“…”
Hearing this, he seemed to reluctantly become a bit more energetic: “Continue, I suddenly feel your speech isn’t entirely worthless, at least it adds some humor to my otherwise dull day.”
Lin Zhexia took a deep breath.
She forced herself to calm down.
Coming to find Chi Yao.
That was a mistake.
But looking at it from another angle, Chi Yao was the first hurdle on her speech journey.
If she could successfully deliver her speech in front of Chi Yao, what other demons and monsters would she fear?
Would there be any audience more hateful, more critical, more picky than Chi Yao?
No.
She would fear no one.
Lin Zhexia struggled to recall what the second paragraph was about, then recited it with some stumbling.
This time, Chi Yao didn’t criticize her.
He quieted down, propping his chin, looking a bit listless, but listening to her the whole time.
Occasionally, he would comment: “This time was better than the last.”
Lin Zhexia was a bit proud: “I do have some talent for public speaking, don’t I?”
Chi Yao looked up: “I thought this was called making up for lack of talent through hard work.”
“…”
The speech was very long, and it was difficult to memorize it completely and fluently.
Lin Zhexia spent the entire afternoon at his place reciting the speech to him, drinking two containers of water in the process.
During her final attempt at reciting, she still forgot her lines in the middle: “So we should cherish youth, um, we should… what comes next?”
The person on the sofa, who was almost asleep from listening, propped up his head and casually continued: “We should race toward tomorrow without regrets.”
Lin Zhexia: “Oh, right, we should race toward tomorrow without—”
She stopped halfway, “Wait, how do you know it by heart already?”
Chi Yao: “Because my intelligence is normal.”
Lin Zhexia: “If you want to say I’m stupid, just say it directly.”
Chi Yao put down his hand, stood up from the sofa, and headed to the kitchen for a glass of water. As he passed by her, he stopped and casually placed his hand on her head for a moment, saying somewhat drowsily: “Yes, you’re stupid.”
“…”
Lin Zhexia felt somewhat defeated.
After all, she had spent so much time memorizing, yet a mere “audience member” could recite it more smoothly than she could.
When Chi Yao walked out of the kitchen with a water glass in hand.
Lin Zhexia looked at him and said, “Since you already know it by heart, why don’t I give this precious opportunity to you? You can go compete instead.”
Lin Zhexia stayed at Chi Yao’s place all afternoon.
By evening, around dinner time, Lin He called her home to eat.
During the meal, she was a bit gloomy. This gloom stemmed from something she already had little confidence in, after a day of effort, seemed to have not improved.
She began to doubt whether she could do this at all.
Once a person begins to doubt themselves, the first thing they think of is giving up.
“Mom, Uncle Wei,” Lin Zhexia lowered her head, poking at the rice in her bowl with chopsticks, “I’m thinking of telling Teacher Xu to replace me with someone else for the competition.”
Lin He didn’t want to force her either, and since the speech competition wasn’t mandatory, she went along with her: “If it’s too difficult, just tell the teacher to replace you.”
Wei Ping also said, “Yes, and you’ve already tried your best. If it’s challenging, just talk to the teacher.”
Lin Zhexia responded with a sound of agreement.
After dinner, she seriously considered the matter of replacement.
She sat in the living room and clicked on Teacher Xu’s profile picture through the class group.
Teacher Xu’s profile picture was a quietly blooming lotus flower. She hesitated for a long time, looking at that lotus flower, typing words into the dialog box, and then quickly deleting them.
Finally, she wrote a very formal message, but just before sending it, her finger paused for a second over the send button.
However, in that very second.
Her phone suddenly vibrated.
Chi Dog: Still practicing or not
Suddenly, all of Lin Zhexia’s emotions from the entire day erupted at these five ordinary words.
She sniffled very slightly.
She switched to the chat window, and her fingers flew across the keyboard.
Do you also think I can’t do it
I know, my recitation isn’t smooth, I keep stumbling
I can’t even memorize such simple content
And just thinking about going on stage with so many people watching makes me nervous.
She typed several lines.
Then, slowing down her typing speed, she repeated the first sentence.
So
Do you
Also think I can’t do it
If Chi Yao were in front of her right now, she wouldn’t have said so much.
Perhaps it was because of the distance created by the network, or perhaps it was because just seconds ago, she had nearly sent that message of surrender to Teacher Xu.
After she sent it, there was no immediate reply from the other side.
After about ten seconds, she saw the familiar “the other party is typing.”
Chi Dog: Although your speech is full of clichés from beginning to end, and your recitation isn’t great either
Chi Dog: But no one thinks you can’t do it
Chi Dog: It’s you who thinks you can’t do it
Strangely, though, they were just a few lines of text.
She could almost hear Chi Yao’s voice through these lines—that voice habitually tinged with mockery, but sometimes mysteriously revealing a hint of gentleness—appearing beside her ear.
The other side sent a final message.
Chi Dog: I don’t think so