After the school started, Gu Pan applied to the bakery to change his working hours to the next evening. The boss said that studying is the priority, and if he couldn't keep up with his studies, he could take a break and come back later. He thanked the boss for his concern, but declined, saying the current situation was fine and he wanted to maintain it.

　　Gu Pan's sleep had improved recently. The ghostly voices that used to haunt his mind only occasionally appeared now. In addition to nightly exercises before bed, credit was also due to the healing white noise works of a certain website's content creator.

　　Gu Pan was drawn into that splendid space by a sleep aid video. There were countless sleep aid videos on the website, but one in particular caught his eye.

　　He was brought into a familiar scene on the cover. It was a historic library building in the School of Management. Gray-blue brick walls, upturned eaves. In front of the building, there were rockeries, flower beds, and corridors winding around them. It was a rare tranquility amidst the hustle and bustle of the city.

　　When Gu Pan first entered the school, he was guided on a tour of this place by senior students from the department. Every step revealed a scene, and his phone had also captured one or two shots. But afterwards, they were only stored in his album and forgotten. Reminded by this UP creator named "Xin Yuan," he dug out the "old" photos and videos to compare them one by one with the white noise videos, couldn't help but marvel at "Xin Yuan's" ingenuity. The library building, rockeries, flower beds, and corridors were used as materials, and the sounds of water, rain, and cicadas, after noise reduction processing, became the magic potion of tranquil hypnosis... it was indescribably ingenious.

　　This person's works for almost a year have all been based on the School of Management. The earliest work was published three years ago. Not only aiding sleep, there were also other themes, such as reading atmosphere and nostalgic times. The author seemed to know every detail of this hundred-year-old university, which was once the business management discipline of A University, and had a deep affection for it. Gu Pan secretly speculated about their identity, perhaps an alum of the school?

　　After "communicating" with them through their works for a while, Gu Pan couldn't help but send a private message to express his gratitude. Thanking them for saving him from the waters and fires of insomnia

　　Later, every morning after a refreshing sleep, Gu Pan would log in under the pseudonym "PP Jun" to express his gratitude. He sent five private messages in this manner, and one evening, to his surprise, he received a response.

　　"Xin Yuan" first corrected a misconception of "PP Jun," stating that "actually, the sound of rain and thunder strictly belongs to pink noise" and "one should not rely on it, as it can be detrimental to the body." Then, they expressed their relief and determination to redouble their efforts.

　　Perhaps this interaction sparked the author's creative enthusiasm, as the update frequency increased from bi-monthly to weekly, and then further to every five days.

　　One day, Gu Pan noticed that "Xin Yuan's" works no longer featured the School of Management. Out of curiosity, he left a message asking for the reason.

　　The reply he received was that there were many other traces of life that could be portrayed, and he invited "PP Jun" to provide inspiration for them.

　　Gu Pan typed a few words, "indigo dye workshop," "ancient qin music," "sound of brewing tea." Then he lay down, closed his eyes, and waited to fall asleep. However, just at the critical moment, he received greetings from Lu Yitong.

　　"Guess where I am?" Lu Yitong's voice sounded uneasy, even through the phone, Gu Pan could sense her nervousness.

　　"In..." Gu Pan tried to keep his breathing steady, thinking to himself, "As long as it's not at my doorstep, it's fine."

　　"I'm in the bathroom, can you hear the echo? It's the only place I can talk for a bit. The dorm is too crowded and noisy... But even though I've sneaked out, I still can't speak loudly. Please bear with me, Gu Pan gege."

　　"It's alright. They're all asleep, why aren't you?" Gu Pan inquired.

　　"I'm not sleepy, I have something on my mind, and you. Oh, I've been thinking about it and decided to tell you! I made a mistake..." Lu Yitong's speech became increasingly slurred as she reached the last sentence.

　　"A mistake? If it's not a matter of life and death, let's talk about it tomorrow." Gu Pan, halfway submerged in drowsiness, began to protest, hoping Lu Yitong would stop the idle chatter.

　　"It seems you don't believe me. No, I can't wait. If I don't tell you today, I won't be able to sleep all night. You must feel guilty..." Lu Yitong persisted.

　　"Then go ahead and say it!" Gu Pan, fed up with Lu Yitong's usual tactics, erupted in anger.

　　"Listen, don't be in a hurry! That day when I slept in your bedroom, I woke up from the floor in the morning, feeling weak in my limbs. I accidentally pulled the drawer handle of your desk, and it opened."

　　"Just close it." Gu Pan, with drooping eyelids, let his brain cells, which had not rested, conjure up a rather extreme scene. Miss Lu sitting on the floor with a drawer in her arms must not have been a pretty sight. He suppressed his laughter.

　　"But I accidentally saw your journal. The cover is blue... right? The lighting wasn't good." Lu Yitong clarified.

