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Han Qu sat on the edge of a window on the seventy-first floor, reaching out to touch the turbulent, cold wind.
Getting to such heights was not easy.
Only respectable people could mingle in high-rise buildings, yet now his trousers were like a shredded diaper, stained with someone’s spit.
His days on the run were far from easy.
Initially, Han Qu could barely manage to scrape together some cash, allowing him to sleep in the same place for four or five days at a time.
But no matter where he fled, there were always Asian faces recognizing him, cursing while they brutally assaulted him with their hands and feet as if he were nothing more than a lost, forlorn stray dog.
The drunken stupor of life from a year or two ago now seemed like a hallucinogenic memory.
During his years of prosperity, spilling tens of thousands on red wine on carpets and models wasn’t a cause for regret, and top-quality salmon, beef, and scallops were served only to cool off and then be fed to the hunting dogs he pampered.
He had once possessed so much.
Mansions, luxury watches, sports cars, women.
Many people’s flattery and countless acts of submissiveness.
But within these few months, Han Qu was forced to face reality, witnessing how he lost everything overnight, becoming an insignificant ant on the street.
Thanks to the highly developed social networks, anytime he tried to clean up a bit, he was caught on surveillance cameras, recognized by passersby with their smartphones.
—People eager for the bounty even developed an app, turning his hunt into a global game.
To survive, he changed his name and nearly got sold off by some thugs for a few tens of dollars.
The value of living, the meaning of life, all became abstract and laughable concepts.
Han Qu tried to numb himself to accept everything.
But he couldn’t.
I once had so much—
There were so many people afraid of me, they wouldn’t even dare look me in the eye.
Why, why?? Why do I have to live like a ghost now??
Police sirens, curses in various languages, cameras, the gazes lurking in the shadows, all these became frequent visitors in his nightmares.
He vaguely knew he was suffering from nervous exhaustion.
Hunger, cold, and malaria were claiming his life.
Han Qu sat at the window of the seventy-first floor, people in the building opposite had already seen him, loudly questioning and attempting to call the police.
Why did I initially try everything in my power to bring down that group?
He thought dully.
Was it for money?
It didn’t seem like it.
To gain my father’s recognition?
Not entirely.
It was as if, spoiled for too long, he believed he could take whatever he wanted just by setting his sights on it.
Every time before, he had gotten his way.
But just this one time didn’t work, not the second time, not even after four or five tries.
Only this matter failed.
He had countless opportunities to return to his father’s company and coast along, or to venture into other industries to start something new.
But unable to swallow his pride, it rotted and fermented in his heart, mixing with malevolent thoughts and growing into a deformity.
Once the illusion of being omnipotent reached a lethal dose, it drove a person completely insane.
Fire engines had already arrived downstairs, and police officers with loudspeakers were urging in English.
Han Qu indifferently watched the crowd, tiny as pinheads from his perspective, and then glanced at his current self.
Elbows, ankles, knees—all covered in bruises and cuts, sticky with the damp sludge from the sewers.
How disgusting.
Han Qu’s mouth twitched as he closed his eyes and leaped.
He heard the wind howling in reverse, feeling his limbs suddenly weightless, then violently crashing into something hard, intense pain immediately overwhelming him like a mountain collapse, so painful that all he could see was white light.
Fleeting, absurd, a white light that had never been real.
February 14, 2020, backstage at the Angel’s Ring of Shidu.
“President Huo, sorry to disturb you…” the assistant whispered, “The DNA results of that… earlier incident are in, it’s that person.”
Huo Ren casually asked, “Did the police report it?”
“Yes,” the assistant said helplessly. “The fall was from such a great height, I heard they had to wash the area with a high-pressure water gun for a long time afterward.”
That person had used the mob to kill, and was completely devoured in return, ultimately becoming nothing but a puddle of boneless mud.
“Got it, you go on,” Huo Ren said.
Huo Ren finally checked his appearance in the mirror one last time before heading to the makeup room across the hall.
The concert was starting soon, many procedures still needed to be double-checked.
The elevators and special passages had been isolated, and the lights, stage, and fireworks were all set.
Although Jiang Shu had been clamoring about playing cards with old friends and couldn’t come, he had spent the last two months helping them organize this, staying up at all hours of the night, even supervising the rehearsal progress of Bo Jue and others.
This made the latter a bit irritable.
“I’m over twenty years old, do you think I’d slack off before a concert!”
