093 Liu Ziqing's Schemes

They might as well go to an upscale club and have some fun. It is Black-and-White's birthday, after all; everyone ought to go out and relax. We do not often get the chance to gather like this,” Xiaoyu said a little coquettishly.

“Would a club even let minors in?” Qin Mo shot her a glance.

Chen Qing smiled. “Some places will, if an adult is with you. Why don't we all go sing? Last time, Xia Xia even said she would sing for me.”

Lin Xia pouted. “What do you mean? You were the one who said you used to be the head of your university's cultural and entertainment department, and that you wanted to compete with me.”

Black-and-White nodded in agreement. “That sounds good. I like singing.”

Wanwan said, “I like it too.”

Qin Mo said, “Though I like it very much, my own singing is so unbelievably good that I fear it would make all of you feel inferior and ashamed. So I have decided that while you are singing, I shall cheer you on in encouragement.”

Xiaoyu rolled her eyes at her. “Go on and brag. Everybody knows you are hopelessly tone-deaf. The way you wail is enough to scare the living daylights out of anyone.”

They teased one another for a while, and in the end the plan was settled. On Black-and-White's birthday, after dinner, they would go to the club to sing.

The two weeks of training passed quickly. Xu Yin only lectured for three days, but for Lin Xia, those three days were already precious beyond measure.

Thinking that, eight years later, he would win the Nobel Prize, it felt almost impossible even to get a glimpse of him.

On the B-side, things turned out much as Lin Xia had expected: full and happy, a chance to savor another kind of life.

Meanwhile, Xie Pihua in Rongcheng had not been very happy these days.

Lin Xia had gone to B City. Zhao Qian had returned to her hometown. Sun Xiaoxiao had gone to Qingdao with her parents. She alone stayed cooped up at home all day, bored out of her mind, or else went to harass You Xin.

But You Xin was not a girl, after all. He had his own circle of friends, went out to play basketball with the boys, and had to practice the piano to prepare for the grade-eight examination.

Without friends around her, Xie Pihua suddenly found life becoming unbearably dull.

One day, carrying a bag on her back, she wandered the streets and, without realizing it, found herself at the gate of the old Number One Middle School in Rongcheng, where her brother would soon be studying as well.

The admissions score for the new Number One Middle School was much higher than the old one, but because the new campus was far outside the city center, it was very inconvenient to get home by bus and the like. So Chen Zimo applied to the old school, and later she would apply there too.

Looking at the old school gate before her, Xie Pihua walked in.

She searched the court for a while but saw no sign of Chen Zimo, only Zhou Meng showing off in that flashy way of his.

The spectator stands were already packed with girls, most of them from the middle school division of their school, some from the high school division, and the rest, who looked unfamiliar, were probably from other schools.

Today’s match had been organized by some of the students from their middle school division who had been admitted to high school, so it counted as a friendly game.

When Xie Pihua arrived, the match was at halftime. Zhou Meng had both arms resting on his knees, surrounded by teammates, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. His tall frame still stood out sharply on the court.

Those dark eyes, when fixed on you with concentration, could make you feel as if they were bottomless. His nose was high, his brows thick, and his features were completely unlike her older brother's—distinctly carved, hard of outline and strong of contour.

Her brother's hair had always been soft, his bangs hanging down over his forehead, neat and fresh to look at.

Zhou Meng's hair, by contrast, was like a bristling hedgehog, each strand standing straight up, bright and open as sunshine.

While Xie Pihua was observing him, he had already finished speaking and waved the others away to rest.

Then he lifted the hem of his loose jersey and wiped his face with it, exposing his abdomen.

Thinking of the times she and Lin Xia had privately discussed boys' figures, and of what Lin Xia had said then, Xie Pihua now felt strangely flustered, almost as though she were doing something furtive.

A man ought to have eight visible abs for a truly good figure. And he should have broad shoulders too, so he can give girls a sense of security.

Lin Xia's words seemed still to ring in her ears. Think about it: the inverted-triangle shape, solid and sexy—that is what a perfect body looks like.

Because she had worshiped her brother since childhood, in her mind the only truly outstanding boys were boys like him.

She had never expected that there could be this kind of boy as well: tanned skin, tall stature, a brilliant smile, white teeth, and an air that was a little wicked, a little unruly.

It was also the type girls liked.

Lin Xia had opened a window into another world for her, letting her step out from under Chen Zimo's shadow and into her own emotional life.

In that world, she was the true master.

The whistle blew, and the game began.

Watching Zhou Meng's fierce play on the court, Xie Pihua felt a strange little ripple stir in her heart.

She had not expected a person with such a feminine name to have a personality so utterly at odds with it.

Perhaps men looked especially handsome when they were in motion, or perhaps one might say that a serious man was the most attractive of all. Looking at him like this, Xie Pihua found, quite inexplicably, that he had become pleasing to the eye.

