I am not Ximen Qing.

She was a little tired now, like the pink blossoms on a crape myrtle tree, blooming in the most beautiful season of life. The shy and innocent expression of a young girl in her prime, her delicate oval face, her slender willow-leaf eyebrows, and her clear, red cherry lips, even though she was still wearing the short skirt and t-shirt she wore for dancing, she remained still and quiet, revealing an artistic quality. Artistic girls cultivate a unique style and artistic beauty from a young age.

Compared to a baseball girl, she is significantly different. A "wild" baseball girl exudes a worldly, flamboyant beauty; her figure is curvaceous, with a prominent bust that fills her entire chest. If she wore a bikini, her figure would undoubtedly drive any pleasure-seeking man wild. When people see a baseball girl, they generally don't think of anything else; they tend to focus on love and lust, fantasizing about the beauty of her physical form, rather than other parts of her body.

At this moment, Zheng Heng was enthusiastically trying to get close to her, his lecherous eyes fixed on her full breasts. She was completely unconcerned about Zheng Heng's ill-intentioned attitude. Now she's a baseball girl, later she might be a painter's nude model, or perhaps a spokesperson for third-rate lingerie.

Of course, Song Yu opened an adult product shop, importing all sorts of adult products from Japan and the United States—the most direct way for single men to satisfy their romantic desires. The inflatable dolls were AI-powered, lifelike female dolls custom-made to resemble various beautiful women. The men who browsed the shop, especially the gentlemen, were often not very interested in the real dolls; instead, they preferred to read the instruction manuals for the AI ​​dolls. The images in the manuals were more artistic than the real dolls. It's hard to understand why men are so curious and enthusiastic about these dolls. In reality, they're nothing special.

Different female dolls may possess different artistic beauty, but gentlemen imagine them as beautiful flowers of love and affection, as beautiful wings that flutter incessantly. The fluttering of butterfly wings, like those of a butterfly flapping its wings in a dark forest, resembles golden-edged rose petals.

Girls love tattoos—flower patterns on their arms, grotesque designs on their lower abdomens below the navel—the more bizarre the tattoo, the more provocative. Men, with their innate artistic imagination, see love as a destiny born from the beautiful Garden of Eden, ultimately maximizing its allure. Our love begins with admiring appearance, then we are completely captivated by the allure of their love. How does love and passion arise? It's the true seduction of love and its carnal allure—this strange power controls our rich emotions, making us lose ourselves in it.

Then he resented living with them; the love and beauty of the past had vanished. Another group of girls held a powerful attraction for men because they were fashionable and youthful, like unripe apples. Love and romance might seem to rebel, and so might the girls. They would likely be just like the men, one active, the other passive. But once love and romance were captured by men, the girls became even more unrestrained and open than the men themselves. They possessed each other, neither taking advantage of the other—that was the essence of love and romance.

The more developed a society's productivity, the stronger the independent spirit of its women. Traditional heredity prevails, and men desire to win the love and affection of women. Women's desire to be conquered, their pleading mentality, and their humility lead them back to the ancient ideas of women: they will always be like Eve, they will lose something and inevitably gain something else.

As compensation for love and romance, they enjoy seeing men's shameless behavior in all sorts of ways, and the brazenness of love and romance.

Can you do me a favor?

"What's the deal?"

"Let's make a short video together."

"That's easy."

Now, Zhuo Ziwei, Song Yu, Zhang Sheng, Zheng Heng, and the baseball girl are all crammed into the elevator. He is standing right next to the baseball girl, and this pair is absolutely hilarious. Her large breasts seem to be squeezed right in front of Zheng Heng's eyes, and we can all sense his intentions.

"Wait a minute, I'll film a short video with her, it'll be over in a bit."

"Use props?"

"This stick is a prop."

"Be careful, no one will care if she beats you up."

"I like it, because her beatings don't hurt."

"Zhuo Ziwei told her to go and make a fuss with him for a while. We'll go downstairs first, and after he finishes taking pictures, we'll go to your school together to take some candid photos."

"How about I go with you?"

"I don't need a fat man, this girl is enough."

"Stop fooling around. Come with me to her school later and help me carry the props."

"Look, I've even offended my friends because of you."

Do I look good in this pose?

Raising the baseball bat with both hands, as if preparing for a final blow, it had a touch of erotic art. This girl's face was cucumber-shaped, but her figure was absolutely stunning, a devilish figure. No matter what pose she struck, her breasts were like those in Hugo's Les Misérables, or rather, the highlight of her entire being. Women, in their youth, always have something special about them.

Zheng Heng is supposedly still single. Why? Because his standards are too high. He vowed to find a girl from the Central Academy of Drama or the Media College. A man should have some ambition in his life, he encouraged himself, refusing to settle for ordinary girls. He remained chaste, pretending to serve them all day, bringing them water and tea, and sending them large bouquets of flowers for every performance. He had several high school classmates from the Central Academy of Drama, but sadly, they were all boys. But that didn't matter; he still sent flowers to his classmates' performances—a truly first-rate friend. All six pairs of eyes understood that Zheng Heng wanted to treat the baseball girl like a superstar. She was his ideal woman; the baseball girl was too sexy, enough for Zheng Heng to fantasize about. The whole "filming" thing was probably just a ridiculous excuse.

