"Ten minutes, people! We move in ten!"
Shen Meixin's loud voice cut through the backstage chaos like a whip, sharp enough to make three stylists jump and one dancer almost drop his water bottle.
"Where are my heels?"
"Someone get me lipstick, quick!"
"No, no, no, no... this is the wrong earpiece!"
"Argh, don't push me!"
"Wait! Has anyone seen my teddy bear? I can't perform without hugging him!"
Panic was everywhere.
Assistants rushed down the corridor with garment bags flying behind them. Dancers squeezed past makeup artists. Someone was yelling into a headset.
Someone else was kneeling on the floor, searching under a table as if the future of the entire concert depended on finding one missing hairpin.
In the middle of the storm, Sima Li's dressing room was almost offensively calm.
He was already dressed.
His hair had been styled back from his face, sleek at the roots but slightly tousled at the ends.
He wore fitted black leather pants that caught the light with every movement, the material hugging his long legs with dangerous precision.
His upper body was covered by a black self-hug compression tee, so tight it looked painted onto him, the cut daring enough to reveal the hard lines of his collarbones and a teasing glimpse of skin whenever he moved.
Over it, he wore a varsity-style jacket, cropped just enough to sharpen his silhouette.
The jacket was black and deep silver, embroidered with storm-like patterns across the sleeves and back. It gave him the look of a rebellious campus prince.
He checked himself once in the mirror, tilted his head, then smirked.
Not bad.
Without waiting for anyone to praise him, he walked out.
He passed a group of dancers scurrying around like the building had caught fire, ignored Shen Meixin barking orders into her headset, and headed straight for the room where Mo Fei had been dressed.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Mo Fei was seated in front of the mirror, but he turned the moment Sima Li entered. His outfit shimmered under the dressing room lights, the silver fabric catching every movement like moonlight trapped in water.
Sima Li looked him over slowly. "Mm." His lips curved. "Not bad."
Mo Fei leaned back in the chair and flexed his shoulders slightly, making the costume shift against his frame. "What can I say?"
Sima Li laughed under his breath.
"Let's go."
Mo Fei stood, and the two of them walked out together.
Outside, Chen Yu was waiting, talking to Zhang Yichen.
The moment Mo Fei saw Yichen, his soul performed a full three-hundred-and-sixty-degree spin and almost abandoned his body.
What is he doing here?
"Hey, you made it!" Sima Li said brightly, walking toward Yichen.
Yichen smiled at him, but his gaze soon moved past Sima Li and landed on Mo Fei.
Him again?
And dressed like that?
Yichen's eyes returned to Sima Li, silently demanding an explanation.
Sima Li rolled his eyes as if the whole thing had personally offended him. "Guess what? My model cancelled. Luckily, Mo Fei came around."
Yichen said nothing, but his gaze flicked back to Mo Fei.
Mo Fei pretended not to notice.
"Ouuu, Feifei!" Chen Yu said, hurrying over and grabbing his hand. "You look awesome."
Mo Fei barely had time to reply before Nil walked in with Louis.
Chen Yu immediately released Mo Fei's hand and went over to Nil, leaving Mo Fei with the perfect excuse to escape the strange pressure building between him and Yichen.
He quickly scurried over to Louis.
"Hey!"
Louis looked him over from head to toe. "I arrived earlier and was told you were being dressed."
Mo Fei nodded.
Louis folded his arms. "You negotiated all by yourself without me?"
Mo Fei's confidence cracked a little. "Did I do badly?"
In truth, he had thought ten million was too small. He had even wanted to increase it, but everything had happened too quickly.
Louis saw the worry on his face and softened immediately. "No, no. You did well." His expression became proud despite himself. "I didn't know you could pull off things like that even without me. I've already settled everything with Shen Meixin."
Mo Fei smiled in relief. Then, with a vanity that had survived even panic, he gestured down at his outfit. "How do I look?"
Louis studied him again. "Not bad."
He wanted to ask if Mo Fei was truly sure about this.
Opening a concert on such short notice was not something any normal person could casually pull off. Even seasoned performers would panic.
But Mo Fei looked strangely calm.
Relaxed, even.
So Louis swallowed the rest of his concern. If Mo Fei had chosen to take it on, then he would believe in him.
"Mo Fei, it's time!" Sima Li called from ahead.
"Okay," Mo Fei answered.
Before he could leave, Louis caught his shoulder.
Mo Fei turned back.
Louis hesitated. He had planned to give him a proper speech, something about not forcing himself, not worrying about mistakes, not letting the crowd swallow him whole. But looking at Mo Fei's bright eyes, he changed his mind.
"Mo Fei…" Louis squeezed his shoulder lightly. "Just have fun." Forget the speech.
The kid didn't need more pressure.
Mo Fei's smile widened. "Sure. Watch me shine."
Then he walked off.
Sima Li paused in front of Louis, still wearing that careless smile.
Louis turned to him with a hard glare. "If anything happens to Mo Fei," he said coldly, "I'll hold you responsible."
Then he walked away, leaving Sima Li standing there, baffled.
What did I do?
Yichen, however, had seen everything. Sima Li had been talking beside him, but Yichen's attention had already drifted toward Mo Fei and Louis. For some reason, Mo Fei had looked too confident for someone about to open a major concert with barely any preparation.
Yichen's eyes narrowed faintly.
This should be interesting.
Outside, the arena was already alive.
