When the wolf's heart is touched by light and the fox

[Resort. Meeting Room. Morning]

The following day, the cold white lights illuminated the long conference table, making its surface reflect light like a thin layer of frost.

The air conditioner hummed softly, the corner of the page was lifted by the fingertip with a soft "swish" sound, and the pen tip scraped across the drawing paper.

Hu Li didn't sit at the farthest point today. She moved her materials to the middle section of the side closest to the head of the table, diagonally opposite him, two seats apart. Her back was straight, and the design drafts spread out in front of her looked like her battlefield.

Mu Tianlang flipped through the documents, his voice calm: "Regarding Designer Hu's ten proposals, after internal comprehensive evaluation, three have been initially approved: the outdoor glass corridor, the transition space between the swim-side rest area and the tea room courtyard. The remaining proposal, the observation tower, is still under evaluation."

A murmur rippled through the meeting room; some nodded in agreement, while others exchanged knowing glances.

Hu Li nodded calmly, his tone steady: "Thank you for your trust, supervisors. I will adjust the construction priorities and traffic flow according to the current progress to ensure that the overall sensory experience and the smoothness of space use develop in tandem."

Mu Tianlang added calmly, "Efficiency comes first; a balance must be struck between art and practicality."

Hu Li smiled and said, "You'll find that the space that truly makes people remember you isn't the one that's perfect, but the one that leaves a lasting impression."

Their eyes met briefly, then parted, yet a silent tension lingered in the room.

A manager in the design department coughed, trying to steer the conversation back on track: "Mr. Mu, just to be on the safe side, shouldn't we make the storage room at the back of the tea room completely enclosed as per standard? Considering that guests will be entering the garden later, to avoid accidental entry or causing suspicion, there's no need to add observation holes or ventilation gaps—"

Mu Tianlang raised his eyes, his tone extremely calm yet unquestionable: "The standard is the lower limit, not the upper limit."

The storage room is 'ventilated and has a bypass'—featuring observation holes on both sides, an upper ventilation slit, and manual bypass; it's fully enclosed.

Midway through the meeting, the clouds outside were thick and oppressive, and the air conditioner was humming loudly.

Suddenly, with a "click," the circuit breaker tripped, and the light bulb went out with a "snap," plunging the entire room into darkness, as if covered by a black cloth.

Five seconds later, the current reset, and the air conditioner resumed blowing air with a "whoosh." The crowd froze for a moment, several pen tips hovering in mid-air, before breathing and the rustling of paper gradually returned.

A very soft "tap" sounded as the bottom of the glass touched the table, and she subconsciously looked up. Even from two seats away, she clearly saw his hand tighten around the glass, his thumb and forefinger clench, before he pushed the glass away about two fingers' width, as if moving something hot away, or perhaps creating some distance. Such a small movement wouldn't be visible from a distance.

She didn't ask any further questions, but simply turned the pen tip to a different angle, switched to a softer B-type lead, and continued drawing lines on the sketch. The pen tip paused for a moment before touching the paper, as if waiting for someone to breathe first.

As the meeting ended, someone approached with a gossipy tone: "Designer Hu, you and President Mu—"

She smiled and said in a low voice, "Let's just talk about construction and traffic flow, and not anything else for now." The whispers around her immediately quieted down.

Her tone was indifferent, like an air conditioner breeze sweeping across the table. The person paused, then awkwardly stepped back. She looked away, her fingertips fastening the pen cap tightly with a "click," leaving only papers and lamplight on the conference table.

[City center, specialty store, afternoon]

Sunlight streamed in obliquely through the half-height shop windows, making the store resemble a quiet white box.

Hu Li chose three cups—three different shapes and materials: one coarse black earthenware, thick-walled and wide-mouthed; one double-walled glass, thin but not good at retaining heat; and one matte black earthenware cup with a thin lip and a gradient of white inside, its rim gently tapering. The matte surface felt like a quiet person, warm only when you get close. She placed her palm on it, and the heat slowly spread outward from the earthenware, like someone finally breathing.

She pointed to the black one. The shop assistant smiled, "A gift?"

"Give this to someone who's not to be trifled with." She twirled the rim of the glass in the light, lightly tapping the mouth with her knuckles, as if listening to a heartbeat.

The shop assistant said, "This one also has a reverse color, white on the outside and gradually turning black on the inside." She added, "This one has thin lips, so it's easy to drink from."

Hu Li raised an eyebrow: "Thin lips are fine, but not cut lips."

She also asked for the cup with the contrasting color, placed the two cups side by side, casually picked out the black one, and took three pictures with her phone:

The first picture is just foggy black;

In the second picture, the rim of the cup is brought into the light, creating a very faint rim.

In the third photo, she is holding the cup with her hand, only her fingertips are visible.