"That director is really interesting."

"He's the director!"

"Isn't it?"

"He is the king of bad movies."

"You guys are so funny."

What does he look like to you?

"I think your friend must be a playwright."

"He's a playwright."

Why can't I become a playwright?

"Shh, the director, playwright, and cinematographer are all here, my buddies, ha...ha..."

Song Yu couldn't help but burst into laughter. He found these guys' antics utterly adorable; they were, in reality, a bunch of lecherous men who couldn't resist the sight of a girl. Perhaps Zheng Heng's biggest dream was to become an art conman disguised as an actor, driven purely by the so-called dream of love and romance, a man with grand ambitions, seeking wealth, sex, fame, and fortune.

Thankfully, Zheng Heng hasn't yet entered the acting world. If he were, imagine how many girls he'd have to take advantage of! Besides the car, he also has to pay thousands of yuan in mortgage payments every month. Now I understand, the biggest obstacle to love and romance is money. Why did he establish Zheng Heng Studio? It was all for his wild ambition for love and romance—that's a bit of a heroic spirit!

Song Yu, Zhuo Ziwei, and Zhang Sheng are now quietly sitting downstairs, waiting for Zheng Heng to put on a good show. Will he be able to successfully seduce the baseball girl? Will he be able to recruit her as his female assistant?

"Don't worry, your movie will be available online in a week."

"really?"

"Anyone who lies to you is a coward."

"Hey, he's a bear."

"You're the bear!"

"Zheng Heng is a coward. If you don't believe me, just look at him and see if he's a coward."

"How about it? Come and take a look at my studio tomorrow."

"I've become immune to going to the studio so many times, uncle."

"Hey, I'm only in my early twenties."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, but I need to get an appearance fee; I can't go for nothing."

"how much is it?"

"A 500 yuan appearance fee."

"What? Five hundred yuan, just for one job?"

"What else is there? This is already a cheap price, just take a look at the friendly price."

"Girl, don't overthink it."

"What do you mean, 'overthinking'? I wasn't overthinking anything. We were supposed to charge you now, but we waived the fee because of him. Did you enjoy it?"

"What's so exciting about it?"

"Just for your eyes!"

"I have to go now. I have another event this afternoon, and the platform alone will cost a thousand yuan. Let's work together again if there's a chance."

"Zheng Heng is a coward, isn't he? He can't even handle big-breasted girls."

"Keep your voice down, isn't she still here?"

“She is different from Zhuo Ziwei, and an artist is different from a pseudo-artist.”

"This girl is interesting."

"You think the girls in your films are as brainless as you are? Just because someone has big breasts doesn't mean they're brainless. She's not one of your crazy women or girls."

"That's right. I just got into the swing of things and scared her away."

"You're embarrassing yourself. You've scared away even the girls from Xiangxiang Village. Let's lower our standards a bit."

"That won't do. Ever since I set this rule, I can't live like a stupid pig. I have to be perfect, perfect in love and romance."

"Do you still think you're Karl Malone?"

"I'm not going to be an NBA stud."

"If you were a stallion, she would have gone with you."

Zheng Heng went back to the studio. We arranged to have a drink together in the afternoon, but he doesn't drink at all. We like watching the European Cup, and Germany has made it to the final again. Zhang Sheng and Song Yu are German fans; they both have that kind of spirit, like Song Yu's catchphrase, "I have blue blood flowing through my veins; I was born an aristocrat." But now, he can't be Nietzsche's student; all his entrepreneurial ventures have failed.

In the world of the goddess-like internet, he was reborn. Reflecting on his past failures, he realized there were reasons for them. Although live streaming was quite lucrative, every policy change posed a risk. He could only take it one day at a time with this trending project, focusing on technology, while the company's overall direction remained focused on developing mobile applications.

Song Yu was incredibly skilled at picking up girls. From Beijing to Chongqing to Harbin, his life was never without the allure of women's romances. He probably couldn't even remember how many loves he had. Historically, playboys have always been more successful in their careers. This wasn't uncommon in America; young, impetuous, and unrestrained. Perhaps we've misunderstood, only seeing a small part of the picture, unable to see the whole picture. Song Yu probably never even calculated the time and money he spent on women. This addiction to love—everything can be addictive. Women have an addiction to love and romance, and so do men. Big cities are like giant, open social platforms, and we all hide in the corners of these platforms, searching for the light and joy of love and romance. Women hope to be pursued and entangled by outstanding men, and men hope to win the love and beauty they desire. Love at first sight, a mutual connection of souls—that's enough.

