When Sian reached the microphone, he stood still and closed his eyes for a mont. Then, suddenly, the lights went out, plunging the entire place into darkness.
Sian stood in the middle of the shadows, unafraid—he had been accompanied by darkness for years, and it had never frightened him. On the contrary, he found solace in it. Comfort. Peace. People often believe that darkness is sothing to fear, but the truth is, light is far more terrifying. Darkness veils your eyes, shielding you from the world, from every painful thing. It wraps around you, hiding your flaws and your suffering. Light, however, does the exact opposite—it exposes everything, dragging it into the open, laying bare your fears, your pain, your wounds.
Sian loved the dark. It ward his cold heart.
As the shadows consud the stage before him, mories of his past life ca rushing in—his comrades, his friends, his family.
Even if that world had been a kind of hell, at least in that hell, Sian had never been alone.
Since his arrival in this world, he had lived a peaceful life, just as he had once dread.
No more fear.
No more battles.
No more falling asleep standing up.
Yet... he wasn’t truly happy.
Not without his people.
Not without his loved ones.
At tis, fragnts of happy mories would surface in his mind—rare, fleeting, almost nonexistent. But their scarcity didn’t erase the truth of their existence.
He missed them.
He missed all those tired, sorrowful, hopeless faces. Because behind all that misery, there had been monts—monts of joy, of laughter. A past filled with survival, adventure, and bonds that defied the natural order of the human world.
He had always sung.
Every day, every occasion.
For his people, his friends, his only remaining family after losing everything else.
And every ti he sang, he rembered them. But now, he found himself forgetting those faces.
Forgetting their features, their smiles.
Yet he never forgot their applause—the whistles and claps that followed every performance.
And then, as if pulled back into those old tis, into that long-lost world and his own personal family, Sian muttered unconsciously,
"I’ll sing for you, my friends... So stay quiet, okay?"
His voice was gentle, affectionate, almost indulgent—even a stranger could feel it.
Naturally, Lan Qisheng sensed it too, and his expression turned unreadable.
Even the audience, watching through their phones, unable to see Sian on stage due to the thick darkness, fell into a hushed silence. No one knew exactly why. Perhaps it was the love in his voice—so real, so tangible—it reached out and touched their hearts.
Then, the background music began. A soft piano opening filled the air, notes rising and weaving through the silence.
Sian’s voice rang out—soft, clear, sweet, and bitter all at once.
He spoke the first lines of the song.
His song.
No, their song.
He had written it for them—and because of them, he wrote songs almost every day.
"Skies are crying, I’m watching"🎶
"Catching teardrops in my hands."🎶
His voice overflowed with a storm of emotions—conflicted, raw, and real. There is magic in music—especially in good music. Even the deaf can feel the tremble of a well-sung song in their bones.
That’s why famous musicians don’t beco legends just because of wealth or connections—but because audiences feel their music. They connect with it.
That’s the true asure of talent, and why the music industry is no easy path.
Talent is the only real key to success.
Even Liang Zixuan, sitting in the judges’ panel, straightened in his seat after the very first line. Let alone the other four judges.
Jiao Liangchen was stunned as well. He may not have been a music expert, but he swore he had never heard a voice more beautiful—more delicate—than Sian’s.
After only two lines, his heartbeat was already racing.
And just when it felt like it might stop—
The stage exploded with light.
Finally, the boy who had hidden in the shadows was revealed.
Bathed in brilliance, Sian stood tall, hands gripping the stand microphone. His eyes remained tightly shut, as though afraid to open them.
Yet on the giant screen behind him, displaying his face for the entire audience, his trembling eyelashes were clearly visible.
Liang Zixuan stared in silence at the teenager on stage while the other judges murmured their awe and admiration. Zixuan’s ears were more attuned than most—especially to the emotions behind words. And after hearing and seeing Sian’s performance, he could admit the boy’s talent might even surpass his own.
But talent wasn’t the only force driving Sian’s performance—it was the emotion...
The overflowing, overwhelming emotion behind every note.
Liang Zixuan couldn’t understand how—or why—a teenager, barely out of boyhood, carried such deep, powerful feelings. Many of them, he sensed, were dark. Negative. Painful. But there was one thing he knew for certain.
If this boy couldn’t learn to control those emotions, they would consu him.
They would bring him imnse suffering.
Liang Zixuan had a feeling—that Sian needed a therapist.
Maybe because he had studied a little psychology himself, but to him, Sian was like an open book. Just one look—his voice, his eyes—was enough to reveal the cracks.
Still, Zixuan kept listening. He wanted to know—what kind of song was this? They had been told that Sian wrote this original piece himself.
So now, he wanted to witness for himself just how deep this teenager’s talent truly went.
Unlike the reactions of the judges and people on-site, the audience watching the livestream was already on the verge of tears—and the song hadn’t even started yet.
Yet that didn’t stop them from screaming with admiration, devotion, and love. Just from the few words Sian had sung, and the background music alone, they could already tell how breathtaking the song was going to be.
[Oh my God! Aaah! Sian Sian, I love you, I love you!]
[That voice... I’m dying here.]
[Ugh, my heart is lting—my soul along with it.]
[Heavens, I love this so much!]
***
Maybe it was because of the limited ti, or because the performance hadn’t truly started yet, that all the comnts were short.
But they were overflowing with excitent and awe.
Clearly, the comnters couldn’t wait a mont longer to express their admiration.
Still, they didn’t want to miss a single second of this masterpiece, so they wrote a few quick words and returned to watching in silence.
...What a passionate and dedicated fanbase...
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Erato-san has sothing to say:
"My sweet little angels, hello! I won’t take up much of your ti.
Comnt with the na of the song if you recognize it, and if you get it right, I’ll post the next Chapter very soon.
Please—no cheating, and don’t ask Uncle Google or any of his relatives.
I love you all."
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