Before sending it, she typed a line below the last picture: "This cup is like you: cold on the outside, warm on the inside. Would you like to try a sip?"

The dialog box displayed "Entering..." at the top and then disappeared.

He deleted and rewrote, his reason and heartbeat locked in a tug-of-war for a few seconds, before finally sending out only eight words: "What often scalds people is temperature."

She smiled and replied instantly: 【Did you get burned?】

There was silence on the other end. Then the message "Type..." popped up again and disappeared.

After a few seconds, he said first: "Don't mix personal matters into work."

Next: [Official procedures.]

She replied: "I'll buy it myself."

He: [Not in compliance.]

She: [I didn't say I was giving it to you.]

The moment the words left his mouth, he held his breath, as if he had been lightly touched by a needle.

The shop assistant pushed the storage box over: "Would you like it engraved? We can engrave it on the bottom of the cup."

Hu Li shook his head: "No need. Leave a mark at the bottom of the cup."

The shop assistant didn't understand, but she did—some things don't need to be written down; just leave them on the wooden table, and the water will flow in circles on its own.

She posted another photo, so close you could only see the rim of the cup, adding the caption: "[Don't worry, I won't cut my lips.]"

Finally, the other side replied in a non-official tone: "Only when you see something thin do you realize how light it is."

She stared at those five words, feeling a gentle touch on her heart, but refrained from asking further questions.

"Do you want it packaged?" the shop assistant asked.

"Two layers of paper will do." She swiped her card to buy two, keeping one for herself and putting the other in a plain kraft paper bag.

At the checkout counter, she opened her little sketchbook and sketched a little fox in the corner of a page, its tail wrapped around the edge, with two small dots on either side of the circle. She put the pen back in the circle and nodded to the clerk.

As she stepped outside, the sky darkened further, and the wind made the shop sign sway gently. She switched the paper bag to her other hand, and her phone vibrated.

He: [Work matters should be handled via email.]

The official jargon returned. She paused for a moment: "Understood, Mr. President."

The other person seemed to feel it was too cold, and slowly added another line: "Thin lips should avoid touching cups, as they are easily scratched."

She stared at that sentence for two seconds, then replied: 【Are you in charge of the cup, or me?】

The three dots jumped around for a while, but he didn't reply. Instead, a very straightforward image appeared—a face with a zipper opening.

She understood; it was a signal to stop flirting, and also a way of restraining herself.

Back at her place, she hung the paper bag on the back of a chair by the entryway, intending to take it with her when she left the house the next morning; she also tore off a small note and stuffed it into the bag: "No need to erase the border, just know it's there."

She poured half a glass of ice water into her glass. The white exterior looked lovely against the wooden surface, and a ring of water slowly appeared at the bottom of the glass.

That area wasn't dirty; it was reserved seating. She took a picture with her phone to save it.

At eleven o'clock at night, he looked at the coffee cup on his desk. He moved the rim of the cup half an inch to the side, his gaze lingering on the small empty space, as if making room for something.

The phone screen lit up, showing the unread message list. He didn't reply, but simply pressed his finger on that blank space, as if pressing his heartbeat back down.

[Resort. Outdoor glass walkway. Evening]

The following day, a warm, salty breeze blew through the park, the air dry yet slightly damp.

In the distance, the electrical distribution box, which was being tested for lighting, made a "click, click" sound from time to time. The glass corridor was still being tested for lighting, and the light groups were lit up in sequence.

Hu Li walked over and saw Mu Tianlang standing at the corner, seemingly waiting for a return on the project.

The test lights flickered, casting two shadows, one cold and one warm, on his profile; further away, the walkie-talkie buzzed once, then fell silent again.

She raised her hand in greeting, and he nodded, preparing to leave.

She quickened her pace, stopped at the corner where the shadow met the glass, and called out to him, "I'll buy the black one."

He stopped. She took a step closer and handed him the paper bag: "Are you afraid of getting burned? Then learn to be hugged."

Here's the cup; just remember—keep the warmth for the person.

He looked at her, neither taking it nor backing away. His fingers tightened, his gaze sweeping over the red dot on the overhead security camera before returning to her palm.

The reflection in the glass showed two figures approaching each other, their silhouettes overlapping.

Just then, a group of lights went out, and the silhouettes drew even closer, like an unspoken approach.

"You choose," she suddenly said.

"What to choose?"

"Do you want to learn the first rule today?" she whispered, a smile in her eyes, "Don't cower when you get bitten."

He was silent for half a second. She took the cup out of the paper bag, and gently bit the rim with her teeth, making a very soft sound, almost inaudible to others, like stamping.

He finally reached out and took the cup first. There was a brief pause; his breathing slowed, as if he were holding something down.

