A Starry Night (Part 1)

This is a huge scam, Zhou Zeyu thought with certainty, and the culprit is that seemingly innocent guy.

"Have I offended you recently?" The moment Zhou Zeyi reached the rest area, he finally plopped down on the ground as if relieved, panting heavily, and pointed irritably at the signpost by the roadside, "Why is it still a thousand meters to the top of the mountain!"

Sorkov was covered in sweat, his clothes completely soaked, and he stood silently in front of the pool, splashing handfuls of cold water on his face. He didn't look much more presentable than her.

"I told you I don't know either," he was too tired to argue. "Do you really have to believe this is just a silly prank I played?"

Sorkov gave her an indescribable look, then shrugged to indicate that he couldn't answer, turned off the tap, and walked over, soaking wet, to sit down next to her.

He handed Zhou Zeyu a bottle of water, which Zhou silently opened and drank most of. The two of them sat in the ravine in silence, one looking down at the ants moving their nests on the ground, the other looking up at the birds building their nests, maintaining this delicate balance.

"Do you think anyone would actually come to a bar in a place like this?"

Sorkov gave a soft hum, but it sounded more like a barely perceptible sneer. "At least there shouldn't be any drunkards here who would set fires."

Zhou Zeyu chuckled wearily a few times, then threw away the wooden stick he was gesturing wildly with, tossed his backpack behind him, and lay down comfortably.

Is your knee alright?

She yawned, patted her right knee as if to prove it, and made a dull sound, "I'm fine."

Sorkov didn't ask any more questions. He chuckled and watched the other person fall asleep so peacefully, his movements so practiced that he suspected Zhou Zeyu must be a habitual slacker.

He curled the corners of his mouth slightly, suppressing a laugh, and replied evasively, "Maybe."

The two remained quietly in place, then Sorkov suddenly leaned back abruptly, half-supporting himself, adopting a mysterious posture as if about to whisper something. "Actually, you're wrong. I'm just as unfamiliar with Belgrade as you are."

Zhou Zeyu lifted her eyelids and glanced at him. "Oh?"

“I grew up in the north, and you’ve probably never heard of that small city. It’s much more remote and doesn’t have as many tall buildings, but it has lots of forests and ponds, and you can even see fireflies in the summer.”

Intrigued by his description, Zhou Zeyu opened his eyes. "Fireflies? I've never seen fireflies before. Are they bright? Do they move in groups? Are they invisible during the day?"

Solkov gave a hasty laugh. "You have so many questions, which one should I answer first? They move in groups, so they are very bright at first glance and hard to notice during the day, but they are not completely undetectable."

Zhou Zeyu rubbed his eyes, yawned with a smile, and said, "When did you arrive in Belgrade? I guess it hasn't been long."

“Not long,” Sorkov said simply, “just a little longer than yours.”

"Will you leave again?" Zhou Zeyu asked casually, seemingly tugging at a loose thread on his sleeve.

"Will you leave again?" he asked calmly.

"Of course."

“So of course I am too,” he said.

The mountain path became much muddier as it was soaked by the night's downpour, making walking difficult. The two trudged on step by step with great difficulty until Zhou Zeyu sat down on the roadside again, determined to cover his face with his coat and pretend to be dead before stopping.

Solkov squatted down beside her, wiping his sweat and trying to comfort her, saying, "You're suffocating."

"I'm exhausted."

We're almost there.

"That's what you said half an hour ago."

"I can see the bar lights in about 100 meters."

"You're lying. You're nearsighted by 800 degrees. You can't even tell the difference between a man and a woman from ten meters away."

Solkov gave in. He sighed and poked Zhou Zeyu's waist with the stick again. "Get up, I'll carry you."

As if expecting her to be impolite, Solkov responded indifferently, without even the slightest surprise, watching her tie her coat around her waist, rubbing her hands together and looking at him expectantly.

He shook his head, sighed silently, and squatted down resignedly.

By the time the two finally reached the top of the mountain, the party was almost over. A group of people were noisily surrounding a small white dog in the center, and someone who looked like the bar owner was cutting the cake and singing "Happy Birthday" loudly with everyone.

Sorkov loosened his grip, and Zhou Zeyu nearly slipped and fell to the ground. He grabbed Sorkov's clothes to steady himself. "Are you alright, Sorkov? Are you too tired?"

It was obvious that Sorkov was really exhausted, but he maintained a dignified expression and posture, unlike her who was panting heavily and swaying around looking for something to lean on. He grabbed a glass of wine from the side and downed most of it.

"Hey!" Sorkov was still catching his breath when he reached out and saw her gulp down most of the drink. "Don't drink so fast!"

"I'm sorry." Zhou Zeyu honestly put down the cup, and after thinking for a moment, he still felt a little scared and said, "The alcohol content is too high. I hope I won't get drunk. My throat feels a little burning."

