Chapter 51: Will We See You Again, Mengmeng? Part 1

Li Tingzhou was by no means sensing the dynamic between Ren Shiyu and Zhou Ling for the first time.

Over a decade of mutual support and companionship inevitably cultivates unique feelings, not to mention they genuinely seemed like a match made in heaven, well-suited and complementary.

Whenever Ren Shiyu went on stage to accept an award, her speech always included a line for her agent, Zhou Ling, her tone brimming with trust and reliance. Correspondingly, in any footage of them captured together, whether by official media or paparazzi tabloids, Zhou Ling’s attention was solely and completely focused on Ren Shiyu; his gaze never strayed to a second person.

Their long-time fans couldn’t possibly be unaware. They had most likely silently accepted the reality, simply waiting for the day the good news was near to offer their blessings.

Liu Lusi smiled. “Don’t tell me you’re only just figuring this out?”

Li Tingzhou shook his head. “I’m not that slow, am I?”

He had indeed been curious, but he would never casually ask First Sister about such things.

This topic inevitably brought Li Tingzhou’s own romantic situation to mind.

Unknowingly, it had been so long since he and Xi He parted ways. Before He Shi came looking for him, Mengmeng, in Liu Lusi’s eyes, had always acted remarkably composed, seemingly unable to spare any mind for anything unrelated to work.

But after He Shi’s visit, she realized Mengmeng still needed an outlet for his emotions.

Not today, though. Today was too important.

So it would most likely be some day after Night Heart Seven officially concluded. He would clear three to four days of work arrangements and completely let himself go, emptying his mind. Perhaps he’d travel somewhere, or perhaps he’d just stay home and purely rest.

When he returned, Mengmeng would be back to his usual state.

After all, that’s how he’d gotten through it before…

In the afternoon, the entire backstage area stirred with activity. The anxious yet orderly commotion persisted all the way until before 8 PM.

Blue Ocean TV had temporarily adjusted the live broadcast time for the Season 7 finale of “Sing My Heart Tonight”. As the season drew to a close, Night Heart Seven finally landed a prime-time slot. The audience had finished entering as early as 7:30. Among the crowd were audience plants, regulars active in various Tide programs, whose positions were memorized by the Director’s Team. The moment anything seemed off, they were ready to cut to a close-up.

Beyond this, the background music designated for standby time had also been switched to a more rousing version.

The atmosphere of the finale was being hyped everywhere.

Backstage, Mao Maoyu and Dai Jier were on their phones to ease their anxiety about the live finale. They were even relaxed enough to care about the neighboring Star Two: “What are the odds? Tide bumped our show up by two hours, and just like that, Whale over there holds a ‘Youth Actor Development Program Meet-and-Greet’, directly pushing Star Two back to a 10 PM broadcast.”

You could say Whale was scared, but they did technically have a legitimate reason.

But the practical implication of this move was concession. Otherwise, Star Two would likely have suffered a total meltdown tonight, even if they packed this episode with more manufactured controversy.

As the hanging screen in the waiting room began to connect the signal, the front-of-stage feed started broadcasting live.

“Here it comes—”

Mao Maoyu immediately shut his mouth and subconsciously looked toward Mengmeng.

Li Tingzhou was ready and waiting. His bangs were fixed to the back of his head, revealing a full forehead and clearly defined brows. He had returned to the simple, casual look he’d had during the first public performance—a pale green shirt paired with black trousers. Just standing there, he exuded a quiet and solemn aura. Beside him, First Sister had similarly returned to a natural state. She wore a deep green dress of elegant and generous cut, her dark hair pinned up, her only accessories a pair of earrings as fine, long, and crystalline as threads of rain.

“Are you ready?”

“Been ready for ages.”

They said no more, silently adjusting their states.

Today, Li Tingzhou had changed his guitar. The white body had a narrow, unconventional shape, with a cable plugged into the tail end. He casually strummed a chord progression to find his feel. Once he’d made some slight tuning adjustments, his fingers flew across the strings willfully, producing various variations of “Hedgehog” with ease: slowing down, speeding up, lowering the key, raising it, sometimes light and cheerful, sometimes full of melancholy. No matter how it changed, Li Tingzhou remained completely at ease, flowing like water.

Si Yuan, standing nearby, was practically stunned!

His gaze had escaped his conscious control; he could barely tear his eyes away from the cyan veins on Mengmeng’s hands and those pale, slender fingers. Occasionally, he’d catch a glimpse of Mengmeng’s lowered eyelashes, making his heart pound like thunder.

Mao Maoyu just assumed the kid had been amazed by a casual display of Mengmeng’s skill.

With an air of reflected glory, he asked, “Pretty awesome, right? Wanna learn?”

Si Yuan asked dazedly, “Could I learn? I’m a bit clumsy…”

Eldan stepped forward, speaking before Mao Maoyu could. “It’s no problem. I’m very clumsy too. When Mengmeng taught me violin, it took me two whole months just to play a song.” He looked Si Yuan up and down with feigned enthusiasm. “Tell you what, I’ll teach you. The basics are well within my ability.”

Si Yuan dared not refuse and responded meekly, “Thank you, Brother Fushun.”

Heartbreak being jokingly called the ‘Summit of Education’ in the Music Circle wasn’t without merit. Counting the first generation Lead Singer, the second generation Lead Singer, and former musicians, the pure ‘academic school’ content reached a whopping 90%. Where would there be any real fools?