He paused for a moment, his gaze falling on the faint light around the rim of the glass. His hand tightened slightly, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

He then took the paper bag, tightened the drawstring under his knuckles, and the paper rustled softly.

He put the cup back in the bag, slid his thumb along the rim of the cup an inch, and quickly withdrew his hand.

In that instant, my palm felt a heat—not a burning sensation, but a permitted scorching.

This isn't flirting, but it's more dangerous than flirting.

He turned his head to the side, his gaze briefly meeting hers before parting again; her eyes paused for a moment, as if pressing light into his brow.

When the test lights came back on, the white light swept across the edge of the glass, and he subconsciously composed himself.

[Resort. Inner courtyard transition space. Afternoon]

The following day, the corridor connecting the tea room and the inner courtyard still retained the lingering patina of the brief shower from the previous night, and the early summer sunlight had warmed the stone surface.

The ground was dry, with only a trace of warm dampness seeping upwards from the cracks in the stones, like an invisible line. The continuous grid of columns divided the path into square frames, outside which was a shallow water garden. Several circular platforms, like white moon discs, hung on the water's surface. The shadows of trees overlapped on the gray walls, and as the wind blew, patches of light slid across them.

In the distance, there was a long wooden bench and a small stool, like a temporary rest stop.

She walked along the base of the pillars, her shoes making a light "tap" on the rough-hewn surface. She ran her hand over the beveled edge of the eaves to make sure it wouldn't cut her. Reaching the corner, she stopped and said to the construction worker, "Just keep the light close to the ground."

"Relying solely on light?" the engineer asked doubtfully.

The project manager noted: "Is a guardrail needed?"

She looked at the water: "We won't build high railings; the water will be the boundary."

"Make anti-slip chamfers on the edges of the truncated cone, and add lights on the inside of the column base at night; the light will be enough for the cone to slide along the ground."

Footsteps approached from behind. Mu Tianlang arrived, his suit cuffs gleaming briefly in the sunlight. He didn't speak, only glancing at the exits out of the corner of his eye.

She raised her hand and gestured with a square: "The draft is strong, so we'll leave an opening to allow people to breathe."

The engineer then asked, "Should the wiring be drawn more clearly?"

Hu Li said, "During the day, we rely on natural light to walk, and add lights on cloudy days or when turning corners; we don't draw ground lines, we let the light itself slow people down."

The project manager looked at Mu Tianlang.

Mu Tianlang then said, "Do it." His tone was flat, like pressing a nail into wood.

She glanced back at him, her smile faint, as if amused by the interplay of light and shadow.

The manager turned back from the direction of the tea room, carrying several sample hard signs: "Make the font one size bigger and change the arrows to red, so people won't get lost."

Hu Li took the sample, casually placed it at the base of a pillar, took a half-step back, glanced at it, and shook his head: "Remove the sign. Use the painting to lead people away here."

The manager was taken aback: "If you don't need the cards, what are you showing the guests?"

She spread the drawings on a small stool and drew a clean line with her pencil: "Look at the diagram, not the words." First, she drew a simple mark pointing to the tea room—a small teapot for direction, with only a tiny line below saying "Tea Room"; then she drew a mark pointing to the shallow water garden—three water ripples pushing forward, with a small crescent dot for direction, easy to understand without words. Next to it, she only marked the position of the upper wall in the middle of the column grid on the diagram: "The diagram should be placed at eye level; during the day, rely on natural light, and add some lighting on cloudy days or at corners. The text is only supplementary, and should be small. The marks are just reminders, not distracting from the overall picture."

Before the supervisor could say anything more, she added, "Order is in the graphics, and warmth is in the white space."

Mu Tianlang glanced at her and said to the head of the department, "Make the pattern according to her design. Remove the cards."

The sea breeze blows through the long corridor, and the bamboo shadows sway on the white walls, like a moving painting.

She first placed two small blue dots on the inside of the column base to mark the first set of supplementary lights, like two non-intersecting marks on a piece of paper; then she stood up and made two marks with a pencil at eye level in the middle of the column grid to mark the positions.

He stood to her left and slightly behind, not over her shoulder. His gaze fell on the back of her hand—a faint red mark on her knuckles from a rough wooden strip. He lowered his voice: "Where are your gloves?"

"It's not serious." She didn't look at him and pressed the little blue sticker back in place.

He stopped halfway through his reach, tore off a blue sticker, and silently handed it to her dominant hand; their fingertips brushed against each other for a fleeting moment, very lightly, like a breeze. He withdrew his fingertips, as if held back by that tiny bit of stickiness. She took it, casually pressing the sticker onto the inside of the pillar base without looking up.

Afternoon test. The light briefly dimmed and then brightened again, causing the water surface to ripple.

