Chapter 22: The next day, snowflakes fell.

The next day.

Before training began.

I asked Su Nian how her conversation went yesterday.

“President.”

Her expression was a bit strange.

It wasn’t depression, nor was it joy.

It was a kind of indescribable… blankness.

“How was it?”

I asked.

She paused for a moment.

“That sister,” she said, “she’s a really nice person.”

I didn’t say anything.

“She said she debuted four years ago,” Su Nian continued.

“I asked her what her first performance felt like, and she said ‘nervous.'”

“I asked her how it is now, and she said ‘I’m used to it.'”

“I asked her if she likes being an idol, and she said ‘it’s fine.'”

“I asked her what she wants to do in the future, and she said ‘I haven’t thought about it.'”

After she finished, she looked at me.

In those dark red eyes, that blankness grew even stronger.

“President…”

“Yeah?”

“Why is she… like that?”

I looked into her eyes.

Three seconds later.

The sunlight outside the window dimmed slightly as the clouds covered half of it.

“Guess.”

She was stunned for a moment.

Then she lowered her head and looked at her hands.

She thought for a long time.

Then she looked up.

“…Is it because she’s used to it?”

I looked at her.

I didn’t say a word.

She thought again.

“…Does she have no more goals?”

I still didn’t speak.

She thought again.

Then she suddenly froze.

“…Is she waiting?”

I blinked.

Looking at my expression, she knew she had guessed correctly.

But she wasn’t happy.

She just lowered her head.

She looked at her hands again.

It was quiet for a long time.

The sunlight peeked out from behind the clouds again, shining on her hair and creating a layer of dark red light.

Then she spoke.

“President.”

“Yeah.”

“I won’t become like that, right?”

I looked at her.

Those dark red eyes were staring right at me.

Stubborn.

It wasn’t the “I’ll remember this” kind of stubbornness from before.

It was something deeper — a stubbornness that didn’t want to lose.

She didn’t want to lose to that “used to it” sister.

She didn’t want to lose to that “it’s fine” answer.

She didn’t want to lose to that pot of withering green ivy.

I looked away.

I looked out the window.

“You won’t,” I said.

Her breathing hitched for a beat.

“Ten Million has already been spent,” I said.

“I don’t have the spare cash to let you get used to things.”

A second of silence passed.

The light outside the window brightened a bit more, illuminating her face.

She didn’t smile, nor did she look embarrassed. She simply said, “Yes!”

***

At 10:00 AM.

Chuxue walked in, carrying a backpack much larger than her usual one — not one of those delicate little bags, but a sports backpack capable of holding a change of clothes and daily necessities.

It was gray, with slightly worn edges, which didn’t quite match her usual style.

She stood at the door, sunlight shining from behind her, framing the edges of her snow-white hair with a halo of light.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Her voice was still just as slow and leisurely.

“President Lin, I’ve already spoken with my Manager. She believes our proposal is very valuable.”

I looked into her eyes, trying to find something in them —

But there was nothing.

She closed her eyes, hiding it, not wanting to reveal any more to me.

I understood she was refusing me.

I took over from Chuxue and said to Su Nian, “Chuxue will be leading your training from now on.”

Then, I brushed past that snow-white hair.

I left.

Su Nian looked at us blankly, not knowing what had happened for a moment.

“Miss Su Nian, please focus,” Chuxue reminded her as she approached.

“Oh, oh… wait, what about you and the President?”

Su Nian was no longer as indifferent as she had been before.

“A transaction,” Chuxue replied.

She unzipped her backpack and pulled out a neatly folded tracksuit — it was black, completely different from the white dress she usually wore.

“For these remaining 19 days, I will be living here and taking charge of your training.”

She shook out the tracksuit and draped it over the back of a chair.

“Basics in the morning, techniques in the afternoon, and visits in the evening — President Lin set the outline, and I will execute it.”

Su Nian’s eyes widened.

“Living… living here?”

“Yes.”

Chuxue didn’t look up, continuing to take things out of her bag — a towel, a water bottle, and a pair of sneakers, all arranged neatly.

“Why? Am I not welcome?”

As she spoke, Chuxue took the tracksuit she needed to change into and walked toward the changing room.

“What transaction?”

Su Nian still didn’t understand.

The 10:00 AM sunlight shone on that snow-white silhouette, appearing even brighter than the midday sun, making it hard to see clearly.

She didn’t turn back, remaining silent for a while.

“…In 19 days, you’ll know.”

***

In the car.

I sat in the driver’s seat, looking at my phone.

On the screen was a recruitment website — a job posting for technical personnel that I had sent out last night.

There were already several resumes this morning.

Yesterday, Chuxue and I reached an agreement.

She would temporarily live at the Agency.

Her training and daily life would be handled here.

When she didn’t have performances or commercial activities, she would be responsible for looking after Su Nian and her basic training for 19 days.

In exchange, I would be temporarily freed from Su Nian’s basic training to handle other matters.

As compensation —

In 19 days, Gemstone Princess would perform on the same stage as Snow Girl once.

This was an extremely valuable performance.

It was also an incredibly bold attempt.

Gemstone Princess and Snow Girl — two completely different styles.

However, Chuxue’s Manager felt it was worthwhile.

The Underground Simulation Performance Room was completed today.

My time was tight.

First was:

The selection of staff.

I had been putting this off for a long time and needed to resolve it early.

I scrolled through the resumes page by page.

Lighting Technician.

Sound Engineer.

Stage Supervisor.

Manager’s Assistant.

None of them were quite right.

