Lin Zhexia fell silent for a moment, then retorted: “I was just saying that casually, don’t take it too seriously.”

“Exaggerated flattery isn’t trustworthy. Don’t lose yourself in praise.”

Finally, Lin Zhexia asked: “Are you done playing?”

Chi Yao: “No, there’s one more part.”

Lin Zhexia: “Then why did you stop?”

Chi Yao put the guitar down: “I lost myself, don’t want to play anymore.”

“…”

Although Chi Yao stopped playing, Lin Zhexia’s interest in the guitar remained strong.

She had never handled musical instruments before.

When she was young, it was already good enough that those hands weren’t hitting people, and she had no connection with anything associated with the words “refined” or “artistic.”

So after Chi Yao put down the guitar, she eagerly asked: “Can I try?”

Chi Yao didn’t speak, but handed her the guitar.

“Do I hold it like this?” Lin Zhexia took the guitar, imitating Chi Yao’s earlier posture, “Is my position correct?”

Chi Yao instructed: “It’s tilted.”

Lin Zhexia adjusted the guitar: “Is this about right? What next?”

She hadn’t noticed that while speaking, Chi Yao had already moved behind her.

“Forget it, you probably wouldn’t understand even if I explained,” Chi Yao bent over behind the sofa, drawing close, his voice suddenly much nearer, “…give me your hand.”

Lin Zhexia froze for a moment.

She held the guitar and saw Chi Yao’s hand place over hers, adjusting the position of each finger one by one.

Noticing her distraction, the voice by her ear made a “tsk” sound, then gently reminded her: “Don’t let go.”

Lin Zhexia pressed her fingertips firmly on the strings, her mind in chaos.

When all the positions were finally adjusted, she imitated his strumming.

But the sound came out choppy and uneven, not smooth at all, and her speech became equally stuttered: “…I, um, probably, I guess I just don’t have any affinity with music in this lifetime.”

Chi Yao said he needed to go downstairs to throw away some trash, so they went out together.

Lin Zhexia followed behind him, and after going out, she said “bye” and hastily returned home as if escaping.

Chi Yao stood at the end of the long path in the complex, holding the trash bag, only turning away after confirming she had safely entered the building.

Their apartment building was near the entrance of the residential complex.

Looking into the distance, one could see the crowds at the entrance.

After disposing of the trash, he glanced toward the outside of the complex. The group of people who had been loitering for more than half a month still hadn’t left, though they didn’t seem to be around these past few days—

Amidst countless discussions, the day of the school celebration finally arrived.

On the day of the celebration, the whole school only had morning classes.

After the lunch break, all teachers and students were arranged to go to the auditorium.

A red banner reading “City An No. 2 Middle School Celebration Activities” hung at the entrance of the auditorium, with flower baskets and red carpets all in place, looking very grand.

Everyone didn’t have much concept of the school celebration itself; they had been looking forward to it for so many days, only because they didn’t have to attend classes and could watch performances.

Even among the performers, there was a central figure of discussion.

Unlike the pure audience below the stage, those participating in performances had to gather backstage before the lunch break.

Lin Zhexia’s poetry recitation group had only five people: herself, Chen Lin, Tang Shuxuan, and two familiar male students who usually sat behind them.

When they arrived backstage, it was already crowded with many people.

Some performances required costume changes, equipment adjustments, and a lot of preliminary preparation work.

“Lin,” Xu Ting had just changed clothes and come out of the dressing room, “Don’t you need to change clothes?”

Lin Zhexia was holding the printed poem: “We’re wearing our school uniforms, keeping it simple.”

Xu Ting glanced at the paper in her hand and said admiringly: “You’re not even reciting from memory? Your class is something.”

Lin Zhexia also admired him: “Your outfit is quite calculated, so many sequins, are you trying to blind the audience?”

Xu Ting took this performance very seriously, evident from how desperately he had tried to get Chi Yao to join him on stage from the beginning.

He had specially bought a performance outfit; it looked like an ordinary shirt, but under the lights, it sparkled excessively.

“I picked it carefully, okay?” Xu Ting patted the shirt he was wearing, “One for me and one for Chi Yao—mine is white, his is black.”

Lin Zhexia was somewhat surprised: “He agreed to wear it?”

Xu Ting: “…Judging by his expression, he’s not very willing.”

Lin Zhexia couldn’t imagine how Chi Yao would look in such clothes and scanned the backstage, but didn’t see him: “Where is he?”

Xu Ting said, “Teacher Liu needed him for something, he hasn’t arrived yet, probably coming later.”

