The school anniversary gala at Third High was scheduled for the afternoon right before the National Day holiday. It was set to begin at 2:00 PM, meaning regular classes only ran for half the day.
Students who weren’t performing were free to head home and relax after the noon dismissal. Those in the lineup, however, had to stick around and change into their costumes immediately after lunch.
Jiang Chen loitered in the cafeteria as long as he could, deeply reluctant to go change. To him, performing on stage was a complete waste of his youth and more importantly, a waste of his precious nap time.
In the end, Wei Meng escorted Jiang Chen to the entrance of the boys’ dressing room at the auditorium, acting under strict WeChat instructions from Gu Xin.
Gu Xin had already been waiting there for a while.
Looking at the large bag in Gu Xin’s hand, which held their performance outfits, Jiang Chen a consummate “salted fish” who detested being the center of attention felt a wave of resistance. “Do we seriously have to change right now?”
“Not only do we need to change, but we also have to fix your hair,” Gu Xin told him.
Jiang Chen hated people messing with his hair. He frowned slightly. “I don’t want to. I’m sitting in the back anyway, no one’s going to look at me.”
Gu Xin pulled a bottle of styling spray from his bag. “Just a quick fix.”
Jiang Chen’s eyes lit up. “You know how to style hair?”
“I don’t like other people touching my head either,” Gu Xin explained. “So before I go on stage, I usually just spray it and style it myself. It only takes a second.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so earlier? I thought Yang Xiu was going to come over and start pawing at my hair,” Jiang Chen said, letting out a sigh of relief. “Just give it a quick tousle then. Don’t make it look too ridiculous.”
“Yeah. Go change first.” Gu Xin pushed him toward one of the stalls in the dressing room.
The boys’ dressing room wasn’t crowded, and the two of them had claimed a spot deep inside, out of everyone else’s way.
With society’s progress, Betas were largely identical to Alphas except for some natural differences in physical stamina. Consequently, Alphas and Betas shared the same dressing room, though individual stalls were provided to ensure privacy. Male Omegas, naturally, had their own separate space.
When Jiang Chen stepped out of the stall wearing Gu Xin’s smaller-sized suit, it fit him like a glove. He looked exceptionally sharp.
He handed a bow tie to Gu Xin. “Help me put this on. There’s no mirror in there, so I can’t see.”
Gu Xin smoothly took it, carefully fixing the black bow tie and straightening it out. “All set.”
Then, he shook the styling spray, spritzed it over Jiang Chen’s hair, and deftly ran his fingers through the strands to shape it.
Jiang Chen used his phone screen as a mirror, admiring himself quite self-indulgently as he stroked the bangs on his forehead. “I really am the most handsome guy alive.”
Gu Xin smiled without a word. He had only given the hair a bit of structure, but it made Jiang Chen look significantly more sharp and alert. Usually, Jiang Chen carried himself with a lazy, indifferent air, barely bothering to keep his eyes open. Now that he wasn’t half-asleep, his beautiful, curved peach-blossom eyes shone incredibly bright.
Gu Xin then gave his own hair a quick spray. As the master of ceremonies, he had to wear a standard blazer to open the show; his formal performance jacket would have to wait until it was time for their actual duet.
By the time they finished getting ready backstage, the clock was rapidly ticking toward two o’clock. The school leadership and students from various grades began pouring into the auditorium, filling up the seats.
Listening to the mounting noise outside, Jiang Chen immediately wanted to find a place to hide. He had read a self-reflection speech in front of the entire school before, so it wasn’t that he was terrified of crowds he was just feeling a distinct prickle of stage fright over the upcoming performance.
Being a cool guy, however, he refused to admit his nervousness to anyone.
Their slot wasn’t too early, but it wasn’t too late either. The show would open with speeches from the school board, followed by a few high-energy dance and vocal numbers to warm up the crowd.
Jiang Chen found a chair tucked away in a quiet corner backstage and began to doze off. Every time Gu Xin stepped backstage between his MC duties, he found Jiang Chen nodding off and had to wake him up before heading out to read his lines again.
Yang Xiu’s performance was slated for later in the program, but he and a few other Omegas in striking, fiery outfits were already waiting backstage.
