By six-thirty in the evening, the HET Gala red carpet had become less of an entrance and more of a controlled riot.
The venue stood beneath a storm of lights, its glass walls reflecting camera flashes, gold banners and the long red carpet stretching from the drop-off point to the main doors like a road paved with judgement.
Security lined both sides.
Reporters pressed against the barricades. Fans screamed from behind velvet ropes, waving light boards, banners, phones and the dignity that had clearly abandoned them several hours ago.
Above the entrance, the glowing words HALL OF ENTERTAINMENT & TELEVISION GALA shone in elegant gold.
Below it, chaos wore foundation and diamonds.
"Miss Liu! Miss Liu, this way!"
"Director Han, one smile!"
"Look here!"
"Who are you wearing tonight?"
"Any comments on your new drama?"
"Over here! Over here!"
Cameras flashed so violently that anyone with weak eyes should have signed a waiver before entering.
Online, the livestream numbers climbed like they were fleeing poverty.
"HET GALA HAS OFFICIALLY STARTED."
"First arrivals are safe. Too safe. I need drama."
"Everyone looks expensive, but I'm waiting for the real monsters."
"If no one faints from beauty tonight, cancel the event."
The first major arrival was Director Han, old, respected and dressed in a deep navy robe-jacket with silver crane embroidery, loose black trousers and a polished walking cane that looked decorative but also capable of discipline.
He stepped out of his car with the calm of a man who had survived four decades of actors, investors and censorship meetings.
Reporters screamed anyway.
"Director Han! Is the new film confirmed?"
"Will you be working with Zhang Yichen again?"
"Any comments on casting rumours?"
Director Han smiled like a temple statue and answered none of them.
A true veteran.
He waved once and walked inside, leaving behind nothing but speculation and mild emotional damage.
Next came a wave of television actors, variety show hosts, singers and influencers. Some were dressed beautifully. Some were dressed bravely.
Some were dressed as if their stylists hated them and had finally found a legal way to express it.
One young idol arrived in wide silver trousers, a cropped crystal jacket and gloves covered entirely in rhinestones.
The cameras loved it. The internet did not.
"Why does he look like a chandelier with abandonment issues?"
"HE LOOKS BEAUTIFUL SHUT UP."
"Beautiful? My living room ceiling has the same design."
A black car stopped at the entrance.
The door opened. Xiao Mei stepped out. The red carpet briefly forgot how to breathe.
She wore a pale gold gown that clung to her figure before falling into soft layers around her legs. Her long hair was pulled over one shoulder, black and glossy, with delicate gold pins scattered through it like fallen stars.
She turned slowly, smiled at the cameras, and every photographer in the area behaved as if their lives depended on capturing her face from at least twelve angles.
"Xiao Mei! This way!"
"Miss Xiao! Are you attending alone tonight?"
"Any comments on your 18_TH campaign?"
"Will you be walking with Aria Lin tonight?"
At the name, Xiao Mei's smile widened. The reporters immediately leaned forward like dogs smelling meat.
Xiao Mei lifted one finger to her lips. "Secrets should wait for the red carpet."
Then she winked.
The internet exploded.
As if summoned by prophecy, another car arrived.
Aria Lin stepped out.
Unlike Xiao Mei's golden softness, Aria wore deep emerald silk trousers and a structured off-shoulder top with long, flowing sleeves that moved like water around her wrists.
Elegant, sharp and cold enough to cut glass. Her hair was styled simply, her jewellery minimal, her expression calm.
The screams rose again.
Xiao Mei, who had been posing near the centre, turned and immediately brightened. "Aria!"
Aria's expression did not change. She walked over, took Xiao Mei lightly by the wrist and guided her away from a reporter who had been leaning too close.
Online, several fandoms collapsed at once. Reporters shouted questions at Aria too.
"Miss Lin! Are you here representing Director Zhao's film?"
"Will you be attending the after-party?"
Aria ignored them all and led Xiao Mei inside. Three bloggers posted analysis threads within thirty seconds.
By seven o'clock, the red carpet had fully warmed up.
Luxury brand executives arrived with actresses on their arms.
Producers smiled for cameras while clearly measuring who greeted them first.
A famous singer arrived in a black velvet cape over a pearl-beaded bodysuit, wearing a necklace so large that one fan commented it could fund a small school, which felt inappropriate at a charity gala but not entirely wrong.
Then came Su Feiyu.
