S University Anniversary

The three-day trip to Haicheng passed in a blur. Liu Tingsong was swamped with work during the day and entangled with Xu Fengluan at night. Apart from shooting, she never once made it to the beach. Before she knew it, they were back in S City.

Half a month of rain had drowned the city in early autumn’s chill, with sycamore trees lining the streets turning orange-yellow.

Amid this bleakness, S University’s anniversary celebration kicked off.

Canvas shoes crunched wet leaves as someone deliberately bypassed the bustling main gate, slipping through a quieter side entrance. Curious glances followed, but before anyone could react, she navigated a small path and vanished around a corner.

A bewildered student muttered, “Was that Burning Meteor’s lead singer?”

“Think so… Didn’t Xu Fengluan graduate from our school? Maybe she’s here for the anniversary,” a classmate replied.

The student slapped her thigh. “Then the whole band’s coming? My god, no one mentioned this! Their tickets are impossible to get. I’m sneaking into the auditorium.”

With that, she darted off, ignoring her friend.

Xu Fengluan, oblivious to this, wove through campus buildings until she reached a low warehouse covered in ivy.

This was S University’s old storage space, later handed to student clubs as an activity room. It was where the now-famous Burning Meteor had formed and taken their first steps toward the stage.

Her green eyes flickered with nostalgia.

Looking up, she saw the locked warehouse door, its faded graffiti untouched. Meaningless patterns—scribbled letters, simple stick figures, and nonsensical Chinese characters—had multiplied after Ji Lunan brought spray paint from who-knows-where.

Xu Fengluan snapped a photo, opened her contacts—sparse, with only a few pinned at the top.

Liu Tingsong, Burning Meteor’s group chat, and…

Li Jianbai.

A red dot marked Li Jianbai’s long-untouched chat. She glanced past it, sending the photo to Liu Tingsong and the group.

No replies from Chu Cheng and the others—likely still en route. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

Pocketing her phone, Xu Fengluan stepped to the door, lifting it. Dust and the clang of metal fell, but the shutter didn’t budge.

Unfazed, she raised a brow, eyeing a corner where ivy hid a red brick wall. A seemingly solid brick pulled loose, revealing a key.

Chu Cheng, once bored during practice, had dug this secret nook with a stick, and they’d since stashed the key there to avoid being locked out.

In their rushed departure, they’d forgotten it, leaving it untouched for years.

Xu Fengluan brushed off rust, tested the lock, and surprisingly, it worked.

She raised the shutter, light flooding in, revealing a familiar yet strange space.

Familiar because the setup hadn’t changed much.

A moldy cabinet held music sheets she’d scavenged from flea markets. Old tires from Kuang Ye’s family, topped with a board, served as a bench. Even the tiny fridge, barely fitting two Cokes, still worked, sparking fights among Chu Cheng and the others.

Strange because scattered instruments suggested another band had taken over after they left.

Xu Fengluan didn’t enter, squinting at a sign on the cabinet with a string of letters—likely the new band’s name.

Suddenly, she heard Chu Cheng’s laughter, Kuang Ye scratching her head in the corner, Ji Lunan flipping through a dictionary for a decent band name.

Memories surged, pulling her into the past.

It was early autumn, her sophomore year, fresh off two months of Liu Tingsong’s intense training, as she tried forming her band.

Funny enough, after Burning Meteor’s rise, media and fans often asked how the band came to be. Chu Cheng and Ji Lunan, loose-lipped, spun wild tales each time. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

One claimed Xu Fengluan heard Chu Cheng’s stunning piano in a practice room, begging her for three months to join.

Another said Ji Lunan and Kuang Ye met in a bar brawl, later forming the band after Xu Fengluan raced them down a mountain.

The wildest? Ji Lunan and Chu Cheng chased the same girl, failed, and bonded as rivals-turned-teammates.

In truth, Burning Meteor’s origin was mundane, barely a story. As mentioned, it was tied to Liu Tingsong.

Chu Cheng, flamboyant, was campus-famous from day one. Her skills were undeniable, but she’d clashed with her old band, not to the point of disbanding, but enough to hesitate over Xu Fengluan’s inexperience.

