She smiled and tilted her head slightly. "Unless I've been lying to myself for nineteen years, yes."
He leaned back in his chair, eyes studying her openly. "You look like a completely different person."
"That happens sometimes," she replied lightly. "People change."
"No," he said slowly. "This feels like… more than that." He squinted at her. "Be honest. Do you have a twin sister?"
A soft laugh slipped from her lips. "If I did, I think I would've capitalized on her fame by now. I'm afraid it's just me, Mr. JJ."
He shook his head in disbelief.
Their meals arrived shortly after. Conversation drifted through harmless topics. The view outside the window. The traffic below. The weather. The tea. The wine. The food. Polite, distant, cautious steps around each other.
Only after the plates were cleared did JJ finally rest his elbows on the table and exhale slowly.
"Alright," he said. "Enough dancing around. Let's talk business."
Elena set her cup down and nodded once. "Go on."
"You already know I love your demo tapes. I won't soften that." He paused briefly, letting the weight of that hang. "But you also know your reputation. And the timing of all this." His gaze sharpened. "Your disappearance. The scandal. The rumors. On top of that, you suddenly changed your entire musical style."
He straightened. "I invited you here today because my original plan was simple. I wanted to persuade you to sell me those songs as a composer."
Her fingers tightened almost invisibly around the teacup.
Behind the mirrored lenses, her eyes narrowed.
Only the slight press of her lips betrayed the shift in her mood.
"I see," she said quietly.
"And I already know," JJ continued, watching her closely, "that you refused."
Silence stretched thin between them.
JJ leaned back in his chair, eyes still tracing the outline of the woman sitting across from him, as he further said. "But seeing you like this today…" he said slowly, tapping a finger against the tabletop, "I'm already starting to change my mind."
Elena tilted her head slightly in his direction. "Hmm?"
"I didn't expect to see this version of you," he continued, gesturing vaguely at her. "You feel like a completely different person from the Elena Zhang on my screen from a year ago."
She turned her face toward the window. Outside, clouds drifted lazily across a wide blue sky, their pale reflections sliding across her mirrored lenses.
"You've heard about the accident," she said quietly.
JJ nodded.
"It wasn't just a crash," she continued. "It was the end of everything I used to be." Her voice didn't waver. "I died that day, Mr. JJ. I only came back a year later."
The restaurant noise seemed to dull around them for a moment.
"Death has a way of doing what lectures never can," she added. "It strips everything down to what's left."
JJ watched her in silence, his impatience cooling into something closer to understanding. After a few seconds, he exhaled and lifted his chin toward the center of the restaurant.
"See that piano?"
Elena followed his gaze to the small circular stage near the center, where a glossy black grand piano rested beneath warm lights.
"Go," he said. "Play one of your pieces. Let me hear how you mean it to be heard. Convince me that you're not just the composer… but the only one who can sing it."
Her lips curved faintly. "Alright."
She rose from her seat.
The way she moved drew attention without trying. Light steps. Straight back. No rush. People glanced up out of idle curiosity at first, then watched more closely as she crossed the restaurant and climbed onto the small stage. Conversations softened. Forks slowed mid-air.
She sat.
Flexed her fingers once.
And then struck the keys.
The first notes landed like a blade.
Sharp. Fast. Heavy.
The sound cut clean through the room, making heads snap up. The melody surged forward like hooves pounding through mud and blood, dragging with it the image of chaos, fire, and shattered ground. Several diners stiffened unconsciously.
Then the tempo slowed.
The sound thinned.
The storm quieted into a single, aching line of music.
She drew in a breath.
And sang.
"I'm lying in a crimson ocean..."
Her voice was low, steady, and heavy with shadow.
JJ's spine went straight as chills traveled up his arms.
Nearby, a middle-aged woman froze mid-bite. Her lips trembled. Her eyes blurred. The fork slipped quietly from her fingers and clinked against porcelain.
"My broken soul is searching..."
The woman's shoulders began to shake.
The melody climbed higher, pulling grief with it like a tide.
"Every time I close my eyes,
I dance with the phantom of your love…"
Tears rolled freely now. The woman covered her mouth, then her face. Her friends reached for her arms, whispering urgently. She shook her head, refusing to leave.
"I don't want to wake up from this tonight…"
The sunglasses hid Elena's eyes, but not the sorrow carved into her voice. Each note carried weight. Pain. Longing stretched so tight it trembled.
JJ had stopped breathing without realizing it.
"I'm dead when awake…"
The restaurant had fallen into complete silence.
"Oh… spend a thousand years…"
The final note faded.
For one heartbeat, nothing moved.
Then the room exploded.
Applause crashed like thunder. Chairs scraped back. People stood. Cheers tore through the air. Even diners from the lobby outside spilled in, drawn by sound and curiosity.
On the stage, Elena rose slowly and gave a deep, graceful bow.
The applause only grew louder.