Lin Zhexia responded with an “Oh” and continued preparing for her class’s performance. Because their performance was boring, their order of appearance was quite early. Similar to the speech competition day, they were preparing backstage behind the curtain.

On stage, the host was testing the sound system, with microphone feedback occasionally crackling through.

This was Chen Lin’s first time on stage.

She was extremely nervous: “I feel like my whole body is shaking.”

Lin Zhexia went to hold her hand: “Tang Shuxuan and I are both here, don’t be nervous. You did very well during rehearsal, today will be fine too.”

Chen Lin nodded.

After a while, she suddenly said: “I think I’m not so afraid anymore.”

Lin Zhexia looked at her.

Chen Lin continued: “Because I remembered that you used to be afraid of going on stage too… I thought it was nothing back then, never imagined that now you’d be the one encouraging me, so I should also be a bit braver.”

The host finished testing the equipment.

The audience entered in batches, and the school celebration officially began.

After quite some time, someone called from outside the curtain: “Year 2 Class 7, poetry recitation, get ready—”

Lin Zhexia felt this scene was very familiar.

On the day of the speech competition, she had also stood in the same position, listening to similar reminders.

Their class’s poetry recitation performance was very stable. This kind of program was hard to mess up—they just needed to read from the script.

After the poetry recitation ended, they descended via the side stairs and returned to their audience seats.

After going down, Lin Zhexia felt her school uniform pocket: “…Ah.”

Chen Lin: “What’s wrong?”

Lin Zhexia: “I think I left my phone backstage.”

“Why don’t you go back and get it?” Chen Lin suggested.

“I’ll ask Teacher Xu.”

After getting Teacher Xu’s permission, Lin Zhexia returned backstage.

There weren’t as many people backstage as before.

Xu Ting, that calculating boy, was filling in his eyebrows in front of a mirror.

Xu Ting: “How does it look, not bad, right?”

Lin Zhexia: “…”

Xu Ting: “Why aren’t you saying anything, Lin? Are my eyebrows symmetrical at least?”

Lin Zhexia, pressed for an answer, muttered: “You’d better not ask.”

“I’m afraid the words that would come out of my mouth might hurt you.”

Xu Ting: “…”

As they were speaking, the dressing room curtain beside them was pulled open.

Lin Zhexia turned her head and met Chi Yao as he walked out.

The backstage lights shone directly down on the black shirt the young man was wearing. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath, just this one piece. The fabric was thin, but fortunately not transparent. It looked somewhat loose when he walked, yet occasionally subtly outlined his figure.

Since the school wasn’t strict today, allowing costume changes and makeup,

Lin Zhexia noticed he was also wearing an earring.

A silver cross facing directly toward her.

Chi Yao was uncomfortable: “What kind of crappy clothes did you pick?”

Xu Ting: “Then take it off if you want. You look better in it than me. I don’t want you stealing the spotlight.”

Chi Yao raised his eyebrows slightly: “You call this looking good?”

Lin Zhexia hadn’t intended to speak up, but spontaneously said what was on her mind: “I think it looks quite good.”

By the time she realized it, the words had already been spoken.

She slowly added: “I mean, it’s okay, barely acceptable.”

But Chi Yao didn’t say anything more.

He didn’t say “what kind of crappy clothes” again, nor did he mention taking them off.

Maybe because he was uncomfortable in the clothes, or perhaps for other reasons, he uncomfortably lowered his eyes and raised his hand to lightly tug at the loose collar of his shirt.

At this moment, someone called from outside the curtain: “Year 2 Class 1 song performance, get ready in advance—”

Lin Zhexia realized: “It’s your turn.”

Xu Ting exhaled, walking to the front of the curtain to wait for their cue.

Chi Yao picked up the guitar placed on the seat.

As he moved, the collar he had just tugged suddenly came loose.

His shirt buttons weren’t fastened properly, and with his hands holding the guitar, it wasn’t convenient to fix the collar, so he called Lin Zhexia’s name, then stood in front of her, bending slightly: “Help button this for me.”

Lin Zhexia had just found her phone and was about to leave.

Hearing this suddenly, her steps halted.

She looked at the prominent collarbone before her and the Adam’s apple that moved up and down as the young man spoke: “Huh?”

“I said,” Chi Yao spoke while looking down at her, repeating once more, “help button it up.”

Lin Zhexia wanted to say, “Can’t you ask Xu Ting for help?”

But she hesitated, fearing this reaction would seem too abnormal.

