“Xiao Lu is a fine young man,” Aunt Chu remarked after Lu Li and Chu Jingyi stepped out. She sat watching TV in the living room while Chu Xiaodong, head of the household, washed dishes in the kitchen. “Don’t pull any tricks to chase him off this time. How old is our Yibao? She doesn’t even have one true confidant. This is entirely on you.”
Scrubbing a bowl with a smile, Chu Xiaodong replied, “Those before had impure motives. I worried they’d deceive Yibao.”
“And Xiao Lu? Is his heart pure?”
“He’s a good kid.” Chu Xiaodong rarely praised anyone privately, though he often did in public. “Just lacks a bit of luck.”
“Arrogant again? So you’re saying *you’re* his luck?” Aunt Chu let out a playful snort. Chu Xiaodong laughed until the crow’s feet around his eyes deepened.
“If he stays grounded, I might lend a hand.” He paused. “Let Yibao decide. Our family lacks nothing. Xiao Lu’s little flaws? Nothing to fret over.”
“Dad, what are you saying?” Chu Jingyi pushed the door open, confusion in her voice. “What flaws does Lu Li have? He has none!”
Chu Xiaodong sighed. “Truly, your loyalty lies outside this home.”
*
Lingyue City.
Lu Li hadn’t replied all day. Had he already left for his classmate’s place?
Zou Yameng stared blankly at her phone. They’d been apart this long before—but why did *this* separation feel so unbearable? She must be sick. A faint, unsettling realization stirred: maybe her feelings for her younger brother weren’t… appropriate. She worried he’d grow too close to other girls. Missed his scent. Dreamed of his smile—gentle as a spring breeze.
When had it started? She couldn’t say. The thought had always lingered, buried beneath denial. Chin propped on her palm, she watched players train, lost in thought.
She reopened her phone, scrolling posts about older-sister-younger-brother romances. After a moment, she powered it off and shook her head lightly. “I’m losing it.”
“Yameng, you’re up.” Coach Dan approached. “Play sharp. Your opponent is He Ping—from Jindong.”
At the name, Zou Yameng snapped alert. *He Ping of Jindong.* A name that echoed through the Chuanhai women’s table tennis team. Last year’s away match? He Ping had routed them single-handedly.
This was just a practice session. The Six-Provinces Tournament was still weeks off; early arrivals sparred casually. Zou Yameng had earned a reputation—her serves faster, fiercer than most male players’. She’d improved. *Surely* she wouldn’t get shut out again.
He Ping: short hair, plain features. Her only signature? A permanent poker face. Even after crushing Chuanhai’s team last year, she showed no pride—like swatting a bug.
*That* indifference infuriated Zou Yameng.
“I won’t lose this time.” She rubbed her paddle, jaw set.
“You are…?” He Ping frowned, puzzled.
Zou Yameng froze—as if struck silent. Lips tight, she served without a word. Chuanhai had trained *for years* to beat her. To learn He Ping didn’t even remember them? Humiliation burned. No words now. Only skill could restore pride.
She played recklessly, smashing every tricky serve. Points slipped away. Coach Dan’s brow furrowed. “Yameng! Breathe. Play steady!”
*Steady?* She and Lu Li had clawed their way up since childhood. School registration rights. Low-rent housing tenure. Two kids with nothing, fighting tooth and nail to survive with dignity in a ruthless world. Like a desperate wolf. A stray dog gulping rotten meat—just to stay alive.
*Thwack.*
Another forehand smash—arc too low, net clipped. 11–4. First set: crushing defeat. Referee reset the board. They switched sides.
Coach Dan stepped close.
“Yameng, what’s wrong?”
“I’m fine.”
“No. You’re not. He Ping isn’t some rookie. Aggression exposes flaws.”
“I *will* win.” Her tone left no room for doubt. Stubborn as Lu Li. Once her will locked in, ten coaches couldn’t sway her.
Second set began. He Ping served. Zou Yameng shanked the first ball out. He Ping didn’t move—just stared, confused.
“Need a break?” The deadpan question felt like mockery.
“No.”
11–2. Another rout. Eyes stinging, Zou Yameng gritted out, “Continue!” *Failure! Again! Why won’t heaven show mercy to us? I want the provincial team. He wants university. Why can’t we have this?!*
“ZOU YAMENG!” Coach Dan’s voice cracked. “Step off. Don’t play angry!”
Silent, lips pressed thin, she served. He Ping caught the ball flat-palmed.
“Your skill is middling. Like a middle schooler’s.” Calm. Dismissive. “No point continuing.”
Truth was, Zou Yameng’s skill wasn’t *that* poor—He Ping was just that dominant. If average players rated 100, He Ping was 500. A tier above.
*Dominant.*
Tears welled. First loss? Excusable. Second? No excuses left.
Her mind had always been fragile. Coach Dan urged patience—read, fish, breathe. But between training, matches, part-time shifts… she was a bowstring pulled too tight. Bound to snap.
Coach Dan sighed, guiding her out. Chuanhai teammates swarmed, dabbing tears, murmuring comfort.
“She’s overwhelmed,” he said gently. “Scatter. Practice or rest. I’ve got her.”
Alone on a bench outside, Zou Yameng forced the tears back. She hadn’t cried in years. *Couldn’t.* Lu Li needed her strong. She was the pillar. “Don’t cry” became habit—no softness allowed, no matter the ache.
“Yameng… something troubling you?”
She shook her head. Nothing changed. Only this quiet dread—of the future, of herself. Like a tiny boat tossed in a storm.
“Coach… I want to win.” Voice trembling.
“I *must* win.”
Coach Dan studied her stubborn, tear-streaked face and sighed inwardly. Hard bones break easiest. Society grinds them to dust. Only ancient trees stand firm—not riverside reeds.
Zou Yameng was a reed.
A defiant one.
