Chapter 44: The Transaction

Chapter Content:

Five days until Su Nian’s debut.

Morning.

The training room window was open.

Sunlight streamed in from outside, spreading a warm rectangle across the floor, shifted half an inch further west than yesterday.

Su Nian stood in front of the mirror, holding the paper—the lyrics to “The Brave.”

The edges of the paper were already curled beyond recognition from being flipped through so many times.

Small tears had split along the creases, held together with transparent tape.

The tape edges were gray with dust.

Her lips moved as she muttered.

“…Fall down and get back up… It hurts but don’t cry… Crying isn’t scary…”

“Fall down and get back up… It hurts but don’t cry… Crying isn’t scary…”

Shen Wei crouched in the corner—she’d gone back to crouching today—and watched her.

“…Sixth time.”

Xiao Xi stood beside her—standing, not crouching—and nodded.

Chuxue leaned against the wall, holding a cup of black tea.

She’d switched to a new tea leaf today—according to her.

I pushed open the door and walked in.

I was holding a folder.

Blue, plastic cover, the corners slightly warped.

Inside were a few sheets of A4 paper, neatly printed.

Su Nian looked up.

“President—!”

Her voice was still just as loud.

I walked over.

Handed her the folder.

“What’s this?”

She took it and opened it.

First page.

Sheet music.

Lyrics.

[Verse]

Wait for the wind, wait for dawn

Wait for that moment when you dare to shout

She froze.

“This is…”

“Like I promised, the second song.”

She didn’t speak.

She lowered her head and continued flipping.

Second page.

Third page.

Fourth page.

Neat and orderly, four pages.

Behind them were matching movement references.

She read through all of it in her mind before saying softly.

“…A backup.”

She looked at the paper.

The lyrics were different from “The Brave”—shorter, lighter, with a slower rhythm.

“But…”

“I said, just in case.”

She blinked.

“In case of what?”

She met my gaze.

In those dark red eyes, there was a flicker of light.

Curiosity, and also tension.

And then my eyes—definitely still wearing that dead, lifeless expression.

“In case there’s an encore.”

She froze.

Encore.

After the performance ends, the audience doesn’t leave; they call you back to sing one more song.

For a newcomer, that’s a dream.

For a newcomer who’s only trained for twenty days, it’s a dream within a dream.

“You… think I can sing an encore?”

I looked at her.

“I don’t know.”

She blinked.

“You don’t know?”

“Yeah. I don’t know.”

I turned and walked back to the window, sat down.

I don’t know if it’s a no or a yes—either is possible.

That’s why I don’t know.

“That’s why I’m giving it to you.

As a backup.”

Use it, or not?

I returned the choice to her, because she’s the one on stage, not me.

She lowered her head and looked at the paper again.

She looked for a long time.

She didn’t ask further.

She folded the paper and placed it together with “The Brave.”

Training continued.

Su Nian stood in front of the mirror, holding two sheets of paper.

On the left was “The Brave,” the edges already curled.

On the right was the new song, still crisp.

She looked left.

Looked right.

Left.

Right.

Shen Wei watched from the side.

“…What are you doing?”

Su Nian looked up.

“Choosing.”

“Choosing what?”

“Which one to practice first.”

Shen Wei was silent.

Then she stood up, walked over, and stood beside her.

“Which one are you focusing on today?”

Su Nian thought for a moment.

“The Brave.”

“Then that’s settled.

Leave the other one for now.”

Su Nian blinked.

“Leave it?”

“Yeah.

You’ll be lucky if you can dance to ‘The Brave’ well enough right now.”

Su Nian thought for a moment.

Then she nodded.

“Good point.”

She set the new paper aside.

Turned back and continued dancing.

Noon.

Dining room.

The same as always, lots of meat, but with some seafood added—lobster, laid out, steaming.

Su Nian’s eyes lit up.

She sat there, head down, eating.

Her chopsticks moved quickly.

Picking up food, scooping rice, chewing, swallowing.

Repeat.

But she looked like she was enjoying it.

Shen Wei sat beside her, watching.

She watched for two minutes.

Then she spoke.

“Su Nian.”

“Huh?”

“What were you thinking about while you ate?”

Su Nian looked up.

A grain of rice was still stuck to the corner of her mouth.

“The lyrics.”

“…What lyrics?”