Sorkov paused, then managed to squeeze out a few broken syllables, seemingly speechless, before finally shaking his head with amusement. "If it were someone else, you probably wouldn't be drunk."

"And what about you?" Zhou Zeyu chuckled mischievously, picked up another cup from the side, and handed it to him. "Want one too?"

Solkov snorted and reluctantly accepted the drink. "What, you actually doubt my drinking capacity?"

“Your suspicions are spot on.” A hand suddenly landed on Zhou Zeyu’s shoulder. She quickly turned her head to look, and the hip-hop styled young man smiled and nodded at her. “Sorkov, she’s very perceptive.”

Sorkov gave a forced smile and simply closed his eyes. Zhou Zeyu always suspected that he was secretly rolling his eyes at her, but before she could confirm it, he helplessly opened his eyes again.

“Marcus, this is Zhou Zeyu.” As if to change the subject, Solkov quickly introduced the two, “This is Marcus, the bar owner.”

Marcus chuckled and walked over, giving him another punch. "Why are you so late today! Did you get lost in the mountains?"

"Opening a bar on a mountaintop? Only you could come up with that idea. It'll be almost dark by the time you get up there." Sorkov made no attempt to hide his sarcasm, hands in his pockets as he coldly looked around.

The other person still had a grin on their face, "Isn't this great! Going out in the morning and heading to a bar is just the right time to start the nightlife!"

He quickly ignored Sorkov, who was about to retort, grabbed a few bottles of wine, and handed them to Zhou Zeyi. "Alright, ignore him. You can definitely drink more than that guy."

"Don't drink too much." Zhou Zeyu had almost swallowed the wine when he suddenly heard Sorkov speak from behind him, his voice carrying a hint of threat, "I don't carry drunkards."

Zhou Zeyu gulped down several mouthfuls of water. "I can walk down the mountain by myself."

Sorkov suddenly leaned in, the sudden closeness causing Zhou Zeyu to forget to dodge. His pupils dilated instantly, and Sorkov's entire face appeared in his line of sight without any attempt to hide.

"Have you ever been drunk?" He stared intently into her eyes. "Do you know how well you behave when you're drunk?"

Zhou Zeyu shook his head honestly.

Solkov smiled with satisfaction and patted her on the shoulder. "So you should drink less."

"Come on, it seems like I can hold my liquor much better than you right now," Zhou Zeyu raised an eyebrow. "Besides, what else can we do if we're not drinking at a bar? Play hide-and-seek with that Samoyed that's having its birthday party?"

He chuckled very softly a few times. "Fine, let's drink."

Zhou Zeyu took another sip. "What, didn't you say you wouldn't carry drunkards?"

"Just kidding."

He added, "I'll be able to carry you down."

Zhou Zeyi glanced at him with a half-smile, clearly not taking his words to heart. He leaned against the railing, sipping his drink casually, and quietly watched the Samoyed running wildly around the enclosure.

The large white ball was hurtling around at incredible speed, like a reckless semi-trailer truck, and suddenly it hurtled towards her. Before Zhou Zeyu could react, she was knocked to the ground with a thud.

However, she soon fell silent, because the furry creature clearly meant no harm; it was simply licking her face with great enthusiasm and breathing warm air on her.

Sorkov burst into laughter. Zhou Zeyu couldn't see his face, but he could hear his deliberately suppressed laughter and the flash of his phone taking pictures.

She threatened fiercely, "Don't take pictures!"

"Why?" he asked, feigning innocence. "It's very beautiful."

Zhou Zeyi chuckled and patted the big dog's chubby body with satisfaction. "Is it cute?"

“It looks good,” he mumbled, “but you’ll drool all over your hair.”

Zhou Zeyu let out a strange cry, immediately broke free from the Samoyed's overly enthusiastic embrace, and scrambled to his feet in a disheveled state. While dusting himself off, he ran behind Sorkov and began rummaging through his bag.

"Looking for what?"

“I brought a gift.” She pulled out a giant dog sausage. “It’s much better than you coming empty-handed.”

Sorkov gave an "oh," and then watched as the white furry creature's eyes lit up at the sight of the dog intestines, barked loudly, and pounced on Zhou Zeyu like a hungry tiger, knocking him to the ground once again.

Now there's real saliva on my hair.

He sighed and silently carried the chubby boy away from Zhou Zeyu. The boy, who had gotten the snacks, had no intention of resisting and happily let himself be taken away, leaving only a Zhou Zeyu, still shaken, rubbing his hair in despair.

"It seems wise not to bring a gift."

Zhou Zeyu chuckled twice. "It's just that I'm too popular, especially with puppies."

"Thank God, she's not a puppy at all; that guy raised her to be almost like a miniature elephant."

