[Disclaimer: The song referenced in this chapter belongs to Lady Gaga and its respective rights holders.
It was used as inspiration for this fictional performance because... well... the song is iconic. To Lady Gaga... I'm sorry.
To my readers... Please pray for me. slowly disappears into the distance ]
Sima Li stood at the head of the stage, his head lowered, artificial lightning flashed above him, catching in his styled hair and across the silver embroidery of his varsity jacket.
The tips of his hair were damp, clinging slightly to his forehead.
The crowd exploded.
Their screams tore through the arena so violently that the sound seemed to hit the ceiling and come crashing back down.
Mo Fei reached the marked edge of the extended stage just as Sima Li lifted his head.
Their timing was perfect. For a single second, frost and storm shared the same stage.
Then Mo Fei turned slightly, one arm lifting in a slow, graceful motion as though offering the sky back to him.
That was the handoff. The stage beneath Mo Fei began to lower.
Sima Li lifted his head.
He did not smile That was the dangerous thing about him. Other performers begged for attention. Sima Li simply existed, and the entire world leaned forward.
The dancers shifted formation instantly, leaving Mo Fei in the fading aurora light as they surged toward Sima Li like storm clouds answering their master.
Sima li began to sing.
"I didn't ask for a free ride
I only asked you to show me a real good time
I never asked for the rainfall
At least I showed up, you showed me nothing at all
It's coming down on me
Water like misery
It's coming down on me
I'm ready, rain on me"
Sima Li's voice entered smooth and controlled, carrying over the thunder, the lights, and the screams with effortless dominance. He sounded less like an idol waiting for a cue and more like a man who had walked out of a storm because the storm had started boring him.
The platform holding Mo Fei sank into the mist. He held his final pose until the very last second, chin raised, silver robes pooling around him like moonlit water.
Mo Fei disappeared from the stage, leaving the storm entirely to Sima Li.
The fans screamed his name even as he vanished.
Backstage, Mo Fei stepped off the lift and exhaled. Only then did his calm expression crack. His heart was pounding so hard he almost laughed.
He had done it.
On stage, Sima Li had already taken full command.
"I'd rather be dry, but at least I'm alive
Rain on me, rain, rain
Rain on me, rain, rain
I'd rather be dry, but at least I'm alive
Rain on me, rain, rain
Rain on me
Rain on me
Mmh, oh yeah, baby
Rain on me"
A soft rain began to fall from above, thin silver droplets pouring down around him and catching the light as they descended.
The water struck his jacket, his hair, his boots, the stage floor, turning every movement into something sharp and glittering.
Sima Li moved with the beat.
At first, it was just a slow roll of his shoulders, controlled and heavy with restraint.
Then his right hand slid down his body loosely, almost lazy, before he pushed away from it and stepped forward.
The dancers moved with him instantly. The entire stage exploded into motion.
Lights flashed white and violet. The floor panels lit up beneath his boots like lightning trapped under glass.
Water splashed with every sharp turn of his body, every stomp, every controlled drop of his weight.
His choreography was fierce but clean, built on sharp footwork, fast directional changes, and powerful upper-body control. He stepped into the beat, his arm snapping outward with such precision that the dancers behind him looked like echoes thrown from his body.
Then he spun, raindrops scattered from his jacket in a silver arc.
He dropped low, one knee almost touching the wet floor, then rose with a violent sweep of his arm as the dancers split around him. Two slid past on either side. Four fell back.
The rest closed in again, forming a tight circle as Sima Li moved through the center, every step cutting through the water.
He danced like he was fighting something invisible. Every movement was disciplined, almost cruelly precise, but emotion burned underneath it. Fury polished into art.
The song was not just about pain when Sima Li sang it.
Not about sadness either. It was about standing in the middle of everything that had tried to drown him, soaked to the skin, breathless, furious, and still refusing to kneel.
He leaned toward the crowd.
"I can't hear you, China!" he shouted. "Raise your voice!"
The arena answered him.
"Livin' in a world where no one's innocent
Oh, but at least we try, mmh
Gotta live my truth, not keep it bottled in
So I don't lose my mind, baby, yeah
I can feel it on my skin (It's coming down on me)
Teardrops on my face (Water like misery)
Let it wash away my sins (It's coming down on me)
Let it wash away, yeah"
Every fan screamed the chorus back at him, their voices rising together until the entire building seemed to shake.
"I'd rather be dry, but at least I'm alive
Rain on me, rain, rain
Rain on me, rain, rain
I'd rather be dry, but at least I'm alive
Rain on me, rain, rain
Rain (Rain) on (On) me"
Sima Li grinned back at them dangerously. He turned his back to the crowd, lifted one hand, and the dancers froze behind him.
For one beat, there was only rain. Then the thunder returned.
Sima Li spun back around, and the choreography changed.
The dancers broke formation, bodies moving in waves around him. Some dropped to the floor, sliding through the water. Others leapt across the lit panels, their black outfits flashing under the strobes. Sima Li moved through them like the eye of the storm, untouchable, magnetic, impossible to ignore.
He threw his jacket off one shoulder, revealing more of the compression tee beneath. The soaked fabric clung to his body, outlining every controlled breath, every sharp contraction of muscle as he hit the next sequence.
Step.
Turn.
Drop.
Rise.
A stomp that sent water bursting around his boots.
A sharp roll of his chest as his hand dragged through wet hair, his stare was thrown toward the camera so intense that the livestream comments collapsed into chaos again.
"HE KNOWS WHAT HE IS DOING!!!"
"Sima Li, have mercy!"
"The rain budget was worth it."
"Mo Fei opened heaven. Sima Li brought the storm."
"This concert is already legendary."
Backstage, even the staff had gone silent. Shen Meixin stood with her headset pressed to one ear, her mouth slightly open.
Louis watched the monitor with crossed arms, still tense, but his gaze drifted once toward Mo Fei.
Mo Fei was standing near the side, wrapped in a towel someone had thrown over his shoulders. His white hair was slightly messy now, the rune markings on his skin still glowing faintly under the backstage lights.
He stared at the screen, eyes bright.
Louis saw it then. Mo Fei was not merely relieved. He was happy.
On another side of backstage, Yichen watched quietly.
On stage, the final chorus began.
"I hear the thunder coming down
Won't you rain on me?
Eh, eh, yeah (Rain on, woo)
I hear the thunder coming down
Won't you rain on me?
Eh, eh, yeah"
The arena had become a storm. Water poured from above. Lights flashed in violent bursts. The LED screen behind Sima Li showed thunder splitting through aurora skies, silver rain falling across violet clouds.
The dancers moved harder, faster, their bodies cutting through the water in perfect synchronization.
Sima Li stood in the center of it all, singing like he had challenged heaven itself and was waiting for heaven to apologize.
Even drenched, breathless, surrounded by chaos, he commanded every second.
Then everything cut out.
The dancers froze, music stopped.
Only one spotlight remained.
Sima Li stood alone beneath it, chest rising and falling, water dripping from his jaw. His hair clung to his forehead now, his jacket soaked, his black leather pants gleaming under the light.
He was staring back at the crowd, breathless.
The audience screamed themselves hoarse. Then the screen behind him flashed the title in huge silver letters.
RAIN ON ME.
Sima Li lowered his head slightly.
The dancers held their final pose around him.
The fans applause crashed down, sounds echoed through the building like a wave breaking against stone.
Backstage, Mo Fei finally let out the breath he had been holding.
He had opened the Aurora stage and for the first time that night, he truly believed what he had told Louis.
He had shone.