After the school anniversary celebration, Zhu Xingyan no longer came to school regularly.
On the night of the performance, his appearance lasted only a few minutes. Although it caused a brief stir on site, fortunately, it did not create too much of a ripple outside the school.
After the previous incident, everyone became cautious with their words and actions. No one took photos and posted them online anymore.
At most, share one Moments post.
The weather was gradually getting hotter. Zhu Xingyan began missing classes, sometimes staying away from school for very long stretches.
It felt as though things had returned to the original routine.
No one knew who first saw it on Weibo, but word began spreading around school: Zhu Xingyan was going to hold a concert tour.
Many people were curious and could not resist asking the students in his class for gossip. As the ones with “the advantage of proximity,” they did not gain any advantage at all. When asked, they truly knew nothing.
“You spend every day with Zhu Xingyan and really don’t have any inside information?!” At lunchtime in the cafeteria, Dali held her tray and stared at them with wide, incredulous eyes.
“The last time Zhu Xingyan came to class was already a week ago,” Zhou Zhi said helplessly.
“But you used to rehearse together all the time—” Dali refused to give up.
“The school anniversary was more than half a month ago.”
“…………Fine.” She made one last desperate attempt.
“Then next time Zhu Xingyan comes to school, you absolutely have to ask him! You have no idea how hard it is to get tickets for his concert right now! They’re worth a fortune. No — even a fortune might not be enough to buy one.” Dali said loudly.
After lunch, during rest time in the classroom.
A few girls sat together, and the center of their discussion was the same topic.
Xiao Simin scrolled through her phone and shared the latest update with everyone.
“Zhu Xingyan posted the official announcement on Weibo: a nationwide summer concert tour. The first show is at the Bird’s Nest in Beijing.”
“Oh my god! I want tickets wuwuwu.”
“When is the Fanshi City show? Do we have a chance to grab tickets?”
“Forget it. The Beijing show tickets were released and sold out in half a second.” Wen Jie picked at her nails and rolled her eyes. “My little cousin is a die-hard Zhu Xingyan fan. That day she even pretended to be sick to take leave, sat at the computer with an accelerator running, and still couldn’t get any.”
“I heard from my aunt that she cried at home for half the day.”
“Oh heavens, that’s so tragic.”
“His fans really are terrifyingly strong.”
“Then Zhu Xingyan probably won’t have time to come to class for the next two months.”
“Yeah… even I don’t feel that motivated to study anymore…”
“Same here. My mom even said I used to be full of energy lately — waking up super early every day and rushing to school with my backpack. Before that I was always racing against time and wouldn’t leave until the very last second.”
“Hahaha!” Amid the laughter, someone suddenly said,
“The star has returned to his original world.”
Song Shiyue’s hand paused while solving a problem. After a brief moment of daze, she returned to normal.
Surprisingly, half a month before summer vacation arrived — in mid-June — Zhu Xingyan came back to school once.
He appeared very low-key. During the second geography period in the afternoon, the little old teacher was writing furiously on the blackboard. The entire classroom was quiet.
Zhu Xingyan slipped in quietly through the back door, bending low. The boy sitting next to his seat had been yawning drowsily. From the corner of his eye he suddenly caught a glimpse of a figure. His eyes widened bigger and bigger as he watched the entire process of Zhu Xingyan entering from outside and sitting down.
No one else in the class noticed.
Until the little old teacher on the platform turned around. Two minutes later, his gaze suddenly fixed on one spot and froze.
The boy sitting there gave him a soft, gentle smile and blinked pleadingly.
The little old teacher kept his expression unchanged and continued explaining the review points.
The class dismissal bell rang. The atmosphere in the classroom instantly loosened like scattered sand. Other sounds began to emerge — talking, pages flipping, chairs and desks scraping — yet the back of the room remained unusually quiet. Someone was the first to turn around, saw Zhu Xingyan sitting silently at his seat, and let out a startled “ah!”
“When did Zhu Xingyan come back to class?”
“I don’t know… he probably slipped in during class.”
“That scared me! Good thing I wasn’t fangirling just now!”
Quiet whispers started up. The relaxed break-time mood spread. Someone gathered the courage to ask outright: “Zhu Xingyan, I heard you’re going to hold a concert tour?”
“Yes.” The boy nodded, still speaking in his unhurried tone, and smiled. “This should be the last time I come to school before the holidays.”
“Ah, so we won’t see you for two months then.”
Zhu Xingyan smiled again and said nothing more. The intangible distance of a big star was always present. The group fell silent. The next moment, the class bell rang, and break time vanished in an instant.
Zhou Zhi and the others remembered Dali’s request. They wanted to ask but felt it would be too presumptuous. After several rounds of hesitation, they still had not found the right moment. Afternoon classes were almost over, and it seemed today would end without them asking.
Zhou Zhi was so anxious she pushed Song Shiyue’s arm hard.
— For the sake of “proximity advantage,” she had used the excuse of needing to talk to Song Shiyue and sat in the seat in front of her right after the previous class. She turned her chair around to pretend they were chatting, while her peripheral vision kept sneaking glances backward.
