Flashes of Memory and Lingering Frustration

The professor’s voice droned on from the podium as a page turned.

Jiang Chen sat in the back, his notebook open. Apart from a few initial lines of formulas, the pages were largely filled with unconscious doodles and messy, haphazard lines.

He twirled his pen between his fingers, his thoughts having long drifted out the window, back to the person who was likely alone in her dorm room at this moment.

Recalling her earlier demeanor—like a cornered ostrich desperate to bury her entire face in a bowl of congee, coupled with her clumsy, almost endearing attempts at concealment—a smile involuntarily curved Jiang Chen’s lips.

Yes, he had found another memory fragment. It wasn’t a vague sensation, but a vivid scene, clear enough to recall the temperature and scent.

The bus swayed precariously, then lurched to a sudden halt. Without a moment’s hesitation, he had extended an arm, encircling her and shielding her from the jostling crowd behind them.

The person in front of him seemed to freeze for a moment, then lowered her head even further, almost burying it in her collar.

She had tried desperately to hide her flustered reaction, yet her small earlobe, peeking out from beneath her hair, swiftly bloomed into a vivid, almost dripping crimson.

Reflecting on it now, those frantic, darting eyes, that subtle, unconscious lean-in followed by a hesitant pull-back…

All these details now pointed to an answer he hadn’t fully considered then, but which was now startlingly clear.

‘That was a past event, one that truly happened, yet was somehow obscured or forgotten.’

And she, evidently, remembered it too. At least, some part of it.

It was precisely because she remembered that when he had brought it up earlier, she had become incoherent with fright, frantically trying to usher him out the door.

‘So, there truly were traces to follow.’

Only he, himself, had been blinded by the facade of ‘brotherly’ affection, seeing only a blur when the answer had been right before his eyes.

The professor at the podium seemed to pose a question, eliciting a sparse, scattered response from the classroom.

Jiang Chen reined in his wandering thoughts, his gaze settling back on his textbook.

‘No need to rush.’

‘After all, she’s right there. She can’t escape.’

****

It took Zhou Yi quite some time to recover, to emerge from the mortifying shame of having just ordered intimate apparel. Slowly, the burning heat receded from her face.

Although her heart sank further upon seeing her balance after payment, at least the most pressing issue of “cover-up supplies” was resolved. Now, she just had to hold out until the delivery arrived.

She had gritted her teeth and ordered everything necessary, and she had rested long enough. Lying in bed for two consecutive days, with so many troublesome matters weighing on her mind, sleep was simply not an option for the time being.

She needed to find something to do, to distract herself. Otherwise, she felt she would be driven mad by the chaotic barrage of thoughts in her mind.

She picked up her phone and opened the project’s WeChat group. The latest message was still from several hours ago.

Just then, she saw Han Yan tag her in the group: [ @Zhou Yi, has your fever gone down? Can you still breathe? ]

This was followed by a peeking cat emoji.

Zhou Yi saw this familiar awkwardness, and the tight string in her heart loosened slightly. She pulled at the corner of her mouth in a silent smile.

[ Zhou Yi: @Han Yan Still alive. Just dropped you back to Bronze in the Canyon (dog head emoji). ]

[ Zhou Yi: @Han Yan What, miss your dad? ]

Han Yan instantly replied with an eye-roll emoji.

[ Han Yan: @Zhou Yi If you’re awake, stop playing dead. Get up and work. ]

[ Han Yan: @Zhou Yi Damn it, I’ll be back on the field at full health in no time. Just wait to call me dad! ]

This time, Han Yan sent a “kicking-flying” emoji, then added: [ Alright, waiting for you. ]

At this point, Lin Wei interjected.