A real fool would have been refunded with tears long ago by the extracurricular teacher.

Mao Maoyu was still grinning. “Learning more instruments always comes in handy.”

Due to the full ten-minute time delay between the live on-stage performance and the television broadcast, just in the brief time they’d been chatting, the Host on stage was already announcing the next act. The first to take the stage was Zhao Chenmin.

Her morning sickness still hadn’t eased; she could vomit without warning at any moment.

Taking advantage of a moment when her condition was relatively calm, the Director’s Team arranged for her to go first.

The song, lasting nearly four minutes, was performed safely without incident, much to everyone’s relief. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and the audience’s applause lasted for a good half-minute, sending off a relieved Zhao Chenmin, who had successfully concluded her run!

The next three groups took turns performing, alternating between the front and middle stages.

This arrangement made it convenient for the guests to prepare and for the Broadcast Team to cut the camera shots.

When the time was almost right, Li Tingzhou stood up, holding his guitar in one hand. Everyone exchanged knowing glances. Under the recording gaze of the following cameras, after each of them said a few polite words for the promo footage, he and Ren Shiyu temporarily parted ways with the accompaniment group. The two of them rushed backstage to the lifting platform beneath the middle stage, awaiting their cue.

The countdown reminder from the broadcast booth came through their in-ear monitors: “Ten seconds to go.”

The stage lights of the middle stage were extinguished at this moment. Li Tingzhou and Ren Shiyu had already ascended the platform. The microphone was set on a fixed mic stand, the guitar plugged in—everything was ready. As the Host on the front stage finished the last connecting line, Li Tingzhou hit his cue perfectly, starting simultaneously with Mao Maoyu’s keyboard on the front stage. Two bars later, Dai Jier joined in with the drumbeat.

The moment the first spotlight illuminated Ren Shiyu, the entire venue erupted in cheers on cue.

Simultaneously, another spotlight, a smaller halo with dimmer light, enclosed Li Tingzhou.

As the last note of the intro fell, Ren Shiyu parted her lips and sang the first line: breath, emotion, ending note—a 100% replication of her recording studio quality. This was, since her participation in the show, an absolutely flawless state for an opening!

Amidst the venue-wide exclamations, Li Tingzhou slowly took over the B-Section.

The lyrics felt like a person’s self-questioning and self-answering.

Verse A was filled with questions; Verse B was filled with answers.

Question and answer, interlocking and rhyming.

Not a single word in the lyrics mentioned a hedgehog, but the protagonist’s nature was clearly and unmistakably that of a hedgehog. The chorus was similarly split into two parts, A and B. The different melodies of the choruses didn’t feel disjointed; rather, they possessed a subtle hint of narcissism, revealing the lyricist’s transcendent mental state.

Overall, it was a rather interesting song.

As First Sister sang into the latter half, she predictably began to twirl in a state of intoxicated enjoyment. That deep-green dress, under the illumination of the stage lights, exuded a captivating satin luster. Its hem lightly swept the floor, graceful and delicate. She didn’t even follow the rehearsed movements, but instead stepped forward to pull Mengmeng’s hand, inviting him to join her.

Li Tingzhou moved away from the mic stand but kept his guitar in hand.

When it was his turn to sing again, First Sister brought her handheld mic to his lips—

The entire venue erupted simultaneously with startled cries and shrieks!

Meanwhile, backstage.

Zhou Ling watched Ren Shiyu, a smile constantly on his face. He also graciously spared a glance for Mengmeng. “I bet Mengmeng is thinking, ‘Didn’t we agree to perfectly copy the rehearsal positions and movements?'”

Liu Lusi only praised Ren Shiyu’s improvisation. “Isn’t improvising great, though?”

A singer’s persona needs constant reinforcement through their work.

Even during a transformation, one must maintain a core point and continuously expand upon it, creating content around that center. Ren Shiyu only found her precise and effective path during the “Telepathy” era, understanding what she needed most at this stage. Among the many candidates, she chose “Hedgehog” precisely because this song could so thoroughly express a certain feeling within her.

Actually, Ren Shiyu wasn’t simply trying to display affinity.

She also wanted to act willfully, extend sharp spines, and erect barriers.

But having played a crowd-pleasing Public Persona for so many years, the fake had gradually become real. First Sister could only place her hopes in the songs, using different styles and different emotions to express her true heart…

Now, back to Li Tingzhou.

Today, he wasn’t in his usual state of giving everything, pouring himself out completely. His image was somewhat restrained, and his performance primarily focused on supporting and cooperating. He hadn’t held back his full strength; rather, he had consciously reined in his sharpness.

His fans might feel a slight sense of letdown, but the general audience perception remained wonderful.

Eldan watched this clearly from the backstage waiting room.

He asked Si Yuan beside him, “How do you think Mengmeng performed this time?”

Si Yuan paled in shock: Is this something I can casually comment on?

Eldan looked at him without speaking, still waiting for an answer. Si Yuan’s Adam’s apple bobbed before he finally answered, “If it’s out of 10, I give it a 10. Out of 100, I give it a 100. In short, it’s the best!”

Eldan turned his head away. Fine, looks like I’m still the only one who truly understands him.