　　"It's blue, you're correct. It's fine if you saw it." Gu Pan replied.

　　"It's not just seeing, I read it. I was wrong." Lu Yitong emphasized.

　　"Hmm?" Gu Pan's heart tightened, feeling suddenly trapped in a dense fog of uncertainty about his future.

　　"I was wrong. I read your secrets." Lu Yitong confessed.

　　"Nonsense." Gu Pan managed to remain calm momentarily, confident in the abstract and fragmented nature of the contents of the blue soft-faced notebook.

　　"Not nonsense, not at all. I found it very interesting, although some parts are still unclear." Lu Yitong's voice, still subdued, became more lively with her growing interest.

　　"What?" Gu Pan was conflicted. He feared that Miss Lu would analyze the words in the notebook, as he firmly believed that women possessed certain unique abilities that men lacked, sometimes frighteningly powerful. And those hidden things were what he dared not face and always avoided. But at the same time, he imagined that these undisclosed matters could be filtered or even sublimated through the brain of an arts student. He fantasized that this girl could extract beauty from them, even if just a trace.

　　"I guess there are several story outlines in there, right? The one at the beginning was drafted from several years ago? The handwriting doesn't seem very mature. Hmm... is this how you wrote when you were a child? Also, you've checked off each one at the end, should mean you've finished them. I didn't quite understand, is the protagonist mentally ill? Why hoard medicine?" Lu Yitong continued, her voice echoing in the room, realizing it wasn't appropriate, she immediately covered her mouth.

　　"..." Gu Pan had no desire to recall those things.

　　"Have you started writing the latest story? Can I read it?" Lu Yitong asked.

　　"It's not easy to write." Gu Pan replied.

　　"Oh. Don't be angry, I really couldn't help it." Lu Yitong apologized.

　　"I'm not angry."

　　"That's good. By the way, your handwriting is very elegant, beautiful! Goodnight!"

　　Sleepless, Gu Pan reopened "Xinyuan's" collection of works. He selected a rainy night study room from an early video. Water droplets rolled down the window, a fine and sad sight. An old-fashioned pen holder sat on an open English book on the desk. The lampshade, a common type seen in period dramas, was green, wise, and profound, as if hiding national secrets. On one side of the wall stood a coat rack, with English-style trench coats and a slender-strapped women's backpack hanging on it... The details were so well done! Gu Pan couldn't help but admire.

　　The drowsiness was temporarily blocked. Flipping through more, Gu Pan came across "Xinyuan's" true debut work. Released on a certain night three years ago, it was inspired by the school supermarket. Four fluorescent lights on the ceiling were broken, flickering shadows intermittently. Beverage shelves faced the women's section. There was a strange sense of depth between the two rows of shelves. The background music was a folk song sung by a woman. Cold and lonely. Occasionally, there were dialogues, the clacking of the cashier's keyboard.

　　Some comments criticized the work as inexperienced, low-grade in color, too noisy for studying. Some defended, saying, "It's understandable for a novice." Others inquired about the motivation behind the creation.

　　The author's response was: "He and I both had our eyes on that bottle of clear lemon tea. It was the last one. He let me have it."

　　Gu Pan stared at "Xinyuan's" evasive response and the subtle emotions revealed between the lines, unable to help but speculate about the person's age, gender, and emotional turmoil at the time. But it was just a passing thought. He felt that prying into others' love, hate, and grievances couldn't offset the absurdity he had created this summer.

　　Gu Pan closed the webpage and returned to his beloved emerald green lawn. He added more weight to the dumbbells, setting goals for his pectoral muscles, deltoids, and pectoralis major muscles. Lying in the living room in the middle of the night, under the suddenly increased load on his arms, he grimaced in exhaustion. He counted, pushing through one limit after another that he thought he couldn't overcome.

　　The oval incandescent lamp on the ceiling, which he had recently imagined as a smiling lip, was now devoid of any smile. Gu Pan remembered the last words that Ling Hanlu said after breaking free from his improper suppression that day, "Remember to close the door when you go out!"... It must have been said with that mouth!

　　Gu Pan felt his fingers suddenly powerless, dropping the dumbbells onto the lawn. He curled up into a ball on the grass, feeling his stomach spasming, the pain intensifying, unbearable. It was worse than the soreness and swelling of muscles and joints. Cold sweat burst from his back, he struggled to prop himself up, hunched over, and staggered into the bedroom. Pulling open the desk drawer, he fumbled aimlessly. Beneath the blue soft-faced notebook that Lu Yitong had "read," lay the last remaining strip of pain-relief chewable tablets.

　　He chewed one hastily, swallowing it down. He needed to rid himself of the pain immediately. No, it wasn't just that. He also wanted to immediately regain his arm strength. He desperately wanted to throw that blue notebook to the end of the sky.