"What's wrong with that? You're just too strict," she said with a grin.

“You’re being too harsh,” he said. “You think this guy is light, but you think you’re heavy. He’d eat a few more pounds of dog food and he’d be almost as heavy as you.”

"Oh dear, I have no choice in the matter." She patted his shoulder with feigned maturity. "Once I stop playing ball, I can weigh up to 180 pounds, but I can't right now. What's wrong with having high expectations for myself?"

Sorkov shook his head, then, as if suddenly remembering something, pointed to her flushed face, "You're getting flushed, don't drink too much."

Zhou Zeyu smiled and raised his glass. "Your friend's wine is pretty good. It's not spicy at all, and the aftertaste is sweet. You can't even taste the wine."

Sorkov hissed, snatched the glass from her hand with deep disgust, put it aside, and pulled her into the bar to sit down. "I can't taste the alcohol...that's the real problem."

Zhou Zeyu ignored him and looked around curiously. The bar was decorated quite simply, with only a few unremarkable tables and chairs and a bar counter. There were no dim ambient lights, and no scantily clad men and women dancing. The overall atmosphere was more like a small restaurant in a rural-urban fringe area.

"What's with that expression?" Sorkov seemed to see right through her micro-expression. "Disappointed?"

Zhou Zeyi didn't mince words, "It doesn't feel like the bar I imagined."

"So what kind of bar do you imagine?" Sorkov put his hands on his hips, looked around for a while before finding the water dispenser in the corner, and quickly filled half a glass of water for her.

"Hmm..." Zhou Zeyu took a few sips absentmindedly, "Bartenders in vests, handsome men and beautiful women dancing together, something about having to kiss the person next to you if you roll a low number on the dice, and maybe a handsome guy will come up to ask for my contact information or buy me a drink or something."

Solkov paused for a moment, revealing a subtle yet undisguised disdain, before concluding, "You're really drunk."

"Really?" she asked, a little slow to realize, touching her cheek and immediately becoming alert upon feeling the heat. "I only had a few drinks!"

Sorkov gave a cold, sarcastic laugh. "You practically emptied the cups in no time."

"Oh, then why aren't you drinking?"

"I will get drunk."

"You have a very low alcohol tolerance." It was clearly unfounded, but when she said it, it sounded like a profound truth, especially since she was looking at him with such certainty, as if she had discovered some secret and was secretly pleased with herself.

Sorkov pursed his lips, wanting to laugh but managing to hold it back, and frankly admitted, "Very bad."

Zhou Zeyu chuckled. "See, I guessed right."

"There's no reward for guessing correctly, so why be happy?"

She shook her head. "But it's strange. You have such a face that looks like you can drink a lot, how come you can't drink alcohol?"

"What is this? A stereotype?"

“Of course it counts,” Zhou Zeyu said decisively. “When I first saw you, I thought you were some kind of delinquent.”

She cleared her throat and listed them off on her fingers, "She has a buzz cut, doesn't like to smile, and looks fierce. You can't blame me for having a stereotype, can you?"

"real?"

Instead of getting angry, Sorkov laughed, "He's really drunk."

Zhou Zeyu was truly drunk, his face flushed, but at least he still had some sense and spoke in a relatively coherent manner, "Come on, I'm only a little drunk, I've never been drunk before."

"Because there's simply no chance to get drunk."

Zhou Zeyu waved his hand, "There's no chance. Let alone alcohol, I can't even drink beverages. The nutritionist only forces you to drink vegetable juice, with carrots, cabbage, onions, and even garlic. Now I feel like throwing up whenever I see vegetables."

After she said the word "vomit," Solkov noticed that her face turned pale and she was leaning on the table as if she was about to vomit. He quickly handed her a trash can and gently patted her back.

“Go back,” he said.

“That’s not indulgence at all,” Solkov pulled out the chair next to her and sat down, saying firmly, “Don’t overthink it. You didn’t do anything wrong. Relaxing a little is the right thing to do.”

Zhou Zeyu didn't speak, quietly lying there. For a moment, Sorkov even thought she was going to fall asleep, but she didn't. She didn't utter a sound, only sighed very softly.

"Sorkov, what will happen next?"

"What's next?"

“Yes,” she said sullenly, “sometimes I wonder, will I ever have a chance to make a comeback? What if I adjust my mindset, go back to China to train, and give it another shot? But what if I fail again…”

"And then," he listened patiently, "what do you want to do?"

The bar was empty; everyone was drinking in the open space outside. Loud laughter drifted into the room, slightly disrupting the quiet atmosphere. Sorkov glanced at her.

Zhou Zeyu's expression softened slightly. She stood up and looked out the window. Outside, young men and women were dancing together, with lively dance music playing in the background, and fireworks suddenly bursting in the distance.