The scream that followed her arrival was not normal. It rolled through the crowd like a wave.
Su Feiyu stepped out of a white car wearing a strapless black gown with red silk lining that flashed when she moved. Her hair was pinned up, her neck bare except for a ruby necklace, and her smile was soft enough to fool anyone who did not know better. She looked perfect. She always did.
"Feiyu! Feiyu, look here!"
"Queen of the red carpet!"
"Are you opening tonight's charity auction?"
"What do you think of the younger stars attending this year?"
Su Feiyu turned towards the reporters with graceful ease. "I think HET is a place where everyone who loves this industry can come together for a good cause."
A beautiful answer. Empty enough to fit anyone inside it.
The cameras ate it up.
"SHE'S HERE. EVERYONE ELSE GO HOME."
"Su Feiyu understands red carpet mathematics."
Su Feiyu continued posing, her smile steady.
But when one reporter called out, "Miss Su, are you looking forward to seeing Mo Fei tonight?"
Her fingers tightened slightly around her clutch. Only for a second before her smile brightened.
"Of course. I'm happy to see anyone working hard."
The internet caught it anyway. The internet caught everything.
Suddenly, the screams turned into thunder.
A dark blue sports car pulled up.
The driver's door opened, and Sima Li stepped out.
He wore white wide-leg trousers, a cropped white jacket with silver embroidery along the shoulders and waist, and a black sheer shirt beneath it that revealed just enough to cause several people to lose their home training.
Several rings flashed whenever he moved his hand. His hair was swept back, the green tint catching under the lights like something electric.
The reporters and fans lost every last trace of civilisation.
"SIMA LI!"
"GEGE!"
"King of pop, he's here!"
"LOOK HERE!"
Sima Li removed his sunglasses slowly. The crowd screamed louder.
He smiled and blew a kiss, he knew exactly what he was doing.
The fans online nearly had to be held upright.
Reporters rushed to throw questions.
"Sima Li! Will there be an AURORA tour?"
"Who are you most excited to see tonight?"
"Any special reason for attending alone?"
Sima Li's smile turned mischievous. "Who said I'm alone?"
Somewhere far away, Shen Meixin probably developed a headache.
Sima Li waved and moved along the carpet, pausing every few steps to pose, sign something, wink at someone and generally behave like a national security issue in designer clothing.
The atmosphere shifted again as a black car stopped at the entrance.
For a moment, even the reporters seemed to straighten. The door opened.
Tang Wei stepped out.
Grey long coat over a black shirt. Tailored trousers. No tie. With a calm expression.
He did not need to do much.
The cameras flashed with immediate respect.
"Tang Wei! This way!"
"Mr Tang, are you sponsoring tonight's HET Gala?"
"Will you be announcing anything tonight?"
Tang Wei gave a brief smile, polite and unreadable, he paused near the centre of the carpet, looking towards the entrance as if waiting for someone.
Then he smiled faintly and walked inside.
By then, the red carpet was no longer just waiting.
It was hunting.
Every camera, every reporter, every fan account and gossip page had the same question burning under their tongues.
What was the special appearance for this year's HET Gala
The noise outside the HET Gala had already reached a fever pitch when another black car rolled to a smooth stop at the carpet.
At first, no one moved.
Then someone near the barricade screamed.
"The Velvet Chidi!"
The effect was instant. Reporters straightened.
Cameras lifted.
Fans shoved forward so quickly security had to step in.
Even the livestream comments exploded.
"No way. He's here?"
"THE VELVET CHIDI!"
"I thought he skipped public events like this!"
"Did he come alone?"
The chauffeur opened the door. A polished shoe touched the carpet first, followed by a long, elegant leg clad in black, The Velvet Chidi stepped out fully.
He wore a charcoal pleated shirt with a high collar, tucked into perfectly cut black trousers. Over it sat a sleeveless velvet coat that fell to his calves, dark and soft enough to drink the light. A silver brooch glinted at his collar, shaped like a thin blade.
His white hair, dark at the roots, was swept back neatly, exposing a face so striking it made the crowd lose all sense.
Flash.
Flash.
Flash.
He smiled immediately.
Calm.
Beautiful.
Untouchable.
As though the night had paused to wait for him.
Then, with lazy grace, he lifted one hand and gave the crowd the smallest wave.
The screaming doubled.
Some stars attended galas.
Others arrived and made the gala feel like it belonged to them alone.
The Velvet Chidi was one of them.