It wasn’t that their skills weren’t good enough — the feeling was just wrong.

‘They look dull, like their brains aren’t even working.’

I complained to myself and put my phone down.

I looked out the window.

The sunlight peeked out from behind the clouds and then retreated again.

***

At 3:00 PM.

At the recruitment fair.

‘Sigh… I really don’t want to come here.’

The sun was very bright, but I had applied sunscreen, so that wasn’t the problem.

It was the people.

There weren’t many people.

Just a few scattered booths with the names of various agencies hanging on them.

But they all looked dazed, so dazed it made me feel uncomfortable just looking at them.

I sat in the corner, watching people come and go.

A young man in a plaid shirt walked over and sat down opposite me.

“Hiring?”

“Yes.”

“What position?”

“Lighting.”

He nodded, pulled a resume from his bag, and handed it over.

I took it, glanced at it, and handed it back three seconds later.

“Not a fit.”

He was stunned.

“I… I’ve been doing this for five years…”

“And then?”

“And then…”

He didn’t say anything else. He stood up and left.

I watched his back disappear into the crowd.

The sunlight leaked through the gaps in the roof, casting small spots of light on the ground.

The second one.

The third one.

The fourth one.

None of them were right.

It wasn’t that their skills weren’t good enough.

It was their eyes.

There wasn’t enough clarity in their eyes.

That “I am the one who does this” quality.

It wasn’t passion — it was certainty.

Knowing what they wanted, knowing clearly that they were meant for this.

When the sky began to darken, I stood up and walked out.

At the entrance, a girl was squatting on the steps, holding a notebook and writing something.

I paused for a moment.

I remembered something.

But I didn’t stop.

I kept walking.

***

At 8:00 PM.

I pushed open the door to find the Agency lights on.

Su Nian was lying on the ground, but her phone was beside her — she was watching a video.

Chuxue was sitting in a nearby chair, holding that notebook and writing something.

Hearing the door open, Su Nian looked up.

“President — you’re back —”

She dragged out her voice.

Chuxue didn’t look up, continuing to write.

I walked over and took the notebook from her hand.

I flipped it open.

The first page: Morning run, 5 kilometers, 31 minutes and 2 seconds.

The second page: Stretching exercises, completed.

The third page: Vocal practice, a bit steadier than yesterday.

The fourth page: Dance basics, sixteen eight-beats, completed.

The fifth page: Visit to a peer agency, completed.

The sixth page: Chuxue’s notes — “Expression management needs strengthening; she will freeze on stage.”

I closed the notebook and handed it back to Chuxue.

“Continue tomorrow.”

Su Nian was very quiet today, offering no wails.

‘…I’m not used to this.’

Chuxue took the notebook and looked at me.

I stood by the window, looking at the streetlights outside.

Soft footsteps sounded behind me.

Chuxue walked over and stood beside me.

The light from the streetlights shone up from below, casting soft shadows on her profile — the outline of her eyelashes spread across her cheek in a small patch, trembling slightly with her breath.

The night wind brushed a strand of snow-white hair onto her shoulder, and it slid down again.

The street was empty.

The streetlights gathered the light into clusters, separated by segments of darkness.

A car drove by in the distance, its sound muffled, quickly disappearing around the corner.

Then she spoke.

“President Lin.”

“Yeah?”

“Did you find anyone today?”

She didn’t turn her head, still looking out the window.

The lines of her profile were very soft under the streetlights, different from the “Snow Girl” coldness of the daytime.

I was silent.

She didn’t press me.

She just stood there, looking out the window with me.

“No,” I said.

She nodded.

She still didn’t turn her head.

It was quiet again for a while.

The night wind slipped through the gap in the window, bringing a hint of chill.

Her hair moved again, this time drifting toward me and landing on my arm.

“Goodnight, President Lin.”

The door closed.

I stood by the window, looking at the streetlights.

The spot on my arm where her hair had fallen still felt cool.

I didn’t move.

The street was still empty.

“Goodnight…”

I repeated the words.

‘I would also like to say goodnight…’

But:

I opened the phone — Jewel Princess Alice’s phone.

The private message interface:

9999+

I clicked on it.

[When is Alice going to have a performance —]

[It’s been a week, a whole week!]

[Did something happen to Gemstone Princess?]

[I miss Alice —]

[What have you been doing lately? I heard some bad news…]

[There’s a new rumor… is it true she’s tired and wants to retire???]

[A Supernova!! How could she retire! Right!!]

[Alice, where are you!!??]

I scrolled down, one by one.

The night grew deeper.

I instinctively felt that the street, which had been empty just a moment ago, now seemed to have several pairs of eyes —

Jewel Princess Alice hadn’t performed for one week.

It wasn’t malice.

They were waiting.

Waiting for a person who hadn’t appeared for one week.

Waiting for that gemstone to shine again.

I put the phone down.

Outside the window, in the glow of the streetlights, a figure seemed to flash by.

When I looked again, there was nothing.

Only the night wind and the occasional car driving in the distance.

The Agency was very quiet.

There was no sound from Su Nian’s room — she hadn’t shouted about being tired or wailed today; she had simply gone in quietly.

Chuxue’s room was at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light peeking through the crack under the door.

I stood by the window and looked for a while longer.

The street was still empty.

But I knew those people wouldn’t wait forever.

Jewel Princess Alice hadn’t performed for one week.

And one week, for a Supernova —

Was too long.

Early the next morning, a message was released:

[Performance Preview! After one week, the Supernova — Jewel Princess Alice returns!!!]