Chapter 2: Clarification from the studio

“She’s back.”

A voice, distorted by static,
echoed through the dark room with the help of the speaker.

Xu Fengruo closed her eyes,
leaning back into the soft beanbag sofa,
letting the foam envelop her,
trying to grasp a fleeting sense of security that didn’t exist.

The phone on the glass coffee table was still lit,
emitting urgent, surprised tones,
as if worried she hadn’t understood,
emphasizing:
“Xu Fengruo, your ex-girlfriend who abandoned you,
your white moonlight,
the youngest Golden Melody Award winner,
one of China’s few Grammy recipients—
Heavenly Queen Liu Tingsong,
she’s back in the country.”

She tried to jog Xu Fengruo’s memory with a string of grandiose titles.

But Xu Fengruo’s mind conjured more.
For instance, Liu Tingsong wasn’t just the youngest Golden Melody Award winner—
she’d won it three years in a row,
only stopping her domination of the award when she abruptly announced a hiatus from the music scene.

Or, for instance,
she was her first love,
her only ex.

No, wait—that might just be Xu Fengruo’s one-sided wishful thinking.
After all, they never had a proper confession.
Liu Tingsong never acknowledged her status in any setting,
to anyone.

There wasn’t even a breakup conversation—
Liu Tingsong simply deleted all her contact information.
It wasn’t until half a month later,
when Xu Fengruo saw paparazzi photos on V-blog,
that she realized Liu Tingsong had left the country.

A vague beginning,
a muddled end.

Her breath hitched,
her instincts screaming at her to stop dwelling on those foolish past events.

But when the memories paused,
her mind flashed to their locked gazes in that narrow alley.

How laughable.

Before Liu Tingsong left the country,
Xu Fengruo had tried everything to see her, to no avail.
Yet now that she was back,
Xu Fengruo was among the first to know.

The motorbike’s engine seemed to still rumble in her ears.
The summer night breeze was stifling,
carrying a scorching heat that made beads of sweat form on her neck.

She looked down at Liu Tingsong,
their distance so close it breached any controllable safety zone,
bordering on intimate.
She could smell the fragrance at Liu Tingsong’s neck—
not the scent she knew,
but a softer, more elegant floral note.
It felt unfamiliar,
making their separation feel all the more real.

The pain from her palm pressed against the brick wall
barely pulled back a shred of rationality.

The remaining distance couldn’t be closed further.
Xu Fengruo’s back was taut,
like a bowstring stretched to its limit,
ready to release a barrage of biting sarcasm or questions.

But Xu Fengruo chose to flee.

She couldn’t even pretend to be nonchalant,
like a mature adult greeting an ex calmly,
nor could she drag up the past,
desperately seeking answers.

She fled the moment she saw Liu Tingsong’s lips part,
as if about to speak.

She turned in a panic,
hurriedly straddling her motorbike,
even bumping her shin in her haste.

She didn’t have time to think—
her only emotion was relief that she hadn’t removed the keys earlier,
sparing her the embarrassment of fumbling with trembling hands.
She sped away,
retreating to the safety of her house.

Xu Fengruo took a deep breath,
but her heart refused to settle.

The room was still unlit,
only the faint glow of the phone screen illuminating her,
making her face appear even paler.

The person on the call seemed to give up nagging,
pausing before shouting again:
“Your stunt today is trending again.”

“Man, that’s some serious heat.
Wonder how many media outlets will call you arrogant and a diva this time.”

“It was just a delayed flight,
and you were rushing to make the performance,”
the person sighed,
defending Xu Fengruo.
Then her tone shifted,
surprised:
“Wait, did you really fight with Ajin?”

Xu Fengruo didn’t respond,
finding her too noisy,
only humming in acknowledgment.

Ajin was Burning Meteor’s manager.
The person on the phone was her bandmate and friend,
the guitarist, Chu Cheng.

