One week countdown to the concert.

Old Zhao's phone hadn't stopped ringing since seven in the morning.

The first call was from the production director at Warner Music, asking straight away if there were any spare tickets.

Old Zhao spent a long time explaining with a bitter face that the three thousand tickets sold out in 0.7 seconds. Forget spare tickets; even the staff's tickets were squeezed out of the reserved media section.

Less than two minutes after hanging up, the second call came.

This time it was the director's team from a talent show, saying they wanted to send a filming crew to capture documentary footage and asking for a few staff passes.

Before Old Zhao could reply, a third call cut in.

It was a heavyweight music critic in the industry. He was polite on the phone for a full three minutes before finally blurting out a sentence.

"Director Zhao, even standing tickets are fine."

By the time Old Zhao hung up this call, the expression on his face had shifted from being troubled to a certain strange pride.

He clutched his phone and pushed open the studio door, seeing Lu Zhixian sitting on the floor scribbling on a setlist.

"Boss, I've taken nineteen calls this morning."

Lu Zhixian didn't even look up: "All asking for tickets?"

"All of them."

Old Zhao placed his phone on the desk and started counting on his fingers.

"Warner's production director, the A&R head from Universal, the editor-in-chief of the 'Music Billboard,' and the management teams of three A-list singers... Oh, Wang Yizhou's studio called too, saying Teacher Wang himself wants to come watch."

Lu Zhixian finally looked up at him.

Wang Yizhou, recognized as one of the ceilings of vocal ability among domestic male singers. He'd been debuted for twenty years and had won so many awards his hands were soft from carrying them. This big shot wanted to come?

"Hmm, that's a good thing." Lu Zhixian looked back down at the setlist. "But there really aren't any tickets left."

"Three thousand seats, we really can't spare any more." Old Zhao rubbed his hands.

"We originally reserved fifty seats for the media, but now over a hundred and twenty have applied. I feel bad even cutting it down to sixty."

"Then sixty it is, not a single one more." Lu Zhixian drew a circle on the setlist.

"If too many media come, the audience experience will suffer. The protagonist of this performance is the music, not the press releases."

Old Zhao nodded and took note. Just as he was about to turn and leave, Lu Zhixian called out to him again.

"By the way, save three tickets for me."

"For whom?"

"Two for my parents, and one spare."

Old Zhao acknowledged and left.

Just as he stepped out, Lu Zhixian's phone 'dinged'.

Lin Shiya.

"Where are the tickets? What about the guest seats we agreed on?"

Lu Zhixian's typing speed wasn't fast, but every word carried a smile.

"No, big sister, if you come, you'll be more eye-catching than me. Will the audience watch me or you?"

Lin Shiya replied instantly: "I'll wear a hat and sit in the last row."

Lu Zhixian thought for a moment and replied: "The last row is too far, the sound field isn't good, it would waste the live band. I'll arrange a spot for you on the side of the front section. It's not very conspicuous, but the audio quality is the best."

"Deal."

A few seconds later, Lin Shiya sent another message.

"Save an extra seat next to me, Su Wan is coming too. She's called me three times today, insisting she has to be there."

Lu Zhixian's finger paused.

Su Wan.

A recognized powerhouse in the industry.

Lin Shiya was actually this close with Su Wan?

He didn't ask more, replied with a "Sure," and noted the two seats in his memos.

Lin Shiya and Su Wan, two diva-level singers, sitting in the audience watching him, a newcomer who had debuted less than half a year ago, sing for two and a half hours.

Thinking about that scene was quite thrilling.

...

Two days before the performance, 3:00 PM.

The studio doorbell rang.

Xiao Liu went to open the door and returned with two people following behind.

Lu Zhixian was squatting on the floor organizing lyric books. He looked up when he heard footsteps.

"Dad, Mom? Why are you here? Didn't you say you'd arrive tomorrow?"

Lu's Mother took two quick steps, reached out to grab his arm, and pulled him up from the floor.

"Your father insisted on coming a day early, fearing that traffic tomorrow would make us late."

Lu's Father placed a thermal container on the table and unscrewed the lid. The aroma of chicken soup immediately filled the room.

"Your mother simmered this all morning and kept it covered on the way, fearing it would get cold. Drink it while it's hot."

Lu Zhixian smiled as he took the container and took a large gulp.

The scalding chicken soup went down his throat, warming his stomach.

Lu's Mother walked around the studio, seeing the rehearsal notes and setlists plastered on the walls, and the pile of costume samples in the corner. She didn't say anything, but her nose clearly twitched with emotion.

"Don't be nervous, just treat it like you're singing normally." She patted the back of Lu Zhixian's hand.

"Mom, you're the one who's nervous, aren't you?"

Lu's Mother glared at him, her eyes already slightly reddened.

Lu's Father coughed from the side.

"Alright, alright, don't make it like a life-and-death parting. It's just singing a song."

Despite his words, his hands were clenched in his pockets, his knuckles turning white.

