Chapter 10 The girl is five years younger than him

The final results were announced immediately after the evaluations were completed. Two pieces of news shocked everyone.

First, Jiang Fei—who had always ranked first—only came in seventh place.
Second, Jiang Qingrou actually secured fifth place and earned a spot in the art troupe.

The rest of those selected were also top dancers from the troupe, so there weren’t really any surprises there. While many celebrated, quite a few of those who weren’t selected were crying—including Qin Lulu. She sobbed and cursed through her tears:

“Jiang Qingrou definitely pulled some strings. How else could she possibly beat me?”

Everyone looked at her in silence. Who was the one hugging Jiang Qingrou’s thigh just now? Who had been so grateful to her earlier?

To be fair, Qin Lulu had actually performed above her usual level—she had never scored that high before. So in that sense, she was lucky. But unlucky too… because she placed eleventh, and the art troupe was only recruiting ten people. There simply wasn’t a spot for her.

Another person crying bitterly was Jiang Fei. Her tears streamed down like falling blossoms, her thin shoulders trembling as if she might faint at any moment. In the past, if people had seen her cry like this, they probably would’ve rushed to comfort her. But now…

First of all, she had just caused quite a scene, which had already tarnished her image.
Second, plenty of others who didn’t make the cut weren’t crying—so what was she making a fuss for?

Even Zhao Xiaozhi was too preoccupied with worries about being sent to the countryside to care about Jiang Fei.

Instead, a few people started getting curious about Jiang Qingrou.
But inside the hall—there was no sign of her.

Jiang Qingrou had already changed into her own clothes and was happily on her way home. She wore a blue padded jacket, black trousers, and a pair of new leather shoes her older brother had given her. Her makeup was still on, and everywhere she passed, she was a beautiful sight to behold.

When she passed the front desk, someone nudged Yu Siming’s elbow and said with a smile:

“Look, that girl made it. We’ve got ourselves a star performer in the troupe now.”

With looks like that, it’d be a shame if she weren’t the star.

Yu Siming hid the amazement in his eyes and lowered his head.

“Let’s see how she dances first.”

As he was packing up, a junior officer suddenly shouted:

“Has anyone seen Commander Cen? Where did he go?!”

In a blink, Commander Cen had vanished, which made the officer panic—he still hadn’t completed the task his superior had given him! For example: find out which girl the commander was interested in.

Yu Siming couldn’t help but tease,

“Captain He, since when were you ever able to keep track of your commander?”

The captain’s full name was He Wei. He led a squad and had enlisted alongside Cen Shi, so he could at least talk to him, unlike most others. That’s why their superior had tasked him with helping Cen Shi find a potential partner.

But Cen Shi was known for being extremely disciplined and kept a strict line between ranks—He Wei barely had any more access to him than the rest.

He Wei scratched the back of his head and muttered:

“So what do I say now?”

He couldn’t exactly report back and say he failed the mission.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up. He remembered that girl named Jiang Qingrou. Anyone who could make Cen Shi smile and actually speak up on her behalf had to be special!

He Wei thought it over—he’d just report Jiang Qingrou’s name. Whether it worked out or not was another matter. He was more afraid of disappointing the higher-ups than of offending Cen Shi. Besides, just putting in a name didn’t mean they’d be married tomorrow or anything.

As Jiang Qingrou made her way down the stairs alone—it was dark, and only her small leather shoes echoed in the empty stairwell. The sound of her steps echoed with a pa-ta pa-ta rhythm.

She was afraid of the dark, so she quickened her pace. But just as she neared the stairwell exit, a huge rat suddenly darted out of nowhere. Jiang Qingrou screamed and ran forward in panic—without realizing someone was in front of her. But at that moment, what could possibly be scarier than a rat in the dark?

Her heart nearly stopped, and the person in front of her felt like a lifeline. Without hesitation, she threw herself into their arms. She clutched the person’s slim waist tightly, eyes squeezed shut, her voice trembling with fear:

“Help—help! There—there’s a huge rat over there!”

Cen Shi looked down at the woman who had thrown herself into his arms, debating whether he should push her away. He recognized her—she was the one named Jiang Qingrou from earlier.

After a moment of hesitation, he didn’t push her away.
He could tell this wasn’t some deliberate move—she was genuinely terrified.
And he had seen the rat. It was still rustling around in the grass nearby. If he pushed her away now and she saw it again, she’d just throw herself at him again.

With no one else around, Cen Shi silently pulled a small knife from his belt. Just as he took aim to throw it, the woman in his arms seemed to realize what he was about to do. She didn’t dare let go but nervously peeked over his shoulder.

The moment she looked, she screamed again and clung to him even tighter.
His hand involuntarily trembled, and the knife clattered to the ground.

Jiang Qingrou shuddered as well. This time, she didn’t dare turn around again.

Maybe because of the sudden noises, the rat—which had been foraging nearby—had now vanished. Cen Shi gently placed his hands on her shoulders and gave a slight push, creating distance between them.

He was just about to sternly scold her for behaving inappropriately when he saw her tear-streaked face.

Was she really that scared?

He was used to dealing with a bunch of grown men in the army—when had he ever comforted a girl? Let alone one this young?

She was only eighteen—five years younger than him.

Cen Shi spoke in a low voice,

“The rat’s gone.”

Jiang Qingrou blinked, momentarily stunned.
Her first reaction wasn’t relief—it was:
Wow, his voice is really nice.

She looked up—and saw a familiar face.
Oh… so this was that “male lead.”

She saw him standing in front of her, long fingers holding a cigarette. He wore a black Zhongshan suit, and in the chilly weather, part of his wrist was exposed—strong and lean.

But what truly caught her attention was his face. It was so stunning it looked like Nuwa had crafted it in a moment of showy pride. Deep-set eyes, a straight nose, sharp bone structure, and thin lips slightly pursed. But his eyes… were cold—ice from pupil to brow. When he looked at Jiang Qingrou, it felt more like he was looking at an object.

His tall, upright posture forced her to look up at him. And his natural, almost innate sense of distance and authority made Jiang Qingrou shiver slightly, even through her thick clothing.

Yet, despite it all, a trace of regret appeared in her eyes.