Chapter 108 It's still that flamboyant red car...
It was still that flamboyant red Ford Mustang. Kwon Ji-yong gripped the steering wheel, glancing occasionally at the passenger seat. Ren Xiyao, wearing sunglasses, was catching up on sleep, her left hand resting on the armrest. The blue diamond ring on her ring finger shimmered silently and stubbornly in the gradually brightening morning light.
He noticed that her fingers, which were resting on the armrest, moved slightly.
"woke up?"
"Um."
"Are you... still feeling unwell?" He hesitated for a moment, but couldn't help asking with concern. Last night, he had indeed lost control.
Ren Xiyao didn't answer, but simply took off her sunglasses and glared at him fiercely.
Kwon Ji-yong immediately shut his mouth, gently took her left hand that was resting on the armrest, brought the back of her hand to his lips, and placed a tender and precious kiss on the ring.
“Don’t worry,” he said softly, as if making a promise, “I’ll remind you to take it off and keep it safe when we get to the airport.”
"Know."
The radio in the car was playing Taylor Swift's classic "Love Story." The sweet female voice sang the modern tale of Romeo and Juliet, full of youthful aspirations and faith in love. But on this morning of impending parting, it sounded subtly ironic and…sad.
Kwon Ji-yong was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly spoke, his voice filled with a cautiousness and anticipation that he himself was unaware of: "Wait for me... wait for the day I'm discharged from the military, will you come to pick me up?"
She didn't answer immediately and remained silent for a long time, so long that Kwon Ji-yong's heart began to sink little by little. Then, she slowly turned her head, her tone calm and even with a hint of matter-of-fact composure: "It depends."
"...What do you mean by 'it depends'?"
Ren Xiyao raised her left hand, her fingertips gently turning the ring on her ring finger that shone even brighter in the morning light, her voice clear and firm: "If you have a competition or training that you can't leave, then you can come to the ice rink to find me yourself."
Kwon Ji-yong was stunned. He looked into her clear, bright eyes and at the faint smile on her face. The unease he felt about the impending separation was suddenly replaced by a huge, indescribable warmth and certainty.
He suddenly burst into hearty laughter, a loud and powerful laugh that mingled with the roar of the convertible engine and drifted across the empty desert highway.
Yes, this is his Ren Xiyao. Always clear-headed, yet she gave him the most romantic and reassuring promise in her own unique, direct, and honest way.
Not waiting at the camp gate, but meeting in her own kingdom, on that pristine and sacred ice rink. This reassured him more than any sweet words. The rising sun cast its golden rays upon the earth, projecting their car and their shadows long and close onto the empty road, as if stretching into the distant, unknown future.
It was fleeting, like a dream. Time passed just like that.
The feeling of reaching the pinnacle of happiness only to have it abruptly end after returning home was as painful as being pricked by needles.
The severe withdrawal symptoms kept Ren Xiyao in the school library for the two days after her return, but she was also frequently distracted.
It was an indescribable emptiness and weightlessness. It was as if her body had returned, but her soul remained in a phantom city eight thousand kilometers away. The boundary between reality and dream blurred, and the immense disparity left her bewildered. To be honest, she didn't even dare go home. This profound sense of loss required time to process. She didn't take off the ring. After all, at this moment, it was highly unlikely anyone would recognize her.
It's like a secret brand, the sole physical evidence of that brief, insane dream. The cold metal constantly reminds her of the reality of those days, yet also highlights the coldness and loneliness of her present reality.
At this moment, Ren Xiyao was squatting in the ancient book reading room. She had been staring at page 273 of "A History of Western Art" for almost half an hour. In the corner of the page was a pencil sketch of a stained glass window in a Las Vegas church, the strokes so hasty they looked like doodles done while daydreaming in class. Her classmates left one after another. The desk lamps were turned off one by one, but she remained completely oblivious to her surroundings.
"Hey, classmate!"
"Student." The administrator called him several times. She didn't respond until the administrator came over and knocked on the table: "It's closing time, student."
She was startled back to her senses. Instinctively closing the book, she realized she was the only person left on the entire floor. Slightly embarrassed by the librarian's questioning gaze, she stood up, apologizing profusely as she hurried away. Outside the window, early April in Beijing was still chilly, bare tree branches slicing against the dark gray sky. The cold wind stung her face as she stepped out of the library, a stark contrast to the stark reality of Las Vegas.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a message from Lin Shan: "Today the coach asked me if you're still alive."
Ren Xiyao slowly typed: "Alive".
The reply came instantly: "Good that you're alive! Good that you're alive! Well... Boss, could you do me the honor of calling back? The coach told me to make sure you know that next Monday at 10 AM, all team members are to gather in the conference room for a new season mobilization meeting, and... anti-doping training. Roll call! No one can be missing! You need to get back to Harbin right away." Seeing the words "anti-doping training," Ren Xiyao's eyelids twitched, and her fingers tightened slightly on her phone. She was silent for a few seconds before finally replying.
"Okay, we'll talk about it tomorrow."
Ren Xiyao walked back to her dormitory absentmindedly. The dormitory was empty. The silence was unsettling. She shoved the book back onto the shelf, her fingertips lingering on the spine for a few seconds. The facets of the blue diamond ring sparkled brilliantly under the light. She remained lost in thought for a long time before slowly exhaling, then took out her phone to buy a ticket back to Harbin.
Unlike the lingering chill in Beijing, Seoul already showed signs of spring. But for Kwon Ji-yong, who had just returned from his "vacation" and was back at work, the changing seasons meant nothing. What awaited him was a mountain of work, seemingly endless meetings, matters requiring his approval from all sides, and... the sluggish progress of his new album production.
