Dormitories at Beijing Normal University.
Su Qingyue sat on the bed, a comparison picture on her phone screen.
On the left Yan Ruanning, on the right is Pei Jingshu, and below are netizens' comments. " Cheng Che's type is very obvious: tall, mature face, aloof temperament, and long legs."
She stared at the picture for a long time.
Then she put down her phone, stood up, and walked to the full-length mirror in her dorm room.
Her own face was reflected in the mirror.
Standing at 1.72 meters tall, with delicate and well-proportioned features, and a natural, understated elegance in her eyes and brows.
When she's not smiling, her lips are flat and her eyes are calm, giving her a cool and aloof air.
She has long legs and has been praised for her good proportions since she was a child.
Su Qingyue
Su Qingyue looked at herself in the mirror and remained silent for a few seconds.
Then she breathed a sigh of relief.
She looked down at the four-leaf clover pendant on her chest, touched it with her fingertips, and slowly curved her lips into a smile.
She turned around and sat back on the bed, picked up her phone, crossed out the comparison picture, opened the music app, and played " Chasing the Wind ".
She hummed along, not loudly, but in perfect tune.
As she hummed, she clutched the pendant in her hand, her eyes curving into crescents.
In the courtyard of the alley.
Su Miaoyin sat cross-legged on the sofa, holding a cushion in her arms, with the comparison picture on her phone screen.
The more she looked, the angrier she became, and the angrier she became, the more she looked.
Finally, she couldn't hold back any longer, switched to a new account, and went straight into the comments section.
[What's so great about these two? One's a singer, the other a pianist. Shouldn't Cheng Che look for a girlfriend from Peking University? There are tons of beautiful girls Peking University, why are you all worrying?]
After she sent the message, her fingers typed faster on the screen. Someone replied to her quickly.
[I believe Peking University has many geniuses, but beauties? You're kidding me. Look at the average appearance of female students at Peking University before you say that.]
Su Miaoyin was so angry her nose almost twisted.
She gripped her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white, as if she desperately wanted to reveal her identity.
She took a screenshot of the reply, stared at it for a long time, and muttered, "You're the one with low average looks, your whole family has low average looks."
Lin Lin, who was next to her, leaned over and saw her screen, and then she saw her puffed-up face, which was full of anger.
What are you doing?
"Nothing." Su Miaoyin placed her phone face down on her lap, her expression still indignant.
Lin Lin leaned closer and whispered, "Are you arguing with someone?"
Su Miaoyin did not respond.
Lin Lin thought for a moment, then suddenly smiled and patted her on the shoulder.
"Let me tell you, those of them who are in the limelight may seem glamorous, but they actually have fewer opportunities. Think about it, Yan Ruanning is a celebrity, she's photographed wherever she goes. Pei Jingshu is a student, but she's also being watched. The more conspicuous they are, the greater the pressure."
Su Miaoyin looked up at her.
Lin Lin leaned closer, lowering her voice even further. "With me as your strategist, what are you afraid of? We'll sneak into the village quietly, and avoid firing."
Su Miaoyin's eyes lit up.
"What's the meaning?"
"Think about it yourself." Lin Lin leaned back on the sofa, crossed her legs, and looked smug with an air of smugness.
Su Miaoyin stared at her for two seconds, then the corners of her mouth slowly curled up.
She picked up her phone again, deleted the comment from the alternate account, then tossed the phone aside, hugged her cushion, and her eyes sparkled.
Zhao Xiaoman, who was sitting next to her, witnessed the entire scene.
She looked down at Lin Lin, then at Su Miaoyin, and sighed inwardly.
One single person is teaching another single person.
That's interesting.
Hall 2, auditorium seating.
Pei Jingshu wore a dark green short-sleeved knit top today, with the neckline just right, revealing a clean section of her collarbone.
Below, she wore light-colored linen trousers and canvas shoes.
His hair was down, and he wasn't wearing a hat or a mask.
She sat down confidently in the middle of the fifth row, next to her best friend who was wearing a red coat.
The surrounding audience didn't react at first, then someone recognized her.
