The Ruler

Yu Mao’s words were brief, but the longing in them for Nan Changgeng was so intense it seemed far more than such a frail body should have been able to bear. Like moonlight spilling through sparse trees and revealing ghostly silhouettes: one glance was enough to know they meant no harm, and yet they were still terrifying.

Ordinary people could not understand her. At this moment, they were even more certain she was some kind of fanatical lunatic.

The contestant beside them wore an indescribably strange expression and unconsciously leaned back, putting a little more distance between herself and Nan Changgeng.

She had already been somewhat wary of Yu Mao, and now she was even more frightened. What if Yu Mao disliked her for standing too close to her idol and decided to knife her or something?

It was unclear how Nan Changgeng felt about the answer Yu Mao had given.

She seemed to freeze for only a moment, her fingertips brushing the ear beside Yu Mao’s as she took out the earbud and cupped it in her palm. Her voice was indifferent.

“Your ears are going to go bad.”

Once the earbud was removed, Yu Mao barely reacted at all. Her eyes widened a little as she lifted her head to look at the woman’s face, her tone soft and gentle.

“But if I don’t have it, I’ll die very easily.”

She was obedient and easy to bully, like a little lamb; only the things she said were always baffling and eerie.

“Why?”

Nan Changgeng tilted her head, her expression puzzled. She could not tell whether the words were meant seriously or as a metaphor.

Yu Mao pushed herself up from Nan Changgeng’s lap and sat straight, looking utterly earnest. “If I can’t sense you anymore, it’s like humans losing the sun. If I can’t see the light, I’ll die.”

Lin Baiyu had returned to the practice room at some point, and just happened to hear this exchange as she came over. She could not help bursting out laughing.

“Hahahahaha, is this supposed to be some cheesy pickup line? As expected of a number-one superfan.”

Nan Changgeng’s lips curved. She seemed to laugh it off as if nothing were wrong, lowering her lashes to hide the depth in her eyes.

No one knew where her thoughts had rushed in that brief moment, from emptiness to fullness.

The sudden tremor in her heart was interrupted, and she calmly buried it deep again, as if smoothing the ripples on a lake with a passing breeze.

The more she smoothed it over, the more traces remained; self-deception only went so far.

The small earbud pressed against her palm. She clenched it hard for an instant, then loosened her grip and put it back into Yu Mao’s ear.

When their eyes met, the girl’s were bright, pure delight spilling out of them, clear as two fireflies rising into the night.

For reasons she could not explain, Nan Changgeng’s instinct told her this joy was not because the earbud had been returned, but because Yu Mao knew she had believed her words.

A very perceptive cat.

Earlier, when she had come to the practice room, she had already met Lin Baiyu. At that time, Lin Baiyu had asked what she thought of Yu Mao now, whether she was still resistant to being around her.

She could not be sure, so she had brushed it off.

Now she seemed to have touched something like an answer, yet fear burned in her heart like a dim candle flame. All she could do was silently hope Yu Mao could keep this sincerity forever.

Nan Changgeng lowered her head and lightly ran her fingers through the girl’s hair, smiling quietly. Once her deep brows and eyes relaxed, there was even a hint of compassion, like a statue of a god.

She was a pitiful and sorrowful person; a frightened and uneasy person; a powerless person.

But in the eyes of Yu Mao, who watched her with such focused reverence, she rose high and became a lofty, unshakable ruler.

…

Busy days passed especially quickly; the brief time allotted for stage preparations flashed by in the blink of an eye.

During this week, the relationship between Nan Changgeng and Yu Mao had visibly grown closer.

Yu Mao’s only work opportunity was the group rehearsal for the chorus stage that all the contestants had to attend.

Outside of that, she was no longer the lonely little pitiful thing crouching in a corner and peeking from afar. She was allowed to stay by Nan Changgeng’s side for long stretches of time, like a troublesome little pendant hanging from her leg.

