The stadium lights dimmed, and the massive curtain behind Sophia flickered alive. Gasps rippled through the audience as the projection shifted into the past. It wasn't staged. It wasn't a script. It was her life. The production team had recreated it with extreme precision, using Sophia's memories, interviews with neighbors, and fragments of her childhood environment.
For the 100,000 people in the Yanhuang Devils Stadium, the truth of her childhood was about to be laid bare. Beyond the stadium, millions more were watching live through Twitter, YouTube, TikTok, and global streaming platforms. Within minutes, the broadcast hit over ten million concurrent viewers, a record for the program.
The first scene began.
---
The screen opened on a cramped, filthy neighborhood. The streets were narrow and suffocating. Trash piled up against rusted fences, broken bottles littered the corners, and the air reeked of rot. A drunk staggered by, collapsing against a wall. A scavenger relieved himself in the open, and not far away, a couple screamed at each other, their fight spilling into the streets. From the shadows of dim alleys came the shrieks of children and the ugly sound of fists meeting flesh.
The camera panned across this suffocating maze of poverty, and a hushed silence fell over the stadium.
---
Some of the guests on stage whispered in shock.
"My God… was Sophia born in this place?"
"How did she climb from here to the top of the world? She's more than talented—she's a miracle."
"No wonder she's the only actress with universal global recognition. Rising from this filth? That's not luck. That's genius."
The audience's admiration deepened. Sophia hadn't just been a star—they realized she was a phoenix that had risen from ashes no child should endure.
---
Then the system message flashed unseen to the crowd:
[Screen fixed-point projection: Real childhood playback activated.]
[Immersion intensity increased.]
A cry echoed through the speakers.
On screen, a newborn baby—Sophia—wailed in a dimly lit delivery room. Beside her stood a young man.
Her father.
Victor.
But not the broken, oil-stained man Sophia remembered. This was a version of Victor she had never known—tall, broad-shouldered, devastatingly handsome, his dark eyes sharp as blades. He looked like someone who could shield the world from every storm. His posture radiated strength. His gaze promised protection.
The audience gasped. "That's her father? He's… extraordinary."
Even Sophia froze. She had inherited her beauty from her mother, but the commanding sharpness in her features—those came from him. She remembered her father's face always smeared with grease from car repair jobs, his clothes covered in cement from construction sites. But here he looked like a prince out of a dream.
Her lips trembled, but anger quickly replaced her surprise.
"What's the use of a handsome face," she muttered coldly, "if there's no heart behind it? He never loved my mother. She worked herself to death because of him. That man ruined her."
---
The scene shifted. A four-year-old Sophia appeared on screen, sitting quietly with a doll in her hands. Her father's voice rang out—cold, dismissive.
"Don't mention your mother. She worked herself to death because she wanted to earn more money. That was her choice."
Sophia's fists clenched at her sides as she stood on stage. Her eyes glistened with rage, reliving the memory.
"My mother was kind. She was good! But you—" her voice cracked as tears slipped down, "you forced her to carry the family alone until she collapsed! You let me grow up without a mother's love!"
Her shoulders shook. For the first time on stage, the indomitable star broke, her body trembling with grief and fury.
She had grown up abandoned, unloved, shackled to endless study while other children played. She knew only the cold sting of discipline and the silence of loneliness.
---
The projection intensified.
Victor appeared again—this time not in rags or dirt, but in a tailored suit. He stood tall, elegant, exuding wealth and confidence. He carried little Sophia tenderly, buying her expensive toys, showering her with gifts. And the setting? A grand villa. A palace-like home with manicured gardens, sprawling halls, and golden chandeliers.
Gasps rang through the crowd.
"Wait… didn't she grow up in poverty?"
"Why does the screen show a mansion?"
"Was her father rich before?"
Even Sophia looked stunned for a moment. Then she laughed bitterly.
"Yes. My father used to brag drunkenly about his wealth. He probably wasn't lying. I was born into the city's upper class. But when my mother died, he wasted everything—every coin, every chance—until we were thrown into the slums. All because of his laziness."
The bitterness in her voice was sharp enough to cut steel.
---
The audience shivered. Murmurs filled the stadium, but anger began to build online. On TikTok and Twitter, waves of fury flooded the live chat:
"Her father was rich and still let his wife die of exhaustion?"
"This man is trash. Just looks, no soul."
"Our goddess Sophia suffered because of HIM."
"What kind of father ruins his child's life like this?"
Inside the stadium, 100,000 people kept their composure. But online, the outrage boiled over.
---
The screen moved forward again.
Sophia at two years old, still in the grand villa. Victor's demeanor was elegant, almost regal. He adored his daughter, and by his side stood Lily—Sophia's mother. She was breathtakingly beautiful, a woman with warm eyes and gentle grace. Together, Victor and Lily looked like perfection, as though the world had crafted them as a pair.
But then, the illusion cracked.
One day, Lily returned home in tears. Her hands trembled as she whispered: "The money… it's all gone."
Victor froze. Then, without warning, he slapped her. Hard.
The sound echoed across the stadium as though it had just happened.
Lily covered her face, sobbing. Victor didn't look at her again. He carried his daughter upstairs, laying her in bed with tender hands. Then he turned, his eyes filled with something darker than indifference.
Disgust.
---
Sophia's nails dug into her palm as she watched.
She remembered the drunken nights, her father's boasts of investments gone wrong. She remembered him calling himself a victim, blaming everyone but himself.
And now, she saw the truth in sharp detail.
Her mother—her gentle, angelic mother—beaten, weeping, abandoned by the man who should have protected her.
Her voice shook with fury. "You destroyed her. You destroyed us."
For Sophia, her mother had been everything. Warmth. Music. The one who made sure she laughed, ate well, and felt human even during her darkest school years. That love had been her only lifeline.
And now, watching this restoration of the past, that love was overshadowed by violence, by betrayal.
Sophia could only ask herself, over and over:
Why?
Why did it have to be this way?
---