Tang Yu wore a pure white satin shirt with a cool, silvery sheen.
The high court collar framed his slender neck, while a strip of black ribbon at his throat lent the prince-style costume a hint of mysterious allure. A small silver brooch was pinned at the collar: a half-open lily of the valley.
For once, Ji Xuecha did not complain that he was too thin. Taking in his aloof expression and the costume, she praised it endlessly. “Ji Qian’ang really does have a ruthless eye for clothes.”
South Island Secondary School’s anniversary celebration officially began. Onstage, the hosts guided the assembled school leaders, teachers, and students through the program.
Tang Yu and the others sat on chairs backstage, waiting for their turn to perform.
With three minutes to go, the backstage area suddenly fell silent. The host’s energized voice carried in from the front. “Our next performance is ‘You Were Never Meant to Be Alone,’ presented by Tang Yu, Tian Qianxing, and Luo Yueze of Form Five Class A, together with Ji Xuecha of Class B!”
The stage lights dimmed.
Tang Yu walked to the grand piano and sat down, adjusting the height of the bench. His fingers settled on the keys. The evening breeze swept past and lifted the wide sleeves of his princely costume.
The piano introduction flowed from his fingertips and drifted toward the audience. The sound of the waves mingled with the melody like a natural accompaniment.
Eight bars later, Ji Xuecha raised her bow, and the violin joined in.
Halfway through the piece, the sound of Luo Yueze’s electric guitar abruptly cut out.
Tang Yu froze for a fraction of a second, but his hands kept moving. If he stopped too, the failed guitar would be impossible to conceal.
Ji Xuecha and Tian Qianxing still wore their polished smiles, though a slight tremor had entered the music from their instruments.
Tang Yu held his breath and struck the melody with increasing force. They could not keep covering the gap forever. Beyond the waves breaking onshore, the faintest disturbance began to ripple through the crowd. The audience had noticed something was wrong.
He even heard several jeers too loud to ignore. Feng Jian stood at the back of the audience with a group of friends, mocking them without pause.
“You rehearsed this badly and still had the nerve to go onstage?”
“Can you stop torturing our ears?”
“What kind of garbage is this?”
The melody beneath Tang Yu’s hands remained steady, but the rims of his ears had already burned bright red.
Encouraged by the heckling, the scattered murmurs below the stage grew louder.
Just as helplessness threatened to swallow him, a low unaccompanied voice suddenly entered through the microphone, roughened slightly by the current.
It came from the speakers at the side of the stage.
Tang Yu faltered for a second. Lifting his chin a little, he caught a tall, straight figure in the corner of his eye. The newcomer stood diagonally ahead of him with a wireless microphone in one hand.
In the other, he carried a new guitar. Still singing, he walked to center stage and casually handed the replacement electric guitar to Luo Yueze.
***
You were never meant to be alone.
I’ll always be here to hold you close.
There will be nights when life grows dark,
but I will walk beside you once more.
Every movement and every note came so naturally to him that it seemed to have been part of the performance from the beginning.
Tang Yu’s fingers moved over the keys. He did not need to look up to confirm the singer’s identity. Ji Qian’ang’s voice crossed the sea breeze and the music, swept through every stray noise, and landed directly against his eardrums.
That deep, magnetic voice used no elaborate technique. It simply followed the melody, and that alone was beautiful enough to move the heart.
Lights came alive behind Ji Qian’ang. Strings of bulbs illuminated one after another, spreading from both sides of the stage toward the center, until even his most ordinary black shirt seemed gilded in gold.
The sea breeze blew straight toward him, lifting the loose strands of hair over his forehead.
Ji Qian’ang turned his head. His mismatched eyes passed over the crowd and settled on Tang Yu at the side of the stage.
Tang Yu finally looked up. Their gazes met for an instant before both quickly looked away.
Then the chorus arrived. Tian Qianxing struck the drums, Ji Xuecha’s bow trembled at high speed, and Luo Yueze’s electric guitar cut in from the side, driving the entire song toward its climax.
Tang Yu’s fingers accelerated, sending chord after chord crashing into the keys.
Beneath the stage lights and the amber sunset, the entire stage shone brilliantly. The song approached its end.
Ji Qian’ang walked step by step to the piano. Turning sideways, he bent down and lowered the microphone, singing the final line beside Tang Yu’s ear.
You were never meant to be alone—
The sun sank beneath the horizon. As the last note fell from Tang Yu’s fingers, his heart followed Ji Qian’ang’s final unaccompanied line and plunged into the depths of the sea.
The performance ended completely. Tang Yu’s mind was blank through the bows, the applause, and the entire walk offstage.
He wanted to ask Ji Qian’ang so many things. When had he found the new guitar? When had he learned the song? And how had he sung it with such vivid feeling?
Tang Yu had heard Tang Yifeng sing this song countless times. What were the two off-key lines Tang Yifeng had sung in the car that day?
No. He could not remember. He could not remember them at all.
Every melody Tang Yifeng had once hummed beside his ear had been entirely overwritten by Ji Qian’ang’s brief solo, leaving behind no trace that it had ever existed.
Ji Qian’ang’s voice had arrived on the South China Sea wind, while the melody Tang Yifeng once hummed had been swept away by the surging waves.