She lifted her head slightly and scanned the crowd through dark lenses, a faint, nearly invisible smile touching her lips.
A waiter hurried forward and offered his hand to help her down from the stage, grinning like a boy who'd just been handed a miracle. She accepted with a polite nod.
Still clapping, she touched her chest, bowed once more to the audience in thanks, and walked back to the table where JJ waited in silence.
His eyes were burning.
And in that moment, his decision was already made.
"Amazing! Absolutely amazing!"
JJ was still clapping when Elena returned to the table, palms meeting with loud, unapologetic enthusiasm, as if the applause in the restaurant had never truly ended.
His eyes were bright, almost feverish with excitement, the kind that only appeared when he knew he had just stumbled onto something rare.
"Thank you, Mr. JJ," Elena said with a small smile as she sat down.
For once, JJ actually straightened his coat and adjusted his posture like a proper gentleman about to meet royalty.
Anyone in the industry would have laughed themselves sick if they saw this.
He was infamous for tossing contracts onto tables like gambling chips and crushing artists with his temper. "Demon JJ," they called him behind his back.
Right now, though, he looked absurdly pleased with himself.
After all, hadn't he been the one who asked her to play? Hadn't he turned an elegant lunch into a concert hall? The way he saw it, this whole miracle had bloomed from his own genius suggestion.
The applause outside finally settled into echoes and murmurs.
"That song," he said, leaning forward eagerly, "wasn't in the demo you sent me. What's the title?"
"The Phantom of Your Love," she replied.
JJ let out a low whistle. "You're really trying to kill people with heartbreak, huh? Alright. I'm convinced. Fully."
He paused, his expression turning unusually serious.
"Miss Elena Zhang," he said, folding his hands together, "I'm officially making you an offer. Will you sign under my label as my artist?"
She tilted her head slightly, eyes hidden behind dark lenses.
"Yes," she replied easily. "I'll sign. Thank you, Mr. JJ."
For half a second, JJ simply stared.
Then he slammed his palm onto the table with a loud smack. "Good! Excellent! My legal team will contact you within a week. We'll sort out the contract details properly."
"That sounds perfect."
They spoke a little longer, exchanging light words now that the tension had eased. When it was time to settle the bill, Elena reached for her purse, but JJ waved her hand away impatiently.
"Keep your money for your comeback. Consider this my advance investment."
As they stood to leave, the woman who had cried during the performance walked toward them, eyes still swollen red. Three friends followed closely behind her, their expressions bright with lingering emotion.
"Excuse me," the woman said softly. "I'm sorry to disturb you. My name is Feng Wan."
Her gaze lifted to Elena with genuine warmth. "Thank you for that song, Miss. It… truly moved me."
"I'm glad you liked it," Elena replied.
"I cried like a fool," Feng Wan said with a small laugh, eyes sparkling with tears again. "But it also made me feel lighter. It reminded me of my husband." She hesitated, then asked shyly, "May I know your name?"
"My surname is Zhang."
"Miss Zhang," Feng Wan repeated with affection. "Your song gave me courage. I will be your fan from today onward. I hope I can hear you sing again."
JJ cut in proudly, puffing up just a little. "Madam, you won't have to wait long. We'll release this song soon. And many more."
Feng Wan blinked at him. "And you are…?"
He flashed his most dazzling grin. "JJ."
One of Feng Wan's friends gasped loudly. "Oh my god, it is you! You're that JJ!"
The other two women immediately squealed.
"I knew you looked familiar!"
"Please sign something for me!"
"Oof—someone catch me, I'm going to faint!"
JJ basked in the sudden chaos, signing dresses, handbags, and even a napkin.
He even thrust an autograph into Feng Wan's hand, though she hadn't asked for one. She accepted it awkwardly, clearly having no idea what his fame truly meant.
One of the women turned to Elena with envy. "Miss Zhang, having Mr. JJ support you—your future is guaranteed!"
Elena only smiled faintly.
JJ laughed loudly. "Then remember to buy her album when it comes out, alright?"
A chorus of eager "Of course!" answered him.
Before leaving, Feng Wan suddenly took Elena's hands in both of hers. "Thank you for today. I'll pray for your success. I truly hope to hear your voice again."
Elena gently squeezed her hands back. "I will sing again. For you."
They separated in the hotel lobby not long after.
JJ left in a hurry, muttering about another meeting across town.
Elena called Simon Lau to pick her up and settled onto a quiet couch near the entrance. From her purse, she pulled out a paperback novel. The worn pages were printed in Russian, the original language of one of her favorite authors, from a life that belonged to someone else.
The world faded as she read.
Footsteps. Voices. Rolling suitcases. All of it blurred into background noise.
Then—
A large hand suddenly clamped down on her shoulder from behind.
Her muscles tightened instantly.
Before thought could catch up, Elena twisted in place, her elbow snapping backward in a brutal arc, her fist already swinging—Straight toward the face of the man who had grabbed her.