Chapter 1: She’s Back

Brick and cement blocked the clamor within the bar,
glasses clinked,
amber liquid swayed,
spilling over the rims.

The phone played a video,
its volume cranked to the max,
mixing with the indoor rock music,
exaggerated words pouring out one after another.

“…Burning Meteor’s lead singer clashed with her manager at the airport,”
“According to fans on the scene, the argument was extremely heated.”
“…She ultimately ditched her manager,
sped off to lose the paparazzi tailing her,
and left alone.”

A thumb swiped the screen,
different videos saying much the same thing.
On the trending list, a post about Xu Fengruo storming out of the airport was marked with a red “Hot” tag,
surging to the top five in just half an hour.

The phone screen was pressed down,
and the person at the table couldn’t help but curse:
“Damn, she just got out of the airport—can she even make it?”

Her companion’s tone was mocking:
“Looks like someone’s getting stood up.”

They looked up.

The bar’s environment wasn’t great—cramped space,
outdated decor,
iron tables and chairs surrounding a makeshift stage,
like a haphazard setup thrown together at the last minute.
The drum set, keyboard, and mic stand were already in place,
tested twice,
but tonight’s star had yet to appear.

The bar grew more crowded,
every chair taken.
Most people could only hold their drinks,
squeezed into corners or aisles,
their expressions anxious yet eager,
like fish desperately breaching the surface to breathe.

It was hard to imagine that such a rundown place
was now called the “Proving Ground” by new and veteran bands alike.

Rumor had it this bar was opened by an obscure band’s drummer,
who chased her dream for half her life to no avail.
Unwilling to give up in middle age,
she used family money to open this place—not for profit,
but to give unknown bands a stage to perform and shine.

When Burning Meteor was first formed,
they performed here for half a month.

Later, to thank the owner,
they played free shows here multiple times.

Musicians hoping to collaborate with them
frequently came here, hoping for a “chance” encounter.
Some even spotted talented bands and offered them deals.
Just half a month ago, a band was scouted by a manager
and heavily promoted to debut.

Over time, this bar became a hot spot in the music scene,
where free performances required booking six months in advance.

But now, all schedules were on hold,
because yesterday, word spread that Burning Meteor would perform here tonight.

The impossibly tight timeline didn’t result in an empty house.
Instead, as the news spread,
more and more fans poured in.

The person who’d been grumbling retracted her gaze,
muttering unwillingly:
“That’s enough time for us to sing a few songs.”

If not for Burning Meteor’s last-minute arrangement,
today would’ve been their turn to perform per the usual rules.
But now, they could only sit in a corner,
waiting for someone who’d just left the airport,
who might not even show up,
their mood a mix of irritation and resentment.

The two exchanged a few more hushed words,
quickly stopping,
afraid of being overheard by nearby fans.

A woman in the corner withdrew her gaze.
Her deliberately chosen spot was shrouded in darkness,
a baseball cap and all-black outfit concealing her figure.
Only her raised left hand was visible,
revealing a slender wrist,
a silver watch strap against pale skin,
a faint blue vein showing through,
the square watch face ticking until it hit the bottom.

10:30

The lights suddenly dimmed,
gasps of surprise rippling through the crowd,
until a bright white spotlight illuminated the center of the stage.

The drummer, keyboardist, and guitarist were already in position,
but the lead singer was nowhere to be seen.

“She’s not actually going to flake, right?”
“Who’s gonna sing then—the drummer or the guitarist? Have you ever heard them try?”
“Hey, doesn’t the guitarist do harmonies?
But man, Xu Fengruo’s getting cockier by the day…
No wonder, though—probably two-thirds of the crowd is here for her, right?”

The woman in the baseball cap straightened her back slightly,
the second hand on her watch ticking another round.

The atmosphere grew increasingly tense,
people looking around,
their frustrated complaints mounting.

The drummer twirled her drumstick in the air,
catching it steadily,
but didn’t strike the drum.

The guitarist remained slouched,
refusing to stand straight,
electric guitar slung over her left shoulder,
right hand holding a bass,
propped on the floor like a pair of ski poles.

10:40

A glass crashed to the ground,
eliciting a burst of screams.

Someone jumped onto a table,
shouting:
“Are you guys screwing—”

—Buzz!

A piercing sound erupted from the microphone.
Someone rushed onto the stage,
wind lifting her white hair,
a cross necklace thudding against her oversized red T-shirt.
The scent of motorbike gasoline still clung to her,
grass seeds blown onto her shoulder finally falling.
She grabbed the mic,
yanking the stand askew.

—Boom!

As if receiving a starting signal,
the snare drum thundered,
followed by a rapid burst of beats.

The silver bass was tossed into the air,
caught firmly the next second.

She raised her head,
the diamond stud in her left ear glinting under the lights,
her strikingly beautiful features and defiant brows radiating bravado.

“Xu Fengruo!”

Someone shouted her name,
and the person standing on the table froze,
the emotion in their eyes replaced by fervor.

A hand adorned with a thin ring swept across the strings,
the low, husky bass notes flowing seamlessly into the drumbeat.
Other instruments layered in,
resounding in the confined space.

No explanations,
no opening remarks.
With silent, brazen swagger,
they tore through the stillness.

Perhaps no opening was needed.

“Burning Meteor!”
“Xu Fengruo!”

Wild cheers erupted everywhere,
merging into an unrelenting wave,
crashing against the walls as if to shatter the bricks.