A little girl holding a phone stared at her for several seconds, then excitedly patted her companion next to her.
The two huddled together and whispered a few words, secretly raising their phones.
Soon, more and more cell phones appeared around us.
Someone was pretending to film the basketball court, but the camera was tilted towards her.
Someone is flipping through a photo album, trying to make sure they haven't mistaken someone for someone else.
Pei Jingshu did not dodge.
She didn't even look down at her phone. She sat there, her gaze fixed on the court, a faint smile playing on her lips.
Her best friend, watching from the side, was filled with mixed emotions.
She had known Pei Jingshu for many years.
From high school to university, Pei Jingshu was always the kind of person who was aloof and somewhat distant.
Many people pursued her, but she was indifferent to all of them.
Her best friend once thought that Pei Jingshu might never take the initiative to like someone in her life.
But now, Pei Jingshu is sitting in the stands of a tennis match, without any pretense or concealment, openly allowing everyone to take pictures.
Her best friend sighed inwardly.
She was too decisive when it came to love. So decisive that she was unlike anyone she knew.
My best friend glanced around the stands.
She didn't see anyone resembling Yan Ruanning.
That's right. Yan Ruanning is a celebrity. After such a big incident, how could she dare to come to the scene?
The moment they appear, they trend on social media; the moment they trend, it's considered an implicit confirmation; and the moment it's considered an implicit confirmation, it's considered passive.
My best friend figured this out and realized that her analysis made a lot of sense.
Yan Ruanning's studio in Capital City.
Yan Ruanning sat on the sofa, her phone screen displaying a comparison picture of her and Pei Jingshu.
She scrolled through a few pages of comments, then turned off the screen and put her phone on the coffee table.
She returned to Capital City after watching the competition yesterday, and she has a song to record today.
She hadn't planned to go back to the scene, but then Pei Jingshu's incident happened.
The rumors snowballed and grew bigger and bigger. Before she could even respond, the internet had already compared her to Pei Jingshu countless times.
She could not respond.
A response would confirm the case, and confirmation would put her in a passive position. She could only watch; there was nothing she could do.
Yan Ruanning leaned back on the sofa and closed her eyes.
She didn't care about Pei Jingshu. She was just a student; no matter how pretty she was, she was still just a student.
What she cared about was Cheng Che. What would that kid think when he saw these news reports?
Will he find it annoying? Or will he be indifferent?
She didn't know.
She picked up her phone, scrolled to Cheng Che's WeChat, typed a few words, and then deleted them.
She dialed it several times, and finally turned the phone over and placed it face down on her knee.
"It's frustrating," she muttered softly.
Hall 2, Players' Tunnel.
The loudspeaker came on.
"Ladies and gentlemen, now entering is the Russia athlete, Andrei Volkov."
Volkov walked out of the passageway.
He was 1.93 meters tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His dark brown hair was shaved very short, revealing a faint old scar on his forehead.
He was wearing a white sweatshirt, holding a racket in his right hand, and walking with a steady gait.
Polite applause rang out from the stands, not enthusiastic, but he didn't care.
He stood behind the baseline and began stretching, his expression calm.
"Next up is Xia Country's player, Cheng Che."
At the exit of the players' tunnel, the shadows were cut by a pair of long legs.
Cheng Che came out.
The stands in Hall 2 looked like a switch had been turned on.
Cheers erupted from all directions; some shouted his name, some yelled "Go! Go!", and some shouted something in Korean.
Pei Jingshu, sitting in the fifth row, didn't shout, but she stood up, cupped her hands around her mouth, and gently clapped her hands.
Cheng Che walked onto the court, put down his tennis bag, and took out his racket.
As he bent down to check the strings, his gaze swept across the stands, lingering for a moment on the dark green figure in the fifth row.
Then he looked away, walked to the center of the court, and stretched his wrists.
Volkov stood opposite him, his 1.93-meter frame like a wall.
He looked down at his racket and didn't say anything.
The referee signaled for them to prepare.
Cheng Che tossed the ball up and swung his racket.
The match has begun.