As time wore on, Jiang Chen only felt his drowsiness deepen. The people around him were beginning to blur into double vision. He stood up, intending to head to the restroom to splash some water on his face. Perhaps he rose too quickly, but a sudden wave of weakness hit his legs. He nearly buckled and crashed to the floor, barely catching himself by gripping the back of the chair.
Yang Xiu caught sight of him and noticed how terribly pale he looked. “Jiang Chen, you look awful. Are you feeling sick?”
“I’m fine,” Jiang Chen said, shaking his head to clear it. “I just skipped my nap at noon, so I’m exhausted. Going to wash my face.”
The auditorium was on the first floor, so Jiang Chen walked up to the second-floor restroom. Catching his reflection in the mirror, he had to admit he looked ghostly pale, and a heavy lethargy weighed down his limbs.
He splashed some cold water on his face. The cool shock did its job, sharpening his senses and dispelling the worst of the fog in his brain.
By the time he returned backstage, Gu Xin was frantically looking for him. The act before theirs had just started; it was time for them to get into position.
Gu Xin pulled a pack of tissues from his pocket and drew one out. “Why is your face covered in water? Wipe it off.”
“Too sleepy, went to wash my face,” Jiang Chen replied. He took the tissue and dabbed away the droplets. “Is it our turn?”
“We’re right after this.” Gu Xin had already changed into his performance suit.
Several Omegas waiting in the wings covertly pulled out their phones to snap pictures of the duo.
Jiang Chen peeked through a slit in the stage curtains to look out at the audience. The place was packed.
When he had been waiting earlier, the program had felt agonizingly drawn out. Now that it was his turn, the preceding act seemed to finish in the blink of an eye. He had spent the last few minutes staring blankly, completely missing whatever joy the performance was supposed to bring.
He was, without a doubt, nervous.
In the dim shadows of the backstage wing, a hand reached out and gently gripped his wrist. “Are you nervous? Your face is completely white.”
Gu Xin couldn’t think of any other explanation; Jiang Chen had been perfectly fine all morning.
Jiang Chen shook his head. “I’m alright.” But the nerves were definitely there.
Wanting to ease his anxiety, Gu Xin smiled. “Do you remember your very first stage performance back in second grade?”
Jiang Chen paused. “That embarrassing disaster?”
How could he possibly forget? It was the only other time he had ever performed on stage. He was in the second grade, and the teacher, thinking he looked absolutely adorable, cast him as a tiny villainous prince. Every time he practiced at home with Gu Xin, he had done a fantastic job, thoroughly enjoying his villain role. But the moment before going on stage that day, panic hit him. He had clung to Gu Xin, sobbing his eyes out.
Ultimately, Gu Xin had to coax him onto the stage, distracting him by feeding him his favorite chocolate. Only then did a red-nosed Jiang Chen finally behave and perform.
Later, the teacher forwarded the video of him crying and refusing to go on stage to Jiang Chen’s mother. To this day, his mom still brought it up to tease him, much to his endless annoyance.
Gu Xin chuckled. Opening his palm out of the sight of others, he magically revealed a small piece of white chocolate. “Want one?”
Jiang Chen didn’t stand on ceremony. He snatched the chocolate, tore open the wrapper, and popped the small square into his mouth.
“Too sweet,” Jiang Chen mumbled, his brow furrowing. “The chocolate from back then didn’t taste this sweet.”
“I just grabbed it from the campus store on the fly. You’ll have to make do for now, I’ll get you the less sweet kind when we get home.” Gu Xin had only remembered the incident when he went to buy water at noon. Since dark chocolate could easily stain one’s teeth, he had grabbed a box of white chocolate instead.
“It’s not like I love sweets that much anyway.” He was just nervous and maybe a little hypoglycemic, which would explain why he had felt so faint a moment ago.
Finally, the announcers called their names.
Xia Ning, who had been trying to find a moment to talk to Gu Xin backstage, had no choice but to walk out onto the stage alone to introduce the act.
“I wonder if everyone still remembers how they spent their summer vacations, and whether you recall a certain beautiful, cheerful melody that can instantly transport you back to your fondest childhood memories. Next up, let us welcome Gu Xin and Jiang Chen from Class 1-8, performing a piano and violin duet: Summer from Kikujiro.”
