The morning of the trip arrived with a biting chill that clung to the damp stones of the district. Seo-yoon stood at the entrance of the Suzhou Railway Station, her suitcase handle gripped tight in one hand and a steaming cup of tea in the other.
"Seo-yoon-ah! Over here!"
Mei Lin was impossible to miss. She was practically vibrating with energy, wearing a bright red puffer jacket and carrying three different camera lenses around her neck. Standing beside her, looking much more tired but equally ready, was Zhang Wei. He was struggling with a massive rolling equipment trunk.
"Wei? What are you doing here?" Seo-yoon asked, her eyes widening.
"Surprise!" Mei Lin hugged Seo-yoon's arm. "The Production team needed a student liaison from the Design department to help with the set-sketching and spatial logistics. Since Wei is the only one who can handle my moods and carry heavy things, Professor Chen recruited him last minute!"
"Actually," Wei panted, finally getting the trunk to stop rolling. "I begged for the spot. I needed a break from the studio before I started seeing floor plans in my sleep."
Seo-yoon looked behind Wei, her heart skipping a beat as she searched the thinning crowd of travelers. She didn't say the name, but her eyes asked the question.
"If you're looking for the Prince, he's locked in the Lab," Wei said, catching her gaze with a knowing, slightly sad smile. "Professor Zhang pulled him from all elective trips. His bridge model—the one for the national competition—is behind schedule because he kept re-doing the tension cables. He's forbidden from leaving campus until the structural frame is finished."
The announcement for the Hangzhou-bound high-speed train echoed through the vaulted ceiling. Seo-yoon felt a strange, sharp pang of disappointment. She had spent the last two days convincing herself she wanted to get away from his "hovering" presence, yet the reality of a four-day gap felt like a missing line in a script.
While the train hummed at 300 km/h toward Hangzhou, the Architecture Lab back at HUAD was silent, save for the precise, surgical sound of a scalpel cutting through balsa wood.
Yan-chen sat at his station, his eyes bloodshot from a lack of sleep. The "Blue Waves" bridge model sat before him—a complex, elegant structure of interlocking white lines. It was a masterpiece of math, but he was staring at the empty stool across the room where students usually sat to chat.
He reached for a piece of sandpaper, but his hand stopped. On the corner of his desk, tucked under a heavy architectural digest, was a small sticky note Wei had left: "We're taking the 8:05. Don't forget to eat something that isn't caffeine. – W."
He knew she was on that train. He imagined her sitting by the window, probably looking at her phone, her beige coat folded neatly over her lap. He thought about the muffler he hadn't asked for back, and the silver bracelet still resting in his drawer.
He picked up the scalpel and returned to the model. He was the Ice Prince; he was meant to stay behind and build things that lasted. But as he carved the delicate arches of the bridge, he realized that for the first time in his life, he wasn't interested in the bridge he was building—he was interested in the one he had started to build in a garden, under the light of a warm tea can.
"Hangzhou East Station! Please prepare to disembark," the intercom chimed.
"Wake up, Writer Han! We're here!" Mei Lin nudged Seo-yoon, who had drifted into a light doze against the window.
As they stepped off the train and into the humid, bustling air of Hangzhou, the scale of the city hit them. It was faster, louder, and more modern than the ancient corners of Suzhou.
"Blue Horizon Studios sent a shuttle," Wei said, checking his phone. "We head straight to the backlot. They're filming a night scene tonight."
Seo-yoon pulled her suitcase along the platform, her mind still partially stuck in the quiet lab she had left behind. She took out her phone to check the time, but her thumb hesitated over the messaging app. She didn't have his number. She didn't even have a reason to call.
She looked at the bustling crowd and then at Mei Lin and Wei, who were already arguing about which camera angle was best for the studio's facade.
"Focus, Seo-yoon," she whispered to herself, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "You're here to learn how to tell a story."
But as the shuttle pulled away toward the massive film sets, the only story she wanted to write was the one that was currently sitting alone in a silent lab, three hundred kilometers away.