Chapter 19: Good Eye for Detail

Qiao Jingjing was convinced she must’ve gotten a lucky break from some deity she’d prayed to.

The director even called her personally—asking if she wanted to take the short-term training slot at the Planetarium. The kicker? It was at Tsinghua University’s Foreign Language Department, for one and a half months.

“But… I’m not actually an employee of the Planetarium…”
“Our ambassador needs a more international image—training is essential.”
“Fine. That’s about as legitimate a reason as you can get.”

Jingjing nearly hugged Lingjie through the phone: “Lingjie, isn’t this a sign? This means *Black Eyes* is gonna make it!”

After back-to-back shoots—brand endorsements for cloud formations, car models, fashion looks—and endless interviews, she finally packed two suitcases full of “youthful, vibrant, effortlessly beautiful” outfits, meticulously curated by Xiao Zhu.

By the time she left, Yu Tu’s project had just been wiped out. On the way to see her off, Jingjing ran a finger over his slightly jutting cheekbones and longer sideburns. “Yu Doctor, you’re now officially down to 99 points.”

“99 won’t get you eliminated.”

Seizing the moment, he gently touched her hand. In the backseat, Lingjie and Xiao Zhu quickly shrank into the corners like they were trying to vanish.

Jingjing had originally planned to live with the other trainees from the Planetarium—real study meant real immersion, after all.

But Lingjie knew her too well. She warned upfront: “Don’t ruin others’ learning lives just because you’re here.”

So in the end, Jingjing stayed at Jia Suo, close to Wen Nan Building where class was held. Xiao Zhu would stay with her for a few days. If everything stayed calm, he could go home.

Once settled, Lingjie started giving instructions—step one, step two, step three—when Jingjing already pulled out a handwritten notebook with a grin: “Yu Tu wrote me over a hundred tips for Tsinghua. He knows this place better than you do.”

“Miss Qiao, can you please stop drenching us in romance every five seconds?”

“But this is my dream from high school days…”

Yeah. Dream. This campus. And… him.

Before her first class, Yu Tu spent half an hour on video helping Jingjing pick an outfit—trying three different ones, still shaking his head, frowning in frustration.

“This is too eye-catching. I regret this already.”

Jingjing giggled, just like any ordinary Tsinghua girl, slinging her backpack over her shoulder and heading off to class—before nine o’clock.

“Qiao Jingjing returns to campus, stripped of glamour.”

It hit the top of Weibo’s trending list instantly. Sure, Tsinghua was full of engineering nerds—but it had a journalism department too! And besides, even engineers appreciate beauty. No fancy adjectives needed. One word: *beautiful.*

The Planetarium rode the wave effortlessly, landing at #12: “Ambassador of Shanghai Planetarium, Qiao Jingjing.”

Director was thrilled—this year’s PR targets were locked in. Tsinghua’s English Department made its first-ever appearance on the hot list. No reaction? Normal. Expected.

Fans and haters went at it again:
“Does Qiao Jingjing really need to act so fake?”
“Tsinghua’s losing its dignity…”
“She’s the Planetarium’s ambassador, she’s done science talks—she’s got substance.”
“I graduated from SISU, going to Tsinghua for training? Totally normal.”
“She’s not even an English major—management at SISU is basically window dressing.”
“Show me your version of ‘window dressing’ then.”

Still, Jingjing’s academic life was going surprisingly smoothly.

Her professors praised her solid foundation—just a bit rusty from time away. A little polish, and she’d be back on track.

The colleagues who’d once been stiff and formal were now openly impressed. Their glowing reports flew back to the Planetarium. When the director spoke to an academician on the phone, he sighed sincerely: “Brother, your eye for talent still beats mine. Who’d have thought such a delicate celebrity could actually commit like this?”

“You should learn from that,” the old man replied.

Only one thing kept nagging her: the sheer number of people everywhere—classes, hallways, cafeterias, running tracks, even the trees.

Turns out, even a stunning woman who causes riots can become ordinary when seen every day.

On Waterwood BBS, the “Crystal Dumpling Waterwood Branch” posted regular updates—no photos, no marketing, no drama. Just daily life.

Why not Weibo?
Because we keep things low-key here.
No pictures?
Because we respect privacy.
Is this a scam?
We don’t have time for that.

I’ve been living the same loop: classroom → restroom → library.
Jingjing’s pronunciation is flawless, her listening skills sharp. Reading and writing? Solid.
She speaks softly, with a hint of coquettish charm—classic southern girl.
In the cafeteria, the chef keeps giving her extra food. She shares it with classmates.
At Zijing Track, she runs with earbuds in—probably practicing listening.
Her natural face? Absolutely flawless.
When she walks into the library, people automatically offer their seats. Magic.
Today’s Western Art History class? She killed it—knew way too much.
Fact: Jingjing is *here to study.*

Yu Tu worked nonstop until he caught up on his failed project. Finally, he exhaled—relieved.

Meanwhile, Jingjing flooded him with dozens of messages a day, bursting with joy:
“The window of Jia Suo overlooks the Gongzi Hall—really has 300 years of history!” *(Photo: lying on the grass, arms stretched wide.)*
“Only Tsinghua people understand what I’m doing.”
*(Cafeteria photo): Guess which canteen this is—I’m gonna eat at every single one.*
“My library card can’t check out certain books. Down with discrimination!”

Yu Tu couldn’t take it anymore. Having a girlfriend who acts like she doesn’t have one was bad enough.
But this one? Too happy. Not a single trace of longing. Not even mild pining. Honestly—she’s heartless.

At month’s end, Yu Tu finally earned the chance to replace Da Meng on a trip to Beijing’s Flight Control Center. Da Meng gripped his hand tightly: “Yu Tu, you’re a real friend. Lunch on me—let’s go.”

Only downside? He had to go with Guan. That guy was *too* sharp.

Meanwhile, the heartless girlfriend was walking back after evening classes, sending voice messages as she went:
“Seriously, someone riding a bike while staring at a laptop? Legend-level.”
Oh, and I’ve decided to start morning runs at Zijing Track—those names are the most poetic.
Today in Western Art History, I did voiceovers for *Roman Holiday* and *Black Swan*. Halfway through, the professor stopped me—said redo it. He wants to record it for teaching materials.
Tomorrow’s news reading class—I haven’t even started. Gotta cram tonight…

“That’s because you went visiting your neighbor today…”