Under Ling Yi’s misdirection, the camera quickly cut to Cheng Qiang’s face—accused of mistreating artists. He looked both amused and exasperated, immediately mouthing the words “let’s party.”
After his onstage tears, Ling Yi took the mic, his voice still trembling slightly. “Th-that’s what you said.”
Everyone burst into laughter again.
After speaking, Ling Yi stretched out his hand to pass the mic to Lu Yuan, who seemed taken aback. “Can I still speak?”
The host chuckled, “Everyone can speak! This is a group award, after all.”
Lu Yuan smiled. “It’s been so long since I last held a trophy. I’m especially grateful to everyone. When I first debuted, how could I have imagined standing on this stage one day? So maybe this is what dreams are—no matter how reality looks, if you follow your dreams and work hard, you’ll reach places beyond your wildest imagination.”
He handed the mic to He Ziyan. The host added, “Actually, Zi Yan was also nominated for Best Arrangement, right? Must be a bit disappointing not to win.”
He Ziyan humbly nodded. “Not at all. As a latecomer to this field, just being nominated was incredibly fortunate. Honestly, winning the group award makes me happier than winning an individual one.” He set aside his usual playful banter, his smile sincere. “Having such a proud family is my greatest honor.”
His words sparked thunderous applause from the audience below the stage. Many fans holding light boards were moved to tears.
“Alright, once again, congratulations to Kaleido for winning the Group of the Year award!”
The members linked arms and bowed deeply once more to everyone. This moment, captured by countless fans, was the six boys’ most glorious hour.
They were the ones who knew them best. The criticism, indifference, and repeated setbacks the six had endured along the way weren’t widely known, but the fans remembered every detail. They witnessed Kaleido rise from a small group mocked by thousands at their debut, overcoming every obstacle step by step to reach this day. They saw them get knocked down, pick themselves up, shield each other’s wounds, and keep fighting.
They understood better than anyone that Kaleido deserved this moment of glory.
Returning to their seats, fellow artists around them turned to applaud and congratulate them. Only then did Fang Juexia begin to grasp the reality of their victory.
This heavy golden trophy held different meanings for each member. For Fang Juexia, at least, it was a door opening—the end of his long, dark tunnel.
Beyond that door lay his five bandmates and the kaleidoscopic, vibrant world beyond.
Following the award for Best Group of the Year, the ceremony moved on to smaller categories. After presenting Best Dialect Song and Best Ethnic Song, it was time for another creative award—Best Lyricist of the Year.
The presenter was an influential American music producer renowned both domestically and internationally. He was straightforward and unpretentious, taking the stage without much fanfare and immediately announcing the nominees.
He Ziyan clapped from the far left. “Here it comes, here it comes—Little Pei is coming.”
“Heaven help me win this one,” Lu Yuan began praying.
Ling Yi gripped Jiang Miao’s arm. “I’m so nervous I need to pee, Miao Ge.”
“Just hold it,” Jiang Miao replied, feeling both amused and exasperated, like he was babysitting a child.
Fang Juexia, who’d been remarkably composed all evening, suddenly felt his heart race. Especially when “Breaking the Array” appeared on the big screen, and he saw Pei Tingsong’s name listed as the lyricist. Even the major award for Group of the Year hadn’t fazed him, yet now he couldn’t control his nerves.
Four songs were nominated, the other three being ballads—love songs primarily—but their authors were all heavyweights in the lyricist circle, one having won Best Lyricist of the Year twice. Pei Tingsong was the least experienced among them.
Yet in terms of lyrical scope and poetic depth, “Breaking the Array” held its own.
If only it could win… Fang Juexia silently prayed.
The nominee himself, however, appeared remarkably composed. Prior to this moment, Pei Tingsong hadn’t paid attention to the list of nominees. Seeing it for the first time, his reaction was genuinely candid: “The lyrics for this song are really well-written… Ah, this one’s good too, I have it on my playlist…”
Fang Juexia couldn’t help but grab his sleeve, turning to him with the same reassuring tone one might use with a child in a competition. “It’s okay. We’re the first dance track to be nominated.” He added, “Don’t be nervous.”
It sounded like he was talking to himself.
Pei Tingsong looked at him and laughed, his smile reminiscent of a high school boy at a school sports day. He could tell at a glance that Fang Juexia was the one truly nervous, so he deliberately said, “No way, I’m really scared right now. What should I do? Touch my chest.” With that, he grabbed Fang Juexia’s hand and placed it on his chest. Fang Juexia actually believed him. As soon as his palm touched it, he felt it beating very fast.
