Chapter 2: Since You Are Here, Accept It

"Huh, that kid's really splurging today? Ordering so many dishes," the cafeteria lady exclaimed in surprise at Gu Cheng's meal choices.

Normally, he was prone to gaining weight, and the company enforced a strict nutrition management policy—no matter how much money you had, you couldn't order high-calorie dishes. But today, as an "injured party" with a medical note, he decided to treat himself.

It was still early, so the cafeteria was nearly empty. As Gu Cheng looked for a seat, he immediately spotted the girl who had tended to his injury that afternoon.

He carried his tray over and, sitting across from her, finally got a good look at her face.

Her name was Quan Baoya. She had delicate, refined features and appeared a little more mature than her age. Her face wasn't the classic V-shape, but she radiated a lively energy; her petite, athletic figure and gentle resilience exuded a warmth that made people feel at ease.

Her own meal was clearly subject to the same strict nutritional oversight—hardly a trace of oil to be seen. When she glimpsed Gu Cheng's "recovery feast," a hint of envy flickered in her eyes.

As Gu Cheng sat down, he courteously thanked her. "Xiaoya, thank you so much for earlier. I got your handkerchief dirty, too—I'll buy you a new one."

"No need to thank me; I was just on break, it was nothing," Quan Baoya replied modestly, shifting slightly to the side and waving her hand dismissively. "I fall a lot when I practice dance, so I always carry a spray. Injuries like that are best treated quickly—wait for a doctor and you miss the window for reducing swelling."

Gu Cheng insisted, "Still, thank you. And, there’s something else—when I fell, were you nearby?"

"I was just resting; it was other classmates who carried you over to me," she answered, not quite understanding his question.

So, she hadn't witnessed the accident itself, Gu Cheng thought.

"Did you see who mopped the floor afterwards?"

"Mopped the floor? Oh, I think Park Eunho did—it was to prevent the floor from getting slippery with sweat," she replied.

The moment she mentioned Park Eunho, an image of a sly, China-hating Korean flashed through Gu Cheng's mind. He immediately pegged Park as the main suspect.

Park Eunho had always been at odds with him. Last week, a rumor circulated among company management that the HOT backup team might include a Chinese member to help the group test the waters in China. Since then, Park had become even more hostile, constantly making snide remarks.

Besides, when did sweat ever smell like petroleum jelly? That was an obvious cover-up.

"Hey, what are you thinking? You're spilling your food," Quan Baoya gently chided, snapping Gu Cheng out of his thoughts.

He had lost his grip on his food, which had dropped into his porridge and splashed, much to her displeasure.

"Sorry, I was distracted," he apologized quickly, changing the subject. "By the way, I heard the company is going to debut you soon—congratulations in advance. Starting a career so young can't be easy."

What was meant as casual conversation struck a sensitive chord.

"Debuting has its own difficulties. I'm only in eighth grade—after this, I won't have time for school," she said quietly.

Eighth grade in the East was equivalent to the second year of middle school.

Gu Cheng felt a pang of sympathy—and an even deeper aversion to the industrialized idol system. Such a young girl subjected to grueling training, harsher than even the national sports system.

He knew a little about her: good student, sometimes got perfect scores in math, mostly scored in the nineties for other subjects, except for English, which was her weak point.

Wanting to study but being denied the chance—how pitiful.

"Try to keep an open mind. No matter which path you choose, you only get one chance at life," he offered awkward comfort, not really knowing how to talk to girls. "And at your age, too much dance practice might stunt your growth. You should use a therapy device to relax your muscles after each session."

Quan Baoya had a great figure, but was just over 1.5 meters tall. It would be a pity if her height were permanently set.

Since she had helped him, he naturally wanted to return the favor.

"Really?" she perked up, her disappointment about missing out on school life momentarily forgotten.

"Of course. Look at female gymnasts—many are short because the intense training at a young age causes the muscles to develop too early, and the tension in their tendons restricts bone growth," he explained, as if it were common knowledge.

"Besides the therapy device, is there anything else I should do?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Certainly. Your diet should include more collagen, and if you often stay up late, you need to regulate your biological clock."

She pondered this. "You know so much! How do you get more collagen?"

"Well, oxtail soup should do the trick," Gu Cheng replied, shrugging.

Without waiting for her response, he pushed his untouched pork bone and oxtail soup onto her tray.

She wrinkled her nose. "Ugh, it smells... I don’t think I’ll like it."

