Chapter 51: Princess and Queen

Agency.

TV screen.

The performance ended.

Bullet comments still scrolling.

[Yan… so pitiful.]

[On her own turf, defeated.]

[What? Why do you say defeated?]

[Wasn’t the performance great?]

[Then let me ask you, what do you remember from that performance just now?]

[Of course Alice shining bright… well, I see what you mean.]

[That’s some reverse advertising.]

[How are Yan’s fans feeling right now…]

[I’m a Yan fan, and I have mixed feelings.]

[How could she dance to Yan’s song??]

[And the way she danced… how do I put it?]

[The one before, I know what you want to say, but I don’t dare say it.]

[I’ll say it: more like a queen than Yan.]

[…silence.]

[Did you guys see Yan’s expression? Those last few seconds, she was completely frozen.]

[Saw it. Heartbroken, but… don’t know how to be heartbroken.]

[Because she did invite her first.]

[Stop talking, I’m going to cry.]

[Cry for Yan? Or cry for Alice?]

[Cry because I can’t get tomorrow’s tickets!!]

Bullet comments still scrolling.

No one in the agency spoke.

Shen Wei stared at the screen, her mouth slowly opening.

“…A monster.”

Her voice was very soft.

But everyone heard it.

Su Nian didn’t speak.

She just watched that person.

That pink-haired person.

On someone else’s stage, dancing someone else’s song, yet making everyone watch her.

Sweat dripped from that person’s forehead on the screen.

Twinkling under the lights.

Su Nian thought of the first time she saw Alice perform.

An eight-thousand-person venue.

That person stood on stage, smiling and waving.

Back then, she only thought, “So amazing.”

Later, she moved into the agency, practiced dancing every day until sweat dripped down, and learned what was behind that “amazing.”

It was running five kilometers every day until out of breath.

It was raising arms, turning, and fixing positions countless times.

It was being told “lousy” and then turning back to keep dancing.

Now she knew more.

—It was standing on someone else’s stage, dancing someone else’s song, yet making everyone watch you.

Su Nian’s throat moved.

She wanted to say something.

But couldn’t.

She just tightened her grip on the water bottle.

Shen Wei turned her head and looked at Su Nian.

“You’re going on stage tomorrow too.”

Su Nian nodded.

“Scared?”

Su Nian thought for a moment.

“…Scared.”

“Of what?”

Su Nian thought for a long time.

Then she said.

“Afraid of… not being enough.”

Shen Wei was taken aback.

“Not enough what?”

Su Nian didn’t answer.

She just stared at the figure that had already disappeared on the screen.

Not enough like her.

Not enough to surpass Alice.

Not enough strength to fulfill that promise with that person.

Shen Wei understood something.

She didn’t ask further.

***

Xiao Xi crouched in the corner—leaning against the wall, both hands behind her back.

She was also watching the screen.

Watching those bullet comments.

[Anyone got tickets for tomorrow—]

[Snow Girl and Gemstone Princess on the same stage, just thinking about it gets me excited.]

[Will it be like today too?]

[Like what?]

[Improv? Rivalry?]

[Probably not… Snow Girl is from a first-tier agency, they definitely rehearsed.】

[With rehearsal, it’s boring.]

[You don’t get it. With rehearsal, there’s coordination. That’s when you see real “sense of rivalry.”]

[I can’t get tickets anyway, go ahead and argue.]

Xiao Xi watched those bullet comments, her lips moving.

“…Tomorrow.”

Her voice was very soft.

No one heard her.

Chuxue held her black tea, not drinking it.

She sat by the window, watching that pink figure on the screen.

That person was smiling.

Smiling as always.

But Chuxue saw something else.

Sweat.

Three times the usual amount.

As it dripped down, it twinkled under the lights.

She was calculating.

Adjusting.

Fine-tuning her moves every ten seconds.

Not a monster.

It was habit.

A habit of treating every performance as if it were the last.

A habit of accepting every challenge thrown at her.

A habit of jumping higher than anyone else when others expected her to be tired.

A habit of using—everything she had.

Chuxue lowered her eyelashes.

