Nanda · Chat

3:00 PM, Meishan Bay Beach Resort. 　　The sun blazes overhead. Barefoot on the soft, fine, scorching white sand, you feel the heat wave scented with salty sea air. Holding your friend's hand, you walk down to the wet sand where waves lap over your feet. 你 looks down at the ripples of the incoming tide, lightly kicking at the water as fine sprays splash onto your swimsuit, bringing a touch of cool relief. Immersed in the moment, your nerves—strung tight for so long by work/studies—finally relax completely, the tiredness gently blown away by the sea breeze. 　　You came to Ningbo with your friend to watch Race 2 of the GTWC Asia Cup and take the chance to unwind by the sea. As your body relaxes, your mind drifts, and as you gaze out at the churning waves in the distance, scenes from this morning's race involuntarily flash through your mind once more. 　　A championship battle: the grandstands erupted in frenzy, with shouts and applause echoing endlessly. Truth be told, you don't know much about motor racing and had no idea what the people around you were chanting. What truly drew you to watch the race live in person was the cool, stunning woman favored by the cameras on the big screen—Nanda. 　　“Here it comes! A flawless line through the final corner! Nanda holds tight to first position, leaving zero chance for the car behind to overtake!” The commentator's voice boomed with fierce excitement: “High-speed double apex, Nanda hard on the brakes going into the turn—flawless braking point—and a clean, decisive throttle out of the corner! Truly Brazil's top professional driver! Congratulations to team Nanda for taking the championship today!” 　　The surrounding spectators leapt up from their seats, screams and cheers weaving together in waves. Someone shouted Nanda's name at the top of their lungs, and others joined in. The scattered chants gradually coalesced into a unified roar; hundreds, thousands of voices merged into one, the entire grandstand screaming for her. 　　“Nanda! Nanda!” 　　You stared blankly at Nanda's zoomed-in face on the screen. She pulled off her helmet with a crisp movement, sweat-drenched strands of hair clinging to the side of her face. She lowered her eyes, taking a deep, heavy breath, but when she looked up, she unexpectedly caught sight of the camera shoved right in her face. Nanda's surprise lasted only a fraction of a second; the corner of her lips tugged up slightly, a sparkling smile rippling in her eyes, full of bold charm and swagger. It was just a simple head tilt and a wink, her chest still heaving from exertion, yet it triggered another wave of screaming across the whole crowd. 　　“Is there anything you'd like to say about your performance today?” an excited reporter asked, thrusting the microphone forward. Nanda leaned slightly forward, pressing close to the mic. Her voice was lazy and magnetic, her speech slow yet clear, with the ends of her sentences trailing upward in a subtle lilt distinctive to her Brazilian accent. 　　“Hmm... anything to say?” She softly repeated the question, her voice still raspy from the race. “Just enjoy it. The rhythm of driving today felt really good.” 　　As she spoke, she idly toyed with her zipper using her index finger, radiating an unconscious flirtatiousness. She seemed completely unbothered by just how captivating she looked on camera, expanding her chest as she stretched, leaving the camera with a smile that was both genuine and helpless. 　　“Though, the racing suit performed pretty poorly today. It's clinging way too tight from sweat, making it a bit hard to breathe. Mind waiting until I change? See you all in the media interview area later.” She stepped out of the car, waved goodbye to the reporter with a smile, and followed her team off the track. 　　Once the big screen switched to footage of other drivers, you didn't bother watching any further and left the venue directly. Even now, staring out at the sea, you can still recall the alluring, sexy look in Nanda's eyes when she glanced up. 　　After daydreaming for a moment, your friend suddenly received a call from her advisor and had to leave early in a hurry. She jogged over to grab her backpack from the shore, waved goodbye, and got into a freshly hailed taxi back to the hotel. 　　Without a friend around, hanging out felt dull. You waded along the shoreline for a bit, but with the sun beating down mercilessly, you completely lost interest. Turning around, you walked back to where you had left your bag, unzipped it, and realized you couldn't find your change of everyday clothes. 　　Then you remembered: because your own bag was small, your clothes had been placed in your friend's bag. You zipped your bag shut, sighed, and dialed your friend first—if all else failed, you'd just buy a jacket nearby. 　　The phone rang a few times with no answer. Shrugging helplessly, you pulled up the map on your phone, about to look for a way out. 　　“Need some help?” A woman's voice came from nearby. It sounded strangely familiar. Turning around to look, a figure lounging on a beach chair completely took over your field of vision. 　　Your eyes slid from the arc of her slightly flexed instep down the muscular contours of her thighs dusted with sand. She switched legs, bending the other, as droplets of sweat trickled slowly down the muscle tone of her thigh. Moving your gaze upward, your eyes finally locked onto her face. 　　It was a wildness far more striking than what you saw on the big screen. 　　You stood there stunned. Nanda tilted her head at you, the dazed girl, and gave a warm, accommodating wave: “I was calling you.” She pushed her sunglasses up into her hair, picked up the jacket beside her chair, and handed it to you. 　　“It's black, goes well with anyone. I bet it'll look great on you.”