Ji Ye sat on the bench in the corner, with a towel draped over his shoulders. The beads of sweat were still hanging on his temples, but they were no longer flowing. He stared at the screen of his mobile phone, and the old photo was enlarged to the limit - when he was a teenager, he and Ling Zhuo stood side by side on the podium, the gold cup dazzling in the sun so that people could not open their eyes. At that time, Ling Zhuo smiled like a sword that had just been drawn out of its sheath, so sharp that it made people want to hide; but he himself, with his green eyes, dared to lift the trophy above his head and shout "We are the king".