[ Lin Wei: Zhou Yi, you’re awake! Get plenty of rest, don’t rush into work. Your health is the capital for the revolution! (hug emoji) ]

[ Lin Wei: Oh, and Zhou Yi, regarding the user persona section in the research report, I thought of another detail to add last night. I’ve already uploaded the updated version to the group files. Han Yan said we can discuss it once you’re better, so just focus on recovering for now (cute emoji). ]

[ Zhou Yi: Alright. ]

[ Lin Wei: @Zhou Yi, that case study you mentioned last time, which official account was it from? I’ve been searching for ages but couldn’t find it; I wanted to learn from it. If it’s convenient, could you share it once you’re feeling better? (cute emoji) ]

Zhou Yi stared at the hug and cute emojis, her slightly improved mood instantly plummeting again.

Her stomach churned, unsure if it was due to her illness or her mounting frustration.

‘Tell Lin Wei? What would I even say?’

‘Say “I forgot”? That would seem perfunctory, and it wouldn’t deter Lin Wei’s potentially persistent “caring inquiries.”

‘Fabricate one now? She had already been vague when Jiang Chen asked last time; fabricating another would only create more loopholes.’

‘Directly refuse? That would seem too blunt, not fitting her persona of “weak from illness but trying to be friendly.”

‘And it’s even less possible to honestly say it was practical experience from a simulator, isn’t it?’

‘No matter which option, it would just be digging her own grave.’

A ‘Ding!’ sounded.

She hadn’t even figured out how to reply when Jiang Chen’s message suddenly popped up.

[ Jiang Chen: @Lin Wei Regarding your report, address Han Yan’s points first. The new details conflict with the third section on consumer motivation analysis. I suggest unifying the logic. ]

[ Jiang Chen: The case study can wait. We’ll discuss it once Zhou Yi recovers. ]

That settled the matter.

Lin Wei paused for a few seconds before replying.

[ Lin Wei: Okay, Jiang Chen, I’ll review the third section again and make adjustments immediately! ]

[ Lin Wei: Zhou Yi, get well soon. ]

Silence fell over the group chat once more.

‘A world of difference.’

Zhou Yi could imagine Lin Wei feeling somewhat awkward or reluctant on the other side of the screen, but that wasn’t something she needed to consider right now.

She felt an inexplicable surge of irritation. Lowering her eyes, she exited the group chat interface.

In her private chat window, Han Yan had sent another message, accompanied by a file.

[ Han Yan: Lin Wei’s newly added section is complete nonsense. Refer to this. ]

Zhou Yi clicked it open. It contained abstracts of several authoritative user behavior analysis papers, with Han Yan’s red annotations highlighting the logical flaws in Lin Wei’s additions.

She slowly typed a reply to Han Yan:

[ Zhou Yi: Received, thank you. ]

Meanwhile, Han Yan’s private chat window popped up directly for Lin Wei.

[ Han Yan: The report is like this? ]

[ Lin Wei: I’m sorry, I might have been too eager to push the progress, and some parts weren’t thoroughly checked. I’ll revise it immediately! ]

[ Han Yan: Rushing is no excuse. Data sources are fundamental, and the logical chain is the core. If these two areas have issues, the report’s value is halved. ]

[ Lin Wei: I know I made a mistake. I’ll re-verify everything and send it to you revised tonight! ]

[ Han Yan: I’m not rushing you. ]

He paused, then added: [ No need to send it to me separately. Just sync it directly to the group once it’s revised. ]

[ Han Yan: Also, Zhou Yi is ill. Don’t bother her with irrelevant questions. ]

Lin Wei stared at the screen, biting her lower lip.

‘Irrelevant questions… Did he mean her asking Zhou Yi about the case study’s source? Or…?’

[ Lin Wei: I wasn’t bothering her, I just thought her case study was really good and wanted to learn from it… And, it’s also for the overall quality of the project, you know. ]

[ Han Yan: Project quality relies on solid research and rigorous analysis, not chasing after a sick person’s casual examples. ]

[ Han Yan: Just do what you’re supposed to do. ]

The cold words on the screen felt like tiny thorns, pricking at Lin Wei’s heart, leaving her feeling stifled and pained.

She blinked hard, suppressing the sudden sting in her nose. Her fingertips hovered over the keyboard for a long moment before she finally typed a simple “Okay.”

She had tried so hard to do well, to earn his recognition, and even more of his attention.

‘But why did it always feel like she was just one step short?’