Lu Zhixian settled the two of them into the pre-booked hotel. As he was leaving, Lu's Mother turned back to give one last instruction.

"Go to sleep early tonight, don't stay up too late."

"I know."

Watching the taxi's taillights disappear around the corner, Lu Zhixian stood in place for a few seconds.

This was the first time since he transmigrated to this world that these parents had made a special trip for him.

The chicken soup from the thermal container was still warming his stomach.

He took a deep breath and turned back to the studio.

...

The day before the performance.

Starlight Livehouse.

The final full-process rehearsal began at 2:00 PM.

Three thousand empty seats were neatly arranged. The overhead lighting equipment was all in place, and dozens of cables stretched from the stage to the mixing console. The sound engineer, wearing headphones, squatted in the corner adjusting parameters channel by channel.

Lu Zhixian stood in the center of the stage, a silver microphone standing before him.

"Sound check," he said into the mic.

The sound came from the speakers on both sides of the stage—clear, clean, without a hint of noise.

The sound engineer gave a thumbs up.

Zhou Yang sat on the drum stool, twirling his drumsticks twice between his fingers.

"Run the whole process once?"

"Let's go."

The intro to the opening song rang out.

The drums, bass, and guitar cut in simultaneously. The sound exploded in the empty venue, and the three thousand empty seats caught all the echoes.

Lu Zhixian opened his mouth, and the first note landed.

For the next two and a half hours, he sang one song after another, only drinking water three times during the gaps between sets. Eighteen songs, not skipping a single one, not shortening a single section.

Every song transition, lighting change, and band movement was executed strictly according to the standards of the performance day.

When he reached the twelfth song, he called out to the sound engineer to stop.

"The mid-frequencies from the third to fifth rows in the left section are a bit muddy. Adjust the delay again."

The sound engineer froze for two seconds—he hadn't even heard it himself.

Putting on his headphones to check carefully, sure enough, a speaker's delay parameter was off by a fraction of a millisecond.

After the adjustment, Lu Zhixian sang the chorus of the twelfth song again from the start.

"That's good now."

Zhou Yang took note of this detail. He didn't say anything from his drum stool, but he made a silent mental note.

The rehearsal ended; all eighteen songs had been sung.

Two and a half hours.

Lu Zhixian's voice had no fluctuations from beginning to end.

Zhou Yang put down his drumsticks, glanced at Chenzi beside him, and whispered a sentence.

"Is this guy's throat made of titanium alloy?"

Chenzi pushed up his glasses and, for once, said more than usual.

"I've played bass for eight years, and I've never seen a singer whose state in the last song was better than the first after singing for two and a half hours straight."

...

The joint rehearsal ended, and the staff gradually cleared the venue.

The lights went out one by one, and the massive Livehouse slowly grew dark.

Only two people remained in the rehearsal room.

Zhou Yang pulled two bottles of beer from the fridge in the corner and tossed one over from five or six meters away.

Lu Zhixian caught it with one hand, knocked the cap against the edge of the table, and it opened with a hiss.

The two of them leaned against the rehearsal room wall and sat down on the floor.

"Are you nervous?" Zhou Yang took a gulp of beer.

"I'm alright."

"Your 'alright' is no different from not being nervous at all."

Lu Zhixian smiled, placed the beer bottle by his leg, and leaned his head back against the wall.

The fluorescent lights in the rehearsal room hummed, and one bulb overhead had a poor connection, flickering intermittently.

They were quiet for a while.

Zhou Yang suddenly spoke up.

"I've been in this industry for twenty years. I've been a musician for kings and queens of pop, played for talent shows, and supported commercial events. I've done it all."

He shook the bottle.

"But this show is the one I'm looking forward to most."

Lu Zhixian glanced at him.

"Do you know why?" Zhou Yang continued.

"Because when we stand on that stage tomorrow, there's no backing track to cover us, no post-production pitch correction. If anything goes wrong, those three thousand people below will hear it crystal clear."

"That feeling... how should I put it? It's like cutting off all retreats, leaving only one path forward."

He clinked his bottle against Lu Zhixian's.

"Exhilarating."

Lu Zhixian raised his beer.

"Tomorrow, let's blow them away together."

The glass bottles clinked together with a crisp sound.

...

At 1:00 AM, Lu Zhixian returned to the hotel.

After showering, he lay on the bed and picked up his phone.

He opened a social media platform and posted an update.

The attached image was a photo taken during the afternoon rehearsal: the empty Starlight Livehouse stage, all lights off except for a single beam hitting the microphone stand in the center.

The caption was a single line.

"Tomorrow night, be there or be square."

After posting, he locked the screen.

He tossed the phone next to his pillow, and in less than two minutes, it began vibrating frantically. The notification sounds for comments and reposts almost merged into one.

He didn't look. He turned over and closed his eyes.

When he woke up tomorrow morning, the sunlight should be quite nice.

And then.

It would be time for that concert.