The woman who had been waiting for a long time pressed her against the door

The questioned person hadn’t found her words,
but the one mentioned spoke first.

“Senior Liu has always cared about the domestic music scene,
especially looking out for younger artists.”

Xu Fengluan turned to her,
politely adding:
“Thanks for the tissue, Senior.”

Her formal, distant words,
praising on the surface,
pushed the two further apart.

Zhang exhaled slightly,
relieved yet unsatisfied.
She didn’t want too much controversy,
nor something too bland,
always aiming for a spark.

Beside her, Liu Tingsong stiffened subtly,
her dangling hand clenching, then loosening,
the silver chain at her neck swaying,
her fingertips tingling with a sour ache.

Under the live stream’s pretext,
Xu Fengluan didn’t push her away,
but showed no warmth either,
her politeness cutting deeper.

Zhang spoke again,
unable to link Liu Tingsong and Xu Fengluan,
so she pivoted,
grinning at a bullet comment:
“When you went to the bathroom,
Orange kept glancing that way.”

Caught off guard,
Chu Cheng, engrossed in the drama,
blinked in confusion.

Xu Fengluan, usually averse to such antics,
deliberately grinned,
teasing Chu Cheng:
“So worried about me, huh?”

Compared to her earlier formal tone,
this playful, teasing voice
highlighted her closeness with Chu Cheng.

Chu Cheng, reacting faster than her brain,
snapped back:
“Who’s worried about you?”

“No idea,”
Xu Fengluan dragged her words,
her affectionate tone unhidden.

The earlier snarky bullet comments were buried,
replaced by gushing about ChengFeng CP’s sweetness.

Zhang, seeing Xu Fengluan play along,
quickly jumped in.

Liu Tingsong turned her head,
silently quiet.

The mood heated up again.
Moments later,
the screen went black.
Viewers, still hungry for more,
couldn’t stop it,
venting frustration on the dark screen.

It was Zhang’s old trick—
cutting the live stream before the final creative segment
to boost clicks for the edited version a week later,
keeping audiences hooked.

Outside, daylight softened,
sinking toward the city’s edge,
until the last glow faded.
Night breeze swept in,
ushering the city’s brief blue hour.

The house emptied,
leaving only a stale smell.

Xu Fengluan bent to pick up a fallen drumstick,
placing it back.

Her already pale face grew weaker,
her loose shirt clinging to her thin frame in the breeze,
her curved spine starkly visible,
exuding exhausted fatigue.

The crew’s promised cleaners wouldn’t come until tomorrow.
Xu Fengluan scanned the room,
then hid in her bedroom,
sinking into soft sheets,
a muffled sigh rising and falling.

This afternoon drained her more
than weeks of nonstop work.
Perhaps the emotional rollercoaster kept her awake,
hyper-alert despite exhaustion.

A nightmare.

Xu Fengluan rolled over,
staring at the blank ceiling.

Her thoughts churned,
forcibly reined in,
far from the calm she projected.

After staring blankly for ages,
she grabbed her phone.

X-blog was buzzing today,
Liu Tingsong and Burning Meteor dominating the trends,
likely fueled by Zhang’s paid promotions.

Xu Fengluan hesitated,
but knowing this was the year’s first group show,
she couldn’t resist clicking in.

As expected,
even under Burning Meteor’s tag,
the top post was Liu Tingsong’s live stream screenshot.

She looked stunning today—
rimless glasses, light-gray suit,
her cool air laced with mature poise,
every gesture elegant yet vibrant.

Xu Fengluan didn’t linger,
swiping the photo away
until it vanished.

But while the screen cleared,
her mind wouldn’t.

The mole at Liu Tingsong’s eye corner,
a faint gray dot hidden behind clear lenses,
her black-and-white eyes sharp as obsidian,
both drawing you in to explore deeper
and pushing you away, untouchable.

She shoved the image down,
tapping a video without looking.

When upbeat BGM played,
she realized what she’d clicked.

It was a ChengFeng CP edit of her and Chu Cheng from today.

She knew about ChengFeng—
fans waved banners at every offline show,
impossible to miss.

