Chapter Twenty-Four: A Dress Rehearsal Fraught with Mishaps

Li Liwei spent several days in a state of constant anxiety, but to his surprise, Cheng Xiaoyu seemed to have no intention of troubling him. Li Liwei attributed this to Cheng Xiaoyu’s guilty conscience—perhaps there was some unspeakable secret behind his show’s survival. He browsed the forums, where those who had lost points clamored for Li Liwei to come out and streak. Li Liwei held nothing but contempt for such internet squabbles; these fleas who only dared to hide behind screens were never worth his attention. Reality was the harshest battlefield, and he had never been willing to be the weak one.

He was not only clever but also self-reflective. On sleepless nights, he pondered what he had learned from the humiliating ordeal. He gained, for himself, some of the most crucial lessons in life: never underestimate any opponent, no matter how weak; never corner yourself unless absolutely necessary; even with absolute certainty, always leave a retreat. He didn’t yet realize that this small insight would rescue him from countless future dead ends. Nor did he know that, when he finally reached the pinnacle of his life, he would quietly thank the person who now made him feel so unbearably awkward.

Cheng Xiaoyu, of course, cared nothing for Li Liwei’s thoughts. At this moment, he was squatting by the entrance of Fudan’s Grand Hall, sipping a cola and boredly waiting for the rehearsal to begin. Because a high-ranking official was visiting Fudan, the rehearsal had to be delayed.

Now, the lawn in front of Fudan’s Grand Hall was packed with high school students from four different schools. Cheng Xiaoyu claimed a prime spot at the hall’s entrance, a vantage point from which he could watch the lively crowd on the lawn and not miss any passing university beauties. He took a certain pleasure in this leisurely idleness.

It wasn’t until the sun dipped westward and the university students headed to the dining hall for the freshest meal rush that a teacher called the students into the Grand Hall. At this age, students were generally easy to manage, most waiting patiently in place. Had it been his classmates from his previous life, after waiting so long, they would have long vanished or run off to surf the internet.

Inside the hall, the four hosts had formed pairs on stage. Each school sent one host. Fudan High’s representative was the tall basketball captain Chen Jiajun. Seeing Chen Jiajun, even the chubby students couldn’t help but feel jealous—not only was he tall and long-legged, but also upright and well-proportioned. A basketball captain who looked not rough but delicate as a girl—had he not been so overtly delicate, there wouldn’t be such debate over whether Sun Zihao or Chen Jiajun was the true Fudan High heartthrob.

Paired with Chen Jiajun was a short-haired girl with a model’s figure, wearing the uniform of Fengxian Girls’ High. When this short-haired girl from Fengxian Girls’ High spoke, the female students from her school erupted in delighted screams. Cheng Xiaoyu was taken aback by their frenzy, causing him to open his eyes and take a closer look at her.

She was, indeed, breathtakingly beautiful. Girls daring enough to wear short hair in this era were usually independent and unconventional. Looking closer, her features were exquisite, her eyes large and lively; gazing into her black eyes, they seemed to plunge into unfathomable depths. Though dressed in a simple school uniform, she exuded a natural air of nobility; her every gesture marked her as someone from a distinguished family. Her voice was clear as pearls and refreshing as mountain spring, intoxicating all who listened. Watching and hearing such a flawless girl was like drinking a chilled cola during the summer heat—an instant, all-encompassing refreshment.

Cheng Xiaoyu couldn’t help but compare her to Su Yuxi. In terms of beauty, they were evenly matched, impossible to declare a winner. Both were exceptional; if one had to choose, it would depend on personal taste. Su Yuxi was ethereal and refined, like a secluded orchid, airy and graceful; whereas this girl’s eyes sparkled with cold pride and lively charm, yet carried an irresistible allure.

Shanghai High’s host was a bespectacled boy of scholarly bearing, while Gezhi Private School sent a foreign girl, resembling a porcelain doll and lending an exotic flair. Overall, these two hosts paled in comparison. With each school presenting five to seven acts, rehearsal time was unusually tight. Because they started so late, at first every act was performed seriously, but by six-thirty, when dinner time arrived, barely half the programs had run. The teachers from the four schools gathered and decided to speed things up: only walk through the staging, no actual performances, mainly to record the order.

The female host from Shanghai High announced that those with urgent matters could leave, but each act had to leave at least one person for the walk-through. Thus, Cheng Xiaoyu found himself alone in Fudan’s Grand Hall—Xia Shamo had to hurry home to cook, Chen Haoran simply didn’t want to waste his time. Their act was near the end, the twenty-first of the lineup.

