At the autumnal equinox when she was seventeen years old, Lin Yu smashed Yin Tang's physics notes on the top floor of the library. The damp draft rolled up the pages, revealing the secrets the boy had hidden behind the formula - a tennis racket was drawn on the edge of each page, and the latest page read "The bonus is enough to pay for my brother's three months of physical therapy." Top students who always wear well-ironed white shirts will use their school uniforms to block the leaking glass of the observatory on rainy days. The hideous burn scars on their backs are engraved with the date of the factory explosion ten years ago. And the rich girl who was always forbidden by her mother to touch the racket did not know when she was practicing against the wall late at night that someone would adjust the height of the net two hours in advance every day and use the morning dew on the back of the scoreboard to help her avoid the parabola of the surveillance camera.
When the mother's fake championship certificate fell out of the 1998 Astronomical Society's diary, and when Yin Tang's brother's audit report unearthed the Lin family's buried medical guarantee, the two teenagers, handcuffed by fate in the shadow of the family, shared the same painkiller at the observatory soaked by heavy rain, and used the strength of their serve to decipher each other's heartbeat frequency on the court filled with morning fog. Those blue wind chimes stuck in the air vents, the melted competition trophy fragments, and the medical records hidden in the racket grip will eventually weave a soul-shaking Jedi counterattack at the whistle of the inter-school league.
Intention: In a dark world, you may be desperate or helpless. I hope that there will be someone in your world who can be your racket and break the darkness. I hope that I can be your sword hilt and work with you to defend against enemies. But remember, your protective umbrella is always yourself.