Said nothing.

She just brought the teacup to her lips and took a sip.

Tomorrow.

Thinking about tomorrow.

It was her joint stage with that person.

How would that person treat her?

Would she do the same to her as she did to Yan?

Turn the tables in her own song?

Chuxue imagined that scene—herself and Alice standing on the same stage, dancing the same dance.

Then she smiled slightly.

Very small.

Very light.

‘So… that’s it?’

—Why Alice never performed on the same stage with other title holders.

One possible reason, Chuxue had realized.

If the gap was too great.

‘You’d unconsciously—hurt your partner.’

***

Performance ended.

Backstage.

The corridor was long.

Pale lights shone from above, dragging long shadows on the floor.

I walked in front.

White high-heeled boots went click, click, click on the empty corridor—

Echoing.

Behind me, another set of footsteps.

Getting slower.

Weaker.

Yan.

She walked behind me.

The distance growing.

I could guess what she was thinking.

She issued a challenge, and it was accepted.

On her own song, she was overpowered.

On her own dance steps, she was doubted.

On her own turf, she tasted defeat.

What would the audience think of her?

What would her manager think of her?

What would she think of herself?

Why… was this mere “New Star” so strong?

Click, click, click—

The sound grew louder.

I didn’t turn around.

I kept walking.

Behind me, those footsteps grew farther.

Finally stopped.

She didn’t follow anymore.

I kept walking.

When I reached the corner of the corridor, I turned and disappeared from sight.

—I didn’t turn back.

Because there was no need.

I had merely done something perfectly ordinary.

Something between an idol and the stage.

At the same time, I was just maintaining a common sense in the eyes of the audience:

Before the “Gemstone Princess,” no one could claim the title—”Queen.”

***

Later that night.

Agency.

When the door was pushed open, it was very dark inside.

Only the corridor light shone in, cutting a bright rectangle on the floor.

I walked in.

Grabbed the door handle, stood for two seconds.

Then I walked step by step to the desk.

Sat down.

Collapsed.

“Ughhh…………………”

The sound squeezed out of my throat, muffled.

Sure.

It was cool.

It felt good.

But.

Everyone knows.

I actually.

Just—couldn’t hold back again.

So I turned back into a powerless salted fish.

Arms spread on the desk.

Face buried in my arms.

My whole body felt drained.

The bad part was, my stamina consumption was really high.

“Crap…”

Tomorrow, I still had a joint performance with “Snow Girl.”

I had really meant to conserve my energy.

But now.

My knees were still trembling faintly.

My arms were so sore they felt like they couldn’t lift.

My eyelids were protesting too.

“I need to… rest… early…”

Just as I thought that—

Ding.

My phone rang.

A bank message.

[Ding! Yesterday’s performance fee has been deposited. Including final show subsidy…]

That sound, in the pitch-black office, was especially melodious.

I stirred.

Lifted my face slightly from my arms.

Opened my eyelids a crack.

Reached for my phone.

The screen was lit.

Numbers on it.

Balance: 14,274,971 RMB

—After all these days of effort, endorsement fees, performance fees, advertising fees, that damn swimsuit photobook, and also that damn swimsuit photobook, and even that damn swimsuit photobook…

Finally returned to this healthy number.

‘I guess… that’s the only good news from all these days.’

I felt a trace of comfort.

Wanted to smile.

Didn’t manage.

Because that wasn’t right.

Now wasn’t the time to think about this.

I needed to hurry and rest.

I pushed against the desk, slowly stood up.

My legs were still shaking.

Steady myself.

Took a deep breath.

Then looked up—

Someone was standing at the door.

The light from the corridor shone on her face.

Snow-white long hair.

Light gray casual clothes.

No black tea in hand.

Chuxue.

She stood there.

Looking at me.

Her expression was frozen.

Dazed.

As if someone had pressed the pause button.

My brain spun for a second.

Realized—

‘Huh? The bank sound…’

That notification sound.

That performance fee.

That “Alice’s money.”

She heard it.

She heard everything.

Finally, I realized—

‘This time—I’m really done for.’