Zhu Xingyan was sitting diagonally behind her. This story is hosted at g.com.
“Class monitor.” The boy’s voice suddenly sounded above her head. Song Shiyue looked up. Zhou Zhi in front of her had already widened her eyes, staring at Zhu Xingyan without saying a word.
“I might have to trouble you later to send me the review materials for each subject. I won’t be able to come to school for a while, but I can’t fall behind on exams.”
“Then will you come for the exams?” Before Song Shiyue could reply, Zhou Zhi anxiously jumped in with the question.
Zhu Xingyan paused for a moment: “I’ll try not to miss them.”
“Oh, oh.” Zhou Zhi realized she had been rude. After asking, she restrained herself, became quiet, and said nothing more.
Song Shiyue had to take over the conversation: “Okay. I’ll organize all the review materials the teachers give out and send them to you.”
“Thank you.”
After a few brief sentences the matter was settled. Before leaving, Zhu Xingyan’s gaze fell on the stack of books on her desk, as if asking casually.
“This poetry collection — I think I’ve heard someone mention it before. May I borrow it to take a look?”
Song Shiyue followed his line of sight. On her desk lay a thick pile of textbooks and study materials. At the very top rested a foreign poetry collection she had recently brought from home for the English writing competition.
It was by a very famous poet. It was normal that someone had recommended it to him.
Without thinking much, Song Shiyue picked it up and handed it to him: “Of course. I’m not in a hurry to use it. You can return it whenever you want.”
Perhaps it was this casual chat that helped Zhou Zhi relax again. Finally, with her nerves steadied, she mustered the courage to ask the question everyone was most concerned about.
“Zhu Xingyan, are tickets for your concert really that hard to get?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, almost everyone in the room turned to look, their eyes full of anticipation.
Zhu Xingyan was momentarily taken aback. His gaze instinctively dropped before he quickly recovered. He lifted his eyelashes, glanced around the room, and smiled as usual. “It might be a little difficult to grab them yourself. If any of you want to go, I can ask my manager and see if we can set aside some tickets.”
Those words nearly set the classroom on fire. The students of Class 1 erupted in excitement, but they quickly calmed down again. With so many people, it was impossible for everyone to go.
To avoid putting him in a difficult position, someone stepped forward to smooth things over.
“There are too many of us — never mind, haha.”
“Yeah, if we all went for tickets, we’d probably end up fighting over them.”
“Classmate friendships would shatter in an instant.”
The round of joking eased the awkward moment. They thought Zhu Xingyan would take the cue and let the topic end there. Instead, he smiled and said: “It’s fine.”
“Do any of you want to go?” When he asked, his eyes were lowered, looking toward Song Shiyue and Zhou Zhi.
Zhou Zhi froze for a second, then nodded quickly — only to shake her head right after. “I… I think I’ll pass.”
She stammered, unable to give a clear reason. The others immediately understood why.
No one wanted to be the first to shamelessly take advantage.
Once the door was opened, it would be impossible to close again.
Zhu Xingyan’s gaze then settled quietly on Song Shiyue’s face. He waited in silence, as though starlight had fallen softly over the night, calm and enveloping.
Song Shiyue hesitated for a moment before speaking up to decline: “I might be attending a summer camp during the vacation, so I’m not sure I’ll have time.”
Her excuse came out hastily. Only after saying it did she realize how blunt it sounded — almost ungrateful toward his kindness.
She was about to add a few softening words when Zhu Xingyan already nodded and turned to leave.
“Okay.”
His voice remained even and gentle, showing little trace of emotion.
The concert fever swept through the streets and alleys.
That summer still belonged firmly to Zhu Xingyan.
On the subway, along the roads, on the giant electronic screens in the city center… everywhere were his posters.
The boy’s profile was frozen against darkness. Starfire illuminated his brows and eyes. Around him flowed blazing meteors and flames. He stood at the center, like a ruler of the cosmos.
Daytime Starflame — the name of his concert tour this time.
The promotional posters kept the dark background: one half stars, one half moon, and in the middle a silhouette of the young man, as though born to accompany the stars and moon.
Quite a few people in the class secretly tried to grab tickets, only to come back empty-handed. Every day the classroom filled with long sighs and chest-thumping regret.
“Sigh! When Zhu Xingyan offered tickets I should’ve just thrown away my pride and rushed forward. What on earth was I pretending for!”
“Exactly! Not everyone in our class wants to go anyway. Maybe we wouldn’t even need that many tickets. To them it would’ve been no trouble at all!”
“That’s not right…” Someone weakly raised a hand to speak. “I think if the tickets were free, pretty much everyone would want to go…”
“You’re measuring a gentleman’s heart with a petty person’s yardstick. Lots of people are busy during summer vacation — study tours, traveling abroad, cram school… Even our class monitor is going to summer camp.”
“Right, it’s not like the whole class are Zhu Xingyan fans.”
“Whoever wants to go, raise your hand.” Amid the debate, someone suddenly shouted.
