22. Savior

It wasn’t until the end of the month that Pei Huan finally learned what Lu Yinghuai had been so busy with during his long absence.

During the break between classes, Pei Huan was sitting at someone else’s desk, chatting with Tang Yue, when someone suddenly called out to her, “Someone’s looking for you.”

Pei Huan was puzzled by the summons but got up and stepped outside the classroom, where she saw a boy waiting in the corridor.

She didn’t recognize him, but politely asked, “Is there something I can help you with?”

“It’s like this,” the boy explained, “My name is Kang Shi, I’m from Science Class Seven. We’ve signed up to perform at the New Year’s Eve Gala, but our lead singer’s come down with a sore throat and can’t speak. She probably won’t recover in time, so we’re hoping you can step in as our savior.”

“You know me?” Pei Huan asked, surprised.

“I don’t,” Kang Shi admitted frankly, shaking his head. “But didn’t your class have a team-building event? You sang on stage, right?”

Pei Huan nodded; what he said matched the facts.

“That night, I didn’t go home. I was wandering around campus, and as I passed your classroom, I heard you singing. I even asked some of your classmates about you.” Kang Shi recounted the events of that evening.

Pei Huan hadn’t realized that anyone had been listening outside the classroom that night.

“So you want me to help you guys out?” Pei Huan clarified.

“Yes,” Kang Shi nodded.

“But I’ve never performed on stage before, and there are only three days left until the gala. What if I can’t blend in with your group and we mess up on stage? Wouldn’t that waste all your hard work?” Pei Huan worried.

Kang Shi didn’t seem concerned. “How will you know if you don’t try, Pei Huan?”

Perhaps it was Kang Shi’s self-assured gaze that swayed her. After a moment’s hesitation, Pei Huan agreed.

“All right then. I’ll take you to our rehearsal room after school,” Kang Shi said, and with that, he left.

Pei Huan returned to the classroom, still feeling as if the whole thing was surreal—she hadn’t expected something like this to happen to her.

Tang Yue, noticing her odd expression, quickly asked, “What did that boy want?”

Pei Huan summarized the conversation, and Tang Yue stared at her in disbelief. “Wait, you two don’t even know each other, and he just asked you to fill in because he’d heard you sing once outside your classroom?”

“In a nutshell, yes,” Pei Huan replied with utter seriousness.

“That’s wild,” Tang Yue marveled.

The two of them bantered about it until the bell rang, and Pei Huan, now more solemn, returned to her seat.

Lu Yinghuai noticed her somber face. He hadn’t overheard the conversation outside the classroom, and after watching her for a while, he looked away.

After school, Lu Yinghuai packed up and left first, while Pei Huan waited for Kang Shi to arrive, so they could go to the rehearsal room together.

“You’ve never performed on stage before?” Kang Shi asked casually.

“No,” Pei Huan admitted honestly, nodding.

“Who would’ve thought,” Kang Shi joked, “my first pick would be such a jackpot.”

Pei Huan laughed. “If rehearsal goes well, you should buy a lottery ticket.”

The rehearsal room wasn’t in the main academic building. They walked for a bit before arriving at another building.

On the right floor, Kang Shi led her to a practice room, pushed open the door, and called, “I’ve brought our savior!”

As Kang Shi stepped aside, Pei Huan’s eyes met Lu Yinghuai’s, who was sitting on the floor tuning his bass. Both were momentarily stunned.

Neither had expected to run into each other here.

Kang Shi sensed the unusual tension between them and glanced from one to the other before asking, “Do you two know each other?”

Pei Huan scratched her head and grinned awkwardly, “He’s my deskmate.”

“Well, isn’t that lucky!” Kang Shi laughed. “You two must be fated to work together—the cooperation should be even more seamless.”

Kang Shi led Pei Huan inside and introduced another member. “This is our keyboardist, Lu Feng, who’s also Lu Yinghuai’s cousin.”

Pei Huan greeted Lu Feng, but he was rather reserved, so she didn’t press further.

The song they were preparing to perform was “Shut Up and Dance,” a rock number that Pei Huan was very familiar with. Since time was short, they skipped the small talk and began their first rehearsal right away.

Surprisingly, Pei Huan fit the song—and the band—like a glove. Their first run-through was nearly flawless. Kang Shi, who played drums, set down his sticks and showered her with praise.

“You’re amazing, Pei Huan! Our first time playing together and it was perfect. The last lead singer took two full days to get it right.”

Embarrassed by the compliments, Pei Huan glanced at Lu Yinghuai. He was watching her quietly, but if one looked closely, there was admiration in his gaze. Her smile grew even brighter.

Lu Feng glanced between Lu Yinghuai and Pei Huan. He’d met Pei Huan once before but never expected to see her here. His impression of her was completely overturned—she seemed capable of anything.

They rehearsed a few more times and chatted for a while before heading home.

Winter nights fall early, and as Pei Huan left the classroom, she realized it was already pitch black outside. She tightened her grip on her backpack straps.