Things sped up after that. Su Yuxi’s piano solo was in the middle; only the host announced it, as she herself did not attend. Big names, after all, have their privileges. With most people gone, the hosts were no longer so formal; all four stood on stage, and whoever’s turn it was simply spoke up.

When the twenty-first act arrived, it was the short-haired beauty from Fengxian Girls’ High who announced it. She glanced at her list, frowned, and with a hint of surprise pronounced the word “Sin.” Cheng Xiaoyu jumped onto the stage, but missed the step and fell flat, causing the microphone and speakers to screech. Even the short-haired beauty was startled, taking a small step back. Laughter rippled through the crowd. Seeing Cheng Xiaoyu sprawled on the floor like a panda, the short-haired beauty burst into uncontrollable laughter, while Cheng Xiaoyu, still lying there, cast her a plaintive look as if to ask, "Is it really that funny?" Embarrassed, she turned away, covering her mouth as she continued to laugh.

Cheng Xiaoyu stood up, awkwardly dusted himself off, as everyone smiled at the chubby figure holding a cola bottle aloft in his right hand.

Unfazed, Cheng Xiaoyu waved to the few remaining in the audience, then loudly proclaimed, “Let me ask everyone a question—guess what color it is! If you guess right, I’ll tell you the answer!” The girls below were momentarily bewildered, and even the hosts seemed puzzled. At this point, the teachers had all gone backstage to check equipment, leaving only students. Some bold boys shouted back, “Blue!” Others said, “Red!” or “White!”

The short-haired girl, realizing what he meant, blushed furiously but couldn’t get her words out before Cheng Xiaoyu jumped off the stage and shouted, “Haha, actually I didn’t see, but I guess it’s black lace.” Without looking back, he ran toward the hall’s exit. Behind him, he heard the sound of a microphone hitting the floor, then felt a rush of air and something struck his back hard.

Cheng Xiaoyu knew he’d gone too far, and didn’t dare turn around, grinning as he dashed out of the hall. He didn’t know why he’d impulsively cracked such a joke—maybe it was pent-up silence, maybe it was too many misunderstandings that kept him always on the defensive. He felt so far from those dazzling people; the girl’s laughter, though innocent, pierced his hidden pride like a needle. He refused to spend his life watching others shine with envy, as he had before. Now, he could only quietly accumulate strength, quietly stretch his wings in the dark, waiting for the chance to soar.

Walking beneath Fudan’s streetlights, Cheng Xiaoyu mused in self-pity, “I’m obviously a Ferrari, yet everyone treats me like a tractor. Is there no one who can see through my unparalleled, elegant, and reserved pride?” He had no idea he’d gotten himself into big trouble, angered someone beyond his capacity to handle—a fighter jet among women, a tyrannosaurus among queens, and a beautiful one at that.

Cheng Xiaoyu exited Fudan, lonely as snow, to find Wang Huasheng had been waiting at the front gate for quite a while. Cheng Xiaoyu had called to tell him to go home first, but he hadn’t.

Su Yuxi sat quietly in the car, reading. Cheng Xiaoyu sneaked a glance and saw it was Dickens’s “David Copperfield.” After peeking, he sat upright, put on his earphones, and took out his own book, “The Rise of Empire in Late Qing and Early Republic,” reading absentmindedly.

After a while, a phone rang. Cheng Xiaoyu checked his pocket—no vibration, so it wasn’t his. Few people called him except Wang Ou. He closed his book, and then heard Su Yuxi’s clear, melodious voice.

“Hello, Ning Ning, it’s rare for you to call at mealtime.”

“Don’t get me started, I almost died of anger thanks to a brat from your school today.”

The car’s soundproofing was excellent, and the phone’s volume wasn’t low, so Cheng Xiaoyu could hear everything clearly. Though he wore earphones, there was no music playing—he’d paused the opera disc because he didn’t like it.

Su Yuxi seemed to have a close relationship with the girl on the phone; their conversation was casual and lively. Cheng Xiaoyu rarely saw Su Yuxi smile, but while talking to this girl, her laughter was abundant.

“What could possibly make our Lady Xu so angry? Tell me, I’m curious.” Su Yuxi leaned against the window, smiling.

“Hmph, I was actually harassed today! If he’d been handsome, I could have let it slide, but he was a creepy fatty. If I find him at your school, I’ll make him regret being born!” After hearing this, Su Yuxi glanced at Cheng Xiaoyu, who was pretending to listen.

At that moment, Cheng Xiaoyu felt like a thousand wild horses were galloping back and forth inside him. Fate truly loves its coincidences—he now knew, with absolute certainty, that the girl on the other end of the call was the one who wanted him to regret ever being born.