Time, the coldest of rules, never pauses for any individual’s will.
Regardless of how much reluctance or fear of the unknown filled Su Yuqing’s heart, this Saturday twilight in November pressed down on the brightly lit Binhai Music Hall like an inescapable Judgment Day, carrying the last remnants of the city’s skyline glow.
The glass curtain wall reflected a cold luster in the sunset.
This solemn building had once been a temple in the hearts of countless music students, including a certain someone years ago.
The opening day of the concert had finally arrived.
The backstage area was already a battlefield in a race against time.
Unlike the clamor of a stadium, the music hall’s backstage was filled with a low-decibel tension.
The hushed commands over the walkie-talkies, the hurried footsteps of staff in soft-soled shoes, the gentle friction of velvet prop boxes being moved, and the mixture of rosin, wood floor wax, and the unique scent of the old ventilation system all composed a busy yet oppressive prelude.
Su Yuqing stood at the edge of this elegant and solemn bustle.
The manager’s workstation, temporarily set up in the performers’ lounge, had become her only shelter.
The thick soundproof doors and velvet curtains did not bring a sense of security; instead, they felt like an exquisite cage.
“Senior! Senior!”
A breathless voice broke the brief silence of the workspace.
Sakura Onodera, sporting a pink bob cut, rushed in like a startled deer while clutching a stack of documents.
“This… this is today’s finally confirmed detailed timeline, and the final coordination reports from every department!”
She handed over the documents, the edges of the paper still holding the residual heat from the printer.
“The movement lines in the music hall are much more complex than in a stadium. This is the final version adjusted for acoustics.”
Su Yuqing forced herself to pull her gaze away from the music hall’s main building outside the window.
She took the documents, and when her fingertips touched the paper, she felt a trace of chill.
She quickly scanned the precise modules organized by the minute: the movement design after the foyer opens to the audience at 5:00 PM, the limited-edition merchandise sales in the music hall’s exclusive souvenir shop, the pre-show interactions utilizing the hall’s superior acoustics… everything was stiflingly rigorous.
“Mm, the flow is clear,” Su Yuqing said, her voice carrying a trace of imperceptible dryness.
“During the period after the foyer opens this afternoon, the core objective is to utilize the music hall’s environment to sell new limited merchandise in the exclusive area while building momentum for the elegant atmosphere of tonight’s performance. Leave this part to the Marketing Department; we just need to keep an eye on the details.”
Speaking of which, she lifted her wrist.
“There are less than thirty minutes left until the doors open. Sakura, the key departments… there haven’t been any more temporary hiccups, right?”
This had almost become a ritual Su Yuqing performed before every large-scale event.
“No, none! Don’t worry, Senior!”
Sakura immediately shook her head, her tone filled with the youthful energy of a newcomer.
“Even though it’s two days’ worth of performances, we’ve rehearsed the music hall’s procedures many times, and the equipment is more professional. I believe that as long as the transitions go smoothly, we will definitely be a great success again!”
Her eyes sparkled with the dream of perfect execution.
Su Yuqing looked at Sakura’s energetic face, and a trace of complex emotion flashed through her heart.
She twitched the corner of her mouth into a curve that couldn’t quite be called a smile, her tone carrying the clarity of someone who had seen it all.
“Mm—of course, that’s one way to put it, and boosting morale is important. But Sakura, don’t you ever forget —”
She paused, her gaze subconsciously drifting toward the end of the corridor next to the workspace that led to the main dressing room and the private practice room.
Her voice lowered.
“Here, on this stage that symbolizes the highest temple of music, the ‘protagonist’ who can ultimately decide whether a performance is a crowning success or a total disaster will always and only be Kasahana Chiai. We are merely… behind-the-scenes staff ensuring the spotlight hits her accurately.”
Those words carried a faint trace of self-deprecation and revealed Su Yuqing’s deep recognition of Chiai’s absolute central status.
“Ah! Speaking of Zhi Ai!”
Sakura seemed to suddenly be jolted awake, her face showing a hint of anxiety.
“Earlier, Manager Huang told me to find Zhi Ai quickly and invite her to the VIP reception room! The first batch of core ‘Pawprints’ have already arrived through the exclusive channel. According to the activity plan, there is a small interaction session next, and we need Zhi Ai to go over and warm up the room!”