The voice paused again,
likely scrolling through V-blog.
Xu Fengruo didn’t ask,
knowing Chu Cheng couldn’t keep anything to herself—
she’d blurt it out soon enough.

Xu Fengruo turned her head,
her gaze landing on the tree-patterned glass beside her phone.
Ice cubes floated and clinked in the water,
releasing a chill.

She stared for a moment,
then reached out.

Xu Fengruo’s hand was rather attractive—
long fingers,
defined knuckles.
But years of playing instruments had deformed her fingertips.
The rough pads,
once swollen, blistered, and torn,
had formed thick calluses,
resistant to the strings’ friction,
but dulled to temperature.

Her fingertips pushed a glistening ice cube,
trying to press it underwater,
only for it to slip free,
bobbing back up and sending ripples across the surface.

Water droplets slid down her fingers,
wetting the thin ring on her middle finger.

The glass reflected Xu Fengruo’s face.
With her sharpness subdued,
her silver-white hair softened,
revealing jade-green eyes.
Complex emotions intertwined,
giving way to rare vulnerability and melancholy.

The once brazen bassist
now looked like a lost child.

The ice cube hit the glass,
making a crisp sound.

Finally, the voice spoke,
surprised and incredulous:
“Is Liu Tingsong really back for good?”

“Her studio released a video saying she attended the Baogemei gala tonight.
Isn’t that treatment usually reserved for their brand ambassadors?”

Her fingertips paused,
pressing the ice cube firmly to the bottom of the glass.

The biting cold finally seeped through her skin,
piercing her bones,
causing a faint ache.

The person hadn’t noticed,
still caught up in admiration and surprise:
“She’s got several top-tier luxury endorsements, right?
And now Baogemei too…”

“Wait! She was at the gala tonight?
How could she show up at the bar?”
Chu Cheng suddenly grew excited.

She scrolled down V-blog,
finding that the trending topic about Liu Tingsong’s return
now included several explanations from her major fan accounts.
Their tone was sharp,
almost mocking,
summarizing that their Heavenly Queen Liu had just returned yesterday,
busy attending a gala today,
with no time to visit some rundown bar,
and people shouldn’t spread nonsense.

At the same time,
a few so-called bar attendees claimed it was a misunderstanding—
some drunks had mistaken someone else,
accidentally sparking a trending topic.
As expected of Heavenly Queen Liu Tingsong.

In short, they denied Liu Tingsong had been at the bar
to watch Burning Meteor’s performance.

Chu Cheng blinked,
unsure if the studio was deliberately covering up
or if that was the truth.

After all, she hadn’t seen it herself.
She was already halfway out the door
when she heard the shouts for Liu Tingsong.
By the time they hurried back,
all she saw was a chaotic crowd—
no sign of Liu Tingsong,
or even Xu Fengruo.

She’d initially thought Liu Tingsong,
still harboring feelings for Xu Fengruo,
had rushed over to see her.

But now she was starting to doubt it.
The studio had released videos and photos
of Liu Tingsong at the gala,
while the bar only had the ramblings of a few drunks.
And Xu Fengruo disappearing suddenly wasn’t new.

Surely Liu Tingsong wouldn’t have left the Baogemei gala halfway
to rush over to watch their performance?

No one was that foolish.

Chu Cheng clicked her tongue,
grumbling:
“Those drunks really caused a big mess.”

Her tone shifted,
turning her frustration toward Xu Fengruo:
“Hey, why aren’t you saying anything?
You let me ramble on with my assumptions!”

Xu Fengruo’s eyelids drooped,
and she replied flatly:
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.
You only mentioned she was back in the country,
and now you’re babbling about some gala.”

The ice cube melted in her palm,
freezing her hand stiff.

Chu Cheng blinked,
recalling she’d only mentioned Liu Tingsong’s return
and hadn’t had the chance to ask more,
musing to herself for half the day.
How could she blame Xu Fengruo?

Flustered and embarrassed, she said:
“She really didn’t come?
I thought you two left together…”

Her words were cut off.
Xu Fengruo’s tone was calm:
“I left through the side door alone.
I was in a rush,
and my bike was parked there.”