“The Brave.”

Shen Wei was silent.

Then she lowered her head and continued eating.

After two bites, she looked up again.

“What’s the name of your new song?”

Su Nian paused.

Then she looked down at the paper—she’d brought it out, placed right next to her bowl.

“…It doesn’t have a name yet.”

“No name?”

“Yeah.”

Afternoon.

Sunlight crept in through the window, shifting further west.

Su Nian stood in front of the mirror.

Raise arm.

Turn.

Pose.

She held only “The Brave.”

The new paper was placed on the chair beside her, together with the pink water bottle.

Thirteenth time.

She stopped, panting.

Xiao Xi stood beside her, watching.

“Sister Su Nian…”

“Yeah?”

“You… aren’t you going to practice the new one?”

Su Nian shook her head.

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

Su Nian thought for a moment.

Then she said, “Because I haven’t mastered ‘The Brave’ yet.”

Xiao Xi blinked.

“…Oh.”

Su Nian turned back.

Continued dancing.

***

Break time.

Su Nian sat on the mat, holding the blue folder.

But her eyes weren’t looking at it.

She was staring blankly, tired.

Shen Wei sat beside her, scrolling through her phone.

As she scrolled, she suddenly stopped.

She looked at Su Nian, as if remembering something.

“Su Nian.”

“Yeah?”

“Look at this.”

She handed her phone over.

On the screen was a message from last night—

[Six Days Later: Jewel Princess Alice × Snow Girl Chuxue Special Joint Performance]

The font was bold, with a red headline.

Below it was a picture—Alice and Chuxue’s photos side by side, Alice’s half in pink, Chuxue’s half in white.

Su Nian froze.

“Alice… and Chuxue?”

“Yeah.”

Su Nian looked up at Chuxue.

Chuxue leaned against the wall, holding her black tea.

When she saw Su Nian looking at her, she blinked.

“What’s wrong?”

“Miss Chuxue… you’re performing with Alice?”

“Yeah.”

Su Nian’s mouth fell wide open.

Her eyes widened a full circle.

Her pupils contracted.

“Together—?!”

“Yeah. Same stage.”

She was stunned, as if just finding out.

Even though the internet had already been buzzing with discussion, she had been so focused on training these past days that she’d forgotten everything.

Finally, she lowered her head and stared at the phone screen.

She looked for a long time.

Then she said softly, “So this is… the trade?”

She finally remembered.

More than ten days ago, when Chuxue agreed to teach her—the thing she mentioned.

The opportunity to perform on the same stage as Alice—this was the content of the trade.

Though Shen Wei’s presence had made Chuxue’s existence feel a bit weaker since she arrived, she still pointed out Su Nian’s flaws at critical moments.

Shen Wei, sitting nearby, heard something.

She leaned in a little closer, her shoulder brushing against Su Nian’s.

“What did you say?”

Su Nian looked up.

“Nothing.”

She turned back and continued staring at the screen.

Her eyes locked onto that name—”Snow Girl Chuxue.”

But Shen Wei saw it.

—In those eyes, the pupils dilated and contracted slightly.

The lashes trembled.

The nostrils fluttered faintly.

The lips tightened into a thin line, the corners of the mouth turning down by half a centimeter.

Surprise?

Realization?

Resentment?

Uncertain.

Shen Wei watched the screen, then looked at Su Nian.

“Su Nian, what’s wrong?”

Su Nian didn’t answer.

She just stared at that name—”Snow Girl Chuxue.”

Chuxue.

More than ten days ago, when Chuxue first moved in, she had said.

[A trade.]

Now she knew.

The content of the trade was performing on the same stage as Alice.

She didn’t know how Chuxue had managed it.

But it was also something that person had given.

Su Nian clenched the paper in her hand.

The paper crumpled under her grip, the edges cutting into her palm.

She lowered her head.

Her shoulders trembled.

She was silent for a long time.

Then she stood up.

Walked to the mirror.

Smoothed out the wrinkled paper.

“Keep practicing.”

Then, a voice like snow reminded her.

“Miss Su Nian, don’t forget.

That day is also your performance.”

Her teaching and concern weren’t free.

But—was it really that cold?

It didn’t seem so.

Su Nian looked at Chuxue again, her mind churning with thoughts—her eyes growing complicated…

As if seeing her for the first time.

