A primal fear, deep in my gut, seized me.
Before I could even plan my next move, the open-air stage band resumed the song exactly where it had cut off. Wang Yida, the lead singer, grabbed a spare mic and shot me a look from nearby—clearly expecting me to continue.
No! My legs were shaking so badly I felt like collapsing right here on stage! If any savior exists… please save me!
“Xiaoxi!”
I turned instinctively. Behind the backstage curtain stood *that* devil girl. Her fists were clenched tight—nervous too—but her voice rang firm: “This stage is *yours*. Now… let your light shine!”
Her expression was unexpectedly gentle. But *let my light shine*? This was pure “forcing a duck onto a perch”! I… I can’t… Silence.
The band. The audience. Wang Yida himself. All eyes locked on me, waiting.
The whole world seemed frozen—waiting for me to press “play.”
No… I can’t do this!
It wasn’t just the maid outfit. I’d always been shy—the type who hid in crowds during school events. Now? Thrown under blinding lights, cameras, and a sea of strangers… How could I possibly sing?
Tears welled in my eyes. Clutching the mic, spotlight burning, I felt stripped bare and dumped on a busy street. The dark mass of the crowd pressed down like a crushing weight.
No… I can’t… Singing in front of all these people… I can’t…
A buzzing swarm filled my head—louder, chaotic. My vision blurred. Stage and audience drifted away. Falling… falling into a bottomless void…
Murmurs rose from below:
“She’s the guest vocalist, right? Why won’t she sing?”
“How long’s this been? Anyone know her?”
“No clue. Some new netizen celeb. They’re everywhere these days.”
“Company probably fought hard for this debut… and she’s freezing up. What a waste.”
Wang Yida kept glancing back. Hope in his eyes faded to disappointment as he met my hollow stare. He looked past me—to the girl backstage—as if awaiting orders.
She sighed softly, whispering: “Lin Xiaoxi… did I overestimate you?”
Every silent second stretched like an eternity in this high-stakes commercial show. Restlessness spread through the crowd.
If this dragged on, the whole performance—and Wang Yida’s, Chengyu Company’s reputation—would crumble.
The girl bit her lip, resolve hardening… about to nod—
Then, a clear, slightly androgynous voice cut through the speakers:
“I’m watching you, watching you, can’t take my eyes off you—”
It was *me*—the “girl” in the maid outfit under the spotlight. I’d somehow pushed past the panic and begun singing.
No… not just pushed past. My movements, expression, gaze—fluid, natural, as if the stage and I were one. Born for this moment.
“I’m watching you, watching you, can’t take my eyes off you—”
“The love you lost is watching you, waiting for you to claim it—”
Honestly? My vocals were average—solid karaoke level. But my eyes blazed with unshakable confidence. Even the maid dress seemed to glow, holding every gaze captive.
“Please stop checking your phone, checking your phone, pretending not to care—”
Flawless stage presence! Perfect command!
Strangers sang along, arms swaying to the beat.
“Xiaoxi… I knew I wasn’t wrong about you…” the girl backstage murmured, eyes shimmering like starlight.
As the chorus neared its end, I stepped confidently toward Wang Yida, voice dropping to an intimate whisper:
“Oh, the corner of your eye drifts where the heart leads… drifting toward you~”
Shock flashed in Wang Yida’s eyes. Without prior warning, he’d never believe this “maid-clad girl” was a total novice. Even top-tier divas he’d worked with rarely matched this presence.
Quickly recovering, the seasoned rapper seamlessly continued:
“Dogtown, Venice Beach—I say we’ve shared the same experiences with this world…”
The final verse arrived. Wang Yida and I—like familiar strangers—carried the song to its close:
“You watch me turn and open the French door,”
“Leaving me standing there with a puzzled look, yea—”
“A puzzled look, yea—”
The music softened with the choir’s swell… and ended.
*Clap clap clap clap…*
The duet version of “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” concluded perfectly. Thunderous applause and excited chatter erupted:
“She was amazing!”
“32 likes!”
“Who *is* she? Born for the stage—so radiant!”
“Unbelievable rookie! Star-level presence!”
“And so cute! That maid outfit? Total perfection now!”
“Right?! I literally couldn’t take my eyes off her—*can’t take my eyes off you*, haha!”
…
Meanwhile, I stood backstage, utterly dazed.
Huh? Wasn’t I just on stage? How’d I get here? Did we finish the song? Did Wang Yida sing alone? What did *I* even do?
Blank. Like a drunk blackout. Not a single memory from minutes ago.
Suddenly, soft small hands gripped my wrist.
“Xiaoxi. Come with me.”
*Huff!*
After several minutes of brisk walking, the devil girl and I slipped from the performance square onto a quiet, nearly empty street.