"Smack!"
The mouse was slammed onto the desktop. The waveform of the fifth version of the arrangement was crisply selected and dragged into the recycle bin. The whole process was clean and efficient, even carrying a hint of venting resoluteness.
“Brother… GD hyung…” A young producer who looked quite young, with a somewhat childlike face, cautiously approached, holding an iced Americano. He pointed to the densely packed chord chart on another computer screen, his tone filled with uncertainty and fear: “That chord progression just now… could it be…”
"Rework it." Kwon Ji-yong didn't even turn around to look at him. He simply took off his listening earpiece and said in a cold tone, leaving no room for negotiation: "Scrap everything and redo it."
The young producer opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to try again. But when he met Kwon Ji-yong's unusually irritated and impatient eyes through the swirling smoke, all his words instantly stuck in his throat. In the production studio, G-Dragon's word was law; this was his absolute territory. No one dared to easily refute his opinions. In the end, he could only lower his head, clutching his laptop, and silently leave the oppressive atmosphere of the production studio.
The soundproof door to the control room was pushed open a crack, and Taeyang's face, tinged with helplessness and worry, peeked in. He glanced at the dejected man who had left, then at Kwon Ji-yong sitting at the mixing console, radiating an aura of unapproachability, and couldn't help but ask, "Hey, Kwon Ji-yong, what's wrong with you?"
"The progress is too slow." His voice was terribly hoarse, as if it had been sanded. He picked up a bottle of mineral water from the table next to him, unscrewed the cap, and tilted his head back to gulp down more than half of it: "At this rate, there won't be enough time. Everyone stays here tonight and we'll work through the night."
Sun frowned and bluntly pointed out, "All night? It's been almost a week since you came back from America, have you had a single good night's sleep?"
"I'm asleep," Kwon Ji-yong replied vaguely, avoiding his gaze.
"Does taking intermittent naps on this shabby sofa in the studio count as sleeping?" Sunny clearly didn't believe it, her tone full of worry: "Jiyong, I know you're upset, but you can't torture yourself like this! What if your health collapses?"
Kwon Ji-yong's irritation intensified after his secret was exposed. He abruptly stood up, roughly grabbed the cigarette pack and lighter from the table, and said, "I'm going out for a smoke," before walking out of the recording studio without looking back.
The Seoul night breeze, carrying the dampness and coolness characteristic of spring, brushed against his face, slightly dispelling some of the suffocating smell of smoke and the pressure in the studio. He walked to the quiet back door of the building, leaned against the cold wall, skillfully lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and slowly exhaled white smoke.
His time in Las Vegas was like a dazzling but fleeting dream. When he awoke, he returned to reality, to a world where he still had to play the role of "G-Dragon." A mountain of work, the impending military service, a relationship he couldn't publicly acknowledge, and… that agonizing, unbearable longing that only intensified by their brief existence.
He knew he had been too harsh on himself. He also knew that Taiyang's concerns were not unfounded. But he couldn't control himself. That immense emptiness and anxiety, like an invisible hand, gripped his heart tightly. He needed to fill the gaps in his time with frantic work, and he needed to distract himself with an almost obsessive pursuit of music; otherwise, he feared he would be completely consumed by that surging longing.
In late April in Beijing, spring was still hesitant to arrive; the willow catkins hadn't yet begun to drift in the air. The club's brief meeting and study session had ended, and the national team had also wrapped up early this year in preparation for the upcoming Olympics.
Returning to her familiar dormitory at the national team training base, she pushed open the door. Everything was exactly the same as when she left. Her body had returned, but a part of her soul seemed to still be left behind in that dazzling Las Vegas, where she had briefly possessed the world. These past few days of hard work and adjustment had made her much better than before.
She propped her suitcase against the corner of the wall, not immediately starting to unpack, but instead walked to the window and looked down towards the training hall. Her fingertips unconsciously rubbed against her left ring finger. She had taken off the ring in Harbin; the ring mark was so faint it was almost invisible.
The next morning, everyone arrived at the ice rink on time to begin a new round of summer training. The skates made a familiar "swish" sound as they sliced across the ice, and the body gradually regained muscle memory through repeated skating movements.
Training remained meticulous, but when she stopped, she easily became uncontrollably irritable. Her overall demeanor became increasingly unapproachable. Lin Shan hesitated several times before finally deciding not to ask. Sometimes, she was truly grateful for Lin Shan's high emotional intelligence and sense of propriety.
This continued for a week before she finally managed to get back on track. On Monday afternoon of the second week, just after land training ended, she was covered in sweat and preparing to go back to her dormitory to take a shower when the assistant coach called her back.
"Ren Xiyao, the coach wants you to go to his office." The assistant coach's expression was somewhat serious, unlike his usual casual demeanor.
Ren Xiyao frowned slightly and nodded: "Okay, I'll change my clothes and then I'll go over."
When Ren Xiyao knocked and entered, the coach was sitting behind his desk, holding several printed A4 sheets of paper, his face somber.
"Coach" Ren Xiyao stood still, her tone calm.
The coach looked up, his sharp gaze sweeping over her face, then placed the papers he was holding on the table and pushed them in front of her.
"Take a look at this."
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Author's Note: Dear readers, I've already covered my entire emotional journey and the part about the athletes in Chapter 65 of this story. The next few days of updates will likely be the most complex part of the entire story. If you really can't handle a bit of angst, you can hold off for 5 or 10 chapters. But if you're really uncomfortable, don't force yourself. [Hands clasped in prayer][Hands clasped in prayer][Hands clasped in prayer]
Thank you everyone, enjoyed reading! [Heart emoji]
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