Chapter 80 After returning from South Korea, in the team...

After returning from South Korea, there was a meeting with the team. Then it was officially the end of the semester. At that time, Kwon Ji-yong was still in Japan filming additional commercials. Ren Xiyao went back to school to work on her graduation thesis. By the end of March, all universities had started their semesters. For the graduating students, besides excitement, there was always a touch of reluctance.

Ren Xiyao stood at the school gate, looking up at the gilded school badge. In March, the wind in Beijing still carried a lingering chill of winter, whipping her bangs into a flutter. It was her holiday. Logically, she should have gone to Hainan to visit her parents, but inexplicably, she wanted to come back for a visit.

Graduation season is approaching. She'll probably only be able to rush back to take a couple of graduation photos then. But actually, she wants to wander around and look around some more.

A new secondhand DV shop had opened near the school gate. Several old-fashioned video cameras were displayed in the window, and a red sign on the glass read "Graduation Season Special Offer." Ren Xiyao hesitated for a moment, then pushed open the door and went inside.

"This is a classic Sony model from 2004. Although it's a bit old, the image quality is very retro." The shop owner, a bespectacled young man who looked like an upperclassman, enthusiastically introduced the product: "It's especially suitable for taking graduation photos."

Ren Xiyao took the black DV camera. It was heavy, and the body was a little worn, but the lens was clean. She looked out the window through the viewfinder. The stone lions at the school gate, the students hurrying by, and the sycamore branches swaying in the wind were all covered with a yellowish filter, like a scene from an old movie.

Can I try it out?

"Of course. But please leave your student ID here as a deposit too." The shop owner handed her a memory card: "It's fully charged, feel free to take pictures."

Ren Xiyao thanked them and handed over her student ID. She then walked out of the store with her DV camera. The sunlight was perfect; she squinted and pressed the record button.

A straight avenue of ginkgo trees appears in the shot. Every autumn, it is covered with golden leaves, rustling underfoot. Now, new buds are just sprouting on the branches, and tender green leaves tremble gently in the wind.

Ren Xiyao walked slowly forward, her DV camera aimed at every corner she passed: a boy sitting and reading on the stone steps in front of the library, the camera panning across the library's Roman columns, the glass curtain wall of Mingde Building, and the red brick wall covered in ivy on the second floor of the public teaching building. There were art students sketching with their easels by the basketball court, and a girl licking an ice cream outside the convenience store…

These most ordinary daily campus activities are a luxury for her.

Even though she attended regular high schools from a young age, she didn't actually spend much time on campus. Before joining the national team, things were fine; she still had time to spend at school every day. But after being selected for the national team, her life was filled with training and competitions. While her peers were passing notes in the classroom and secretly holding hands on the playground, she was covered in bruises from falling on the ice rink. While others were busy checking their graduation theses for plagiarism, she was fighting tooth and nail in the finals of the World Championships.

She chose art history and theory as her major herself. Her coach was initially against it, thinking it would take too much time.

But that's just how she likes it.

I love those quiet cultural relics, I love the colors that have traveled through thousands of years, and I love the fulfilling feeling of running back and forth between the training hall and the library.

The camera panned to the corridor of the Humanities Building, where sunlight streamed through the glass windows, casting diamond-shaped dappled patterns on the floor. Ren Xiyao remembered that winter during her freshman year, she had just finished an important competition and returned to catch up on her studies, her body aching all over. That day, the weather was just as beautiful. She sat by the window, and as the professor explained the compositional techniques of "Along the River During the Qingming Festival," she stared absently at the bare branches of trees outside, suddenly realizing that if it weren't for the utilitarian pursuit of fame and fortune, literature and art would truly be the most beautiful things in the world.

Ren Xiyao pushed open the rusty iron gate; the rooftop was empty. Four years ago, on the day of freshman registration, she had hidden here for an entire afternoon. Many clubs were recruiting new members that day. She was afraid of feeling awkward and unable to participate, yet she couldn't resist the enthusiasm. But she also wanted to be close, to feel like she could be a normal student. So she found this place, watching the bustling recruitment scene in the distance.

The DV camera panned across the faded graffiti on the fence, then suddenly stopped at a line of small print: 2012.9.10 Ren Xiyao

She paused for a moment, then leaned closer to look.

It was definitely his own handwriting, carved with a key, with a crooked, slippery ice skate drawn next to it.

Back then, she had just been selected for the national team and was full of high spirits, thinking that life would always be like the ice rink, accelerating in a straight line, overtaking on curves, and always rushing forward.

Until the captain's injury and retirement, the sarcastic remarks from certain clubs, injuries, slumps, comebacks...

Ren Xiyao reached out and touched the words, causing the DV camera to shake slightly. Looking back, the campus in the viewfinder was actually more vivid than she remembered. She stared at the low-resolution reflection, then suddenly raised the DV camera, flipped the lens, pointed it at her own face, and pressed the record button.

“I’m at R University,” she said to the camera. “I bought a second-hand DV camera.”

In the picture, her hair is blown about by the wind, and the setting sun is gradually sinking behind her.

"I'm graduating soon." She paused, her voice softening, "...I miss you a little."

"May we have a long and peaceful future together!"

She put down the DV camera and realized that her eyes had been filled with tears. For four years, this campus had smoothed out her sharp edges as an athlete, teaching her to face victory and defeat with greater composure. The "pathos to things" she learned in her ancient book restoration class, and the "the ultimate splendor returning to simplicity" she read in art history, all became the source of her confidence as she skated on the ice.

The setting sun bathed the rubber track in an orange-red hue, and before she knew it, the afternoon had passed. Ren Xiyao sat on the top step, turned off the DV camera, and took her phone out of her bag.