Jiang Chen had just swallowed the last of the chocolate.
Gu Xin instinctively extended his hand toward him. “Time to go out, Chenchen.”
Just like when they were kids, Jiang Chen placed his hand firmly into Gu Xin’s palm. “Yeah, let’s go.”
With that simple touch, the knot of nerves in his stomach instantly unraveled.
The two walked out onto the stage hand-in-hand, only letting go once they reached the exact center of the stage. Their movements were entirely natural and unforced.
The moment they appeared, they completely stole the spotlight. The auditorium erupted into a thunderous wave of applause, and some students even let out loud whistles!
First, the two of them had stood together on stage to read their self-reflection punishments, and now they were walking out hand-in-hand to perform a duet. They truly knew how to command an audience. The freshman class went absolutely wild.
Jiang Chen and Gu Xin exchanged a look, bowed in unison to the audience, and then walked to their respective instruments.
As Jiang Chen struck the first key, his playing was completely different from his performance during the auditions a week ago. Perhaps it was the magic of the chocolate, or perhaps it was the lingering warmth and reassurance from Gu Xin holding his hand on the way out, but his fingers flew across the keys like flowing water, flawless and smooth.
Just as Gu Xin was about to join the lighthearted melody, Jiang Chen looked up at him. Gu Xin drew his bow, and the first vibrant notes of the violin rang out.
Gu Xin looked incredibly handsome playing the violin, every movement carrying an effortless elegance. Any remaining traces of Jiang Chen’s anxiety vanished into thin air. His playing grew even more fluid and expressive, and his mind drifted back to the summer they had spent practicing together.
That summer, Jiang Chen had developed an obsession with ice cream. At home, his mother strictly rationed his intake to prevent him from getting a cold stomach.
But he had a massive sweet tooth and was utterly powerless against pineapple-flavored popsicles. With no other options, he turned to Gu Xin, who could never say no to him.
Gu Xin didn’t know anything about health or stomachaches back then. Since Jiang Chen wanted it, Gu Xin bought them for him every day after their lessons. They kept this up for days until, not long after their piano classes started, Jiang Chen ate so much that he developed a severe case of diarrhea. He was completely dehydrated and drained of strength, forcing his parents to rush him to the hospital in the middle of the night to be put on an IV drip.
The next day, when Gu Xin found out that his ice cream spending spree had landed Jiang Chen in the hospital, he was consumed by guilt. He cried until his nose was bright red.
When Gu Xin’s mother brought him to the Jiang household to visit, Jiang Chen was fast asleep from his illness. Gu Xin walked into the room, genuinely believed Jiang Chen had died, and began to wail layout in sheer, heartbreaking despair.
That remained one of the rare times Gu Xin had ever cried so hysterically. In the end, Jiang Chen, who had been jolted awake by the urgent need to pee, had to hold Gu Xin and comfort him while running a fever.
From that day on, Jiang Chen never dared to overindulge in ice cream again. A Gu Xin crying like a broken faucet was simply too terrifying to witness!
It really was an unforgettable summer.
As the final note reverberated and faded, Gu Xin turned to look at Jiang Chen. Inadvertently, the corners of both their mouths curled upward into a shared smile.
In that exact moment, they both knew they were thinking of the exact same memory.
The auditorium burst into an enthusiastic round of applause. Their performance was a resounding success.
Jiang Chen stood up, preparing to bow with Gu Xin before exiting the stage.
But the exact moment he stood up, his vision went entirely black. It only lasted for a single second, and he managed to steady himself by grabbing onto the piano.
Gu Xin happened to be turning around right then and completely missed the anomaly.
Jiang Chen realized this wasn’t just a simple case of low blood sugar. Forcing himself through the bow, he slipped into the backstage wings a step ahead of Gu Xin.
Immediately, a violent wave of vertigo washed over him, making the entire world spin on its axis.
The next second, darkness swallowed Jiang Chen’s vision, and he lost consciousness entirely. He never saw how Gu Xin’s face drained of all color, or how, in a blind panic, Gu Xin scooped him up into his arms and bolted toward the infirmary like a madman!
Backstage instantly descended into utter chaos.
And just like that, the Alpha male host of the school anniversary gala had abandoned his post and run off yet again.