After all, given her relationship with Chi Yao.

Fixing a collar shouldn’t be a big deal.

But her fingers weren’t cooperating; when she touched the black button, they seemed to freeze, taking forever to fasten it. And her little finger seemed to have inadvertently brushed against Chi Yao’s collarbone.

At this moment, the person outside the curtain urged again.

“Year 2 Class 1—two minutes until you go on stage.”

The next second, Lin Zhexia finally managed to fasten the shirt button.

She quickly stepped back: “Done.”

“Good luck with the performance,” she finally said in a voice even more nervous than his, “Don’t, don’t be nervous.”

Lin Zhexia returned to the audience, and Chen Lin casually asked: “Why were you gone so long?”

Lin Zhexia said, “Something came up, got delayed.”

Chen Lin: “But you came back just in time. Class 1’s performance is next—Chi Yao and Xu Ting playing and singing together. Wonder if they’ve mastered the guitar?”

Lin Zhexia secretly thought to herself:

She didn’t know how well Xu Ting had learned.

But Chi Yao was doing pretty well.

Tang Shuxuan interjected: “People in the front row are taking out light sticks—Chi Yao’s popularity is still as strong as ever, quite exaggerated.”

The entire auditorium was very dark, with lights only on the stage.

In such circumstances, the light sticks in the front row looked particularly eye-catching.

After the host said, “Next, please welcome Year 2 Class 1’s Chi Yao and Xu Ting to bring us a song performance. The name of their song is ‘Midsummer Night’,” he left the stage.

Although Lin Zhexia had heard Chi Yao play the guitar before, she had only heard the pure instrumental part and didn’t know the name of the song.

So when the host said the song was called “Midsummer Night,” she was momentarily stunned.

After the host left, the lights suddenly became dimmer.

The lights shone on the two people on stage, especially on Xu Ting—his outfit sparkled blindingly.

But Lin Zhexia still focused all her attention on the person who appeared later—

The moment the young man in the black shirt casually carrying the guitar appeared on stage, the audience erupted in screams, with frantically waving light sticks seeming to form a sea.

A light strum of the guitar strings, and the sound was transmitted through the microphone to every corner of the auditorium.

The two had different singing parts; the first half was Xu Ting playing and singing, with Chi Yao standing beside him.

But this person was truly unreasonable—even just standing there, he still diverted too much attention from the audience.

“So that day,” Lin Zhexia murmured to herself, “…he didn’t stop playing because he didn’t want to, but because he only had half the song?”

Just as she finished speaking, Xu Ting’s part ended.

There was a long instrumental interlude.

During this interlude, Chi Yao raised his hand and, as the interlude ended, strummed several chords from top to bottom.

The first half of this song was unusually lively; when it came to Chi Yao’s part, the melody became slow and somber.

As if finally transitioning from “day” to “night.”

Chi Yao lowered his eyes, the young man’s voice blending with the clean, crisp guitar sound.

“Remember that summer’s first heartbeat”

“You entered unexpectedly, beyond description.”

As Chi Yao sang this line, he raised his eyes, looking toward the audience.

“Countless stars reflected in your eyes.”

“The midsummer night’s wind conceals the uncontrollable”

“And I remain in the space-time of chasing you.”

“…”

Perhaps Lin Zhexia was overthinking, but as she listened, the lyrics seemed like a grand confession of a midsummer night’s affair.

The way Chi Yao raised his eyes also seemed as if he was searching for someone in the audience.

Even at one moment.

She felt a strange attraction, as if in the instant Chi Yao raised his eyes, she and Chi Yao, across the chaotic crowd, exchanged a glance.

The audience was in chaos.

No one had expected Chi Yao’s singing and playing to be so good.

Even more unexpected was that someone with such a notoriously bad reputation would stand on stage singing a love song.

Besides people waving light sticks, many were also holding up phones to take photos as souvenirs.

Lin Zhexia also joined these people, secretly taking out her phone and opening the camera.

…

With so many people taking photos with their phones.

Secretly blending in with them, surely no one would notice her, right?

With too many light sources, the camera couldn’t focus immediately.

After a moment of blur, the image on the phone screen gradually became clear.

It focused perfectly on the stage, on that young man who was shining brilliantly on stage, the center of everyone’s attention.

Click.

The image froze.

The feeling of secretly photographing someone you like is that, at the moment you press the shutter, this person on stage, who is the focus of so many gazes, seems to be secretly stored away by you, belonging solely to you.

*Author’s note: I made up the lyrics myself.*