Long time no see, Liu Tingsong

The crowded livestream studio buzzed with bullet comments piling up, filling the screen so densely that only a few could be glimpsed.

[My god, it’s finally live! They’ve been hyping this since last year, such a long wait!]

[Who’s even on this show? They kept it so mysterious—are they revealing one by one?]

[Here we go, here we go!]

[Wait, is that An Xiwen?! Her song *Hurry* was huge!]

[Holy crap, Iron Lung Wu Jingxue? Isn’t she prepping her solo concert? How’d they get her?]

[Chen Lang?! Didn’t he swear off variety shows? Why’s he here?]

The chaotic comments shifted with the livestream’s visuals, as singers appeared one after another, prompting varied reactions from the audience.

[Hold up, am I seeing this right? Is that Xu Fengluan from Burning Meteor?!]

[OMG, hasn’t she been MIA forever? I thought she was quitting, and now she’s here?!]

[She’s competing? This show’s gonna be wild!]

The bullet comments stacked endlessly. The director, standing before multiple screens, wore a tense expression, unrelieved by the excitement. A live competition show was a great hook but doubled the pressure.

She was fraught with nerves, fearing a lack of impact or an unmanageable mess.

Thankfully, the initial effect was solid. As mysterious guests debuted, even without much conflict, the cheerful camaraderie and mutual praise delighted viewers.

This proved the first step—casting—was spot-on.

The director wiped sweat from her brow, exhaling in relief.

Her eyes scanned the comments. Xu Fengluan’s appearance sparked a noticeable wave of criticism. Compared to other singers, she was younger, more controversial.

To the public, Xu Fengluan was the defiant, arrogant lead singer of a band.

Her hit singles came with rebellious headlines.

White-dyed hair, rejecting major variety show invites, choosing to strum a battered bass in dive bars with fewer than a hundred people, her voice raw and hoarse.

Racing paparazzi, snubbing famous directors, accused of diva behavior by an MV actress—any one of these would’ve buried someone else in criticism. Yet for Xu, it somehow felt fitting.

Her fans adored her fiercely; her haters despised her; passersby just added her songs to playlists. Industry insiders shunned her yet craved collaborations, hoping for a hit.

Since her debut, Xu Fengluan was never out of the spotlight.

The director’s eyes gleamed. A stagnant pond grows dull; toss in a catfish to stir ripples. Xu Fengluan was her chosen catfish.

Amid her thoughts, Liu Tingsong took the stage.

Prepared lights fell on her instantly, illuminating a moon-white Suzhou-embroidered cheongsam with lotus patterns. As she moved, a slit revealed a glimpse of luminous skin, like a faint white dot in winter-green glaze.

The comments stilled, chatter hushed, all eyes on her.

Her dark hair was pinned back with a wooden hairpin and jade pendant, swaying gently. Her slightly weary brows softened, shedding her former aloofness for a lonely elegance under a moonlit night.

Among the guests, her attire wasn’t the most ornate.

Some wore vibrant red gowns like peonies, others velvet fishtail dresses with striking gem necklaces, or floor-length skirts trailed by assistants. Everyone competed fiercely, yet none outshone her understated grace.

[LIU TINGSONG!!!!]

[They got Liu Tingsong?! Am I dreaming? OMG!!!]

[It’s her! Liu Tingsong on a music show! Vote now—she’s taking the crown!]

[Done for, she’s too gorgeous. My screen’s all drool now.]

After a brief silence, the livestream erupted. Since her comeback, Liu had only guested on a small show, declining even New Year’s galas.

Even her diehard fans, scouring endorsements and interviews for news, got nothing. Her fanbase begged for new songs or stage appearances, but no updates came. Now, she appeared out of nowhere.

[AAAAH my mom’s freaking out, jumping off the couch to my screen!]

[Help, is my wish from last year finally coming true?!]

The screen filled with ecstatic screams as fans from all platforms flooded in. The director finally smiled, her heart settling.

[Noticed Liu Tingsong glancing at Xu Fengluan.]

Surprised, guests lifted their skirts to approach, even seasoned veterans rising with kind smiles.

Xu stood below the stage, her newly black hair no longer wild, complementing her wheatish skin. Even in a crowd, her presence was undeniable.

Liu looked at her; Xu’s eyes caught the diamond earring pinned as a brooch among the lotus embroidery.

It looked decent but slightly off, not quite matching the outfit. Liu, who knew better, chose it deliberately.

Xu touched her empty earlobe unconsciously.

She recalled their tense encounter in an alley when Liu returned.

She’d thought the earring was lost on stage…

Had Liu kept it all along?

Just then, Liu casually brushed the earring, lifting her gaze through the crowd, silently meeting Xu’s eyes.

An answer to her unspoken question.

The earring, thought discarded, had been carefully cherished.

Xu froze, but her expression was misread by viewers.

[Why’s Xu Fengluan so cold-faced?]

