Among a Million Stars, It’s Only You

When I was seventeen, I ran my personal best at the provincial team trials. The moment I crossed the finish line, a tearing pain shot through my left knee: a torn anterior cruciate ligament.

The doctor said, “Even if the surgery goes well, you won't be able to return to the level of a professional athlete.”

I didn't believe him. I worked relentlessly at rehabilitation, getting up at four every morning to train. But six months later, I couldn't even make the finals of the hundred-meter dash at my school sports meet.

That night, I locked all my medals in a drawer and asked myself for the first time: What can I do besides run?

My mother came in and handed me a brochure for Jinghua University. “Xingchen, being an athlete isn't the only way to be involved in sports.”

When I turned to the Sports Economics and Management program, I suddenly remembered what the provincial team coach had said on the day I retired: “Xingchen, you have a talent even greater than running. You always make the people around you want to become better.”

Maybe this is my new track.

Gu Yezhou's “Solo on the Violin”

One winter, when I was ten, my mother played Swan Lake at a concert. It was the last piece she would ever perform.

I rushed onto the stage and found her collapsed beside the piano, still holding her bow.

I didn't cry at the funeral. My grandfather stroked my head and said, “Yezhou, the Gu family will be counting on you from now on.”

From then on, I became everything everyone expected of me: top of my class, a business prodigy, and the perfect heir.

Only when I play the cello late at night am I truly Gu Yezhou.