She had always been a willful person and never showed kindness to anyone she disliked. She did not like Liu Ziqing, and since the day she met her, she had never once spoken a good word to her. She also could not stand Zhou Meng's roguish manner, and treated him with the same coldness.

His teammate passed him the ball; he received it, dribbled, drove in, and shot.

Perhaps drawn in by the tension of the game, Xie Pihua stared fixedly at the ball arcing through the air.

It went in.

Xie Pihua let out a breath of relief, then heard the ecstatic cries burst forth from every girl in the stands, and saw Zhou Meng whistle and wave toward the audience.

In her heart, Xie Pihua cursed him fiercely: show-off.

Then she looked again at those excited girls, and cursed them too: fangirls.

A strange feeling stirred again in her, and she thought angrily, What is so great about him? He is not even as handsome as my brother, and yet there are so many girls who like him. Have all of them gone blind?

“Zhou Meng, Zhou Meng, I love you, just like a mouse loves rice!” one girl suddenly stood up from the stands, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted loudly.

And Zhou Meng, amazingly, even smiled and looked this way.

Xie Pihua glared at him fiercely, then looked at the girl who was clutching her companion's hand in excitement and thought disapprovingly: So this is watching basketball? Isn't it really just watching handsome boys? How superficial.

Ignoring that faint, strange feeling in her heart, she turned and left the court.

Sure enough, Xia Xia had been right: what interests girls is not basketball, but the boys who play it. It was true in the past, true now, and would still be true in the future.

Xie Pihua muttered resentfully. She had already strolled the streets for a while, then walked from the gate of the old Number One Middle School to the court, and after standing there watching the game for so long, she was tired as well.

She found a large tree, sat down in the shade, and took from her bag the summer masterpiece Overstep by Liuyan. Carefully, she opened the cover.

Because Lin Xia and the others were all occupied with their own matters, even Lin Xia, who would return the soonest, still needed two weeks. So after buying the book, Xie Pihua had not dared to read it.

She was afraid that once she finished it, those two weeks would become terribly boring.

But now, since she had nothing to do anyway, she might as well read part of it now and save the rest for another day.

Xie Pihua thought this to herself, and then a line printed on the title page struck straight into her eyes, piercing her heart with a numb, aching sting.

We always hurt the people nearest and dearest to us without restraint, because our power extends only that far: to wound them.

A dedication to the distant you, in the sorrow of young Werther.

Then came the text.

From the moment she saw those words, Xie Pihua's heart had already completely fallen into the story, and her whole mind began to follow the life of the heroine in the pages before her.

She said that a man who likes to wear white is an immature man. Yet all girls always like to see refined boys dressed in white, because it makes them better fit the image of the prince charming in their hearts.

Even if that prince is only a false reflection.

Xie Pihua suddenly thought of her own brother. This boy who always loved white clothes—was it because he himself liked white, or merely because girls liked it?

She felt a little lost.

She watched helplessly as Gu Xiaoran was blinded by jealousy, as she step by step walked into Su Lingyun's scheme, as she drove away everyone who cared for her one by one, as she went from a cherished darling adored by all to a delinquent girl shunned by everyone.

Xie Pihua's heart sank little by little with the heroine's as well.

How alike they were—she and Gu Xiaoran, how alike they were.

Could this be Liu Ziqing's scheme?

Just like Su Lingyun in the story, using her weakness and her quiet persuasion to win, bit by bit, the heart of her brother, the heart of her parents, over to her side.

The more she targeted Liu Ziqing, the more innocent Liu Ziqing would seem, and the more unreasonable her parents would think Xie Pihua was. She had not caused Liu Ziqing any real harm at all, but if anything happened to Liu Ziqing, the first person everyone would think of would be her.

Because everyone knew she disliked her, and because everyone knew it, no proof would be needed. All the blame would fall on Liu Ziqing's head.

Just like in the story, when Su Lingyun deliberately ruined her own book, scratched her new clothes, smashed the crystal ball that Gu Xiaomo had given her, the one she treasured most, and then framed Gu Xiaoran.

Who would believe that Su Lingyun, who cherished books so much, would destroy one? Or that Su Lingyun, who liked Gu Xiaomo so much, would smash the crystal ball he had given her, a crystal ball that held the very love between them?

And then, little by little, she would achieve her hidden purpose.

Thinking of how every time she saw Liu Ziqing she lost her temper, and of Chen Zimo's disapproving gaze and slightly reproachful words, Xie Pihua became even more certain.

It was all Liu Ziqing's doing. She truly was deeply calculating.

Then why? Why was she scheming against her?

Xie Pihua felt as though she had been hypnotized by the story, inexorably folding Chen Zimo, herself, and Liu Ziqing into its pages, and then sinking wholly into it.

After Gu Xiaoran's fall, the first angel of her life appeared: a bright and cheerful young man named Lin Chen.