“It’s okay, anyway, we still…”
But just then, the unpredictable presenter abruptly announced the winner: “And the award goes to—Pei Tingsong!”
Amidst the erupting cheers, the camera suddenly cut to Pei Tingsong. Both men were momentarily stunned, Pei Tingsong still holding Fang Juexia’s hand pressed against his chest. This shot sent the fans into an even greater frenzy. It felt less like an award presentation and more like the “Kiss Cam” during an NBA broadcast—wherever the big screen lands, the person shown has to kiss the person sitting next to them.
The awkward moment froze for a second or two before Fang Juexia suddenly snapped out of it. He swiftly pulled his hand away from Pei Tingsong’s grasp, his neck flushing bright red.
This wasn’t an award ceremony; it felt like a scene from a cheating scandal.
Though slightly bewildered, Pei Tingsong recovered quickly. He stood up with a gentlemanly smile and gestured to his teammates, “Come up with me.”
The others all shook their heads and waved him on, encouraging Pei Tingsong to go alone. With no other choice, the youngest member of the team walked up to the stage by himself. Dressed in a black haute couture suit, he looked quite different from usual—his aura was distinguished, and he seemed considerably more mature.
Taking the trophy, Pei Tingsong embraced the presenter. The latter joked with a smile, “Let’s collaborate next time.” Pei Tingsong responded in English, “My pleasure.”
Standing before the microphone, Pei Tingsong held the trophy in his left hand while keeping his right hand behind his back. After a brief pause of about a second, he broke into a smile. “I’m a little happy because I made a small promise down there just now, and now I’ve won.” He glanced in Fang Juexia’s direction, his smile childlike. “I hope my little wish comes true.”
Hearing Pei Tingsong speak cryptically to him alone at such an important event, Fang Juexia pressed his lips together, trying to ease the embarrassment. Fortunately, no one else understood what he meant—otherwise, the camera would have cut to him again, and his face would surely have flushed red once more.
If he’d known he’d actually win, he should have flatly refused from the start.
“Truthfully, I didn’t prepare an acceptance speech because all the nominees are senior artists—truly outstanding. I came here just to enjoy the performances. But since I’m naturally good at freestyle talk, I’ll just ramble a bit. Everyone, feel free to tune in or out.”
“All the nominated songs are ones I personally love—lyrics worth pondering and deeply valuable. Perhaps the judges chose me more as encouragement for newcomers. Besides, ‘Breaking Through’ is about original musicians breaking out of a besieged environment, embodying an attitude that fears no challenge. So this honor belongs to original music, and to every creator.”
His words rang with sincerity, devoid of forced modesty. The camera panned to the other nominees, where senior artists smiled and applauded, offering support and encouragement to this fresh-faced newcomer.
Pei Tingsong glanced down at the trophy in his hands. “Truthfully, this award belongs to the entire Kaleido team. My teammates are the core of my inspiration and creativity, giving me something to write about. But they didn’t want to come up—probably afraid Ling Yi would cry himself dry.”
The audience laughed again. The camera cut to Ling Yi, who calmly shook his head, insisting he truly wasn’t crying.
Pei Tingsong curved his lips. “Speaking of which, I’d like to thank the person who ‘leaked’ our song earlier. Thanks to you, I was able to write ‘Breaking the Array’—after all, anger is also a source of inspiration.”
His words were bluntly direct. The audience hadn’t expected this twenty-year-old boy, even standing on the BMA award stage, to remain so unapologetically sharp. Yet song-leaking was widely regarded as a despicable act of malicious competition in the music industry. Hearing Pei Tingsong speak so candidly, everyone couldn’t help but applaud and cheer for him.
”But truthfully, the lyrics I personally cherish most in this song were penned by my teammate, Fang Juexia. “Across the flowers and red carpet, he gazed at Fang Juexia with tender eyes. ”Pure anger alone would be too intense as the core of an entire song. It was his lyrics that blended and unified all the emotions, achieving a balance in artistic conception—even adding a touch of Zen-like detachment.”
“He truly possesses extraordinary musical talent.”
In the shot, Fang Juexia smiled modestly, hands pressed together in prayer.
Pei Tingsong withdrew his gaze from his beloved and continued, “As everyone knows, I studied philosophy. My wise ancestor Aristotle once said, ‘A person’s dignity lies not in receiving honor, but in being worthy of it.’”
Hearing this quote here might seem arrogant, but coming from Pei Tingsong, it felt entirely fitting—because he deserved it.