There are three unread messages on the screen, all from Kwon Ji-yong:

We've arrived in Tokyo.

"This lousy ad will take three days to film."

"miss you."

The last message was posted ten minutes ago.

Ren Xiyao opened the camera, took a picture of the sunset, sent it, and then typed: "At school."

Kwon Ji-yong replied instantly: "Graduation photo?"

"It's not time yet, just browsing around."

"Bought a DV camera?"

Ren Xiyao raised an eyebrow: "How did you know?"

Ren Xiyao smiled, raised the DV camera, and recorded a short clip of the playground. The footage showed several boys playing soccer, their cheers broken and intermittent by the wind.

She texted Kwon Ji-yong: "Doesn't this remind you of your youth?"

"My youth was way crazier than this." This was followed by a smoking emoji.

Ren Xiyao thought of his dyed hair, tattoos, and nightclubs, and suddenly wondered what her youth would have been like if she hadn't become an athlete and had just studied diligently.

My phone vibrated again: "Why did you buy a DV camera?"

Ren Xiyao gazed quietly into the distance, watching the students hurrying past below with their books in their arms: "Graduation is just around the corner."

The phone was silent for a moment. When Kwon Ji-yong texted again, his voice was much gentler: "What did you photograph?"

"Library. Art studio. Magnolia flowers."

"Anything else?"

"...My shadow."

Kwon Ji-yong chuckled: "Why aren't you taking pictures of your classmates?"

"Not familiar with it."

"Ren Xiyao".

"Um?"

“You’re really…” he seemed to be searching for the right word: “So cute.”

The school bell rang outside the window, startling a flock of pigeons. Ren Xiyao watched them flutter over the gray roof of the School of Literature and suddenly said, "This place is nice."

"School?"

“Yes.” She paused. “Like another world.”

There were no unfair refereeing decisions, no bloodstains from ice skates, and no media questioning "why did we lose this race?" Only a quiet library, faded picture frames, and eternally young magnolia blossoms.

Kwon Ji-yong seemed to understand her unspoken words: "Bring a DV camera next week."

"what?"

"Take a picture of me." He said matter-of-factly, "I'm part of your world too."

Ren Xiyao watched the last rays of the setting sun disappear below the horizon in the viewfinder and softly hummed in agreement.

The sun had set behind the library. Ren Xiyao packed up her DV camera and slowly walked towards the school gate. As she passed the School of Humanities, she heard someone playing guitar and singing "My Deskmate".

She stood outside the window and listened for a while, then picked up the DV camera and, with the little battery she had left, pressed the record button.

By the time I got back to the store, it was almost dark. "Decided to buy it?" The shop owner took the machine to check it.

Ren Xiyao nodded: "Could you burn a CD for me?"

"Of course, it's a graduation souvenir." The shop owner smiled as he uploaded the video: "By the way, which department are you in?"

"Art Theory".

"No wonder the composition is so good." The shop owner pointed to the preview screen: "This sunset shot is just like a movie."

Ren Xiyao watched the campus moving across the screen: swaying tree shadows, running students, the small words on the rooftop, the lights in the art gallery... It turned out that this was also her youth.

It's a world away from the competition, not intense or crazy, but real enough.

"Thank you." She took the burned CD. "Goodbye."

As I stepped out the door, my phone rang again. Kwon Ji-yong sent me a picture of Tokyo Tower at night: "I'll bring you here next time."

Ren Xiyao put the CD into her bag and replied, "Okay."

Meanwhile, at the Japanese advertising shoot location, in stark contrast to the serene atmosphere here, a makeup artist was styling Kwon Ji-yong's hair when his manager suddenly came in with a schedule: "The schedule for the next fan meeting has been sent over. They've added a segment where we'll be reading fan letters."

Kwon Ji-yong, with his eyes closed, said, "I'm not going."

"It was decided by the president."

I said, I'm not going.

The manager froze on the spot. The makeup artist's hand trembled slightly, and the hairspray went astray. The teammates next to her also kept their eyes down, not daring to say a word.

The door was suddenly pushed open, and Yang Hyun-suk walked in with his assistant: "What's wrong? Does our GDxi have some ideas again?"

Kwon Ji-yong opened his eyes and looked at him in the mirror: "President, the contract doesn't say I have to read fan letters. I still have that much freedom, right?"

"The contract doesn't say you can date freely." Yang Hyun-suk chuckled and patted his shoulder with a strong grip: "Don't forget, BigBang was able to make a comeback and hold concerts because of the resources the company provided. How many K-pop groups have such a grand 10th anniversary celebration?"

Kwon Ji-yong suddenly stood up, and the comb in the makeup artist's hand fell to the ground.

"President," he said, emphasizing each word, "the theme song for our 10th anniversary tour was written by ourselves, the dance was choreographed by ourselves, and the planning was also done by ourselves. Everyone can see our sincere desire to give back to our fans."

Yang Xianshuo's face darkened.

“Of course, the company is very important. We are cooperating very well.” Kwon Ji-yong suddenly smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. He emphasized the word “cooperation”: “So I will do my best to make the meeting a success.”

He sat down again and straightened his collar in front of the mirror: "However, let's change the fan letter segment to a game. After all, our voices haven't been very good lately due to such a long and intensive tour."

Yang Xianshuo stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled and said, "Okay, I'll listen to you."

After the door closed, the manager let out a long sigh of relief: "Are you crazy to talk back to the CEO like that?"

Kwon Ji-yong picked up his phone; the wallpaper was a photo of Ren Xiyao standing on the podium.

"Are they crazy?" he said softly. "Maybe. The only ones who aren't crazy here are the minority."