His shirt buttons weren’t fastened properly, and with his hands holding the guitar, it wasn’t convenient to fix the collar, so he called Lin Zhexia’s name, then stood in front of her, bending slightly: “Help button this for me.”
Lin Zhexia had just found her phone and was about to leave.
Hearing this suddenly, her steps halted.
She looked at the prominent collarbone before her and the Adam’s apple that moved up and down as the young man spoke: “Huh?”
“I said,” Chi Yao spoke while looking down at her, repeating once more, “help button it up.”
Lin Zhexia wanted to say, “Can’t you ask Xu Ting for help?”
But she hesitated, fearing this reaction would seem too abnormal.
After all, given her relationship with Chi Yao.
Fixing a collar shouldn’t be a big deal.
But her fingers weren’t cooperating; when she touched the black button, they seemed to freeze, taking forever to fasten it. And her little finger seemed to have inadvertently brushed against Chi Yao’s collarbone.
At this moment, the person outside the curtain urged again.
“Year 2 Class 1—two minutes until you go on stage.”
The next second, Lin Zhexia finally managed to fasten the shirt button.
She quickly stepped back: “Done.”
“Good luck with the performance,” she finally said in a voice even more nervous than his, “Don’t, don’t be nervous.”
Lin Zhexia returned to the audience, and Chen Lin casually asked: “Why were you gone so long?”
Lin Zhexia said, “Something came up, got delayed.”
Chen Lin: “But you came back just in time. Class 1’s performance is next—Chi Yao and Xu Ting playing and singing together. Wonder if they’ve mastered the guitar?”
Lin Zhexia secretly thought to herself:
She didn’t know how well Xu Ting had learned.
But Chi Yao was doing pretty well.
Tang Shuxuan interjected: “People in the front row are taking out light sticks—Chi Yao’s popularity is still as strong as ever, quite exaggerated.”
The entire auditorium was very dark, with lights only on the stage.
In such circumstances, the light sticks in the front row looked particularly eye-catching.
After the host said, “Next, please welcome Year 2 Class 1’s Chi Yao and Xu Ting to bring us a song performance. The name of their song is ‘Midsummer Night’,” he left the stage.
Although Lin Zhexia had heard Chi Yao play the guitar before, she had only heard the pure instrumental part and didn’t know the name of the song.
So when the host said the song was called “Midsummer Night,” she was momentarily stunned.
After the host left, the lights suddenly became dimmer.
The lights shone on the two people on stage, especially on Xu Ting—his outfit sparkled blindingly.
But Lin Zhexia still focused all her attention on the person who appeared later—
The moment the young man in the black shirt casually carrying the guitar appeared on stage, the audience erupted in screams, with frantically waving light sticks seeming to form a sea.
A light strum of the guitar strings, and the sound was transmitted through the microphone to every corner of the auditorium.
The two had different singing parts; the first half was Xu Ting playing and singing, with Chi Yao standing beside him.
But this person was truly unreasonable—even just standing there, he still diverted too much attention from the audience.
“So that day,” Lin Zhexia murmured to herself, “…he didn’t stop playing because he didn’t want to, but because he only had half the song?”
Just as she finished speaking, Xu Ting’s part ended.
There was a long instrumental interlude.
During this interlude, Chi Yao raised his hand and, as the interlude ended, strummed several chords from top to bottom.
The first half of this song was unusually lively; when it came to Chi Yao’s part, the melody became slow and somber.
As if finally transitioning from “day” to “night.”
Chi Yao lowered his eyes, the young man’s voice blending with the clean, crisp guitar sound.
“Remember that summer’s first heartbeat”
“You entered unexpectedly, beyond description.”
As Chi Yao sang this line, he raised his eyes, looking toward the audience.
“Countless stars reflected in your eyes.”
“The midsummer night’s wind conceals the uncontrollable”
“And I remain in the space-time of chasing you.”
“…”
Perhaps Lin Zhexia was overthinking, but as she listened, the lyrics seemed like a grand confession of a midsummer night’s affair.
The way Chi Yao raised his eyes also seemed as if he was searching for someone in the audience.
Even at one moment.
She felt a strange attraction, as if in the instant Chi Yao raised his eyes, she and Chi Yao, across the chaotic crowd, exchanged a glance.
The audience was in chaos.
No one had expected Chi Yao’s singing and playing to be so good.
Even more unexpected was that someone with such a notoriously bad reputation would stand on stage singing a love song.
Besides people waving light sticks, many were also holding up phones to take photos as souvenirs.
Lin Zhexia also joined these people, secretly taking out her phone and opening the camera.
…
With so many people taking photos with their phones.
Secretly blending in with them, surely no one would notice her, right?
With too many light sources, the camera couldn’t focus immediately.
After a moment of blur, the image on the phone screen gradually became clear.
It focused perfectly on the stage, on that young man who was shining brilliantly on stage, the center of everyone’s attention.
Click.
The image froze.
The feeling of secretly photographing someone you like is that, at the moment you press the shutter, this person on stage, who is the focus of so many gazes, seems to be secretly stored away by you, belonging solely to you.
*Author’s note: I made up the lyrics myself.*