The moment the words fell, the entire classroom fell dead silent. Among everyone present, not a single hand went up.
The air stilled. The person who started it all shouted again.
“See? The facts are right in front of us.”
The person who first brought up the topic drooped their head dejectedly, giving up the fantasy and the fight.
“Sigh, never mind then. I’ll rely on myself.”
With exams approaching, the brief distraction did not disrupt the intense and urgent review schedule.
Teachers from each subject had long ago circled the key points. Song Shiyue organized all the materials and sent them to Zhu Xingyan together. The message she sent at midday only received a reply in the evening.
Xing: [Received, thank you]
Xing: [Sorry, I’ve been rehearsing nonstop lately]
「Moon」: [No problem]
She hesitated for a moment before typing and sending again.
[Good luck with the concert]
Later, Song Shiyue watched some of his videos — fan-edited compilations with great care. The instant she finished, a sentence from Xiao Simin suddenly came to mind.
— The first time I felt like a person could actually glow.
On stage, Zhu Xingyan was dazzling and stunning. His dance moves made it impossible to look away. Even during singing-and-dancing parts, his breath control remained steady. Sweat glistened on his brows and eyes under the lights, shining brightly. That face was so beautiful it did not seem real.
Fans said he began learning dance at eight years old. At fourteen, he joined a program and exploded into fame with his debut stage performance. From then on, his rise was unstoppable — like wildfire spreading across the plains — until he reached the absolute peak.
In the three years since, he had countless signature works, all household names. His concerts drew massive crowds that emptied the streets. The term “top-tier star” had never left his name again.
It was only when news of his temporary transfer to school hit the hot search that the public suddenly realized: beyond the halo and fame, getting here had involved countless days of unseen, grueling practice.
He was only sixteen years old.
The vlog videos released by his studio showed Zhu Xingyan’s recent concert preparation routine.
Dance practice, late-night recording sessions in the studio, discussing fine adjustments with vocal coaches, endless run-throughs on a chaotic backstage stage.
Exams were only a few days away. The classroom atmosphere was tense; everyone buried themselves in study. In his other world, things were just as busy and high-pressure.
During a rare moment of downtime, Xiao Simin still managed to squeeze in time to scroll Weibo. When she saw the latest vlog, she could not help but murmur softly.
“Zhu Xingyan has been so busy lately. He probably won’t have time to come back for the exams, right?”
“Yeah.” Someone next to her leaned over to glance at the screen and agreed. “Concert tickets are completely sold out. I heard there were so many fan protests that they added extra shows in Beijing at the last minute. Zhu Xingyan must be insanely busy right now.”
“Sigh, then we’ll have to wait until after the whole summer vacation.”
A few murmurs of disappointment, and everyone buried their heads back into review once more.
The ceiling fans in the classroom whirred overhead. The camphor trees outside were already lush and vibrant green. Their shadows fell across the window ledges while cicadas droned noisily.
On the day of the exams, the summer heat was at its peak.
The broadcast announced a high of 35°C. Before leaving home that morning, Zhao Siqian had stuffed two bottles of Huo Xiang Zheng Qi Shui into Song Shiyue’s bag, reminding her to avoid heatstroke and to protect herself from the sun.
The school was crowded with students who had arrived early to prepare.
In the final minutes before the exam, the testing room fell silent. The invigilating teacher stood at the front checking the sealed question-paper bags. Everyone sat properly in their seats — except for one empty desk in the corner.
Just as the preparatory bell was about to ring, a figure suddenly appeared at the doorway, seemingly in a hurry.
Someone could not hold back a low gasp of surprise: “Zhu Xingyan came to take the exam?”
……
Song Shiyue and he were not assigned to the same examination room. It was only after finishing one subject that she heard Zhu Xingyan had shown up to take the test.
The students of Class 1 had been split across different rooms, so news traveled slowly.
It was not until the afternoon of the final exam day that Song Shiyue saw him outside the school.
At the intersection where their paths home diverged, the small white flowers in the bushes were still blooming vigorously, filling the air with a pleasant fragrance.
A car was parked not far away; the driver waited quietly.
Zhu Xingyan stood beneath the shade of the branches and leaves, holding the English poetry collection he had borrowed from her last time.
“I’ve finished reading the book. Thank you.”
“You could have returned it later — it’s fine.” She took it from him, feeling something slightly off. Her fingers unconsciously pressed against the yellowed, curled edges of the pages.
“I happened to come for the exam today, so I brought it back along the way.” His expression remained calm and casual as he explained.
A brief silence fell. Song Shiyue pressed her lips together, hesitating. Before she could decide whether to explain about the concert tickets from last time, he spoke first to say goodbye.
“Then I’ll go ahead.” The boy lowered his dark eyelashes slightly and added in a soft voice,
“My flight is in an hour.”
She swallowed the words she had been about to say, lowered her gaze, and bid him farewell.
“Safe travels.”
She watched the car disappear from sight. Then she looked down at the poetry collection in her hands — its contents already so familiar to her.
Song Shiyue did not open it again. She smoothed the corners of the pages and placed it carefully into her schoolbag.