He stood beside her in the middle, just close enough for them to catch their breath. She stared at the light-reflected edge of the wall at the base: "Take it in two centimeters more."

He nodded at the project: "Accept."

The supervisor muttered, "Who can tell it's only two centimeters?"

She said calmly, "I can't tell, but I can sense it."

He added, "What's needed here is that the boundaries of light are correct." After he finished speaking, there was a two-second silence.

An employee carrying a tea tray passed by, hesitated for a moment at the corner.

Hu Li shifted to the side, letting the wind pass; the glasses clinked softly, like a reminder not to lean too close. She suddenly asked, "Do you care about being watched, or about the person watching?"

He paused for a moment: "I care about how I'm seen."

She chuckled softly: "Then let the light handle the visuals, not the mouth."

He hummed in agreement, a sound that resembled both a promise and a form of self-restraint.

The engineer set up the test light, but the focus was off by half an inch; the shadow was lengthened and briefly overlapped at the corner of the wall.

She didn't adjust it immediately, letting it pause for a moment; only after someone passed by did she raise her hand and turn the light back two degrees, the shadows slowly separating and returning to their own sides.

As he turned to look at the wall, his Adam's apple bobbed slightly; he pressed his fingertips against his cuff, as if trying to put something away, but not quite managing to.

As the sun set, the white walls were bathed in a soft, warm glow. She finished marking the last set of locations, stood up, and ran her hand across the side of her clothes, her fingertips still feeling slightly sticky.

He stepped aside to make way for the entrance and casually asked, "Don't work overtime tonight."

She hummed in agreement, but put the remaining blue sticker back into her bag: "I'll go back and work out the flow and rhythm, and show it to you tomorrow morning."

"I'll tell you tomorrow," he said softly, as if he were saving the answer for later.

Just before leaving get off work, the operations team came to discuss access control and signage: "People keep going into the wrong area, should we block off one end?"

Mu Tianlang looked at her.

Hu Li thought for a moment: "Leave both ends open so people can freely connect. Don't seal it off. Place the guidance at the entrance—use visual aids at eye level as the main element, with text only as supplementary; small print can be added in the inner corners. No floor stickers, no ground lines."

He nodded and concluded: "Keep both sides. The entrance map for this area will be displayed on the wall at eye level; keep the text simple. There will be no directional signs on the ground, only lighting. We will first implement the design based on the draft provided by Designer Hu in the three areas under his responsibility."

[Resort. Staff Dormitory. Night]

There were still a few messages popping up in the company's intranet group. Engineer Xiao Wang quietly messaged her: "It seems like someone was loitering in an area they shouldn't be taking pictures of today. Security is checking, so don't get involved."

Hu Li replied with only two words: "I know," and then turned his phone upside down.

The dormitory's narrow corridor was bathed in soft yellow light, with a few rays of light shining through the cracks in the doors.

She tucked the copied "movement rhythm" back into the small sketchbook, pressing a shallow crease in the corner of the page with a pencil—two points on either side of the crease, needing no explanation to anyone.

At the sink, she rinsed the thin red mark on her fingertip under the water, pressed it for two seconds, and dried it. She picked up a small piece of tape, compared it to the mark, and then smiled and put it away—it didn't hurt, so she didn't want to use it.

The wind rustled softly through the coconut leaves outside the window. She sat back down at her desk and began to summarize the day's events in three columns: light, wind, and people. She stopped halfway through writing the last column: "People will tell you the answer themselves."

My phone lit up again; it was a group announcement: "Routine inspection of the north glass corridor will be conducted at 9:00 AM tomorrow. Unauthorized personnel are not permitted to enter."

She stared at the words, tapped her knuckles on the table, and whispered, "I'm involved." She fully charged the camera battery, leaned the drawing tube against the wall, and left only the necessary pens and paper in her bag.

Before turning off the lights, she put her personal white cup back on the shelf. She tore off a note and tucked it into the back cover of her small sketchbook—leaving only one sentence for herself: Rules remain, and so does warmth.

She turned off the light, and the dormitory returned to silence, like the surface of water finally stilled of ripples. She quickly fell asleep.

[Resort. President's Office. Night]

Later that evening, Mu Tianlang typed out his reply to the work request in two lines in his office and sent it out decisively:

"Inner courtyard transition corridor: both sides are retained."

"Based on the design drafts provided by designer Hu, the three areas under his responsibility are first marked on the wall at eye level; the floor is only illuminated, and the same applies to the ground."

The cursor blinked twice more, but he didn't add anything more.

At night, he poured half a glass of ice water into the black, matte glass. A thin ring of condensation formed on the glass, and a faint mark slowly appeared on the wooden table at the bottom.

He didn't wipe it, but simply moved the black, foggy cup back to the center, letting the ring of watermarks fade away on its own, as if keeping the proximity visible.