The auditorium was packed.
Bright spotlights bathed the stage in a soft, golden glow, and the crowd’s energy buzzed like static in the air. Students leaned forward in their seats, phones raised, whispering excitedly about the final act—Jiang Yue’er.
Backstage, Jiang Yue’er stood beside the old upright piano, her fingers trembling slightly. She wore a simple black dress—elegant, minimal, just like her.
Lin Feng leaned against the curtain, arms crossed, quietly watching her from the shadows.
[System: Host, if this were an ani, this would be the mont you hand her a bento box and confess your feelings like a tragic cinnamon roll.]
He didn’t reply. He was too focused on her face. The calm exterior, the composed smile—it was all there. But behind her eyes? Nerves. Doubt. Fire.
She stepped out under the lights.
Silence fell.
Then—music.
The opening notes were slow, lancholic. The lody flowed like a quiet river, soft and aching, building slowly into sothing more raw. A storm of emotion played through her fingertips. Regret. Hope. Anger.
The crowd was spellbound.
And Lin Feng... he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
When the final note faded, the auditorium stayed quiet for one breathless mont—then erupted.
Applause thundered.
Whistles. Cheers. Even a few stunned gasps from students who had never seen Jiang Yue’er as anything more than a cold beauty.
Lin Feng smiled slightly.
[System: I hate to admit it, Host, but that girl’s piano just made my nonexistent heart skip a beat. We might need to upgrade her from "cold goddess" to "emotional grenade."]
But then the judges’ scores appeared on the screen.
79.4.
Gasps.
The cheering died instantly.
"What the hell...?"
"Wasn’t that better than half the others?"
"No way that’s fair."
Even the host looked awkward, clearing his throat and quickly ushering in the next contestant.
Backstage, Jiang Yue’er returned slowly. Her eyes didn’t show anger—but they were quiet. Too quiet.
Lin Feng stepped toward her.
"Guess they didn’t like art with feelings," he said, voice low.
She gave him a small, bitter smile. "It’s fine. I’m used to it."
"No, it’s not," he said flatly.
She blinked.
"I don’t believe in ’fine’ when soone pours their soul into sothing and gets slapped in the face for it." He paused, then glanced at his phone. "Give an hour."
[System: Host, are you going full mysterious benefactor again? Because I swear, if you buy the entire competition, I’m sending you an invoice for ’emotional damage.’]
Jiang Yue’er looked at him, confused. "What are you planning?"
"Lunch," he said with a small grin. "After I fix sothing."
—
Half an hour later.
Inside the Heavenly Group chat, Lin Feng dropped a ssage:
LF: Anyone know who’s handling the competition sponsorship this year? Looking to buy sothing. Quietly.
The response was instant.
Chen Rui: "You? Bro, you’re the reason my cousin still talks about last month’s charity gala."
Zhang Heng: "Interested in co-sponsoring next year?"
Li Mo (Organizer): "Lin Feng? I’m at the venue. We should talk. I can... make arrangents."
Lin Feng sent one ssage back:
LF: I want to see the scoring committee changed. That’s all. Keep it clean. Keep it quiet.
[System: Host, the way you spend money for justice is starting to give Batman a complex. Want to install a bat signal on your phone?]
Lin Feng ignored it.
Later that afternoon, an announcent flashed on the school forum:
BREAKING: Judging Panel Overhauled for Integrity Reasons – Top Scores to be Re-Evaluated.
And Jiang Yue’er?
She got a ssage while sitting alone outside the venue:
"Finalist. Your performance has been reassessed."
Her hands trembled slightly.
Then—her phone buzzed again.
Lin Feng: You still owe lunch. Don’t think I forgot.
She stared at the screen for a long mont, then smiled—small, real, and quiet.
The wind brushed her hair back, and for once, she didn’t look like a cold goddess.
She looked like a girl who had been seen.
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