"Don't worry, I haven't tasted it yet, and the food I dropped earlier didn't land in this bowl. Consider it a thank-you for the healing spray you used on me—I don't like owing favors."

Since he'd put it that way, she felt refusing would be rude, so after a moment's hesitation, she accepted.

...

They chatted as they finished their meal.

Just as Gu Cheng was about to clear their trays, a noisy group of trainees burst into the cafeteria. It was mealtime.

A few sharp-eyed boys immediately spotted Quan Baoya. Normally, she would have finished eating by now—her schedule differed from everyone else's, since she was already set to debut. But today, she’d lingered, talking with Gu Cheng, and ended up colliding with the rest.

Their eyes naturally drifted toward the person sitting with her—Gu Cheng.

Instantly, a few of them shot him resentful looks. That outsider, daring to sit with the soon-to-debut goddess—how could their fragile hearts take it?

Some even thought: So if you’re injured and get a medical note, you can share her schedule? Why wasn't it my leg that got injured this afternoon!

The older ones kept their composure and watched. The younger boys had less restraint.

A twelve-year-old, delicate-looking boy ran over and blurted out, "Baoya unni, you... you and Senior Gu Cheng..."

"We just chatted a bit. Senior Gu knows a lot," she replied openly.

The boy stood there, stunned, so she asserted herself with a queenly air: "Jilong! Go queue for your food! Or you'll miss out."

Jilong snapped out of it and scurried off, embarrassed.

But her answer had been overheard by those eager to read between the lines: clearly, she’d been quietly eating, and it was Gu Cheng who had approached her.

At once, the boys concluded Gu Cheng had ulterior motives and was trying to pursue the goddess.

The girls, meanwhile, weren't hostile; they simply thought Gu Cheng was bold.

"If Gu Cheng and Quan Baoya really get involved, her reputation will suffer and maybe the company will start promoting me..."

"And Gu Cheng is actually quite handsome—tall and strong. No wonder. If it were me, I'd..."

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Gu Cheng didn't bother explaining. He simply prepared to leave with dignity.

But as he passed through the crowd, he caught sight of a face he loathed—Park Eunho, the very one who had set him up.

Passing by him, Gu Cheng could feel the malice and guilt radiating from Park, reinforcing his suspicions.

As they brushed past one another, Gu Cheng murmured, "Trying to get me eliminated? You're not nearly clever enough."

"Hey, you... what did you say? You've already angered everyone," Park replied with a forced smile, not daring to make a scene.

...

After that silent battle of wills, by the time Gu Cheng left the cafeteria, he was almost certain Park Eunho was the culprit.

For a teenager of sixteen or seventeen, it was nearly impossible not to betray himself under such psychological pressure. The mixture of resentment and fear in Park's eyes was unmistakable.

Now that he’d identified his target, it was just a matter of the method. Gu Cheng’s plan for revenge became clearer.

A hunch wasn’t enough; proof was needed.

For example, next time, he could find a private place, provoke Park into losing his temper, and record their conversation?

It was a bit clichéd, but the success rate would be high.

In the year 2000, there weren't many high-IQ police dramas on TV; even simple tricks for extracting confessions hadn't been overused.

But to do this, he'd need a high-quality miniature voice recorder. Such things weren't available at the local electronics store.

"Year 2000... even Taobao hasn't launched yet. Wait, there's E-BAY!"

An alternative came to him. E-BAY's cash-on-delivery online shopping had been running in the US for a couple of years. Last year, a guy named Peter Thiel had even launched a credit-card payment tool called PayPal.

If you’re not familiar with PayPal, just think of it as the American version of Alipay.

Realizing this, Gu Cheng glanced at the sky—it was still early. Since he’d eaten early today, the bank was still open.

"Better hurry to the bank and set up online banking before it gets dark," he decided, and immediately headed to the nearest branch to open an account. Back in the dorm, he activated his E-BAY and PayPal accounts, and linked his credit card.

"Online payments in 2000 are such a hassle. Can't believe people had to go through all this," he grumbled as he fiddled with the ancient system, already used to biometric payments.

Finally, after much effort, he found an online store selling high-quality recorders on E-BAY.

They were rather expensive.

But you can't catch a wolf without sacrificing the sheep. Gritting his teeth, he placed the order.

"Damn! Delivery expected within a week? This really is the Stone Age!"

He was left speechless.

He knew there were no little G logistics robots or drone deliveries in this era, but he hadn’t expected that even next-day courier service didn’t exist yet.

Back then, online shopping was as slow as mail order. DHL, UPS, and FedEx were still mostly just for sending documents.