Jiang Shu, leaning against the doorframe and stroking his stubble: “Honestly, your brother’s dancing lately—”
“No comparisons!! That’s different!!!”
Huo Ren had prepared a few acts himself and had asked Pei Ruye whether he wanted to sing a song together.
The man usually did everything Huo Ren asked, but this time he shook his head, indicating he was just there to join the fun, not to steal the spotlight.
Huo Ren vaguely remembered that their teacher had been teased about debuting years ago; the conversation seemed to have been sidetracked then too.
Wait, was there a detail he had overlooked…?
This concert was their last farewell performance under the name of Corona.
Although no new songs were released, they would play Chi Chi’s ‘unreleased recordings’ and combine it with a holographic simulation to complete a performance by all six members.
Without the pressure of winning awards or any identity concerns, this performance was more about meeting the fans one last time, expressing their final thanks and farewells.
All advertising revenue and ticket sales would go to the Sunny Day Foundation and the newly established Crown Scholarship Foundation, with full transparency and disclosure.
For the last time, many fans had started counting down nearly half a year in advance.
Many couldn’t help but rewatch all the group’s variety shows and stages from the beginning, inevitably ending up crying a storm.
In the past, Crown had held many concerts in autumn and New Year’s, some with astonishing special effects and scenery, some even using live singing to narrate stories, making the performances feel like real-life movies.
Each of these dazzling memories remained vivid and real, as if it was only yesterday that they had debuted, when all six were still just teenagers.
Finally, it was February 14, the official debut day of Crown.
SPF had pulled out all the stops with massive posters covering the skies to celebrate this last gathering of tens of thousands.
Fans of all ages came out in droves, even those who couldn’t get tickets gathered in front of Angel’s Ring, spontaneously forming many choirs, holding up supportive banners and singing old songs.
Flower walls, standees, promotional booths, and a memory lane specially arranged by the officials made it feel like returning to that noisy, joyful summer night years ago.
When people met, even if they didn’t know each other, they recognized their favorites by the different stickers on each other’s cheeks or lapels, laughing as they talked about the silly things they did when buying albums to collect photocard.
This was more than just the story of the six members of Corona; it was a bright spot in the varied lives of countless people.
Nowadays, they no longer needed to prepare support light sticks of the same color; digital lights had evolved into unimaginably trendy new models, and many young boys and girls were still brought by their older siblings.
The crowd dispersed into the venue and quickly gathered inside the circular stadium.
When darkness enveloped once more, many had already begun to cry uncontrollably.
Finally, the day had arrived.
Finally, they could see the six of them together again, hear them sing one more song.
They didn’t have to wait long.
In the past, Corona’s concerts typically started with Huo Ren leading the opening.
Mirror dance, whip dance, fireworks, and lighting effects dazzled the audience.
But this time, when the lights came on, all six were seated closely together on high stools.
Ji Ji reached out his hand and gently patted, his voice sweet and cheerful.
“Lollipop, lollipop—”
Huo Ren smiled and joined in: “Oh lolli, lolli, lolli~~~”
Mei Shengyao and Bo Jue started the next section together, their voices high and low, winding around the mid-tones, as in sync as ever.
“Call my baby Lollipop, tell you why—”
When they first joined the company, they were monitored weekly by Uncle Jiang for their weight and body fat, and anyone who gained weight had to stand in punishment at the company’s entrance.
Although they hadn’t known each other long at that time, whenever one went downstairs to suffer, the other five would join and stay the whole time, laughing and singing together.
“And when she does her shaky rock ‘n’ dance, Man, I haven’t got a chance—”
The young men’s multiple voices intertwined, bright and passionate.
The three vocal parts worked seamlessly, with Long Jia still in charge of the beatbox, keeping the rhythm precise.
Playing these games they used to be like teenagers, now they seemed like childish adults.
Inside and outside the venue, people couldn’t control their screams, even as they tried hard to shut up and listen to the music, the sight of the six reunited only made them cover their mouths and wave their hands.
It’s Corona, it’s really Corona!!!!
The opening dance was a medley of hits from the last three albums, and just before finishing, Long Jia called out to the band teacher, and all six sang Huo Ren’s new song together.
Mei Shengyao and his father, Mei Heng, served as hosts and announcers for the event, their heights almost indistinguishable now.
First, Xie Lianyun led the enthusiastic audience through a complete rendition of “Drunk Baby,” then Long Jia came out and danced with Mei Shengyao, like big and small lions chasing and playing joyfully in a team-building exercise.