Chu Cheng had once been curious,
diving into the super topic all night,
laughing while spamming their group chat,
teasing Xu Fengluan had a crush on her for weeks.

When bored,
they’d sneak into super topics,
comparing whose CP was hotter,
teasing each other.

It was just for laughs,
never taken seriously.
Normally, it’d give her goosebumps,
but now, it was a good distraction.

Except…

If only Liu Tingsong weren’t between them.

Xu Fengluan’s lips tightened,
catching Liu Tingsong’s fleeting sadness
after her distancing words.

What was she upset about?

What right did she have to look like that?

Her eyes turned cold.
Irritation peaking,
knowing avoidance was useless,
she forced herself to keep watching,
almost masochistically.

She saw Liu Tingsong glance at her,
lingering.

She saw Liu Tingsong’s hand clench into a fist,
then loosen,
repeating,
leaving crescent marks in her palm.

She saw Liu Tingsong focus on her words,
as if memorizing them.

The video ended,
sliding to the next.

Another of Liu Tingsong.

Xu Fengluan didn’t stop,
watching one after another,
as if the algorithm assumed she was obsessed,
endlessly recommending her.

“…Suit, rimless glasses, updo, tipsy—
who gets it?
Li’s photography is unreal.”

“Same makeup as the live stream,
but under her lens,
Liu Tingsong feels completely different.”

The blue outside turned pitch-black,
an exaggerated electronic female voice echoing in the room,
images flashing,
reflected in Xu Fengluan’s jade-green eyes.

It seemed like photos taken after the live stream,
rushed to another shoot.

In a dark, empty room,
lit only by neon through the floor-to-ceiling windows,
a tipsy woman sat on a white carpet,
leaning back against a black leather sofa.

Her suit jacket was tossed aside,
a strand of her updo falling loose,
neon reflecting in her lenses,
her alcohol-flushed eyes blurring the black-white divide,
her innate coolness melting into unspoken dejection.

Like a magnolia on a branch,
suddenly fallen into the garish world,
even her silver neck chain dared to slip an inch lower.

Xu Fengluan’s finger pressed down,
pausing the video,
freezing the image.

She closed her eyes,
tossing the phone aside,
unable to keep going.

This didn’t ease her at all—
it made things worse.
The feelings she’d suppressed for days surged,
drowning her,
plunging her into the deep sea,
clogging her eyes, ears, nose, mouth,
making breathing a struggle.

Only now did she realize
time hadn’t buried the past;
the wounds she pretended didn’t exist
had long festered.

No relief, no retreat.
She dug out the cigarette pack from earlier,
tearing it open,
biting the bitter tobacco between her teeth.

The taste was harsh,
like concentrated smoke exploding on her tongue,
pungent, nauseating.
A faint sweetness followed the bitterness,
quickly smothered by the heavy tobacco.

But Xu Fengluan didn’t stop,
chewing stick after stick,
until the flavor was gone,
spitting it out.
The bitterness lingered,
hard to swallow,
like water steeped in extinguished cigarettes.

Nausea churned,
the pills she’d taken roiling in her stomach.

The cigarette pack hit the floor,
Xu Fengluan slumped numbly amid the tobacco papers,
her thin frame under the loose shirt frailer still,
her spine propping the fabric in sharp ridges,
swaying in the breeze.

Time passed—
how long, she didn’t know—
until every cigarette was torn apart.
Outside, car wheels rolled over pavement,
a child shouted about the amusement park,
parents laughing in response.

Xu Fengluan stood,
slipping into slippers,
shuffling to the bathroom.

Water splashed,
gagging followed,
then the hum of an electric toothbrush.
When it all stopped,
Xu Fengluan returned with a plastic bag,
silently tossing in the cigarette pack and papers,
tying it tightly.

Her germaphobia kicked in—
she couldn’t rest until it was gone,
bagging it to throw out.

—Bang!

The door flew open.
This time, Xu Fengluan didn’t stumble back.
The woman waiting outside
pinned her against the door.

The plastic bag fell,
a faint mix of alcohol and tobacco mingling in the air.