“…Yeah.”

***

Night.

The lights in the agency were still on.

Su Nian sat on the floor, hugging her water bottle.

Her hair hadn’t dried yet, draped over her shoulders.

Her eyes—slightly dazed.

Xiao Xi sat beside her—sitting, not crouching.

Hugging her pink water bottle, also with her hair down.

Shen Wei sat across from them, legs crossed, holding her phone.

Chuxue leaned against the wall, holding her black tea.

The TV was on.

A variety show had ended, and now some replay was playing.

No one was watching.

Then—

The screen cut.

A familiar intro began to play.

Su Nian jerked her head up.

“This is—!”

On TV, the pink figure appeared on stage.

A venue of twelve thousand people.

The lights were dim.

Only a single spotlight shone on her.

She stood there.

Pink twin-tails.

Glittery eyeshadow.

A white dress.

Then—

[Ignite—the fuse—!]

She jumped.

The crowd exploded.

Su Nian scooted forward.

She crawled across the floor to get closer to the TV.

“Gemstone Princess—!”

Xiao Xi also scooted forward.

Shen Wei put down her phone and watched the screen.

Chuxue leaned against the wall, unmoving.

But the black tea in her hand stopped halfway.

On TV, the performance continued.

[A one-week blank—! All filled with pink bubbles—!]

At the bottom of the screen, comments scrolled by:

[Finally released—! I’ve been waiting a week!]

[This is the downside of free idols, the replay is so slow]

[Where’s the official efficiency???]

[But it’s still amazing to watch—!]

[Gemstone Princess is forever the best—!]

Su Nian watched the comments.

“A week…?”

She said softly.

She had just realized.

“The replay takes a week?”

Shen Wei nodded.

“Free idols. No agency, no dedicated team, they use public resources. Of course the replay processing is slow.”

There was one more thing Shen Wei didn’t say—it only applied if the idol’s popularity was low, or if the free idol had no intention of having the official team process it quickly.

But Su Nian was still stunned.

She felt something was off.

Still, she turned back and looked at the screen.

Watching that pink figure dance, run, and laugh on stage.

“So… amazing…”

It wasn’t the first time she’d seen it, nor the first time she’d said it, but she still kept saying it.

Her voice was softer than usual.

***

The performance ended.

The screen cut back to the host.

The training room was silent for a few seconds.

Then Su Nian turned and slowly walked out to the balcony, looking up at the moon.

Somehow, she suddenly wanted to talk to the President.

But he wasn’t there.

He’d left in the afternoon.

So—

Su Nian picked up the phone the President had given her and dialed.

Beep—the call connected.

“President.”

“Yeah?”

“Alice… is a free idol?”

“Yeah.”

“No agency?”

“Yeah.”

She was silent.

Then she lowered her head and looked at the paper in her hand—”The Brave.”

The President had also given this to her.

She didn’t know when she’d picked it up—it was like she’d simply forgotten to let go.

“…I miss you.”

After waiting a long time, that was the only thing she said.

I felt like laughing.

But I held it in.

I just replied to her.

“Yeah.”

Then I reminded her.

“Shouldn’t you go back to watching TV?”

—It had been three days since the last performance.

Tonight was another performance by Su Nian’s favorite, the Gemstone Princess Alice.

“…Yeah!”

The call ended.

The screen went black.

She only knew that on stage, Alice was her direction, her goal.

Now she also knew that behind the stage, it was that person, the President, who gave her the path, the help.

—However, what she didn’t know was that the President was currently standing backstage, preparing to go on stage himself.

“…………”

In the faint reflection, I could vaguely see my shallow smile.

—I handed the phone to the assistant.

Briefly adjusted my costume.

The hem of the skirt—the outermost layer was crimson gauze, rippling with the wind, lined with layers of pink silk beneath, like April cherry blossoms falling on snow.

A silver-white ribbon tied around the waist.

A ruby forehead ornament as small as dew drops was pinned in my hair.

The main gem at my neck was cut into a heart shape.

The edges of the skirt were embroidered with silver thread patterns.

Light, airy.

Red, pink.

White.

Sparkling.

And most importantly—both hands pressed to the corners of my mouth, pulling upward into an arc:

The smile was also installed.

The Gemstone Princess herself.

Loaded without error.

The stage curtain opened—

Alice makes his entrance.