After the older brothers gradually tired and went down to rest, it was Huo Ren’s turn, and the screams from the audience were like continuous tidal waves.
He pointed to the screen rolling with real-time comments, smiling and saying, “In this segment, we’ll draw a lucky fan to request any song.”
“Just as long as you can type out the full name of the song I play first.”
The audience, inside and out, eagerly grabbed their phones to enter the response mode.
Nobody compete with me!!!
Today I want Ren Ren to sing “My Dear Heart” for me!!!
I want to see Ji Ji sing and dance ahhh whatever the question, leave it to me!!
Xie Lianyun!! Do you know how hard your girlfriend worked to get you more camera time!!
Baroque classical music flowed out like silk, splendidly delicate and beautiful, encircling the arena like clouds streaking across the sky.
Huo Ren, struggling to keep a straight face, played leisurely as the girls furiously typed away.
I’ve heard this song!! I definitely have!! What’s it called!!
Just as the intro began, the real-time screen already automatically recognized a correct answer, complete with an overly long confession.
“This song is called ‘Happy 20th Birthday to Dear Huo Huo May You Always Eat on Time Take Care of Hydrating and Moisturizing Your Skin Take Good Care of Your Face, Don’t Stay Up Too Late Writing Songs and Dancing, Brother Bo Jue Loves You’, Front Row Confession to All Corona Members and Boss Pei I Love You So Much Waaa——”
Everyone looked confused.
Who can remember such a name?? He even managed to do extra questions while filling out the lyrics??
“Answered so quickly,” Mei Heng said in surprise: “And he’s an audience member on the scene.”
It took the camera a long time to find the joyously waving big boy from the crowd.
As soon as the microphone was passed to him, the boy shouted at the top of his voice: “I love Corona!!”
“We love you too~” Mei Sheng waved and smiled from afar, unconsciously raising his voice a few notches, echoing like a valley: “Which song do you want to pick——”
The boy suddenly blushed a little, his voice softened: “Did, did Boss Pei come?”
Everyone suddenly burst into laughter, with cheers and screams especially lively.
The camera knowingly gave Huo Ren a close-up, and he nodded honestly: “He’s here, at the side stage.”
“I, I want to hear you guys sing ‘Like a Blade’ together…”
“Sure,” Huo Ren glanced sideways towards the distance: “Teacher, come over here.”
Pei Ruye also walked out with a violin, politely responding to the wild cheers of the crowd.
“Let’s skip the singing,” he said with a smile: “I’ll accompany you.”
They stood and sat, letting the sounds of the violin and the singing intertwine and repeat, complementing each other even from a distance.
As the song gradually came to an end, the lights also slowly dimmed.
Silver mist swirled and dispersed, and on the other side of the stage, a soft “baa” sounded.
The audience instinctively turned their heads, only to see Chi Ji holding a sheep, sitting on the long steps, singing with his eyes downcast.
“The slightly pursed lips, the tattoo on the ankle, the kiss tasting of mint liquor.”
The young man sat among the shifting lights, looking up as feathers fluttered down like an early spring snow.
“I want to imprison you as a plaything, to indulge in pleasure for this lifetime.”
The comments raced to fill the edge of the screen.
“Chi Chi Chi Chi I miss you so much TAT——”
“Isn’t that the little sheep from Baili Island? It’s called Little Gem, right??”
“I’m going to explode right here and die! I can’t take it, I need oxygen——”
He stepped down the stairs one by one, his voice clear and breath steady, singing as if he were a siren looking back amidst the waves.
“Don’t… take it… seriously…”
When he raised his hand, five people emerged from the illusion, spreading out to accompany him.
The melody shifted, and surprisingly, the song “Fire in the Palm” began again.
“That day, I saw the twilight falling on the shore,”
“My heart felt like it was missing a piece, not knowing what to use to replace it.”
Chi Ji, surrounded by beams of light and feathers, closed his eyes and danced as if he was a being not of this world.
His whisper-like singing remained pure yet unrestrained, swaying as if capturing the nerves of every spectator.
He still danced excellently, no movement hindering another high note, still fearlessly shining.
Pure as angel feathers, his eyes as beautiful as if possessing all the colors of the world.
“The white flame in my palm,”
“I dare not summon the wind… yet I wish to give you freedom.”
Chi Ji danced unrestrained, and the five people beside him seemed as if they had practiced thousands of times, every move resonating with his.
Their voices merged together, like a fiery yet gentle embrace.