Backstage, Ji Xuecha snatched Luo Yueze’s electric guitar and carefully inspected its fittings. The marks of deliberate damage were obvious. Their instruments had been handed over to the props team long ago. How had someone still managed to sabotage one?
They all knew Feng Jian and his friends had to be involved, but Ji Xuecha still could not suppress the urge to confront him.
Tian Qianxing and Luo Yueze hurriedly held her back. Tang Yu looked as though he intended to settle the score later and handed her a cup of lemon tea.
Standing to one side, Ji Qian’ang pushed up his glasses and analyzed the situation carefully. “There were too many people coming and going backstage. We have no direct evidence. If we confront them now, we’ll only be giving them exactly what they want.”
He paused, then added, “At least we finished the performance. Why don’t we go celebrate?”
After being persuaded from several directions, Ji Xuecha finally let some of her anger go. She simply felt that those people had become far too brazen. If no one put a stop to them, who knew what uncontrollable stunt they might try next?
Tian Qianxing soon led them to the restaurant he had reserved in advance. Half the back garden had been set aside for them. Warm lights glowed over lush grass; the sea breeze brushed their faces, waves sounded nearby, and the night sky stretched high overhead. It offered every pleasure at once.
Not long after they sat down, dish after dish arrived at the table.
Everyone kept studying Ji Qian’ang with unusual expressions. Luo Yueze was the first to speak. “If you hadn’t saved us just now, we wouldn’t have known what to do for the second half.”
Tian Qianxing immediately agreed. “Exactly. Who knew Feng Jian’s group would pull something like that?”
Ji Qian’ang’s severe expression did not change. He explained casually, “I happened to notice the problem backstage.”
Tang Yu said nothing and merely listened to their conversation.
Luo Yueze seemed especially excited and suggested ordering some fruit wine to liven things up. Tang Yu enthusiastically agreed.
Ji Qian’ang rarely saw Tang Yu smile without restraint. One careless glance became a stare. When he realized what he was doing, discomfort twisted sharply inside him.
Yet deep down, he thought Tang Yu looked better when he smiled.
But Tang Yu would not stay like this. Once tonight ended, he would return to his cold, unapproachable self and personally build another wall of ice between them.
After they had eaten and drunk for a while, they started a game of Truth or Dare. Over several rounds, Tang Yu was chosen twice, and both times he selected truth.
Tian Qianxing asked, “Ahem. What are you most afraid of right now? What weighs on you the most?”
Tang Yu hesitated. Only after a moment did he force out a few words. “My…my height.”
Tian Qianxing had attended the same schools as Tang Yu from primary school through secondary school and naturally knew much of what he had experienced.
Classmates his own age had often mocked his height. Even older students would sometimes seek him out simply to tease him, only to add afterward, It was just a joke. Don’t take it so seriously.
Seventeen years old and five foot eight—was that truly short?
Perhaps not. But Tang Yifeng had already been six feet tall at that age and eventually reached roughly six foot one.
Beside Tang Yifeng, Tang Yu’s difference was certainly noticeable. At first, people had merely compared them in jest. Later, however, they realized that aside from his height, Tang Yu seemed to have no obvious weakness at all.
So they seized on that one supposed flaw, exaggerating and sharpening it in an attempt to beat him down.
Unfortunately, they had chosen correctly. Tang Yu truly was extraordinarily sensitive about his height.
Tian Qianxing coughed twice to ease the inexplicably heavy mood around the table. It was better not to continue the subject, and consolation was unnecessary. A few comforting words would not make someone grow another inch.
“All right, all right. Spin again. Next person.”
No one else spoke either. Ji Qian’ang sat opposite Tang Yu and watched his entire face turn fiery red after only a few sips of fruit wine. He could not help laughing softly.
Though Tang Yu’s mind had begun to blur, his ears remained sharp enough to catch the sound.
Fueled by alcohol, he abruptly slapped the table and narrowed his wavering eyes at Ji Qian’ang. “What are you laughing at?”
“Ji Qian’ang, are you making fun of me?”
The spinning bottle stopped with its mouth pointing directly at Ji Qian’ang. Luo Yueze clapped and called out with a grin, “Truth or dare?”
“Dare,” Ji Qian’ang answered without hesitation.
Tang Yu still seemed lost in his own world and refused to let him go. “What dare? Ji Qian’ang, I’m…asking you a question.”
“Answer me.”
This time, Tang Yu stood up from his chair. His words had already become slurred.
Tian Qianxing knew he could not hold his liquor, but made no attempt to rescue him. Instead, he hid in a corner with his phone raised, recording frame after frame of Tang Yu’s drunken state.
Ji Qian’ang rose as well. The two faced each other, one tall and one shorter, the tension between them drawn like a blade.
“What dare do you think I should do?” Ji Qian’ang asked.
Tang Yu was still considering it when Ji Qian’ang walked straight up to him. His mismatched eyes fixed on Tang Yu as he announced each word with deliberate clarity.
“Don’t bother thinking. I’ve decided to help a seedling grow.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Ji Qian’ang bent down, and a powerful arm suddenly closed around the outside of Tang Yu’s thigh.
With one swift motion, he lifted Tang Yu high into the air and held him there with perfect steadiness. Tang Yu’s broad sleeves fluttered in the wind, his hips resting squarely on Ji Qian’ang’s shoulder.