Of course, this was not because Nan Changgeng had deliberately told her she could stay close. It was just that her softened attitude let Yu Mao notice at once, and she shamelessly clung to her side.

Not chased away; not disliked; that meant she could continue.

She was very good at staying quiet and would not interfere with Nan Changgeng’s work. Most days, when Nan Changgeng was seated practicing songs or talking with others, Yu Mao liked to squat beside her and let her pat her hair like she was a cat.

The hand would stroke her at random, very casually; sometimes it would suddenly rub hard, and sometimes it would pat twice. It was hard not to suspect that Nan Changgeng really was treating her like a cat.

By midday, the hair Yu Mao had carefully styled each morning would be a complete bird’s nest.

She did not mind. It was just that whenever the other contestants saw it, they would tease her a little, and since they never got any response from her anyway, most of their jokes were aimed at Nan Changgeng instead.

Fortunately, Nan Changgeng was not ashamed of it either. When she heard them, she would only smile, then turn her gaze back to Yu Mao, looking almost as if she were admiring her own handiwork.

At those moments, Yu Mao would think that Changgeng was a mature adult, not bound by other people’s opinions; it was so good that she could live freely enough.

Nan Changgeng looked exactly like a reliable woman: strong professional ability, measured and adept in dealing with the world, and a beautiful, sharp, cold face.

That quarter of Northern Frontier blood in her had blended into her features with uncanny precision, even showing itself a little too fully; her skin was white as snow, her features sharply defined, and it gave her a pair of gray-blue eyes like the sea, while the contours of her face still retained the delicate lines of an Asian beauty.

Anyone seeing her for the first time would naturally feel the urge to look up at her, and a sense of distance.

But Yu Mao always remembered that in the past, she had actually been a quiet and gentle person, not good at socializing, awkward with others because she was too sincere, the way she pressed her lips together always carrying a hint of pitiful stubbornness.

A lot of the social niceties and skills she showed outwardly had been polished gradually after her debut. She rarely used them in private, because she felt they were too hypocritical and lacking in respect for friends.

But now, watching her interact with everyone, most of her words, habits, posture, and gestures were in work mode; polite enough, but stingy with genuine feeling.

It was as if a transparent film had been wrapped around her. She existed in the human world, yet there was always a barrier.

Yu Mao knew it was because she was too tired.

She did not have enough strength to climb over the instincts etched into her body and accept others without any obstruction.

For her now, it was like facing a plugged-in electric kettle and having to test the temperature with bare hands to judge whether it was cold or hot.

But avoiding risk was human instinct for self-preservation. The possibility of being burned became immense psychological pressure, making it impossible for her to reach out in the first place.

Yet recently, Yu Mao had noticed that the way Nan Changgeng looked at her had gradually become a little more real.

It was somewhat like looking at a small animal; the gaze was soft, with a hint of amusement.

That led her to conclude that in Nan Changgeng’s eyes, she would not be a kettle of boiling water, but a furry little hot-water bottle, not likely to burn her so easily.

Yu Mao was very happy that she had already become a harmless presence who could please her.

She even thought that if she had a cat’s body, the effect might be even better; unfortunately, she had a human one.

Tonight was rehearsal time, and the other contestants were allowed to watch from the side. Yu Mao was especially delighted.

It had been a very, very long time since she had watched Nan Changgeng perform on such a large stage.

After they arrived at the venue, all the livestream equipment had already been shut off. It was one of the rare times the contestants could escape the omnipresent little camera drones. The production team was fairly strict about stage confidentiality; on ordinary practice days, the contestants’ full rehearsals would be automatically muted so viewers would not lose their sense of anticipation from hearing too much.

Only after the first public stage ended would the replay remove the mute, so interested fans could watch it again themselves.

The backstage area was dim and cluttered with equipment; only a few weak yellow lights in the corners gave off a faint glow, barely illuminating the surroundings enough that no one would trip.

