After the game, a clear yet stubborn female voice suddenly cut through the crowd, landing behind Gu Jin, who had just walked out of the stadium.
“Gu Jin.”
Gu Jin didn’t stop, as if he hadn’t heard.
Fujisawa Eri quickly caught up, her white pleated skirt particularly conspicuous in the crowd.
She still clutched the cheering stick she had crumpled while cheering for Gu Jin, her gaze fixed on his back—this was the second time she had called out to him so directly; the last time was six months ago at a street basketball court.
That day, she had casually accompanied her father to scout a location, only to stumble upon a young man in an old jersey playing 3v3.
Even though his teammates’ coordination was terrible, he seemed to possess a magnetic field; his eyes when stealing the ball were fiercer than the sun, and when he sank the final three-pointer, sweat dripped down his jawline. He didn’t even look at the cheering crowd, only lowered his head to tug at his sweat-soaked collar.
It was that moment that Fujisawa Eri remembered this person named Gu Jin.
She searched for a long time before finding his name and school. She had originally planned to formally invite him when Ryokufu’s recruitment plan launched, but today, seeing him shut out his opponent 10:0 in the Public Welfare Cup, she suddenly felt she couldn’t wait.
“You’re still so assertive.” Fujisawa Eri’s voice rose again, carrying a hint of unacknowledged grievance, “You win a game at the street basketball court and just leave, and now you win a match and still ignore people.”
Gu Jin finally stopped, but didn’t turn around, only cocked his ear.
“But this time is different.” Fujisawa Eri gripped the cheering stick tightly, her fingertips white. “Ryokufu needs a player like you, and I… I need you too.” She paused, her voice revealing a girl’s stubbornness. “I told you at the street basketball court last time that Ryokufu can give you the best resources, and now I’m saying it again—I want you to join Ryokufu, not just because of your skills, but also because…”
“Fujisawa-san.” Gu Jin finally spoke, his voice as flat as if discussing the weather. “I’ve forgotten about the street basketball court incident, and I refuse your invitation.”
After saying this, he walked straight towards the Ryonan locker room building, not even sparing an extra glance.
Fujisawa Eri froze in place, watching his back disappear into the passage, her cheering stick falling to the ground with a “thud.”
People around recognized her as the daughter of Ryokufu’s chairman and began to whisper, but she heard nothing—six months ago at the street basketball court, when she chased after him to hand him her business card, he had refused just as decisively, but today his back seemed even colder than it was then.
“Young Miss, don’t mind him.” A Ryokufu team member following behind her advised softly, “He’ll realize Ryokufu’s strength sooner or later.”
Fujisawa Eri, however, bent down to pick up the cheering stick, wiping the dust from it with her fingertips, and suddenly smiled: “The more he acts like this, the more I want him.”
She looked in the direction Gu Jin had left, her stubbornness even more intense than before—whether for Ryokufu or for that back at the street basketball court that she had remembered for six months, she wouldn’t give up easily this time.
“Young Miss, I heard he’s very poor and in great need of money.” The secretary’s voice was very low, as he handed over a simple file. “He has a girlfriend named Shimamura Yoko, whose family runs a ramen stall—the one on the corner. The stall owner, Shimamura Konan, is her mother. Her mother isn’t in very good health, and the ramen stall business is so-so; it seems she needs money more than he does.”
Fujisawa Eri clutched the thin paper, her fingertip pausing on the name “Shimamura Yoko.”
That day at the street basketball court, she had only seen Gu Jin alone; she never knew he had a girlfriend.
But this news didn’t deter her; instead, a flash of understanding passed through her eyes—even the most unyielding person always has a weakness.
At nine o’clock that evening, the “Shimamura Konan” ramen stall on the corner was about to close.
Under the dim streetlights, Shimamura Yoko was helping her mother clear away bowls and chopsticks, her white apron stained with a bit of oil, but her movements were quick and gentle.
Suddenly, two dazzling headlights cut through the night, and a black Rolls-Royce silently pulled up in front of the stall.
The car window lowered, revealing Fujisawa Eri’s refined yet distant face.
“Miss Shimamura.” She got straight to the point, her voice particularly clear in the night.
Shimamura Yoko was startled for a moment, then wiped her hands: “May I ask who you are?”
“My name is Fujisawa Eri.” She didn’t get out of the car, her gaze falling on the slightly old ramen stall beside them. “I’m here to see you, for Gu Jin.”
Shimamura Yoko’s eyes immediately became wary: “What do you want to do?”
Fujisawa Eri didn’t beat around the bush. She took a check and a document from her bag and handed them over through the car window: “This is a check for fifty million Japanese yen. Additionally, I’ve already selected a storefront in central Kanagawa, and I’ll be responsible for all the renovations and equipment—as long as you agree, you can open a ramen shop for your mother next month, so she won’t have to endure the wind and sun here anymore.”
Shimamura Yoko didn’t take them, her fingertips clutching her apron: “What exactly do you want to say?”
“It’s simple.” Fujisawa Eri looked directly at her, with a determined calmness. “Leave Gu Jin. I’ll cover all these things, including your mother’s future medical expenses.”
She paused, then added: “You should know that Gu Jin can’t give you these things now. He might not even have a stable life himself, let alone make your mother’s life easier. But I can.”
Shimamura Yoko looked at the number on the check, then at her mother’s tired but smiling face—her mother’s back pain had flared up for several days, and she had been reluctant to go to the hospital.
She took a deep breath, but her voice was steady: “Miss Fujisawa, you may have misunderstood. Gu Jin and I are together not because of money.”
“I know.” Fujisawa Eri raised an eyebrow. “But your mother needs it. Can you bear to watch her toil here until late every night? If fifty million isn’t enough, I can add more.” She took out a pen and paused over the check. “Tell me, how much money will it take for you to leave him?”
The evening breeze carried the steam from the ramen, and Shimamura Yoko suddenly smiled, shaking her head: “No amount of money will do.”
She turned and helped her mother. “My mother’s shop, we will work hard to open it ourselves.”
“Gu Jin will too—we don’t need others to measure our feelings with ‘money.’”
The Rolls-Royce’s headlights were still on, but they couldn’t penetrate the girl’s resolute eyes.
Fujisawa Eri watched the mother and daughter pack up their things and slowly push the ramen stall into the alley, their figures casting long shadows under the streetlights.
The check in her hand rustled slightly in the night breeze, and for the first time, she felt that some things really couldn’t be bought with money.
“Young Miss?” the secretary asked softly.
Fujisawa Eri put the check back in her bag, her eyes darkening: “Drive.”
She hadn’t given up; she just suddenly felt that to get Gu Jin, she might need to try a different approach.
“Shimamura Yoko, there’s one kind of person I hate the most, and that’s someone who doesn’t appreciate a good offer.”
