Inside a stark, white-walled office, Song Meiqi sat beside A&R Director Ms. Xu, both leaning forward slightly, ears attuned to the steady beat pulsing through the room.
The song began with the gentle strum of an acoustic guitar, gradually joined by the soft resonance of a piano. Its moderate tempo carried a quiet, somber tone that seemed to linger in the air.
It was brief—barely a minute long—and as it ended, Ms. Xu looked at Meiqi, her lips pressed together before slowly curving into a smile.
"I can feel it… there's a sorrow in it, like the quiet ache of a love coming to an end." Ms. Xu's chest tightened slightly, touched by the raw emotion beneath the melody. She leaned back, admiration and concern mixing in her gaze as she asked, "Could it be… that you're in love?"
Caught off guard, Meiqi met Ms. Xu's gaze, her eyes flickering with surprise and a quiet vulnerability.
Seeing her reaction, Ms. Xu instantly understood and let out a soft sigh. Her voice was gentle, carrying a warm, quiet pride as she spoke.
"You've grown so much, Meiqi. I remember meeting you at sixteen—so focused, so careful around boys. I told Mr. Jin you'd go far, and I wasn't wrong. Look at you now—your talent, your heart, it all comes through in this song."
Meiqi couldn't help but smile at her words, a gentle warmth spreading through her chest. Ms. Xu had always been so perceptive about music and talent, and just hearing her praise filled Meiqi with both joy and quiet confidence.
"Thank you," she murmured without thinking.
Ms. Xu rose from her seat, her tone calm yet encouraging. "Write the lyrics, and let's hear it again. If it works, I'll submit it for approval." Her gaze lingered softly on her before she turned to leave, the steady click-clack of her heels fading down the hall.
Meiqi stayed seated, a long silence stretching as she processed what had just happened. Her eyes widened in surprise—she couldn't believe she had been asked to write the lyrics. Then a grin bloomed across her face, reaching her ears, and she kicked her legs in the air, giddy even while still seated.
She spent the rest of the day in the group's dance studio, chasing the perfect lyrics as she sat comfortably on the sprung floors.
Elsewhere in the city Z, as the sun dipped low, Si Haoran was wrapping up his scenes for the day. It was his first movie since debut, and he poured everything into each take, determined to prove himself.
"Haoran!" Wenhao called out as he spotted him leaving. Haoran turned, curiosity flickering in his eyes at the familiar voice.
Recognizing Wenhao, he called back in acknowledgment, "Brother Wenhao."
Wenhao walked over, draping an arm over his shoulders. "A few of us from the crew are heading to Angels Club. Want to come?"
Haoran looked at him, a little surprised by the invitation. Wenhao, already in his late twenties, was one of the veteran actors in the cast, and turning him down wouldn't be wise. Besides, Haoran figured it was a good chance to build connections.
A faint smile tugged at his lips as he slipped one hand into his pocket. "Sure," he said lightly—his voice easy, though a hint of thought lingered in his eyes.
A couple of hours later, blue and purple lights flashed in sync with the bass, casting fleeting shadows across the crowd. Bodies swayed and twisted to the rhythm, the air heavy with sweat and alcohol.
On the upper level of the room, Wang Zi Rui held a glass of whiskey in his left hand, watching the crowd lost in the groove below.
"Haoran, come on—look at all the ladies on the dance floor. Let's join them," Wenhao said, draping an arm around his shoulders and gesturing toward the crowd.
As Haoran slipped into the center of the crowd, the beat carried his movements, his gaze drifting over the room. Heat and perfume clung to the air, and he'd be lying if he said the swaying hips and clinging dresses didn't draw his attention.
A thought then slid into his mind—what if he took one of them home? He and Meiqi had been together for over a year, yet had shared only gentle kisses; she always pulled away when things threatened to deepen. And, with her world tour keeping them apart, chances to be close were scarce.
The thought barely had time to settle when a sudden bump to his back snapped him out of it. He turned, annoyance flickering—then stopped cold. Under the shifting lights, a familiar face emerged from the crowd, stealing the breath from his chest.
"Mengyao…" he breathed, the name slipping out before he could stop it.
"Brother Haoran," Mengyao said, just as surprised.
Back at Meiqi's apartment, she was scrolling through the comments on her latest post, replying to fans, when a message notification flashed on her screen—from someone she didn't recognize.
"So you chose him over me when he's a scumbag," the message read.
A photo appeared beneath it—familiar silhouettes of a man and a woman. Meiqi narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the figures, until her breath caught. The man… he looked like Haoran.
"I told you to end it with him. Be with me, and I'll cherish you forever." Another message popped up, but she barely noticed—her eyes stayed locked on the photo, her heart thudding uneasily.