Chapter 25: Aftershocks

On the street.

A delivery driver parked his electric scooter by the curb, took off his helmet, and wiped away his sweat.

Many people were like him, standing in the middle of the road—

Looking straight up at the large screen in the city center.

When that performance was broadcast just now, he had been halfway through his route, but for some reason, he had just stopped.

He couldn’t hear it very clearly.

The wind was too strong.

There were too many people.

But that final cry—

“A—li—ce—!”

Through the sound of the wind, through his headphones, and through all the noise on the street, it still pierced his ears.

The delivery driver froze for a moment.

Then he smiled.

“Is there something wrong with me?” he muttered to himself.

‘I feel like crying just from listening to a song.’

He put his helmet back on and twisted the handlebar.

This order was probably going to be late.

While cursing in his heart, he planned to finish the delivery and then head off work—he would go back and watch it again.

The electric scooter rushed forward, disappearing into the night.

***

Outside the stadium.

The crowd from the show was still pouring out.

Some people looked back as they walked, staring at the stage that was already out of sight.

Some held their lightsticks, reluctant to turn them off, letting them stay lit as they held them high.

One person crouched by the roadside, hugging their knees, unable to stop crying.

The person next to them stood waiting, saying nothing, just waiting.

A man passing by with a bicycle found himself blocked and pressed his bell impatiently.

“Move, move, move—is it really worth all this just for a show—”

An older woman nearby turned around and glared at him.

“It is.”

The man was stunned.

The woman ignored him after that, turning to continue walking.

After a few steps, she suddenly stopped.

She pulled a lightstick out of her bag.

It was pink.

She clicked it on.

She held it above her head.

Then she continued forward.

That pink point of light swayed back and forth within the departing crowd.

***

On the stage.

It was empty.

The lights were out.

Only a few emergency lights remained, pale and ghastly, shining on the trampled streamers, the tilted speakers, and a small patch of the floor soaked with sweat.

That small patch of floor was the place where Alice had knelt at the end.

It was dark.

Irregular.

Very inconspicuous.

A janitor walked over, holding a mop.

He stopped when he reached that part of the floor.

He looked down at the dark mark.

Then he looked at the mop in his hand.

“Tch.”

He set the mop aside.

He turned and walked away.

That mark remained there.

***

A hospital ward.

2:00 AM.

A girl lay in her hospital bed, clutching her phone.

The screen was still lit.

It was a replay of that performance.

She had already watched it three times.

When she reached the end for the third time, Alice was kneeling on the stage, his hands shaking as he made a heart gesture, saying:

“This… this… is a week’s worth of… my love…”

“Did you catch it?”

The girl pressed the phone against her chest.

Her eyes grew red.

But she didn’t cry.

She just stared at the ceiling, staring at the pale light for a long time.

Then she picked up her phone, opened the comment section, and began to type:

[Thank you. I caught it.]

After posting it, she thought for a moment and added another one:

[You have to explode with energy again tomorrow.]

***

The second floor of a villa.

The woman in the suit, Su Wanqing, stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window.

The television was on behind her, muted.

The images on the screen were still flashing, a pink figure bouncing and jumping on the stage.

It was a replay.

She wasn’t watching it.

She was looking out the window.

In that direction.

The direction of the Agency.

The woman let out a soft laugh.

“Interesting.”

***

The Agency, Chuxue’s room. (She had picked one at random.)

Chuxue turned off the replay on her phone.

The room was very dark, lit only by the streetlights filtering in from outside.

She sat on the bed, unmoving.

That pink figure from just now was still swaying in her mind.

The moment he jumped up.

The moment he crouched down.

The moment he knelt to make a heart.

The moment his hands shook.

The moment his hands shook.

Chuxue looked down at her own hands.

Her hands were very steady.

A steadiness trained into her since childhood.

At any time, in any situation, they would never shake.

In theory, that was how it should be.

Until she saw those movements on the television—exaggerated, strenuous, but lethal.

She wasn’t even sure if she could perform them continuously without stopping for a single moment.

But the person on the screen just now—the Gemstone Princess, Alice—had done them without hesitation.

Those kinds of movements, three consecutive jumps without any reservation in a single instant, were very high and very intense.

Even if his hands were shaking.

He was still making a heart.

Chuxue stood up and walked to the window.

Outside was the city’s night view.

In the distance, office buildings were lit up where people were working overtime.

Nearby was a flow of traffic, red and white lights moving slowly along the streets.