Most of the lighting was concentrated on the broad stage. The floor was smooth, gleaming faintly under the lights, while the dark base color absorbed light well and reduced reflections, drawing all focus to the person onstage.

Yu Mao stood beside a camera, near the audience seating and not far from the edge of the stage, directly facing a large speaker.

Most of the other contestants were waiting backstage. She had come over early, wanting to act as an audience member first. Since Nan Changgeng had come out to wait for her cue, if she stayed backstage, she would only be able to hear her voice without seeing her.

No one had said contestants could not come out early to watch.

This was a complete rehearsal, with a host calling the flow. The contestant who had just finished was done performing, and the next one was Nan Changgeng.

The host called her name and asked her to go onstage.

Since it was only a rehearsal, Nan Changgeng was not dressed very formally. She wore a moon-white knitted top and black straight-leg jeans. Her cream-and-coffee satin boots had thick soles, and they clacked against the floor as her long legs strode onto the stage.

Her steps were like the wind, carrying her glossy black short hair back in a spirited sweep, revealing her snow-white profile and slender neck.

That was just how she was; she was born for the stage. No matter what adversity she fell into, once she stepped under the glittering lights, she was always confident and radiant.

Yu Mao followed her with her gaze, watching her walk to the center of the stage and stand there.

Mic in hand, a faint smile at the corners of her lips, those gray-blue eyes deep and steady, her bearing calm but never humble; her presence was not ostentatious, but impossible to ignore.

A cellist who had become famous young; a top-tier singer who had debuted at her peak. Her achievements had never given anyone cause to question them, even as the years shook down layer after layer of dust, trying to bury her. The white swan with its head held high had never lowered its proud bones.

Her excellence and the essence of her character meant she was destined never to be bound to self-abasement or inferiority. To treat her as a marriage tool that barely met the standard was a tremendous humiliation, but that did not mean she accepted their standards, let alone doubted herself because of them.

After exchanging a few calm words with the host, the other party exited, and the singing began.

Multiple beams of light swept down, interweaving in the air and covering the woman, making her whole body glow with a pale gold radiance. Her skin shone like brilliant glass; standing there serenely, eyes slightly lowered, she looked like a god descending to the world.

Yu Mao had not seen such a Changgeng in a very long time.

So brilliant, so luminous; all the spotlights gathered on her alone. Even though the dark audience seats were empty, it still felt as if she were receiving the gaze of the entire world, and returning it with composure.

Her singing rang through the venue, deep and mellow, a decree descending in notes.

The speakers amplified the sound until it echoed through the whole hall, and together with the light on her body, it pierced through the darkness of space and time.

Nan Changgeng’s voice was the voice of autumn, the voice of the earth; clear and cool, yet soft and warm, heavy and rounded.

Within it were the cool autumn wind, the blue expanse of a clear sky, birds cutting across the air with open wings, deep soil soaked through by the first rain and full of life, and also the dark, lightless depths of the dead earth below.

Let her live for a long time within her voice.

Yu Mao could not look away, staring fixedly at the figure bathed in light. Warm currents rolled through her heart in waves, and she completely ignored the man gradually approaching from behind.

Standing two steps behind her, Zhao Xuan rubbed his face. Stubble dotted his chin in a somewhat slovenly way; he frowned, squinting at her from the side with a lazy, contemptuous tone.

“What’s so good-looking about it? She doesn’t even sing as well as she used to anymore. She can’t even play the violin now; the whole thing’s half as exciting as before. She stopped being that hotshot singer years ago. It’s only you fans who still treat her like some precious treasure.”

He had long wanted to take revenge for that first day’s humiliation, and he knew exactly what mattered most to Yu Mao, so he deliberately trampled on it. Even if he later learned she had done it on purpose for a deal, he still could not stand the insult.

That was right; he was exactly that kind of person. He only allowed himself to do wicked things to others, never allowing anyone to turn around and attack him.

Now that he had finally caught an opportunity away from the cameras, of course he would not let it go.