Finding an opportunity to meet under the guise of romance to fulfill expectations of love—this is the so-called social interaction between men and women. Romantic relationships not aimed at marriage are actually quite objective, but girls, and their men, can't afford to consider that anymore. The knot of loneliness in their hearts has unleashed in the environment of big cities; there's no longer the inclination to hypocritically face ancient traditions. We are all like migrating birds, but while birds move with the changing seasons, we are not birds. We may have stayed in one city for too long, become accustomed to this environment, and grown to enjoy the hustle and bustle of the big city, long forgetting our birthplace. We can't go back there, and we may not be able to take root here. Like seaweed in an urban ocean, we can only move with the currents of this vast city. In this world, finding a space that truly belongs to oneself and settling down is incredibly difficult.

Song Yu's enthusiastic help to Zhuo Ziwei raises the question: what does he really want from her? He's certainly somewhat interested, but not intensely. Will this aspiring art student become a famous painter? Art can sometimes drive artists to the brink of mental collapse because society is increasingly offering less and less space for independent thinkers. If everyone harbored a grand ambition to create art, society would descend into chaos. Having eccentric and unconventional ideas is fraught with danger and crisis for one's own development.

The challenge was shackled by art; if success could be achieved immediately, the pain outweighed the pleasure in life.

How can we film this well?

"Let's go to my classroom first."

"I've never been to a university classroom before."

"You old fogey, aren't you a college student too?"

"Not a college student, but a junior college student."

"He's your friend? That's quite an interesting question."

"He's a shrewd businessman who loves screenwriting. I advised him to quit, but he wouldn't listen. He's not cut out for it, but he insists on suffering the consequences."

"Big brother has ambition."

"Thank you."

"Don't call him 'big brother,' call him 'uncle.' He's getting on in years."

"Don't talk nonsense, I'm only three years older than you."

"He looks like an old man."

"I'm going to work out."

"I'm so envious."

"You're amazing, so young and from a top university."

“I’ve been learning to draw since I was little, and I got into this school without much effort.”

"They're much better than me. I studied hard and reviewed a lot, but I only got into a mediocre vocational college."

"Whatever the major, it can't be the art department, right?"

"I learned about art from him in Beijing."

“I was his mentor, but he didn’t understand anything about art or anything like that.”

Song Yu's harsh words hurt his pride. Indeed, seeing Song Yu frequently discussing creative insights with young playwrights filled him with envy. Let alone creating, even writing an essay was incredibly difficult. He had only scored 70-80 out of 150 on the Chinese exam twice. Although he had the opportunity to study under the scholarly Mr. Lu Shitou in his final year, who explained Chinese like it was an encyclopedic explanation of characters, the Chinese language was a complex subject with too many layers of meaning. Trying to catch up on over a decade of missed knowledge in just one year was absolutely impossible.

Even if Teacher Shi is like a university professor, or even if a literary figure were to teach, one could only absorb his spirit. If one wanted to transform into a literary figure overnight, one could only work on one's thoughts and spirit. Thinking about my own academic career, it was truly a blank slate. I was truly ignorant and incompetent. But that's alright. Literature is an uncultivated wasteland, unpolluted. I have received Teacher Shi's true teachings in spirit and thought, and that is enough. Even a layman can become a Buddha.

Now relax and sit in the back seat and listen to their conversation. From the bustling commercial city, we've returned to the culturally rich university campus. What a lovely, youthful girl she is, now leading Song Yu and Zhang Sheng into her daily study haven. It's noon in the classroom; the other students have all gone to their dorms or the cafeteria. The entire teaching building is quiet. She enthusiastically introduces her desk; the blackboard is covered in ancient Chinese characters, and the desk is piled high with test papers. Zhang Sheng curiously looks at the classical Chinese texts on these papers, as if she's back in high school.

During the college entrance exam period, every desk was piled high with stacks of test papers. There wasn't a moment's rest; it was all about doing papers, followed by explanations from teachers of each subject. Chinese was filled with classical Chinese texts, the Analects and the Great Learning; chemistry was all about complex mathematical concepts; math was all about solid problems; algebra had comprehensive differential and derivative problems; physics was incredibly abstract; and English consisted of reading comprehension questions with unfamiliar vocabulary. There were monthly and weekly exams, and sometimes the increased difficulty of the tests would be devastating, making me lament that my future might be as bleak as my failing score. Thankfully, all of that is in the past. If I had done well, I wouldn't have had the chance to venture into the great capital. Everything is relative, and everything depends on relentless, unwavering struggle.

"How about we take a picture here?"

"Let's not do it in the classroom. It's too serious. Let's be more fun. There's no fun in it."

"Let's go outside to film some scenes."

"I really want to sit down and attend class."

"Don't be silly, let's go, grab the tripod."

"I can't find the lock to lock the door."

"Don't worry, I'll help you."

"Found it, here."

"I'll lock it, don't move."

"You're acting crazy again. How many times have I told you not to get agitated?"

"Who's getting excited?"

"Still not convinced? You get all worked up over things like this. What's there to get so worked up about?"

"It's okay, there was no lock to begin with, everyone in the class locks their doors like this."

"Come out, buddy."

"What's wrong now? Wasn't it unlocked?"

"My buddy was a bit stunned, which is understandable."

"But it's quite cute."