She remembered that day at the Agency when that man said:

“This is Alice’s money.”

“I’m just a little white face she’s keeping.”

Chuxue let out a soft laugh.

‘Liar.’

***

The Agency, lounge.

Su Nian was still sitting in front of the television.

The show had finished, and commercials were playing now.

A shampoo advertisement showed a female star swinging her long hair, smiling beautifully.

But she wasn’t watching.

She suddenly turned off the television.

She stared at the blackened screen, looking at her own reflection.

Her dark red eyes were wide.

Her mouth was open, not yet closed.

“So… so amazing…”

She murmured to herself, then said it again.

Nearly fifty minutes had passed since the first time she had cried out, but her mind was still spinning, unable to stop.

“As expected… no matter how many times I see it… it’s amazing.”

That person.

The person on the television.

Pink twin-tails, sequined eyeshadow, and a skirt so short it barely cleared the thighs.

When he jumped, the twin-tails swung in a circle.

When he landed, his knees buckled slightly.

When he winked at the camera, the whole world seemed to wink back.

“Gemstone Princess… Alice…”

Su Nian whispered the name once more.

Then she thought of another face.

Cold.

Not fond of smiling.

Someone who would kick her.

Someone who would make rice balls for her.

Someone who, when she was being bullied, would send a knife flying from the kitchen to pin itself right next to a thug’s ear.

That person had said:

“This is Alice’s money.”

“I’m just a little white face she’s keeping.”

Su Nian froze.

She looked at the television, then toward the door—the direction leading to the President’s office.

She looked at the television.

She looked at the door.

She looked at the television.

She looked at the door.

Her mouth moved.

“How could that be possible…”

Anyone who had seen it would know, even she knew—

How could an Alice like that possibly keep a little white face?

***

One hour ago.

The backstage corridor.

The four members of “Girls’ Revolution” walked down the hallway, none of them speaking.

The guitarist walked in the lead, her pace very fast.

The bassist followed behind, moving sluggishly.

The drummer rubbed her wrists as she walked; she had used too much force during the final song.

The lead singer was at the very back, still clutching the microphone she had used to shout alongside Alice.

“Hey.”

The guitarist suddenly stopped.

The other three stopped as well.

“What’s wrong?”

The guitarist turned around, looking at the three of them.

The lights in the corridor were pale, shining on her face.

“I…”

She opened her mouth but couldn’t find the words.

The bassist walked over and stood beside her without saying a word.

The drummer and the lead singer followed suit.

The four of them stood in the corridor, none of them moving.

After a long time, the guitarist finally spoke:

“She said… ‘I’m going to let these seventeen years of mine explode for you to see’…”

She paused.

“When I was seventeen… what was I doing?”

No one answered.

But in the corridor, someone let out a soft laugh.

Just then, a figure walked out from around the corner—

The pink twin-tails were already undone, draped over the shoulders.

A sports jacket had been thrown casually over the stage outfit, zipped up to the neck.

The lead singer saw him and subconsciously called out:

“Alice!”

The person stopped.

He turned his head.

There was nothing in his eyes.

No smile like the one on stage.

No curve to his eyebrows.

None of the exhaustion or joy they had imagined.

There was only—

“What is it.”

Three words.

A chill so cold it made them want to retreat.

The lead singer’s mouth hung open.

“…N-nothing…”

The person said nothing more.

He turned and continued walking.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the corridor for a few moments before disappearing around the corner.

The lead singer stood frozen in place.

After a long time, she turned her head to look at the other three:

“That Alice… has social anxiety?”

“How is that possible…”

Silence.

Suddenly, the bassist spoke:

“The Witch…”

Under the lights, two wet streaks—tear marks—could still be seen at the corners of her eyes.

The other three looked at her simultaneously.

“The Witch? You mean the one from three years ago?”

“Why… would you mention her?”

The bassist didn’t answer.

She just stared at the corner, at the direction where that person had disappeared.

She was among the first generation of the Witch’s fans.

Three years ago, while watching the Witch perform, she had deeply memorized that unique temperament—

Cold.

Aloof.

Like standing in another world, watching everything here.

There was the same thing in that gaze just now.

“…How is that possible.”

She murmured to herself.

The Witch, and the Gemstone Princess—Alice.

“Wait a minute…”

She suddenly looked up as she remembered something, her face filled with shock.

“The Witch… ‘The Witch of Calamity,’ her original name… was?”

Lilith.

Ali… ce?