Only when the evening glow was utterly devoured by night did Qingchuan University’s military training gala finally begin. A bustling crowd settled into the audience seats. The venue buzzed with chaotic, excited chatter. The freshmen’s initial enthusiasm—nearly drained by grueling drills—ignited anew, as if injected with an adrenaline shot.

Spotlights converged on the stage. The hostess, in a flowing gown and flawless makeup, glided forward. Her modulated voice stirred the atmosphere, drawing wave after wave of applause.

“Are we just sitting here doing nothing?”

Su Yu half-laid on the backstage lounge sofa, nudging Gu Chuan beside him. Compared to the stage’s order, the lounge was near chaos. As clueless laborers who knew nothing about the event, they could only wait foolishly—outsiders in the whirlwind of activity.

“No idea. We’re just bricks in the revolution—put wherever needed.”

Gu Chuan leaned back comfortably, radiating faux-commanding confidence. Anyone unfamiliar might’ve mistaken him for the gala’s mastermind.

“Gu Chuan, can you help carry the costumes?” Three girls approached.

Su Yu recognized two—they’d chatted animatedly with Gu Chuan earlier and were slated for a dance act.

“On it! Dinner after the gala?”

“Heh, you’re not escaping that easily.”

“Deal, deal—I’ll treat everyone to celebrate!”

Gu Chuan patted Su Yu’s shoulder and left. Now, Su Yu was the sole outsider.

Watching impeccably dressed people rush past, Su Yu felt suddenly superfluous. *Not cut out for this place,* he thought. *Might as well leave. Sleep sounds good… I’m tired.*

Just as he stood to slip away under the guise of using the restroom, a shadow flashed before him. Tiny buttons on her outfit jingled. Beneath smoky eyeshadow, the girl’s gaze held a bewitching glint. Su Yu flinched, stepping back instinctively.

“Uh… Good evening,” he forced with a weak smile.

Luo Xiaoxiao didn’t look pleased. Her unblinking stare resembled a bristling wild kitten. *Did she see through my escape plan?* he wondered.

“Where are you going?”

“Restroom. You’ve got your performance soon, right?” Sensing tension, he quickly amended.

“Hmph. At least you’ve got a conscience.” She turned her head with a light huff, tone brightening. “Tired from training these days?”

“Tired? Obviously.” He pointed to his face, leaning closer. “See? Several shades darker.”

“Alright, alright, I see it.” She pursed her lips, stepping back with mild disdain.

“My turn. Off I go.” She slapped her cheeks firmly, exhaled deeply, and strode toward the stage—effortlessly cool, impossibly sharp.

Su Yu gently lifted the curtain, peeking out. Under the spotlight, Luo Xiaoxiao gleamed. She sat silently before the drum kit, drumsticks in hand, eyes lowered. But Su Yu, having watched rehearsals, knew: the moment music hit, wild rhythm would shatter the silence.

Almost unconsciously, he snapped a photo from behind the curtain—only her in frame.

*This counts as proof I watched her perform. Time to sleep.* He wanted to stay, but exhaustion weighed heavy; his eyes barely stayed open.

He turned—vision blocked. Startled, he stepped back. An electric guitar.

“Whoa! What the—?”

“Please help. You’re our only option.” The host who’d spoken so confidently onstage now looked frantic.

“What kind of help?” Su Yu swallowed hard, dread creeping in.

“Our lead singer vanished. We need a fill-in.”

“But… I can’t play this,” he said, eyeing the stylish guitar with a bitter smile. “Can’t sing either.”

“No need! The drummer sings. Just hold the guitar. Stay in shadow—you won’t be seen.” Her gaze pinned him, brimming with desperate hope, as if refusal would end the world.

“I…” Clutching the heavy guitar, he mentally cursed Gu Chuan a hundred times. Nervously: “I’ll try.”

“Thank you! You saved us!” Relief flooded her face.

*You’re almost crying—just buy me dinner,* he almost joked. But glancing at the sea of audience faces, he stayed silent.

Truth was, Su Yu wasn’t totally clueless. He’d learned guitar in college—admittedly, to play for Xia Qian’ge. But he knew only a few songs. Playing? No. Faking it? Maybe.

He slung the guitar coolly over his shoulder and stepped onstage. As the last to appear, he walked deliberately through shadowed corners—yet still drew nearly every eye. Stoic-faced, feigning aloofness, he strode to center stage, silently placed the mic stand before Luo Xiaoxiao, and melted back into darkness. Movements seamless. Cool. Silent. Almost no one noticed the band had swapped lead singers.

Luo Xiaoxiao frowned at his sudden appearance, confusion flickering in her eyes. But a pro—she pieced it together from his motions.

Lights swiftly refocused on her. Leather jacket. Hot pants. Snow-white thighs tracing powerful curves. She sat with cold arrogance. On the giant screen, her expression dripped disdain, world-weary yet defiant—as if ready to overturn everything.

Time itself seemed fragile before her. From the first note, the venue erupted into fervent passion. A flawless performance. Even with one hooded figure clutching a guitar, face hidden, merely going through the motions like the legendary Mr. Nan Guo—it didn’t matter at all.