She used to call her teacher…

“Burning Meteor!”

In the van,
Pear couldn’t help but pump her fist,
quietly echoing the chant,
her excitement unmasked.

Only when Director Zhang’s voice rang out again
did she snap back,
remembering Liu Tingsong beside her.

She stuck out her tongue awkwardly,
hurrying to add:
“When Burning Meteor was just getting known,
Ji Lunan announced she was getting married—
to a woman.”

“It caused a big stir back then.”

“Some said her partner was a listed company’s boss,
slamming Ji Lunan for climbing the ladder.”

“Burning Meteor took some heat,
but the band was tight-knit,
defending her on X-blog,
even attending her wedding.”

“They got married abroad,
had a kid through tech within two years.”

“Ji Lunan once brought her kid to a music festival.”

Pear dug through her memories,
Liu Tingsong humming occasionally,
her phone still on the super topic.

Every CP fan has a knack—
every glance, every touch
laden with hidden meaning.
Even clueless onlookers
could sense tender affection
in slow-motion fan edits.

Liu Tingsong, scrolling through videos and photos,
felt an indescribable pang,
her eyelids trembling,
yet she kept swiping.

The live stream continued,
moving to a small game after brief pleasantries.

The game was simple:
Zhang posed a question,
and members pointed to who fit the answer best.

Pear laughed loudly,
recounting details:
“Sister, look—
doesn’t Xiao Ye totally adore A-Feng?”

“I’m telling you,
A-Feng’s gotta be the band’s most popular.”

“Xiao Ye just glanced at A-Feng again!”

“What are they shipping?
A-Feng’s clearly looking at Xiao Ye—
she even winked!”

Liu Tingsong looked up,
catching the live stream.

Xu Fengluan, pointed at by all three,
tried to argue but was playfully called out,
clenching her fist in mock anger,
punching Chu Cheng’s side.

Chu Cheng doubled over laughing,
not mad,
leaning into Xu Fengluan.

They looked impossibly close.

Pear wanted to say more,
but a staff member knocked on the window.

Time was up—
they needed to get out and head to the door.

Liu Tingsong looked away,
checking her reflection in the window,
ensuring her makeup was flawless,
before stepping toward the building
that had banned her entry.

Inside, the mood was lively.
After rounds of live-stream practice,
Zhang knew how to stir the atmosphere.
Old awkwardness melted in laughter,
even Xu Fengluan, still sickly,
cracked a few smiles.

The viewer count hit 410,000,
breaking the show’s record,
still climbing.

Zhang glanced at it,
her expected joy barely contained.

Since live streaming began,
the highest concurrent viewership was 3.953 million,
set by a legendary singer
reappearing after years away,
drawing aunts and uncles
who downloaded apps overnight,
crashing servers twice.

For a rising band like Burning Meteor
to reach this level was a shock.

Plus, Zhang Qingying had a special guest.

Thinking of this,
she took a deep breath,
turning slightly,
signaling her staff.

They nodded, understanding.

Zhang stood,
smiling:
“Please join me in welcoming today’s special guest!”

Her voice soared,
the last note cracking.

The four band members looked over,
the live stream falling silent for a moment.

Until the door opened,
and she stepped in slowly.

[Oh my God, am I seeing this right?!]

[Is that the Heavenly Queen?!]

[My grandma’s ghost—
this little show got Liu Tingsong?
Am I crazy or are they?!]

Bullet comments exploded,
stacking so fast the screen was unreadable.

[Aahhh, my goddess is here!]

[Mom, I’m fainting!]

[Sister’s so gorgeous today, I’m licking the screen!]

The four band members froze,
stunned by the guest,
their glances darting to Xu Fengluan.

She was stunned too,
her lingering smile fading,
her eyes clouding with unreadable emotions.

The guest looked away from the camera,
her lips curving faintly,
saying softly:
“Hello, everyone,
I’m Liu Tingsong.”

