The air in the practice room was icy cold, the AC humming like a trapped insect, blowing down an artificial chill that settled over everyone like cling wrap. Lin Wanzhao walked in without a word, didn't look at anyone, and didn't smile. She went straight to the water cooler in the corner, filled her cup to two millimeters below the rim, and stopped. Not a drop spilled.
It was a habit she'd perfected over ten years—never letting anything slip, not even water.
But today, her fingers trembled.
"New guy's here," said Chen Dao, leaning against the doorframe, cracking sunflower seeds with his teeth. He spat each shell into the trash bin with sniper precision. "The one who's late—go clean the lounge."
No one moved.
Three seconds passed.
Then, from the back: "Me."
Not loud. Not defensive. Not rushed.
Everyone turned. Gu Xingye stood up, shirt wrinkled, sleeves rolled to the elbows, dragging a mop like it weighed nothing. He smiled like he'd just woken up. "Sorry. The train broke down. Someone fainted on the platform, full evacuation."
"Oh?" Chen Dao raised an eyebrow. "So you're heroic?"
"No," he shrugged. "Just late."
Xiao Lu snorted. She was one of the new trainees, twenty years old, eyes bright like freshly unwrapped bulbs. She'd been obsessed with Gu Xingye since she saw his old high school basketball photo—number 12, grinning mid-dunk, teeth white against the gym lights. She'd even posted it in the group chat with a heart emoji and the caption: Is this real life??
"Alright," Chen Dao waved. "Go. Don't waste time."
Gu Xingye nodded, turned, and walked out. As he passed the water cooler, Lin Wanzhao turned with her cup.
Their eyes met. Hers stopped.
His neck had a silver chain, old, worn at the edges, the pendant dull from years of skin contact. Sunlight cut through the blinds, hit the metal—just for a second—and flashed.
Then the memory exploded.
Rain. Night. Alley. She's curled against the wall, school uniform torn, water dripping from her hair. Three boys circle her, laughing, saying things that make her stomach twist. She tries to run. Can't. Legs won't move.
Footsteps. A shadow. Thin, but steps in front of her.
"Leave her." The boy's voice is quiet. But they back off.
She shoves the necklace into his hand. Her voice shakes: "Don't lose it. It has my name—'Zhao.'"
He turns. Under the streetlight, his eyes burn like fire.
"Zhao-jie. Don't be afraid."
Lin Wanzhao snapped back. Her cup nearly slipped.
She looked down, steadied her breath. No one noticed. She was good at this—hiding collapse in the 0.1-second flutter of an eyelash.
"Lin-laoshi?" Xiao Lu leaned in, eyes wide. "You okay? You look pale."
"I'm fine." Her voice was flat, like a teleprompter reading. "Where's the new guy?"
"Cleaning the couches!" Xiao Lu pointed toward the lounge. "I helped him find the cleaner. He's so chill—he asked if I was nervous. I said, 'Dying,' and he said, 'Relax, it's not the execution ground.' I nearly died laughing."
Lin Wanzhao didn't respond. She walked toward the lounge, heels clicking—each step heavier than the last.
The hallway light was yellow, like old film stock. She saw Gu Xingye crouched under the coffee table, scrubbing the base. He looked up when he heard her.
"Oh, top-tier celebrity doing her rounds?" He grinned.
She didn't smile. Her eyes locked onto the chain at his collarbone.
—Her Quantum Sense flickered.
[Item: Silver Pendant]
**[Origin: Childhood savior's keepsake]
**[Linked to: Gu Xingye (identity pending)]
[Memory Match: 82%]
**[Warning: Emotional fluctuation critical. Disguise system near collapse.]
Her heart missed half a beat.
"Where'd you get that pendant?" she asked. Her voice was calm—too calm.
He paused. Looked at her like he was weighing how much truth to give. Then slowly wrung out the mop. Water dripped into the bucket. Drip. Drip. Drip.
"Found it," he said. "Some old guy at a market said, 'This thing's been waiting ten years.' So I bought it."
She stared. He was lying. His eyes weren't blank—they were hiding. And not because he didn't know; but because he knew she'd recognize it. It was a game. A tease.
"Lin-laoshi!" Su Wanqing arrived in stilettos, a cloud of perfume preceding her—so strong it could kill mosquitoes. "Late on day one, disrespectful to seniors. By the rules, performance cut. No A-group."
Lin Wanzhao realized she'd been standing too close. She stepped back, reassembled her mask. "Follow procedure."
"Wait," Xiao Lu whispered, "I thought Lin-laoshi would go harder. Last time someone was late, she made them cry in front of everyone."
Su Wanqing narrowed her eyes. She'd hated Lin Wanzhao since day one—fifteen, crying in the rain, viral, overnight fame. Twenty years on, still on top, still untouchable. Meanwhile, Su Wanqing? Child actor rejected, now deputy director, still taking orders.
"Gu Xingye," she flipped open the file. "Late, sloppy clothes, attitude problem. A group is out. B-group, physical training."
Gu Xingye clicked his tongue, leaned the mop against the wall. "Cool. Wasn't here to be cute anyway."
Lin Wanzhao turned to leave. Her earring slipped.
She reached up—but saw it roll to Gu Xingye's foot. He bent, picked it up. Didn't hand it over. Just held it between his fingers, looked at her.
"Jie," he said, softer now, a hint of a smile. "You dropped something."
She froze.
Not because of the earring.
Because of the word: Jie.
He used to call her that.
"Zhao-jie. Don't be afraid."
The room went quiet for two seconds.
Xiao Lu's mouth hung open. Chen Dao's seed-cracking hand froze mid-air. Su Wanqing's face twitched—Lin Wanzhao never lost composure. But now, her lashes trembled. Her throat moved. Like something had pinned her in place.
Three seconds later, Lin Wanzhao reached out, took the earring, expressionless. "Thanks."
She turned, walked fast. Nails digging into her palm.
She got into the elevator, hit close, leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes.
Her Quantum Sense pulsed:
[Keepsake Confirmed: 67%]
**[Memory Match: 82%]
**[Warning: Emotional overload. Disguise system failing.]
She exhaled, pulled out her phone, and sent an encrypted message to Chen Dao:
[Check Gu Xingye. Focus: childhood address, South City Alley, fire records.]
Elevator doors opened. She stepped out, face already cold again.
No one knew she'd just survived an earthquake.
Meanwhile, Gu Xingye stood in the lounge, watching her go, thumb brushing the edge of the pendant. He whispered, "Zhao-jie, I've waited longer for this than you ever could've."
Wind blew down the hall. The pendant swung, just slightly—revealing the back, nearly worn smooth, carved with a single character: "Ye."
----
This version aims to simplify the narrative while maintaining the emotional depth and suspense. It focuses on the key moments and interactions between Lin Wanzhao and Gu Xingye, making it easier for readers to follow the story and understand the characters' emotions.