He looked out at the audience. His handsome brow held not pride, but a confidence uniquely his own, an indelible radiance.
” Therefore, my greatest honor isn’t standing here, but that I stood here defending my dignity with originality.“ With that, he placed his previously hidden right hand over his heart and bowed gracefully. ”Thank you all.”
A close-up of him filled the screen. Ling Yi, seated nearby, suddenly spoke up, “Hey? Is that a tattoo on Xiao Pei’s hand?”
Lu Yuan noticed it too. “Yeah, isn’t that where he got injured last time? He said it was from a kitten bite.”
Only now did the slow-witted Fang Juexia realize that on the hand he held before his chest, there was a black arc—right at the web between his thumb and index finger.
No, rather than an arc, it resembled the shape of teeth marks.
No wonder he insisted on wearing gloves and wouldn’t let him remove them, keeping his hands behind his back the entire time on stage. All these little details had their roots.
Only in that final moment of glory did Pei Tingsong press the scar Fang Juexia had bitten into his chest against his own heart in gratitude. It was the humility he’d learned from Fang Juexia, and it was all the love he had.
In that instant, Fang Juexia’s fingertips went numb. The grand award ceremony around him dissolved into a melting oil painting—colors mottled and flowing downward. Only his heart floated, drifting toward Pei Tingsong.
Everything fell silent. He seemed plunged into an illusory night blindness, seeing nothing but a black backdrop. Only Pei Tingsong carried light, smiling as he walked step by step toward him.
When they sat down, he handed his own trophy to Fang Juexia, his gentleness tinged with a hint of childlike reproach. “Wouldn’t it have been nice to go up together?”
“We would have looked so perfect standing up there.”
Perfectly matched.
For Fang Juexia, who grew up reading Cantonese novels, this phrase felt both familiar and deeply romantic. The moment Pei Tingsong spoke it, he imagined himself already standing there with his beloved.
Like opposing yet unified poles, like white anemones and black knights.
They were the perfect match for each other.
Handing the trophy to Ling Yi, Fang Juexia’s gaze didn’t linger on the honor he’d won, but on Pei Tingsong’s right hand. “When did you get that tattoo? You’ve been hiding it from me.”
“The day before yesterday. I actually wanted to wait until after the ceremony to show you.” “ Pei Tingsong made no attempt to conceal it, telling him openly. ”A classmate got his grandmother’s photo tattooed on his chest. I thought it was cool and wanted one too. You know what? The tattoo artist is Ukrainian. He’s an amazing artist, but his English is terrible. Even I, a genius fluent in Chinese, English, and Spanish, could only communicate with him through body language. Oh, and I told him tattoos represent clan symbols in primitive tribes, and they signify coming of age…”
Pei Tingsong chattered on like a child, sharing his experiences with Fang Juexia nonstop. But before he could finish the story about the Ukrainian tattoo artist, Fang Juexia couldn’t help but interrupt.
“Why did you get that?” he remarked on his own drunken, unconscious act. “It’s not cool at all.”
“I think it’s cool.” Pei Tingsong glanced at the tattoo on his wrist. As the singer on stage belted out an intensely emotional ballad, he leaned closer to Fang Juexia. “Look down.”
Obeying his instruction, Fang Juexia lowered his head. He saw Pei Tingsong pull his left foot closer, slightly tugging at his pants to reveal his ankle. Fang Juexia froze. There was another tattoo on his ankle—a black cross.
It was a prank he’d pulled during a meeting, hiding under the table and drawing it on Pei Tingsong with a marker.
His heart melted completely at this little secret his young lover had tried so hard to hide. “How… how did you get this done too…”
Pei Tingsong’s lips curved upward as he leaned closer and whispered, “Because I wanted to keep every trace you left on me.”
He smiled softly, tracing the bite mark on his wrist—a tattoo he’d had meticulously recreated from a photo of the scabbed wound. The tattooing process was painful, reminding him of the sensation when Fang Juexia bit him, and transporting him back to that first night alone together.
“You were born with a beautiful birthmark. It’s a gift from God, allowing everyone who sees you to recognize you at a glance.” He brushed Fang Juexia’s hair aside, revealing the faint pink mark. “My skin is ordinary, nothing special. Fortunately, I can still carve the marks you left on me. Anyway…”
Beneath the stage lights, the audience seats remained dimly lit. In that hazy vision, Pei Tingsong’s eyes were so vivid, reflecting the utmost loyalty of a young boy.
“I only want you to recognize me too.”