Fans filled every corner of the venue, lightsticks glowing like a restless sea of stars. Banners were raised high. Flags waved from the lower stands.
On the giant screens, the Aurora concert logo pulsed softly, making the crowd scream every time it appeared.
"Ugh, what's taking so long?"
"I can't wait! I can't wait!"
"Sima Li!"
"Gege, we're here for you!"
"Sima Li, look at this side!"
"Sima Li, Sima Li, Sima Li"
The screams thundered through the concert building, wild enough to shake the air.
Then, suddenly, all the lights went out plunging the arena into darkness making the crowd gasped.
On the giant LED screen, faint northern lights began to bloom across a black sky, thin ribbons of green, blue, and violet drifting like dreams.
The fans quieted, intrigued.
Every eye lifted toward the stage.
A soft voiceover rang through the arena.
"Before light touches the sky, there is always a moment where the world holds its breath…"
A single beam of cold blue light landed at the center of the stage.
The LED screen behind it showed the blurred afterimage of a person, head lowered, body half-hidden by mist. Smoke curled across the stage floor, thick and silver beneath the lights.
Slowly, the center platform began to rise.
The blue light narrowed, focusing on the figure. As the stage lift settled into place, the person raised his head.
It was Mo Fei.
For a heartbeat, the arena froze.
He stood beneath the blue spotlight like something pulled out of a forgotten myth.
His hair had been dyed white, falling around his face in soft, luminous strands that made his features look almost unreal. His outfit was silver, but not simply silver. It was frost, moonlight, and starlight woven together.
A long, fairytale-like robe flowed from his waist, thin and weightless, made of layered translucent fabric that moved with the slightest breath of air.
The outer layer shimmered like crushed ice, while the inner layer carried a pale blue sheen, giving the illusion that aurora lights were trapped inside the cloth.
Delicate silver embroidery climbed the fabric like vines of frost, and a narrow train trailed behind him, soft as mist over water.
His upper body was bare beneath the structured silver harness crossing his chest and shoulders. Across his skin were rune-like markings painted in white, blue, and metallic silver.
They curved along his collarbones, down his arms, and across his torso like ancient symbols carved by light itself.
He did not look like a guest performer. He looked like a god who had descended to the mortal world.
The silence broke.
"Wait… is that Mo Fei?"
"No way!"
"I don't believe it. Guys, that's Mo Fei!"
"How can this be? He looks so handsome!"
"Ahhhhh! Someone slap me and wake me up!"
"Mo Fei? Since when was Mo Fei part of the concert?"
"Mother, I have seen the light!"
"Did nobody know he was going to be here?"
"His hair! His hair! Oh my God, his hair!"
"He looks like a snow prince!"
"No, not prince. That is an immortal. Respect him properly!"
"I came for Sima Li, but Mo Fei just stole my lungs!"
"Arggg, Mo Fei, dear lord..."
"Is this legal? Can someone look this good legally?"
Online, the fans watching the livestream were even worse.
The comments moved so fast they became unreadable.
[No way!!! Is that Mo Fei???]
[No, because why did he descend like a heavenly god?]
[I thought this was Sima Li's concert. Why am I suddenly praying to Mo Fei?]
[His walk at Zhen's show was already insane, but this? This is criminal.]
[White hair Mo Fei. I repeat, WHITE HAIR MO FEI.]
On stage, Mo Fei stood calmly, his expression distant and serene.
He was the visual embodiment of Aurora.
There had been no time to create a new sequence for him. Sima Li had simply told him to improvise.
"Visualize what the theme represents," Sima Li had said backstage, as if that was normal advice to give someone ten minutes before throwing him in front of thousands of screaming fans
.
And somehow, Mo Fei did exactly that.
He moved.
One step.
Then another.
The long robe whispered around his legs as he began walking down the extended stage.
His pace was slow, controlled, and elegant, each movement deliberate enough to feel choreographed even though it had been born from instinct.
The stage panels beneath him glowed faintly with every step, blue light spreading under his feet like ripples across water.
Then the dancers appeared.
They rose from the shadows around him in fitted black outfits, their movements low and fluid, like spirits crawling out of the dark.
They circled him without touching him, their bodies bending and turning in sharp contrast to his calm, gliding presence.
They had been informed of the last-minute change, but none of them questioned it. Even if they did not fully trust Mo Fei yet, they trusted Sima Li's judgment.
So they danced as they had practiced and left the unknown spaces for Mo Fei to fill.
Mo Fei filled them beautifully.
The dancers moved like shadows. He moved like light.
Together, they created something surreal. With the black-clad dancers twisting around him and the aurora colors slowly growing brighter on the LED screen, Mo Fei looked less like a man walking down a stage and more like a rain deity balancing at the edge of heaven.
The first notes of the music began to build.
The crowd screamed louder.
They had seen Sima Li perform before. His concerts were famous for being extravagant, theatrical, and impossible to predict.
But this?
This was beyond their expectations.
Mo Fei reached the end of the extended stage and turned slowly. His robe flared out with the motion, silver fabric catching the light like a crescent moon being drawn across the air.
Then thunder rolled.
Low at first.
It vibrated beneath the floor, crawled up the seats, and slipped into the bones of everyone watching.
A silver flash cracked across the giant LED screen behind the stage, splitting the darkness open as if the sky itself had been torn apart.
The lights snapped toward the main platform.
And there he was.
Sima Li.