Peninsula: Aiming for a Grand Slam

Thursday.

night.

Liu Zhimin went to the restroom.

Taking advantage of this brief moment, Ningning grabbed her phone.

The screen is unlocked.

She scrolled through her contacts and quickly located a contact named "Account Reconciliation".

It rang three times before the other end answered.

"Feed".

"Xiao Chen, it's me, Ningning." She lowered her voice and spoke quickly, "Jimin unnie injured her wrist."

The person on the other end paused for a moment: "How did you get hurt?"

Ningning took a deep breath:

"I fell while practicing dance. I don't need a cast, but I can't move around for a while now."

"She's been absent-minded since yesterday. Today she went to the open space by herself and just stared at that wall. When she came back, she wouldn't talk to anyone."

The other side fell silent.

But my breathing became heavy.

She paused for a second, then lowered her voice even further: "If it's convenient for you, give her a call... but don't tell her it's me!"

Ningning hung up the phone without waiting for his reply.

Then, delete the call logs.

……

……

Was she injured?

Is someone looking at that wall?

Chen Jixian felt as if he had suddenly returned to that empty space, back to that night in the elevator when he asked her for her phone number.

I hesitated for a while.

He swiped the screen, found Liu Zhimin's name, and pressed the dial button.

It rang four times before the other end answered.

He didn't say anything.

He didn't say anything.

About two seconds later, Liu Zhimin's voice came through the receiver, muffled as if through a blanket: "...Yubu Saiyu".

"You hurt your hand?" he asked.

"Did Ningning tell you?"

"...Anyway, I understand."

He did not betray Ningning.

perhaps.

"...I'm fine, just a minor injury."

She didn't pursue the matter with Ningning.

They didn't ask why they called at night.

Liu Zhimin said, "I fell while practicing dance. I didn't have a cast, and I'll be fine in a few days."

"How did you fall?"

"I just... spaced out."

Chen Jixian did not respond.

For a moment, he didn't know what to say.

When asked why she was daydreaming, she knew the answer herself.

When asked why she spoke so harshly that day, he had a pretty good idea.

She was wrong.

But she was only worried about herself.

Moreover, Chen Jixian also had shortcomings.

"Why didn't you explain yesterday morning?" Liu Zhimin suddenly asked.

Chen Jixian opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

She continued, "I didn't know at the time. I thought you were acting impulsively, I thought you were showing off."

"...Because you're not wrong. No matter how I explain, I'm just making excuses."

"What?"

Chen Jixian's voice was very soft:

"I'm just a nobody. Female idols don't need me to protect them. You're right."

"The ITF's accusations, the Blue House petition, her involvement... all of these were caused by my actions."

Ultimately, it's because I didn't do my best.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

Then, Liu Zhimin's voice drifted over—carrying a hint of grievance that had just been caught and hadn't yet been completely wiped away:

"...You just think you're very handsome."

Chen Jixian did not respond.

There was a two-second silence on the phone.

It seemed that both of them were waiting for the other to speak first.

He heard Liu Zhimin take a soft breath and then exhale, as if she was pushing something back down her throat.

One can imagine that she had a slightly aggrieved expression on her face while lying in bed.

He suddenly chuckled slightly.

It was very light and so short that it barely counted as a laugh.

But she still found out.

"...What are you laughing at?"

"I didn't laugh."

You smiled.

You misheard me.

He leaned against the headboard, the back of his head against the wall, and the water stain on the ceiling had spread a little more at the edges.

He switched the phone to his other hand.

Then he asked:

"So, do you think he's handsome?"

The tone was very soft.

He was asking a question he already knew the answer to, but wanted to hear her admit it herself.

The other end of the phone went silent.

It was quiet for a long time.

He thought she wouldn't answer anymore.

then,

Her voice came through—indistinct, rapid, as if squeezed out from between her teeth.

"...just a little bit."

……

Liu Zhimin hung up the phone.

She rolled over, lay on her back, and stared at the ceiling.

The corners of her mouth turned up.

It wasn't until her cheekbones started to ache that she realized—she was smiling.

Instead of laughing at the phone, I laughed at the ceiling.

She asked herself: Aren't you stupid?

She buried her face in the pillow, blinked twice, and reached out to pull the blanket over her head.