[So the rumors about her and Liu Tingsong clashing are true? They say their collab song got delayed because of their beef.]

[Didn’t Liu defend Xu on V-Blog? Why’s it like this now?] @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

[Xu’s got such a weird vibe. Liu’s her senior—can’t she at least fake some respect? Standing there sulking, what’s that about?]

[Xu’s arrogance isn’t news. Didn’t someone in the industry call her out for acting like a diva last year?]

The director’s face stiffened. She’d wanted Xu to stir things up, but not yet!

Seeing the comments heat up, she grabbed the mic. “Teacher Xu? Don’t just stand there—go greet Teacher Liu.”

Her voice was urgent, and without waiting, she pressed, “Teacher Xu?!”

Xu didn’t respond, her thoughts a tangled mess, almost dazed.

She couldn’t tell if this was the Liu and Xu separated by five years or the ones parted for a single winter. Too much time stood between them, repeated separations and reunions like glass walls stacking and shattering.

Xu had imagined their reunion countless times—not the frantic bar escape, but a chance meeting on a show years later.

Reason told her to stay composed, offer polite enthusiasm, but instinct took over.

Her nose stung, eyes reddening.

Xu stepped back unconsciously, a familiar unease rising, cold sweat breaking out.

The earpiece grew frantic, fearing she’d cause a scene.

“Teacher Xu, are you okay? Feeling unwell?”

“Netizens are upset—you should go say hi.”

“Teacher Xu? Can you hear me, Xu Fengluan?”

The director’s urgency grew. She regretted the multi-angle setup; without the promise of live coverage for all, she’d have cut Xu’s feed.

The standoff drew more attention, comments turning harsher, the tide shifting.

[What’s with Xu Fengluan? Pulling this in front of everyone?]

[Newbies in the industry have no manners, unlike before.]

[Putting on a show—who’s she acting for? Liu doesn’t care…]

Xu retreated another step, then turned, rushing off, her coat flapping, steps shaky yet resolute.

Once again, she played the coward, fleeing into the dark.

But this time, Liu didn’t stay put, unwilling to watch her vanish around a corner.

She pushed through the crowd, chasing her. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

“What’s going on?!”

Shocked gasps and exclamations erupted.

Viewers, equally stunned, froze mid-comment as the screen went black, the livestream cut off.

Xu, the cause, knew nothing, her mind a chaos of flashing images—Liu’s return, their alley encounter, Camille’s words in a foreign land, the room’s contents etched in her memory.

She fled, ducking into a prep room arranged by the crew, hoping to hide and calm down. @Infinite Good Stories, Exclusively at Jinjiang Literature City

But heels clicked closer outside.

As Xu tried to shut the door, a hand blocked it.

—Bang.

The door closed, but another person was inside. In the dark, Xu was pinned against the door. Before she could react, someone stood on tiptoe, kissing her lips’ corner.

The touch, after so long, froze them both for a moment.

Xu raised her hands, like a caught thief, unsure if they should fall.

The other hooked her neck, pulling her down.

Lips met, breaths mingled.

A fractured soul sighed, bodies pressing closer before minds could catch up, erasing the last slivers of distance, becoming inseparable.

“Baby…” a low murmur.

“Baby,” she repeated, as if making up for unsaid endearments.

Her hoarse voice, perhaps deliberate, lingered seductively, curling around Xu’s ear.

Calloused hands settled on Xu’s waist, fingers curling, locking her close.

The tangled thoughts stilled; nothing else mattered, only the kiss.

Soft lips ground together, lipstick smearing.

Xu tasted faint mint candy, cool yet intoxicating, pulling her deeper.

Her curved spine pressed against the wood, hands gripping, cheongsam fabric crumpling into vine-like patterns. The dress’s slit revealed taut calves from standing on tiptoe, their feet touching.

“Baby…”

“I missed you so much, baby,” her voice urgent, legs pressing closer, pinning Xu.

Xu didn’t answer, deepening the kiss, fierce and reckless, biting lips, tangling tongues, claiming every breath, marking it hers.

Footsteps passed outside, voices calling, even knocking, but no response came.

“Baby,” Liu murmured again, fingers threading through Xu’s hair, stroking her burning earlobe, thumb and forefinger rubbing gently.

The diamond earring at her chest glinted in the sliver of light, sparkling brilliantly.

Breaths ragged, their recklessness took its toll—forgetting to breathe, only tightening, deepening, as if merging her into bone and blood could ease the unfillable void.

Outside, footsteps grew, voices shouting “Teacher Liu” and “Xu Fengluan.”

After an eternity, the fierce kiss slowed, their foreheads touching, gazing in the unlit room.

“Long time no see, Liu Tingsong.”

Was this the Xu separated by five years or just one winter?

Liu just smiled, her brows softening, eyes glistening.

“Long time no see, baby.”

“I really, really missed you,” she sighed again, tears falling from her eyes.