I really didn't intend to make a living based on my looks.

And so, life became regular.

Jiang Chen attends classes during the day, and his rented room becomes his small studio at night.

The sounds of guitars, keyboards, humming, and discussions often continue until late at night.

Zhang Yisan, Yang Zi, Bai Xue, and a few others often came here in the evenings when they had nothing to do.

They called it "supervising work," but in reality, they were just freeloading.

Jiang Chen didn't stand on ceremony: "You can eat if you want, but bring your own food."

So the group would often bring groceries to each other's house, with Jiang Chen in charge of cooking. After eating, they would listen to music, chat, and fool around together.

The small rented room gradually came to life...

……

Room 301 next door.

In front of the full-length mirror, a slender and tall figure is stretching her limbs to the accompaniment of soothing music.

The girl was wearing tight-fitting yoga clothes. The light gray sports vest outlined her slender waist and full bust, while the black high-waisted yoga pants tightly hugged her long legs and rounded hips. She looked like a cheetah ready to pounce, with smooth lines and a sense of power.

At this moment, the arms slowly rise, the body bends backward into a graceful arc, the fabric in front of the chest is stretched tighter, but the waist is as supple as a willow branch.

She has a typical exotic look, with a pair of almond-shaped eyes set in deep-set eye sockets, and slightly upturned corners of her eyes, giving her a cool and aloof air when she is not smiling.

A high, straight nose bridge is the finishing touch to the facial features, and the tip of the nose is small and delicate.

Her lips are full and plump, and even when she's not smiling, the corners of her mouth are slightly upturned, giving her a naturally charming and innocent look.

Her name is Gulinazha, she is from northern Xinjiang and is of Uyghur ethnicity.

In 2009, she graduated from the dance department of Xinjiang Art College. She originally wanted to join the Xinjiang Military Region Art Troupe as a dancer and have a stable job. However, the troupe was undergoing restructuring, and newcomers were not given permanent positions. She had no choice but to give up this path.

After graduation, she also participated in the China Professional Model Competition and won the "Most Photogenic Award", which gave her more opportunities to shoot print ads, magazines and commercial events in mainland China.

She came to Beijing at the beginning of this year and became one of the "Beijing drifters".

The goal, of course, is to apply to the Beijing Film Academy!

So when I was renting a place, I specifically chose Huangtingzi Community, which is close to Beijing Film Academy and convenient for attending some exam preparation classes.

However, although she needs to prepare for the art college entrance exam next February, she is still taking on some modeling work.

After all, art exam training and renting a place both cost money, and she didn't want to ask her family for money.

Her father has a heart condition and needs to take medication regularly.

I was quite satisfied with my life until a few days ago, a guy moved into apartment 303 next door.

From that night on, her days were never peaceful.

Actually, the other party wasn't being unreasonable.

They didn't make a big fuss in the middle of the night, nor did they play music or throw a party; you could even tell they were deliberately keeping their voices down.

But the soundproofing in this old house is really bad.

The floors were made of brick and concrete, and the walls were so thin they looked like paper.

Unfortunately, the boy's schedule was completely opposite to hers.

She leaves home at six in the morning to attend events and returns at seven or eight in the evening, so tired that all she wants to do is lie down.

The neighbors next door, however, started getting lively after dinner, with guitars, keyboards, and humming, going on and on until eleven o'clock.

Like mosquitoes, buzzing around, impossible to swat or shoo away.

……

Nazha finished work very early today.

I arrived downstairs at 7:30, carrying a bag of fruit.

Seedless white grapes, from Xinjiang, are her favorite.

She's been in Yanjing for over half a year now, and she can tolerate everything else, but the one thing she still can't get used to is not being able to eat authentic grapes from her hometown.

This bag was brought over from Xinjiang by a fellow villager; it was incredibly expensive, so she couldn't bear to share it with anyone.

I climbed up to the third floor, and before I even reached the door, I heard the sound of a guitar coming from room 303 next door.

It was intermittent, like practicing a solo; if you made a mistake, you would stop and start again after a while.

She stood in the corridor and took a deep breath.

Take another deep breath.

"Here we go again..." she muttered softly, "It's always at this time, and he doesn't even sing that well. Where did he go with the tune..."

"I have to film a movie tomorrow, and my skin is all worn out. I have to talk to him about it today."

She clenched her fist to encourage herself.

"How about... we talk to him about it?"

But as soon as I took half a step, my mind started racing.

"What if he's a greasy, middle-aged man who's attracted to me?"

"What if the other party is particularly aggressive and yells at me for meddling as soon as they open the door?"

"What if he attacks? I definitely can't beat him..."

She shrank back and retreated.

"No, no, that's too dangerous."

But then the guitar music started playing next door again, this time a different song.

She gritted her teeth and began to encourage herself again.

"I'm a dancer, I can do backbends and splits, how could I lose to someone who plays guitar?"

"Besides, this is a society governed by the rule of law. What can he do to me?"

"I'll try to reason with him; he can't just be unreasonable, can he?"

"At worst... I'll just curse and run away."

She took a deep breath, clenched her fists, and strode to the door of 303.

dong dong dong.

The guitar music stopped, and footsteps approached.

The door opened.

Naza had prepared a lot of things to say, but they all got stuck in her throat.

The man at the door looked like he had just taken a shower; his hair wasn't completely dry, with a few stray strands hanging down his forehead.

He was wearing a loose black T-shirt with a large neckline, revealing a section of his collarbone and the lines of his shoulders and neck.

He was very tall; she had to look up to see his face.

He had sharp, striking eyebrows, a high nose bridge, and a jawline as clean as if it had been cut with a knife.

At this moment, her skin was still covered with a thin layer of moisture, making her look like she had stepped out of a magazine cover.

Jiang Chen was also taken aback.

Naza? ? ?

How did this girl end up at his doorstep?

"Hello, what can I do for you?"

Naza stared at his face, her mind blank.

What's wrong?

Huh, what am I here for?

She blinked, then blinked again.

I can't remember at all.

Only one thought kept playing in my mind: This guy is so handsome.

How come he lives here?

How could someone look like that live in this building?

Shouldn't he be on TV or on magazine covers?

Naza looked up at him, her mouth slightly open, her eyes glazed over, as if she were in a daze, her mind completely blank.

Jiang Chen waited a moment, and seeing that she didn't react, asked again, "Are you alright?"

Nazha suddenly snapped out of his daze, his face flushing red, the redness spreading from his ears all the way down to his neck.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but her mind was completely blank.

His lips moved several times, but not a single word came out.

Then she looked down and saw the bag of grapes she was carrying.

Her gaze shifted back and forth between Grape and Jiang Chen's faces several times.

"……that."

Jiang Chen looked at her.

Would you like some grapes?

Nazha handed over the bag of grapes he was holding.

Jiang Chen: "??????"

……