“Oh, right.”

Chu Cheng was still reluctant,
asking:
“So Liu Tingsong really wasn’t there?”

“Just some drunks mistaking someone else,”
Xu Fengruo said evenly,
as if she’d already forgotten that brief encounter.

Chu Cheng gave up entirely,
muttering:
“They sure picked a convenient time,
right when Liu Tingsong actually came back.”

It forced the studio to post early,
clarifying their artist hadn’t gone to some rundown bar.

“Then you…”
She started to say more,
but noticed the call had been hung up.
When she tried calling back,
it was rejected outright—
clearly, Xu Fengruo wasn’t in the mood.

“How rude,”
Chu Cheng mumbled,
but on second thought,
she figured Xu Fengruo was probably upset
and didn’t want to deal with her,
which was fair enough.

On the other side,
Xu Fengruo let go of the ice cube,
now melted in her palm.
Her fingertips were drained of color,
tinged with pale purple.
Under the phone’s light,
they looked even more ghostly.

She paid it no mind,
using her wet fingers to tap open V-blog,
silently scrolling with downcast eyes.

The airport incident had been buried.
The top five trending topics were all about Liu Tingsong,
their views were still climbing.

She paused,
some impulse driving her to click the top topic—
Liu Tingsong attending the Baogemei gala.

In the video,
the woman wore an exquisite haute couture gown,
perfectly matching the floral scent at her neck.
Even as the camera zoomed in,
her flawless features flowed with elegance,
needing no heavy makeup,
just a touch of cool allure to be called breathtaking.

Xu Fengruo didn’t watch further,
closing her eyes and tossing the phone aside.

As the screen dimmed,
the only light source vanished,
plunging everything into darkness.
Silence swept in,
making even her uneven breathing starkly audible.

Xu Fengruo lay there alone for a while.
When she opened her eyes again,
she’d returned to her usual self.

She slowly turned on the light,
illuminating the space.

Unlike most people’s living rooms,
there was no TV or typical setup here—
only instruments,
tuning equipment,
various headphones,
and players.
The walls were lined with soundproof foam,
the carpet thick and soft.

The only normal items were a single-person beanbag sofa
and a small round table beside it,
tucked into a tiny, unassuming corner of the room.

Xu Fengruo stood,
poured out the glass’s water,
rinsed it thoroughly,
then took some honey
and made herself a cup of warm honey water.

It helped protect her voice.

Despite her rebellious, wild appearance,
she was meticulous in this regard—
no smoking,
no drinking,
even her daily meals were light and gentle,
minimizing anything that could harm her voice.

She drank the honey water,
washed the glass again,
and set it upside down on the rack.

Xu Fengruo paused in place,
seeming to think for a moment,
then reached to touch her earlobe.

In this, too, she differed from most band members.
Not only did she have no tattoos,
her body was free of any piercings.
Even her usual earrings were clip-ons,
no holes needed.
In a music scene where tattoos,
lip rings,
and brow studs were the trend,
Xu Fengruo seemed like a high schooler fresh out of class,
impossibly clean.

Her raised hand found only an empty earlobe.
With practiced calm,
she accepted it—
clip-ons were painful and easy to lose.
A big movement,
and they’d fly off who-knows-where.

She lowered her hand,
pausing again,
like a machine with a weak signal,
unsure what to do,
her mind blank.

Until she noticed a small mole on the side of her finger,
one that had appeared at some point.
Her brows furrowed.

Even stranger than her refusal to get piercings or tattoos
was her aversion to moles on her body.
If one appeared,
she’d remove it immediately.

Now was no different.
As if receiving a signal,
she moved straight for her phone,
intending to book an appointment for tomorrow—
or even tonight, if possible.

But the next second,
a knock came at the door.

—Knock, knock-knock.

The familiar force and rhythm
were eerily like the Heavenly Queen Liu Tingsong.