“Right, that segment is indeed on the schedule.”
Su Yuqing nodded.
Holding a small fan meeting in an environment like the music hall was certainly more stylish than doing so on the noisy outskirts of a stadium.
“So… Senior.”
A look of even greater confusion and unease appeared on Sakura’s face.
“Where exactly… is Zhi Ai right now? I looked from the main dressing room to the VIP lounge, but I didn’t see her…”
Hearing this, Su Yuqing did not look particularly surprised.
She simply raised her hand and pointed calmly toward the area behind the wall with excellent soundproofing next to the workspace.
Her tone was flat, even carrying a sense of being accustomed to it.
“Ah—you mean her? Don’t bother looking. She must be in that soundproof practice room reserved for her in the back.”
That room was supposedly prepared by the music hall specifically for important artists.
The soundproofing was top-notch.
Perhaps many years ago, young men and women harboring musical dreams had practiced hard there for their exams.
“P-Practice room?!”
Sakura’s voice suddenly rose, filled with unbelievable horror.
“But… didn’t our Styling Team just spend a huge amount of effort to finish her main makeup for tonight’s opening? That look is meant to complement high-definition close-ups! If… if she ends up sweating a lot now and accidentally ruins the makeup on her face… that—that would truly be a Stage Accident!”
As a Makeup Artist, the thing she could tolerate least was seeing her meticulously crafted work ruined at a critical moment.
“Oh, relax, relax. Don’t scare yourself,” Su Yuqing said, waving her hand in an attempt to soothe her clearly panicked junior.
However, deep in her own eyes, an elusive shadow flickered.
Thus, she tried her best to make her tone sound more relaxed and certain as she spoke next.
“Chiai is… after all, not someone performing in a venue of this caliber for the first time. I believe she should… have a sense of her own physical limits and the risks that ‘rehearsing with makeup’ might bring.”
She paused here, and as if trying to convince herself, she added, “After all, I remember before several important performances in the past, didn’t she also ‘sharpen her blade’ at the last minute like this? In the end, didn’t she always… complete them without any issues?”
However, the intensity and duration of the “sharpening” this time seemed to far exceed the past, revealing an unusual obsession.
“Uh… um, Senior…”
But Sakura did not fully relax because of this explanation.
She hesitated, her hands restlessly twisting the hem of her clothes.
Her voice became lower as she spoke with a cautious, tentative tone.
“Do you… do you really not think that recently, Zhi Ai… has been a bit… too desperate when it comes to her work, especially regarding the training intensity for this music hall performance? You could even say… it’s a bit abnormal…”
“Eh…?”
Su Yuqing’s heart skipped a beat for no reason.
She looked at Sakura, her gaze searching.
“What do you mean… too desperate? Abnormal? What are you referring to specifically?”
Sakura seemed to have finally found an outlet to vent, and her speaking speed increased slightly.
“I… I also know some Makeup Artist friends in The Agency who do the styling for the other idols. Sometimes when we chat, it’s inevitable that we mention the preparation state of the artists we’re responsible for. It was through them that I learned just how… terrifying the intensity of Zhi Ai’s self-training behind the scenes is to ensure this performance goes perfectly.”
“They say she often practices through the night, her sleep time is compressed to the absolute limit, and her diet is extremely irregular. She’s supporting herself entirely on sheer willpower… This isn’t just preparing for a performance; it’s practically… as if she’s exhausting her very life essence.”
As she spoke, her voice grew softer, carrying a lingering fear.
“Although I also know that looking too deeply into some things doesn’t benefit anyone, still, Senior… I just have a very bad feeling in my heart. If Zhi Ai continues to maintain this almost insane training intensity without leaving herself any room to breathe… I’m worried that sooner or later… sooner or later, something will…”
“Something will what?”
Su Yuqing’s voice suddenly dropped, carrying a sharp edge that allowed no evasion as she pressed the question.
Sakura was intimidated by Su Yuqing’s sudden change in tone.
She took a deep breath, as if using all her strength to squeeze that unsettling word through her teeth.
“…There’s going to be an accident… Senior.”