While Kevin Ding was looking for a chance to report directly to the chief editor, Editor-in-Chief Robert quickly handed over the draft report.
"Yes, sir. We've already realized the seriousness of the issue and are making structural changes. This is a piece we're preparing to publish in this Saturday's special edition. Please review it."
Kevin was dumbfounded. What kind of maneuver was this? Just a moment ago, wasn't it rejected outright? Declared permanently scrapped? How could the U-turn come this fast?
Was this the cruelty of the workplace?
A thousand question marks swirled above Kevin's head.
Chief Editor Rogers took the draft and habitually read aloud:
"Snoopy Doug. Side A: Academic genius of UCLA Anderson School of Management, recipient of a full scholarship. Side B: The first-ever 1.95m starting center in UCLA men's basketball history."
Rogers became intrigued right from the first paragraph. He loved this reporting style, and the content was gripping.
He kept reading.
The report revealed Snoopy's academic achievements while also showcasing his starkly contrasting physical profile.
At this, Rogers lifted his head. "We can't publish all this data. It would reveal his strengths and weaknesses to opponents ahead of March Madness. As journalists, we must have a bottom line. We absolutely can't interfere with UCLA's strategic preparation."
Robert nodded quickly, repeating, "You're right, you're absolutely right."
But in his heart, he scoffed: Bottom line? If you were a USC graduate, you'd have exposed all this data without a second thought. You wouldn't care about UCLA's fate.
The article didn't focus solely on basketball. It introduced Snoopy as a unique figure: an academic prodigy, a 1.95m defensive center, and a guy who could conquer beautiful women with just a song.
After finishing the draft and watching the DV footage, Rogers was very satisfied.
"I suggest we create a special column to follow this player. My opinion: don't portray him as a genius athlete, portray him as an ordinary college student. That will resonate more with subscribers."
The chief editor gave his directive.
The managing editor quickly agreed.
Finally, Chief Editor Rogers left the office with a smile, muttering to himself: "Who says Anderson College doesn't produce sports prodigies? Even business students can play basketball."
Robert shrugged helplessly, then extended his hand to Kevin.
"Congratulations, Kevin. You're no longer an intern, you're now a full-time reporter. Tomorrow morning, you can sign your new contract with HR."
Kevin was caught off guard. He quickly grabbed Robert's hand.
"Thank you, sir. I'll work very hard."
"No, Kevin. You should thank him." Robert pointed to Snoopy on the DV, playing piano, and said bluntly: "Thank him for being Anderson's top student."
…
The sweetness of first love was intoxicating.
From their first kiss at 8:30 to reluctantly parting at 10:30, Snoopy and Jennifer kissed eleven times.
Neither of them tired of it. Every time their eyes met, their lips wanted to do something, their tongues eager to join.
In truth, if not for Jennifer's mother and agent calling six times within half an hour, and Snoopy's own lack of courage, they might have ended up in a five-star hotel that very night, letting passion carry them into their first intimate experience.
Walking back with "three legs" was no easy task.
Normally the dorm was only 15 minutes away. But the constant struggle with the "third leg" in his sweatpants cost him an extra 15 minutes. Every few steps he had to stop to adjust, either tucking it downward into his pant leg or strapping it upward against his waistband.
But it was unruly. Each time Snoopy remembered those sweet kisses, his iron-hard "third leg" would spring back to life with defiant vigor.
At last, after great effort, he returned to his empty dorm.
Kevin Love was rarely there anymore, he had meetings with important figures. Having decided to declare for the draft, his father, former NBA player Stan Love, was actively working behind the scenes to secure him a good pick.
Darren Collison and Russell Westbrook were both in the hospital, Collison with a serious injury, Westbrook with food poisoning.
Thinking of Russell made Snoopy uneasy: Wait, Jennifer didn't wear lipstick tonight, right? Hopefully not the same brand Nina used…
While he worried, Jennifer called. They sweet-talked each other on the phone for a long while.
If not for Snoopy remembering he had a paper due, he would have talked with her all night.
Even so, it still took nine "goodbyes" before they hung up, followed by three "goodnights" via text.
By then, it was already the next day.
Snoopy spent an hour finishing his paper, showered, and by 1:30 a.m., fell asleep with the taste of love still lingering.
The next morning at 8, he submitted his paper and received glowing praise from his professor.
Then, eager and restless, he hurried to the gym.
Because he had discovered something: his coordination seemed to have improved.
He'd noticed it during their seventh kiss the night before. They had been walking down some steps in the plaza, when, locked in a kiss, Jennifer leaned back, slipped, and stumbled. Snoopy instantly stepped forward, grabbed her waist, and with a deep, leaning stride, caught her in a graceful, cinematic "French kiss dip."
"Could it be the power of love?" Snoopy muttered afterward, his heart pounding wildly, his blood racing faster than ever. But caught in the haze of first love, he didn't realize how unusual it was.
Swish!
Back at the gym, Snoopy made his first-ever shot under the basket, and scored.
For the first time, he didn't lose his balance and stumble forward. Ecstatic, he took it as proof that his coordination had indeed improved.
He tried another shot.
Bang!
It missed.
But he was still happy.
Then he attempted a jump shot.
But this time he had overestimated himself.
The moment he jumped and released, his balance collapsed. He staggered forward several steps before barely regaining control.
Jump shots were different from blocking shots, they required a fully synchronized chain of movement, from toes to fingertips. A systematic whole.
"Snoppy, I think you should start with free throws."
It was Mr. Ben Holland, who had silently appeared behind him.