The capital was alive, almost feverish with energy.

It was the eve of the Blue Award Ceremony, and every street seemed to hum with anticipation. Cafés overflowed with chatter, restaurants extended their hours, and the glow of neon lights mingled with the constant flashes of reporters’ cameras.

From the airport to the central districts, the arrival of world-renowned designers had already become headline material. Each designer came with a purpose, each one paired to an artist whose gown, suit, or performance they would elevate. In this industry, the hierarchy was clear—your designer said everything about your status.

Hotels near the stadium were packed. Artists, assistants, stylists, and fans alike had claimed every available space. Some fans had even pitched tents outside the newly chosen venue—a massive stadium that had been sold out within hours. The air there was festive, almost like a carnival.

Reporters roamed with microphones, weaving through groups of fans who refused to leave even as the night deepened. One female reporter stopped near a cluster of young people wrapped in blankets and holding placards.

"Tell me," she asked brightly, thrusting the mic closer, "who are you most excited for tomorrow?"

The chorus was immediate and deafening.

"Hua Ling!"

Cheers erupted, faces glowing with excitement.

"I’ve been waiting for her first live performance of Promise since it came out!" one girl shouted, her voice almost drowned by the noise. "She’s going to set the stage on fire, I just know it!"

Another fan waved a glowing board high into the air. "No—Fu Jing Rong! He’s finally back! After everything, he’s standing on that stage again. This is history in the making!"

The reporter laughed, turning to another cluster of fans draped in flags and homemade shirts.

"And you? Who are you camping out here for?"

"Yan Zixuan!" a man yelled without hesitation. "Have you heard his latest track? If he wins tonight, no one can say he doesn’t deserve it!"

"I came for Shen Rui!" a girl countered, clutching a banner. "He always surprises on the red carpet. He’s the king of stage entrances!"

The reporter nodded, her cameraman panning across the crowd. Banners and posters filled the background, glowing sticks lighting the night. The atmosphere was thick with laughter, arguments, chants, and even spontaneous singing.

What was clear was this—whether it was Hua Ling, Fu Jing Rong, Yan Zixuan, Shen Rui, or any of the other dazzling stars of the industry, tomorrow was going to be a night that no one would forget.

...

Inside the vast stadium, the sound of music echoed against the high ceilings, but instead of inspiring awe, it drew pained expressions from the few people lingering backstage.

On the stage, Hua Ling stood under the bright rehearsal lights. She sang into the microphone, her voice sharp, uneven, slipping off-key again and again. Even the heavy auto-tune overlay couldn’t fully mask the strain. What should have been a heartfelt ballad turned into a jarring experience that made more than one assistant cover their ears discreetly.

A cluster of artists, waiting for their own rehearsal slots, exchanged looks. Their times had been tightly rationed, barely five minutes each, yet Hua Ling had been given what seemed like an endless block.

"Unbelievable," one muttered, folding her arms. "We’re standing here for scraps while she butchers her way through the entire setlist."

Another artist, leaning casually against a speaker, scoffed. "That’s what happens when you’re backed by a powerhouse company. Doesn’t matter if you can’t hold a note to save your life. Connections will get you more than talent ever could."

There were quiet laughs, sharp and bitter, echoing the sentiment. Everyone knew it was true.

Among them, one figure in particular simmered with barely contained rage—Lin Qian, a rising solo artist who had once been part of a rival group to Hua Ling. The bad blood between them stretched back years, from petty industry spats to open clashes on social media. Seeing Hua Ling here now, basking in privileges she hadn’t earned, only fanned the flames.

Lin Qian’s nails dug into her palm as Hua Ling finally finished. Instead of slipping off quietly, Hua Ling strutted down the stage steps with her chin lifted, pride etched into every line of her face. She didn’t even glance at the group waiting in the wings. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor, her long dress swaying, and the air around her practically screamed disdain.

She walked past them as though they were air—unworthy, invisible.

Lin Qian’s jaw tightened, anger surging hot in her chest. She had put in years of training, clawed her way up without anyone’s hand to pull her, and yet here Hua Ling was, smug and untouchable, flaunting her arrogance as if the stage already belonged to her.

The others muttered their discontent under their breath, but Lin Qian wasn’t content to mutter anymore.

Her eyes narrowed, following Hua Ling’s retreating figure. The rivalry wasn’t just simmering anymore. Tonight, it was boiling.

Lin Qian immediately called out to the receding back of Hua Ling,"You! Stop right there!"

Hua Ling did not turn around and behaved as if she had not heard anything that was happening behind her.

She treated the other in cold air as if the other did not exist or the other was very insignificant that she was not worthy for her to turn around and have a conversation with.

Lin Qian was very angry and immediately ran over to try and grab her by the lapels.

Immediately, two people stood in front of them in front of her to try and stop her from proceeding further.

They acted as her guards and prevented Lin Qian from advancing towards Hua Ling.

This infuriated Lin Qian so much that she wished she could spit on the others face.

Thinking about it, Hua Ling had become so haughty only after Hua Jing had gotten into a coma.

Before that, she was just an up and coming artist who wouldn’t dare show her face in front of anyone so where had this stupid pride come from?

Without Hua Jing, who would even know of her?

She spat hatefully, "Just you wait, when Hua Jing returns, let us see if you will still be this arrogant!"