Tong Yao was holding a half-eaten piece of bread when she returned to the competition venue, only to find the second round of matches had already begun... Seeing the fans seated below, waving their glowing cheering banners, her heart ached again. She no longer had the mood to watch the game and just wanted to finish the interview quickly so she could return to the team headquarters and hug her cat. Without lingering for even a second, she headed straight backstage.
To her surprise, she encountered someone she never expected to see in the backstage lounge.
"Captain?" Tong Yao froze at the doorway, still holding the door open. "What are you doing here?"
"The interview suddenly turned into a duo interview, so I came."
Lu Sicheng looked up from his phone and immediately noticed the person standing outside the door, drenched like a drowned rat—her entire body was soaked, her hair plastered awkwardly to her face, as if she had just been fished out of water... Lu Sicheng set his phone aside and raised an eyebrow. "How did you end up like this? Didn’t you borrow an umbrella?"
"I did, but there was a little accident," Tong Yao pushed the door open and walked in, sneezing from the blast of air conditioning. She sniffled. "I gave the umbrella to someone else."
Lu Sicheng grabbed a blanket from the lounge and tossed it to her, then somehow produced a dry, warm handkerchief—Tong Yao wrapped herself in the blanket and used the handkerchief to dry her hair. "Where’s the interviewer?"
"Waiting. I thought you wanted to watch the second match, so I told them to wait first." Lu Sicheng glanced down at her and paused before asking, "Why didn’t you watch the match?"
Tong Yao’s hands stilled for a moment.
Lu Sicheng arched an eyebrow.
She quickly resumed drying her hair, though her head drooped even lower. "Didn’t feel like it," she muttered quietly. "Seeing those fans... it just makes me uncomfortable... Why do they even come? What are they chasing after so desperately? The champions in their hearts? Or the personas they’ve imagined? The people sitting on that stage aren’t as great as they think—they might even be worse than them..."
As if a floodgate had opened, her words spilled out incoherently, her voice growing softer and more despondent—
Until she felt the hand that had been roughly scrubbing her hair suddenly seized. She looked up, bewildered, meeting a pair of deep brown eyes.
Tong Yao: "... Cheng Ge? What’s wrong?"
Lu Sicheng replied expressionlessly, "That’s what I should be asking you."
Tong Yao fell silent.
Then she spoke.
"... I ran into that woman again. The one from that day—Xu Tailun’s. At first, I thought she was just annoying, but now I realize how pitiable she is as a fan." Tong Yao lowered her hand but didn’t pull away from Lu Sicheng’s grip. "Fans always imagine the people they like as something better—whether it’s Xu Tailun or us... They do whatever they want without considering the feelings of those who adore them, then get exposed, get destroyed—when I think about it, this whole scene just doesn’t deserve anyone’s admiration, it’s too—"
"It’s not as bad as you think."
"..."
Tong Yao’s voice cut off as she lifted her head."At least your teammates are doing pretty well, aren't they? They never go anywhere except the team headquarters, turning the China Telecom headquarters into a monastery," Lu Sicheng said expressionlessly. "Everyone's very well-behaved."
"..."
That tone sounded like praising a pet.
"It's unfair to judge everyone based on one or two individuals. Didn't I remind you of this before?" Lu Sicheng said with a serious face. "I'm a good person."
Tong Yao blinked.
At that moment, she felt the hand gripping her wrist tighten slightly.
"Your situation is concerning."
"...Concerning?"
"If you become disillusioned with this circle before I get the chance to say anything, that would be troublesome."
As he spoke, Lu Sicheng released Tong Yao's hand, then seemed to realize something was off and grabbed it back into his palm—he leaned down slightly, bringing his face closer to her dazed expression, gazing deeply into her still somewhat vacant eyes.
"There are still good men in this circle—handsome, wealthy, skilled at gaming, who don't screw fans, treat the headquarters like a monastery, and every morning are practically reciting Buddhist scriptures."
"...Who?"
"Me."
"..."
"So," the man pursed his lips slightly, his expression tense, his deep brown eyes narrowing, "let me ask you again what I asked that day. Do you want to give it a try?"
Tong Yao's brain completely froze.
She could only reflexively ask—
"...Try what?"
"Me."
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