The humidity of Suzhou hung heavy over the HUAD campus, a stark contrast to the crisp salt air of Busan. As Seo-yoon and Yan-chen walked through the university gates, the silver rings hidden beneath their shirts felt like anchors, keeping them grounded in a reality that only the two of them shared.
They parted ways near the central fountain, a silent nod serving as their "see you later."
The second Seo-yoon stepped into the studio, Mei Lin was a blur of energy, engulfing her in a tight hug. "You're back! How is your mother? Is she okay?"
"She's much better now," Seo-yoon replied, a soft, lingering smile playing on her lips—one that Mei Lin hadn't seen in all the months they'd worked together. It wasn't just relief; it was a glow of newfound peace.
"That's good... but wait," Lin narrowed her eyes, leaning in close. "Yan-chen went to Korea too, didn't he?"
Seo-yoon nodded, trying to keep her voice casual. "Yes. He said he wanted to travel, and coincidentally, we ran into each other there."
"Travel?" Lin repeated, a mischievous smirk spreading across her face. "Coincidentally?"
"Yes, that's what he told me," Seo-yoon said, though her heart gave a small, traitorous flutter.
Lin chuckled softly to herself before her expression turned unusually serious. "Seo-yoon-ah, Yan-chen didn't just 'travel.' He left his bridge model unfinished and worked seventy-two hours straight without sleep just to get permission to leave. He did it all for you."
"For me? Why would he..."
"Ask him when the time is right," Lin interrupted. "But I've known Li Yan-chen since before we came to HUAD—our mothers are close friends. I have never seen him act so recklessly or feel so free. Whatever happened in Busan... don't let it go."
As the lecture began, Seo-yoon sat in a daze, Lin's words looping in her mind like a script she couldn't stop rewriting.
Across the campus, the atmosphere was far colder. Professor Zhang was already waiting in the lab, standing like a stern statue next to the skeletal white bridge model. Wei was there too, unusually quiet, leaning against a drafting table with a worried look.
Yan-chen walked in, his expression neutral. He bowed. "Zǎo'ān, Professor Zhang."
"So, you decided to return, Mr. Li?" Zhang's voice was clipped, vibrating with suppressed anger. "What was so important that you abandoned your post when the final project display is only ten days away?"
Yan-chen stood perfectly still, his hands at his sides. He didn't offer an excuse. He didn't mention Busan. He simply accepted the weight of the silence.
"This model you rushed through in three days... it is flawed," Zhang continued, pointing at the joints. "It's incomplete. I want this bridge exactly as you designed it—soul and all—in seven days. Until then, you are under academic lockdown. You do not leave this lab. You do not have visitors. Do you understand?"
Wei shifted uncomfortably. "Wait, no visitors at all? Even for—"
Zhang shot Wei a sharp, silencing glare before looking back at Yan-chen.
"Understood," Yan-chen replied calmly.
As the Professor marched out, the heavy steel door of the lab seemed to echo with the finality of a prison cell. Yan-chen didn't look at the bed he'd have to sleep on or the mountain of blueprints. He turned to Wei.
"About this punishment," Yan-chen said, his voice deep and steady. "Seo-yoon must not find out. If she asks, tell her I'm just busy with the final touches."
Wei sighed, nodding reluctantly. "You're a real piece of work, Yan-chen. You cross an ocean for her, and now you're going to lock yourself in a box so she doesn't feel guilty?"
Yan-chen didn't answer. He just picked up his drafting pencil, his fingers brushing the silver ring beneath his hoodie. He had seven days to build a bridge that could withstand anything—just like the one he was trying to build between their hearts.