So Xu Fengluan brought in Liu Tingsong.

A college kid like Chu Cheng, barely dipping into the industry, faced with a superstar? What resolve could she have?

She joined on the spot, begging to be included.

Ji Lunan’s story was wilder. Fleeing an arranged marriage, her family cut her off, turning a rich kid into a broke one too proud to borrow from shady friends. She took her keyboard, went for interviews, planning to coast.

Seeing Liu Tingsong, her buried dreams reignited.

From a listless wanderer demanding food and shelter, she became a genius musician ready to sleep on streets for her art.

Xu Fengluan didn’t actually let her starve.

Her dramatic enrollment left her dorm empty—paying for it but never staying. With no facial recognition then, Ji Lunan snuck in, became familiar to the dorm supervisor, and settled in.

Food? After days of hunger, Ji Lunan wasn’t picky, using Xu Fengluan’s meal card for hearty cafeteria meals.

Hence, they dodged the truth with media and fans, spinning absurd tales.

And Kuang Ye…

She was the toughest to recruit.

She loved fixing cars more than drumming.

A drummer ad hung for half a month, drawing weak candidates. A friend of Chu Cheng mentioned seeing a skilled drummer at a repair shop, unfazed by noisy car washes.

Xu Fengluan and the others, desperate, checked it out.

One look, and they were hooked, pestering Kuang Ye to join.

But she refused, seeing drumming as a hobby, car repair her career. No amount of pleading worked.

Liu Tingsong stepped in again.

Learning Kuang Ye’s family shop faced financial issues, she used her wealth to secure her.

Kuang Ye grumbled about leaving once debts were paid, stressing Xu Fengluan out, until their first music festival performance. After that, she never mentioned leaving again.

“A-Feng!” @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

A shout jolted Xu Fengluan from her memories.

A one-meter-eight “lion” pounced, pinning her with an arm around her neck, saying, “What’re you spacing out for? Called you a bunch!”

Ji Lunan’s lazy laugh followed, “Nostalgic for the old days?”

She added, “Fair. Shall we hit the cafeteria later?”

Kuang Ye, silent, leaned by the door, dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights over Qiao Sheng’s question.

Xu Fengluan swatted Chu Cheng’s hand away, stepping aside.

Chu Cheng, unbothered, grinned, looking ahead, “Yo, another band’s taken over? Looks decent.”

Ji Lunan smiled, “Let’s ask about their skills later.”

Chu Cheng squinted at the sign, reading, “Shark?”

“Shark Band, huh,” she tsked, “Not as cool as ours.”

Kuang Ye’s eyes flicked, saying, “Was ours our idea? Wasn’t it Tingsong’s?”

Laughter erupted, recalling their struggle for a name, saved by Liu Tingsong’s suggestion of Burning Meteor over Lions, Tigers, Broken Galaxy, or their initials strung together.

“Tingsong’s one of us, no?” Chu Cheng winked at Xu Fengluan, adding, “Is our sister-in-law coming to your performance? Good chance to discuss lyrics.”

She grimaced, “We’ve racked our brains and got nothing. Let her try.”

Xu Fengluan rolled her eyes, “She’s swamped. Don’t bug her.”

“Protective already? Can’t tire her out, huh?” Ji Lunan teased.

Xu Fengluan ignored her—any response was a trap—saying, “She’s busy today, probably won’t come.”

Chu Cheng made a face, then said, “We’re team-building soon. Tell her early, so she’s free.”

It was a Burning Meteor tradition—Mid-Autumn outings, like last year’s camping or the year before’s hot springs.

“No worries,” Xu Fengluan waved, “She’s already in.”

Chu Cheng nodded, then turned to Kuang Ye, grinning, “How’s your ex? Bringing her? Or are we two loners again?”

They didn’t care for private space—bring your partner or it’s just four, dull as ever.

Kuang Ye didn’t answer, unsure how to.

After more chatter, with time running short, they moved to close the shutter.

They’d planned to revisit the old practice room for nostalgia, but with a new band there, it felt intrusive. Only Chu Cheng, amused, left a signed note as encouragement for the newbies.

An hour later, cheers erupted in S University’s auditorium.