It was dark inside the blankets, and she pursed her lips in the darkness, realizing she was still smiling.

"Just a little bit!"

She said it aloud.

I actually said it out loud.

It wasn't "It's alright," it wasn't "Get lost," it wasn't Echizen Ryoma, it was herself.

She kicked the blanket, creating a bulge, then curled up and buried her face in her knees.

The base of my ear is hot.

The skin beneath the plaster on my wrist was also burning.

Ningning was startled when she came in.

Liu Zhimin was curled up on the bed, the blanket crumpled into a ball, her head sticking out, and her ears were flushed.

"Unnie," Ningning stood in the doorway, her voice tinged with uncertainty, "Are you... alright?"

She poked her head out from under the covers, her expression still a bit sullen – a smirk still lingered on her lips.

"It's okay, the milk tea was just too sweet."

Ningning glanced at the cup of milk tea on the bedside table.

Unopened

The straw wasn't even inserted.

How wronged!

She retreated to the living room and gently closed the door.

"It's only been a short time? And it's already so sweet?"

From the moment she made the phone call to tip off Liu Zhimin, to the moment Liu Zhimin blushed and laughed under the covers, was it really ten minutes?

Starting Wednesday, Liu Zhimin became absent-minded, refusing to drink milk tea, use her phone, stare at the wall alone, and ignore everyone. The entire dormitory was too afraid to even breathe.

Then, Chen Jixian made a phone call, and Ou Ni hid under the covers and chuckled.

She even pointed to the unopened milk tea and said, "It's too sweet."

Ningning mentally went through the sequence of events: she tipped him off, he called, not long after, it was over.

What kind of healing efficiency is this?

A high school senior whose main job is playing tennis and whose side job is running an emotional hotline?

One phone call was all it took to turn a female idol from being completely distracted to kicking herself under the covers. Isn't that a bit too much of a skill?

Ningning narrowed her eyes and mentally labeled Xiao Chen: This person is dangerous; observation is recommended.

But she won't say it.

Any word spoken in this room could cause a huge problem if it got out.

A female idol's love life is like a sealed can; even the most ambiguous scraps cannot be allowed to leak out.

She needs an outlet.

The kind that turns a corner.

Ningning picked up her phone, scrolled to Gisele's chat window, and typed a message.

"Shota Nakamura's loss was not unjustified."

The other side is too cunning.

After sending,

Place your phone face down on the coffee table.

Three seconds later, Gisele's voice came from the next room: "What?"

Ningning didn't reply.

"...Why are you suddenly bringing this up?" Giselle's voice drifted over again, sounding completely bewildered.

Ningning picked up the cup of milk tea—which was already deemed "too sweet" before it was even opened—and shoved the straw in hard, taking a big gulp.

Cool.

……

……

Chen Jixian hung up the phone.

"Just a little bit."

He repeated the three words, his voice very soft, as if confirming something.

This time, there was no Ryoma Echizen to shield her.

Liu Zhimin is very good.

Talking to her is not tiring.

She used thorns to catch people, and he used thorns to catch them too. She scolded him for showing off, and he hung up on her.

Every interaction between them felt like a pull-off.

Back and forth, no need to guess, no need to be careful.

But Bae Joo-hyun is different.

When he was with her, he had to think carefully about every word he said.

When he was at his loneliest, she brought him tuna rice balls, saying, "It's on my way."

When everyone was criticizing him, she sent him a message saying "Go back to work," and faced the storm alone.

She memorized his name, his picture, and everything he had ever done, and then let him know at the most opportune moment—I remember you.

Although it's not easy.

But it made him feel more at ease than relaxed.

He shook his head, sat up, and reached for the tablet on the bedside table.

Kim Sung-jun, two rounds of qualifying, three rounds of main tournament.

Every match was a 6-0 victory, and every match lasted no more than an hour.

Open the video, and you'll see Kim Sung-jun standing at the baseline, repeating the same scoring pattern at least ten times.

Boss Cui's words echoed in my ears again.

"You earned your place in the qualifiers by playing every single point, and you got the trending topics by bearing the pressure of 200,000 people."

"You built this stage, don't let Kim Sung-jun take away what belongs to you."