Even knowing in advance,
Zhang was thrilled,
her voice trembling:
“Let’s welcome the Heavenly Queen Liu!”

The crowd snapped awake,
clapping wildly.

Bullet comments followed,
yellow clapping emojis flooding the screen.

Zhang rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants,
stammering:
“You, uh, sit…”

She paused,
realizing the room had few chairs.
She’d teased Xu Fengluan about it earlier.

Xu Fengluan had explained:
This was a rehearsal space,
no need for comfy seats or lounges.

Zhang had nodded,
praising their dedication,
but now Liu Tingsong had nowhere to sit!

She glanced at the beanbag sofa—
having Liu Tingsong sit there
would make the senior look subordinate.

Plus, the camera angles were a mess:
filming Burning Meteor
would only catch Liu Tingsong’s head;
focusing on her
would sideline the band.

Cold sweat poured out,
her mind blank.

—Screech!

A sharp sound cut through—
a high stool scraping the floor.

Xu Fengluan leapt off her stool,
flopping onto the beanbag sofa.

All eyes turned to her,
thinking:
What’s this ancestor up to now?

No one could blame them—
Xu Fengluan’s reputation wasn’t great,
the poster child for arrogance.

During the band competition shoot,
she was never easy to handle.

Before this live stream,
Zhang held a meeting,
warning everyone to tread lightly,
lest this ancestor derail the show.

But Xu Fengluan had been so cooperative today,
they’d let their guard down—
until now.

Zhang opened her mouth,
about to speak,
when Xu Fengluan cut in:
“Sitting’s tiring.
My back hurts.”

She sounded utterly justified.

Zhang, seasoned as she was,
laughed it off:
“Is A-Feng feeling rough?
Didn’t Orange say she had a 39-degree fever?”

“We didn’t plan well,
keeping you from resting.”

She glanced at the screen,
barely catching words,
rushing on:
“Lie there and rest a bit.”

Turning to Liu Tingsong,
she said:
“She’s sick and uncomfortable—
please don’t mind.
Take her seat.”

She gestured to Xu Fengluan’s former spot.

Liu Tingsong nodded slightly,
glancing subtly at Xu Fengluan.

She turned her head,
offering only a side profile,
not kicking her out
but refusing to engage,
deliberately avoiding her.

Liu Tingsong exhaled softly,
sitting in Xu Fengluan’s old spot.

The other three froze,
knowing the history between her and Xu Fengluan,
awkwardly unsure how to react,
their glances darting between them,
“at a loss” practically written on their faces.

No one noticed,
assuming they were starstruck by the big senior.
Half the bullet comments were still shocked,
the other half laughing at them.

Zhang wiped her forehead’s sweat,
clapping to snap back into gear:
“Thank you, Tingsong,
for joining us as our special guest.
Let’s give her another round of applause!”

The crowd echoed.

Liu Tingsong nodded,
smiling faintly,
the warmth not reaching her eyes,
but still gentle.

The person sunk in the beanbag ignored it,
hidden from the camera,
not bothering to pretend.

Zhang, aiming to lighten the mood,
teased the others:
“You guys are way too tense!
Nervous about meeting your idol?
Relax—
Tingsong doesn’t bite.”

Ji Lunan: “…”

Kuang Ye: “…”

Chu Cheng: “…”

Zhang, seeing no response,
pushed:
“How about you greet Tingsong?”

The three: “…”

It was only natural,
no room to refuse.

Ji Lunan gritted her teeth,
calling:
“Sister Tingsong.”

Kuang Ye, face stiff, mumbled:
“S-Sister Tingsong.”

Chu Cheng nearly blurted “sister-in-law,” catching herself to say:
“Sister Tingsong.”

The camera panned,
landing on Xu Fengluan.

She tilted her head slightly,
her jade-green eyes unfocused,
seemingly on Liu Tingsong,
yet drifting elsewhere.

How had she addressed Liu Tingsong before?

Teacher…