Entertainment: A song that brought his deceased wife back to life.

Echoes from the Clouds Semi-finals.

7:30 p.m.

Backstage, staff were running back and forth. The lighting crew was adjusting angles, the sound crew was doing a final channel check, and the director was shouting himself hoarse into the walkie-talkie.

The door to the dressing room was closed.

Luo Qianyu sat in front of the mirror, her mask on the table, her fingers tapping on the surface.

She fell asleep on the small sofa in the study last night. When she woke up, she was covered with a blanket, and there was a stack of handwritten sheet music on the table. Xu Qing's handwriting was terrible, like spiders crawling, but the musical notes were arranged exceptionally neatly.

All night long.

He wrote a complete song in one night.

Luo Qianyu looked at the sheet music three times. The first time, she didn't understand the chord notations. The second time, she roughly grasped the melody. The third time, her hands began to tremble.

Because the song was so emotionally charged. So intense that she could feel its power even through the paper.

"You have six hours of rehearsal this morning." Xu Qing was leaning back in her chair, her eyes bloodshot.

"You go to sleep first." That was Luo Qianyu's first thought.

"There's no time. Go through your part first."

Luo Qianyu didn't say another word.

In six hours, the two of them went through the song eleven times.

It's the twelfth time, it's time to go on stage.

There was a knock on the door of the dressing room from the outside.

Xu Qing pushed open the door and came in, his old guitar slung over his shoulder, the clownfish sticker on it glistening slightly under the stage lights. He was wearing a black shirt today, the cuffs rolled up to his forearms as usual, and the bandage on his right hand, the one Luo Qianyu had wrapped around his thumb yesterday, was still there.

"I'm gone."

Luo Qianyu stood up, picked up the koi mask, and put it on her face.

"Xu Qing."

"Um."

"What was the name of your song again?"

"The same moonlight."

Luo Qianyu glanced at him.

Xu Qing didn't look at her; her eyes were fixed on the direction of the corridor.

Those eyes were calm, but something was pressing down beneath that calm. Luo Qianyu recognized them; it was the same look Xu Qing had given her in the study before she smashed the glass.

But now, that energy isn't being thrown outwards; it's all been drawn back in. It's been drawn into every string of that old guitar.

In the passageway, we passed the waiting area for Su Man's team.

Su Man's entourage was as lavish as ever, complete with a band and lighting design. She sat in her dressing chair, her gaze sweeping across the corridor, meeting Xu Qing's and Luo Qianyu's eyes for a moment.

Su Man's eyes were complicated.

Since losing to Luo Qianyu in the last episode due to "emotions," she no longer looks at her with the same condescending gaze. But it's not exactly respect either. It's more like... wariness.

Chen Che stood behind Su Man, watching Xu Qing pass by, his gaze falling on the gauze on Xu Qing's right hand.

"Are you injured?" Chen Che asked.

Xu Qing did not stop.

"Bang."

Will it affect my piano playing?

"It won't affect anything."

Chen Che's lips twitched, but he didn't say anything more.

At the stage entrance, the assistant director of the directing team stood in front of them with a walkie-talkie, looking somewhat troubled.

"Teacher Xu, you changed the song selection on the song selection confirmation form. We don't have this song 'The Same Moonlight' on file."

"I wrote it in the early hours of this morning," Xu Qing said.

"Records that have not been reported in advance are not permitted according to regulations."

"The copyright is mine, the lyrics and music are mine, the arrangement is mine, and I'm standing right in front of you." Xu Qing looked at him. "What else do you need to register?"

The assistant director paused for two seconds on the walkie-talkie, then the director's voice came through: "Let him go on."

The assistant director made way.

Luo Qianyu followed behind Xu Qing and muttered softly, "You looked pretty intimidating just now."

"Learn from your dad."

"...Don't mention my dad."

A warm-up video was playing on the big screen. The audience was full, with many holding up signs that read "Bluebird Flying Fish".

There were also some dissenting voices.

Out of the corner of her eye, Luo Qianyu noticed someone in the front row holding a banner that read, "Plagiarists, get out of the music industry." The handwriting was pre-printed, neat and tidy, clearly not something a fan had written on the spot.

Her hands clenched tightly.

Xu Qing reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently without saying a word.

"Next up, please welcome the Bluebird Flying Fish!"

The host's voice boomed, and the lights shone brightly.

Xu Qing led Luo Qianyu onto the stage.

The bird and koi masks shone brightly under the spotlight.

The applause mingled with boos. Some cheered, some jeered, and some waited to see the spectacle.

Xu Qing walked to the center of the stage and took the old guitar off his shoulder.

The band area was empty. There was no string orchestra, no keyboardist, and no drummer.

There was only an old guitar with a clownfish sticker on it and a microphone hanging on a stand.

The entire room fell silent for a moment.

On the judges' panel, Fang Hong raised an eyebrow. Zhou Zhengping's hand, holding a water glass, stopped at his lips.

Su Man saw this scene on the monitor in the waiting area and sat up slightly.

Xu Qing coughed lightly into the microphone.

"The original songs are no longer allowed to be sung."

His voice, carried through the sound system, resonated throughout the venue with a nonchalant tone.

"They're saying we plagiarized."

Someone in the audience shouted, but it was drowned out by the greater silence. Everyone was watching him.

Xu Qing lowered her head and plucked a string.

"Okay. Then let's sing a new one."

He looked up, and a slight smile appeared on the half of his face visible beneath the mask.

"Written last night."

The audience erupted in uproar.

"Since you like the moon."

Xu Qing's fingers landed on the strings.

"Then I'll show you all you want."

The first chord came crashing down.

It wasn't an intro; it was a direct, unexpected, heavy strumming. The sound of all six strings vibrating simultaneously was like a muffled thunderclap, exploding from the amplifier and striking everyone's chest.

Before the rumble of thunder had even faded, Xu Qing spoke.

"The stubborn expression kept us away from the face we wanted to touch."

His voice wasn't loud, it was even a little hoarse. His throat, which hadn't slept all night, had a rough edge, and that roughness scraped against the melody, creating a harsh, painful feeling.

"No more being considerate and yielding."

The guitar accompaniment shifted from heavy beats to arpeggios, each note bursting out like a heartbeat.

"Silent dialogue has thus replaced our desire to listen."

Luo Qianyu stood two steps behind him, holding the microphone in both hands, waiting for her part to come in.

"No more exchanging sorrow."

Xu Qing's fingering had changed. His right hand switched from arpeggios to flamenco-style tremolos, with his five fingers rapidly alternating on the strings. The gauze was worn raw from the very first tremolo, and the wound on his hand looked like it had been ripped open, with blood seeping into the white gauze little by little, but his fingers didn't pause for even a second.

"The world that is too self-assured reacts to your departure."