As she walked toward home, someone joined her. She looked over—it was Lu Yinghuai.

“Aren’t you going home?” Pei Huan asked.

“I’ll walk you first,” Lu Yinghuai replied, his tone casual.

Pei Huan said nothing, but her silence was tacit approval.

The streets were nearly empty in the winter night, with shops open on both sides. The two of them strolled along at an unhurried pace.

“I never would have guessed—you have such a wild side,” Pei Huan teased.

“Wild?” Lu Yinghuai didn’t quite understand.

“Yeah,” Pei Huan laughed, nodding. “You always seemed so cold and aloof. I never imagined you played bass.”

“I just picked it up when I had nothing better to do,” he replied simply.

“Really?” Pei Huan didn’t press further.

After that, they walked in companionable silence.

“Was it Kang Shi who found you?” Lu Yinghuai asked.

“Yeah, he said he’d heard me sing before and came to look for me,” Pei Huan replied with a smile.

Lu Yinghuai was quiet for a moment before saying, “You sing beautifully.”

Pei Huan was surprised and delighted by the compliment. “Really?”

Lu Yinghuai seemed a little embarrassed, but he nodded. “Yeah.”

“You play bass really well too,” Pei Huan praised without reservation.

Lu Yinghuai looked at her for a while, the corners of his mouth lifting in a subtle smile—he was clearly in a good mood.

When they reached her door, Pei Huan said goodbye. “See you. Get home safe.”

After watching her go inside, Lu Yinghuai finally turned to leave.

In the days that followed, Pei Huan was called to rehearse whenever she had time. Even though their first session had gone smoothly, there were still areas to improve. After more discussion and practice, their performance was all but perfected.

On the thirty-first, they had no classes in the afternoon. After their final rehearsal, sitting on the floor drinking water, Kang Shi said, “Tonight’s the big show.”

“I’m a bit nervous,” Lu Feng admitted.

“Me too,” Pei Huan echoed.

Lu Yinghuai stayed silent, his expression calm as ever.

They joked and practiced one last time before heading to the cafeteria for dinner.

The school’s New Year’s stage was already set up—a grand structure said to have cost tens of thousands, with top-notch lighting and sound equipment, impressive even from a distance.

The four of them went to get their makeup and costumes done. Their act was the tenth on the program. As they watched the earlier performances backstage, Pei Huan’s hands trembled with nerves. She turned to Lu Yinghuai, “Lu Yinghuai, I’m nervous.”

At her words, Lu Yinghuai put away his phone and said, “Once you’re on stage, you won’t be.”

Though simple, his reassurance was enough for Pei Huan. She took a few deep breaths and felt better.

Perhaps because of her anxiety, the earlier acts seemed to fly by. After the MC finished the introduction, it was their turn. No one had known that Lu Yinghuai would play bass at the gala, and his appearance on stage was met with a wave of cheers.

Facing the sea of students, Pei Huan found herself unaccountably calm.

Music began. The song was well-known at their school. As Pei Huan sang, her nerves melted away. At the climax, she pulled out the microphone and strode to the edge of the stage, singing, “She said oooh.”

After that line, she handed the mic toward the audience, and together with the students, they sang the next lyric:

“Shut up and dance with me!”

The energy in the hall exploded. The crowd cheered wildly, neon glowsticks waving in time with the music.

As the second verse began, Pei Huan stepped back, moving toward Lu Yinghuai, who was playing bass. He looked up at her.

“I felt it in my chest since he looked at me.”

When he looked at me, I felt a pounding in my heart.

“I knew we were bound to be together.”

I knew we were meant to be.

“Bound to be together.”

Meant to be together.

These nearly confessional lyrics, Pei Huan sang them straight to Lu Yinghuai, her bright eyes filled with laughter as she looked at him. Lu Yinghuai’s heartbeat sped up, his gaze a little dazed, though his hands kept playing.

At that moment, the camera focused on Lu Yinghuai’s face. He glanced at the lens, his usually cool eyes now holding a touch of warmth, as if he could see right through the screen to the girl in the audience. This shot would later be hailed as the most iconic moment of the gala.

After these lines, Pei Huan moved away to interact with the others, leaving Lu Yinghuai standing there, still caught up in the moment.

The atmosphere was electric. Some in the audience even stood and sang along with Pei Huan. The energy was unprecedented. School leaders sitting in the front listened to the cheers behind them and watched the four performers, all satisfaction in their eyes.

It was, by far, the best performance they had ever seen.

At the end, Pei Huan and the audience sang the final line together:

“Shut up and dance with me!”

As the song ended, the audience erupted in thunderous applause. Pei Huan took a step back and gave a gentlemanly bow, which only made the cheers louder. “Pei Huan! Pei Huan!”

Backstage, Kang Shi was still exhilarated. “Looks like we found the right savior this time.”

“You’re too kind,” Pei Huan replied, uncharacteristically modest.

She hadn’t expected the performance to turn out so well.