As the song began,
sweat dripped from her forehead,
like sparks falling into dry grass,
igniting a wildfire.

“Chains that bind hands and feet,”
“Cages that imprison the body,”

Her slender frame under the oversized short-sleeve shirt
carried a savage wildness.
Her voice wove a beastly net,
falling from the ceiling,
yet no one resisted,
blindly following,
yearning to break free from cages,
to snap iron chains.

“Wild leopards roar in the snowy mountains,”
“Silver crows streak through the pitch-black night.”

No prompting was needed—
the crowd below swayed to the rhythm.
This song, one of Burning Meteor’s breakout hits,
pulsed with relentless energy,
repeatedly emphasizing the constraints binding them,
fervently expressing a desire to break free,
echoing the band’s rebellious and liberated spirit from their debut.

Everyone was immersed,
except Xu Fengruo.

Blue and red lights intertwined on the stage,
the diamond earring reflecting dazzling fire.

One song followed another,
no chance for a break.

Her fingertips grazed the strings again.

Normally, she found fleeting freedom and respite in the notes,
but now…

Xu Fengruo’s gaze swept over the crowd below,
swaying in unison with the same rhythm as always,
no different from before.

Yet she felt uneasy,
like prey in the animal kingdom,
targeted by a predator.
Despite no visible anomaly,
an inexplicable discomfort coursed through her,
even breaking out in a cold sweat.

Something was wrong.

Lyrics practiced thousands of times flowed instinctively,
her fingers landing on the right strings.

A primal instinct in her bones screamed warnings,
every cell urging her to flee.

Sweat coated her palms,
whether from heat or exhaustion,
unable to warm fingers chilled by the cold wind earlier.

The drumbeat pounded in her ears,
signaling the end of the final song.

The crowd looked to Xu Fengruo at center stage.
As was customary,
she’d deliver an impromptu solo to close the show.

But Xu Fengruo stood frozen,
sweat plastering her hair to her forehead,
the harsh spotlight making her already pale skin look sickly.

The guitarist beside her frowned,
sensing something off before anyone else.
She stepped forward,
launching into a fast-paced solo to end the performance.
The four band members bowed together,
then turned to leave.

The crowd below might’ve been dissatisfied,
but still caught up in the earlier performance,
they didn’t press further.

Xu Fengruo walked off,
gripping the bass neck with one hand,
veins bulging on the back of her hand,
her knobby knuckles starkly visible from the force.

The person beside her finally couldn’t hold back:
“What’s wrong? Feeling sick? Did you ride too fast earlier?”

They’d just reached backstage,
the dazzling lights left behind.

Xu Fengruo opened her mouth,
but it was always noisy at this moment—
even if she answered, it’d be hard to hear.
Besides, she didn’t even know what was happening.

The three others, getting no response,
didn’t dare linger and kept moving inward.

Xu Fengruo stopped unconsciously,
the dark corridor enveloping her,
her body caught in a half-lit, half-shadowed boundary,
splitting the bass she held horizontally in two.

Desperate to escape,
she still turned slightly,
needing an answer.

The next second,
a shocked cry snapped her fully awake.

“Liu Tingsong!”

Those three words rang like a bell,
instantly drawing everyone’s attention.
The crowd turned,
looking toward the source of the sound.

There, in the crowd,
a woman had stood up at some point,
unintentionally revealing half her stunning face.

The already ignited, restless crowd erupted into frenzy,
surging toward her.

Spilled alcohol spread across the floor,
rapid breaths and fervent shouts filling the air—
the scene spiraled out of control.

The woman instinctively stepped back,
subconsciously looking up at the stage.

It was already empty.

The feverish atmosphere surged again,
bordering on madness.
People pushed desperately toward her,
heedless of potential trampling,
their rationality seemingly gone in an instant.

Liu Tingsong’s breathing grew uneven,
and when she looked up again,
a burning red flickered in her eyes.

Someone forced their way through the layered crowd,
still gripping a bass in her left hand.
Her silver-white hair was even messier,
clinging haphazardly to her cheeks,
revealing jade-green eyes,
brimming with reckless determination.

Her heartbeat skipped,
the sounds around her vanishing.

Perhaps from overwhelming tension,
her mind went blank.
When she later recalled it,
all she could remember was a wrist gripped tightly,
pulling her desperately out of the crowd.

When her senses returned,
they stood outside the bar,
by a red brick wall.

Xu Fengruo’s motorbike was still parked there,
keys still in,
the dashboard glowing faintly blue.
No need to worry about theft—
this was a hidden corner known to only a few.

Tucked behind the red wall,
it was concealed on the bar’s side,
accessible only through an inconspicuous small door.

Xu Fengruo, rushing to make it in time,
had darted through here earlier,
and now it served as a perfect escape from the frenzied fans.

The noise inside the red wall remained chaotic,
but outside, only the heavy panting from their frantic run lingered,
intertwining rapidly,
unable to mask the erratic heartbeats.

Xu Fengruo pinned the other against the brick wall,
her right hand still gripping their wrist,
wanting to hold tight yet hesitating stiffly.

The pulse under her palm throbbed,
the summer night breeze still stifling,
the motorbike’s engine still rumbling.

This sudden reunion after five years
left them at a loss for how to face it,
standing stunned in place.

One looked down, searching,
the other looked up, meeting her gaze.

Until the precarious baseball cap was blown to the ground.

Xu Fengruo finally dared to be certain.

She was back.