Pulling the last strand of hair free from the clasp, Lin Yingzhou felt as if he had been released from a great burden. He took a step back, his voice strangely dry. “It’s done.”
“Thank you, Senior.” The act was over. Shen Yusi quickly coiled her hair up.
Lin Yingzhou closed his eyes, ignoring the cold sweat on his back, and sat back down. “Mm. Go ahead and continue shooting.”
Taking a few pictures of the paintings didn’t take long. Soon, the final click of the shutter echoed in the office.
Shen Yusi put her camera back in its bag, reached up, and pulled out the wooden hairpin. Her hair cascaded down in an instant.
“Thank you, Senior.” She placed the rose-scented hairpin on the inkstone edge, turned, and left.
For some reason, Shen Yusi came back. She braced her hands on the table, leaned forward slightly, and stared directly into Lin Yingzhou’s eyes, her gaze appraising.
“Senior, I saw you writing calligraphy on the first day of school, but I’ve never had the chance to admire your work.”
Lin Yingzhou continued with what he was doing, unaffected by her words. “You can see it on the school’s official account.”
Shen Yusi nodded in understanding. “I see. I’ll be going now, then. See you, Senior.”
The sound of the door hinges came, and the office was left with only Lin Yingzhou. But her scent still lingered around him, even penetrating his nostrils and burrowing into his brain.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. In the shadows, he made a sticky sound as he swallowed.
Lin Yingzhou’s gaze shifted to the wooden hairpin.
Just now—
This. The snake hairpin he had carved with his own hands.
Had held up the red he hated the most.
Lin Yingzhou reached out, picked it up, and pressed his thumb hard against the tip until he felt a dull pain. Only then did he wake up as if from a dream.
He then threw it, along with the few strands of hair she had shed, into the trash can.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
That’s right.
He still hated her hair.
He always had.
After leaving the office, Shen Yusi immediately took out her phone and opened the school’s official account, searching for the keywords ‘calligraphy’. She easily found a Ode to the Luo River Goddess that Lin Yingzhou had written before.
She zoomed in, reading the characters one by one. Then, she opened her photo album and looked at the characters Z had written for her as a demonstration during their lessons.
Shen Yusi deliberately picked the same character, ‘you’ (游), and compared them carefully. Her lips pressed together in a solemn line.
Lin Yingzhou’s characters were gentle, soft, reserved, good at concealing the tip of the brush.
Z’s characters were sharp, hard, flamboyant, and full of cutting edge.
Two completely different styles of calligraphy. It was clearly impossible for them to have come from the same hand.
Could her suspicions just be a misperception?
Shen Yusi sat on a bench by the school road, deep in thought.
Z didn’t like red.
Lin Yingzhou’s reaction just now was clearly also resistant to red.
Maybe even more so.
Z was the calligraphy teacher Auntie Shu had introduced. Perhaps Lin Yingzhou also knew Auntie Shu through his grandfather.
The admission requirements for the Chinese Calligraphers Association were strict. It just so happened that both Lin Yingzhou and Z became members at a young age.
Could there really be so many coincidences in the world?
Shen Yusi opened her phone to search.
Can someone skilled in calligraphy fake two completely different handwriting styles?
As she waited for the web page to load, a thought struck Shen Yusi. She realized she had been trapped by a fixed mindset.
The letter Z. Maybe it wasn’t the first letter of his surname.
Not Zhou, Zhang, Zhu, or Zhao.
Was there a possibility…
It was ‘Zhou’ (boat)?