After Zhu Yun finished speaking, Li Xun showed no reaction, but Gao Jianhong did ask one question:
“The graduate school?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure you didn’t see wrong?”
“Absolutely.” He was far too gaunt — thin as a skeleton — and had left a strong impression on Zhu Yun at the time.
Gao Jianhong thought for a moment and asked, “Do you remember which supervisor he was under?”
Zhu Yun shook her head. “I’ll have to ask Fang Shumiao.”
Gao Jianhong glanced at Li Xun. The latter lowered his head to light a cigarette, and when he looked up again, said, “Let’s head back. What’s the point of standing around here.”
Zhu Yun kept the matter in mind, and as soon as she got back, she went to find Fang Shumiao.
“Which one? What graduate student?” Fang Shumiao had forgotten the whole thing entirely.
“You know — that time you went to the city as a student representative for a meeting, remember? A whole group of you went together. It got so late that I even came to pick you up.”
Zhu Yun did her best to jog her memory. Fang Shumiao licked her lollipop, eyes drifting upward in thought.
“Oh! The skeleton!”
“That’s the one. He’s from our department’s graduate school, isn’t he.”
“Right, his surname is Han… Han something-or-other.” Fang Shumiao bit off half her candy. “He wasn’t a student representative — he went on behalf of his supervisor.”
“What’s his supervisor’s name?”
“I can’t quite remember, but I do recall it was a woman. Why?”
Zhu Yun shook her head. Fang Shumiao asked, “The student council has been keeping me so busy lately that I haven’t had any time to visit the lab. How are things going? Did your project come through?”
Zhu Yun: “We’re waiting to hear back, but it should probably be…”
Should be fine, right.
Whether the project would be fine remained to be seen. The next day, that skeletal graduate student came to the lab in person.
His name was Han Jiakang. He arrived and immediately called Li Xun outside, and the two of them talked for a long time.
Before Zhu Yun could make sense of the situation, her afternoon class was starting.
Li Xun did not return for the entirety of the C Language session, and Old Lin did not ask after him either. Just as the class was winding down, Zhu Yun noticed a female teacher had appeared outside the classroom, exchanging greetings with Old Lin at the doorway.
Old Lin instructed Zhu Yun to organize and assign the coursework and then dismiss class on time, before heading off with the woman.
Zhu Yun was still trying to work out what was going on when Gao Jianhong slid over from the back of the classroom and dropped into Li Xun’s usual seat. He hadn’t even settled properly before he spoke: “It collided.”
Zhu Yun: “What collided?”
Gao Jianhong: “The project.”
In truth, when Zhu Yun had spotted Han Jiakang at Langan Company the day before, she had already felt a dim premonition stir inside her. Now Gao Jianhong had confirmed it.
“Of all the rotten luck,” Gao Jianhong muttered under his breath, eyes fixed on the doorway where the figures had long since disappeared. He lowered his voice. “I looked into that Zhang Xiaobei. She used to be in automation — no one knows whose coattails she latched onto at the university, but she made associate professor this year.”
Zhu Yun: “Automation? How did she end up in the computer science department?”
Gao Jianhong gave a cold laugh. “That dingy little lab of hers — how much could there be in it for her? She switched fields.”
Seeing that Zhu Yun had nothing to say, Gao Jianhong adopted an air of mysterious insight. “Do you have any idea what kind of figures this project of ours could fetch?”
Zhu Yun shook her head. Under the desk, Gao Jianhong held up two fingers.
“…”
She had misjudged Li Xun. He wasn’t shallow at all. They were all adults — it was only reasonable to be guarded when money was involved.
Li Xun still had not returned for the next two periods. Zhu Yun endured the classes in a restless haze, then picked up her bag and headed to the lab.
The yellow-haired oddity was in his usual place, hunched in the chair writing code.
Zhu Yun walked up to him. Li Xun looked up, saw that it was her, and pointed to the surface of the desk. Zhu Yun picked up the paper lying there — it was a formally compiled list of project requirements and a timeline.
“The sections marked in green are yours. Stick strictly to the schedule.”
Zhu Yun skimmed through it roughly.
“Why has so much content been cut?”
Li Xun appeared to have typed a line of code incorrectly. He raised his little finger and tapped the delete key lightly, then set the laptop down on the desk, stretched his long legs out, and rolled his shoulders in a lazy stretch.
“Has Gao Jianhong come yet?” Li Xun rubbed his eyes. The words had barely left his mouth when Gao Jianhong walked in from outside. “There he is.”
Li Xun beckoned with two fingers, drawing them both together.
Gao Jianhong set down his bag. “A meeting?”
Li Xun: “Wait a bit.”
Shortly after, another group arrived from outside. Leading them were Zhang Xiaobei and Old Lin, followed by Han Jiakang and three or four other senior students.
Zhu Yun and Gao Jianhong instinctively straightened up. Li Xun opened up the classroom next door, and the group filed in and took their seats.
Zhu Yun looked over at Zhang Xiaobei.