Episode 02

Episode 02

The applause was still ringing in my ears as I stepped into the dim, air conditioned safety of the backstage wings. I grabbed a bottle of water, downing half of it in one go.

Top passer, student council leader, and a flawless speech. Not a bad start for a kid from the Shenzhen pressure cooker.

"God's plan? Really?"

I choked slightly on my water, coughing as I turned toward the voice.

Standing by the prop curtains was the boy who had eyed me coldly before I went on.

Up close, he looked even more detached, his uniform pristine, a sleek violin case slung over his shoulder.

"Excuse me?" I adjusted my blazer, my strategist brain instantly clicking into defensive mode.

"Your speech," the boy said, his voice smooth but dripping with quiet arrogance.

"It was beautifully rehearsed. Very professional. But empty. People who rely on 'destiny' or 'plans' usually just lack the stomach to control their own variables."

I let out a short, amused laugh, stepping closer.

"And you are?"

"Chen Ming."

The name hit me instantly. The violinist prodigy.

"Well, Chen Ming," I smiled, keeping my tone perfectly polite but sharp as a razor.

"Calculated optimism is a strategy, not a weakness. But I suppose when you spend all your time talking through four wooden strings, human communication can be a bit hard to parse."

His eyes narrowed slightly, a tiny crack in his icy armor.

"Let's see how long that strategic optimism lasts when the real workload starts, Leader Li."

He turned on his heel and walked out into the corridor, leaving a heavy tension in the air.

Wow. Talk about an ego, I thought, shaking my head.

...-----------------------------...

Twenty minutes later, the ceremony officially ended.

I could see my friend scanning the crowd, scanning the room to find me, undoubtedly ready to yap for another three hours about his life. I needed an exit strategy.

Sliding past a group of chatting parents, I ducked down a quiet, sunlit hallway that led away from the main auditorium and into the school’s older arts wing.

The further I walked, the quieter it got, the modern tech aesthetic of the main building fading into high ceilings and polished wooden floors.

Then, I heard it.

It wasn't just music, it was an assault.

A violin was weeping and raging through a piece so fast and technically complex it didn't sound humanly possible.

The notes bounced off the walls of the empty corridor, pulling me forward like a magnet.

I followed the sound to a heavy, half-open double door at the end of the hall.

I peered through the crack.

The room was bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun.

Standing in the center was Chen Ming.

His eyes were closed, his posture flawless, his bow moving across the strings with a terrifying, furious perfection.

The cold, arrogant boy from backstage was completely gone, replaced by something fierce and raw.

I stood frozen, low-key mesmerized by the sheer gravity of his performance.

SCREECH.

The music abruptly halted, a harsh, dissonant note echoing through the room.

Chen Ming lowered his bow, his chest heaving slightly as he turned his gaze directly toward the door.

His eyes locked onto mine through the gap.

"Is spying part of the student council's duties, Li Yuqi?" he asked, his voice cutting through the quiet room.

I didn't run.

Instead, I pushed the door wide open and walked right in, a confident smirk returning to my face.

"Just checking on the campus talent. Though, for someone who talks so much about controlling variables, your final crescendo sounded a little... angry."

Chen Ming gripped his bow tighter, his eyes flashing with a competitive fire. "You don't know anything about music."

"Maybe not," I replied, stepping closer, my mind already calculating three steps ahead.

"But I know people. And I know a challenge when I see one."

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