The BMA awards effect undoubtedly made Kaleido the biggest winner this winter.
Thanks to their debut stage at the awards ceremony, their winter single dominated the competitive year-end charts with thirteen consecutive wins, and sales soared to break Kaleido’s own previous sales record for male groups.
With no time to rest, they immediately plunged into preparations for an extensive concert tour. Originally slated to kick off in Beijing, venue coordination issues forced the rescheduling of the premiere show to June 3rd in Guangzhou. During the six-month preparation period, Kaleido completely rearranged every song and invited world-class stage design and backup dance teams to participate. Every member poured their heart and soul into creating Kaleido’s very first concert. Xingtu Entertainment also arranged a dedicated film crew to document not only the journey of their first tour from inception to reality, but also the sweat and effort poured in by these young men.
Fang Juexia had imagined their concert days long ago, yet never anticipated this moment would arrive so swiftly. Sometimes, drifting in and out of sleep during rehearsals, it all felt like a dream.
During preparations, an incident occurred. Urged by Cheng Qiang, Fang Juexia—who’d nearly withdrawn from public life to practice—went live solo in the rehearsal room. Uncomfortable with jokes or banter, he asked fans to share recent events.
The comments streamed by rapidly, but one message caught his attention. It said the person was deeply saddened, feeling torn inside every day, enduring great torment.
The user ID was a string of numbers, and coincidentally, Fang Juexia had an uncanny memory for numbers.
“Why are you feeling down? If you’re comfortable, please tell me what happened,” Fang Juexia said earnestly to the screen. “I’m not great at cheering people up, but I’m a decent listener.”
But during the two-hour livestream, that string of numbers never appeared again. Fang Juexia pondered it for a long time and even shared the incident with Pei Tingsong. Pei Tingsong could only offer comfort, suggesting perhaps that fan was just having a bad day.
Two weeks later, a letter arrived at Star Chart. It was a handwritten note from the fan behind the numerical ID from the livestream. The writer was a middle schooler experiencing gender dysphoria—a boy by biological sex but identifying as a girl. In the letter, she wrote that she had realized at a very young age that she was different from the boys around her. She didn’t like basketball; she loved dancing and singing, dresses, long hair, and cosmetics. But to avoid being an outsider, she worked hard to mimic other boys, striving to shed the label of “effeminate.” She thought this would make her life easier.
It didn’t. As her self-awareness grew clearer each day, she found the false persona she’d built increasingly unbearable.
At the letter’s end, she wrote:
“I don’t know if Brother Juexia will see what I’ve written, but I’m grateful to have someone who listens. It reminds me it’s not time to give up on myself yet.”
After reading the letter, Fang Juexia lay awake all night.
The next day, he composed a song and tried his hand at writing lyrics for the first time. When he showed it to Pei Tingsong, he simply smiled and said, “You should sing this to them at the concert. It’s not just for that child—it’s for yourself, and for everyone.”
In late April, Xingtu and Kaleido’s official Weibo announced the band’s first tour online, releasing a poster showing the six members from behind with the concert theme “Ego.”
Ever since news of the June 3rd Guangzhou show spread online, fans eagerly prepared to snatch tickets. Little did they know that on the day tickets went on sale, they sold out in a single second—even Xingtu staff couldn’t secure any.
Fang Juexia wrote a reply to the child with gender dysphoria, enclosing a concert ticket.
Summer arrived, bringing the clamor of cicadas. Guangzhou’s heat wasn’t the scorching kind that ignited people; instead, a sticky, humid haze enveloped the verdant city.
“Hot,” Pei Tingsong murmured, leaning against Fang Juexia. Even in summer, his skin remained cool to the touch, offering a comforting sensation.
Fang Juexia wore a mask, an oversized white T-shirt, white shorts, and a Klein blue fisherman’s hat that covered his entire face. Only his eyes peered out when he looked up—glaring, but not pushing Pei Tingsong away.
“Who told you to wear black? Of course you’re hot in the sun.” ” Ling Yi teased from the side.
“What’s wrong with black?” Pei Tingsong shot back. “At least it doesn’t attract peacocks.”
“Juexia, look at him!”
“I don’t want to look at him either.”
“Wow.”
“The life of a scorned grapevine~”
“Cut it out—fans might snap pics.”
Upon arriving in Guangzhou, the six members rushed straight to the concert venue for rehearsals until 11 PM, skipping their hotel.
“Is this lighting okay, Juexia?” Cheng Qiang repeatedly checked the stage brightness with him.
Fang Juexia nodded. “Fine. I can see.”
To prevent Fang Juexia from tripping and injuring himself on stage, Xingtu invested heavily in lighting design, ensuring his vision remained clear every second he was on stage. Both Cheng Qiang and Chen Zhengyun hoped to reduce Fang Juexia’s practice load by optimizing the stage setup, but he was accustomed to his rigorous training regimen. Even with the stage now sufficiently bright, he still insisted on practicing twice as hard as others.
Rain fell on the morning of the concert’s opening day. Fang Juexia worried fans might get soaked arriving, but thankfully it stopped by ten o’clock, cooling the air considerably. They even paid out of pocket for fan giveaways—preparing iced milk tea, ice cream, and wet wipes printed with their cartoon characters for every attendee. Each fan would receive a set upon ticket verification at 3 PM.
Fans flooded Weibo with photos of their gifts, sparking waves of envy.
Over ten thousand fans filled the concert venue. Huge screens hung above the stage—two on each side—clearly showing their every move.
Each fan’s seat held a Klein blue kaleidoscope light stick—their second surprise. Seated and buzzing with excitement, they reviewed their cheering plan while awaiting Kaleido’s arrival. Fifteen minutes before the scheduled start, the screens unexpectedly displayed their bare faces, completely makeup-free.
Fang Juexia, positioned in the center, adjusted the camera lens and smiled. “Hello everyone! You should all be seated in the venue by now.”
The entire venue erupted instantly, screams nearly drowning out the voices on the big screen.
On screen, Ling Yi squeezed next to Fang Juexia and wrapped his arms around his neck. “Hey! Did you get to eat the ice cream we bought? I just had the exact same one too.”
“You ate two servings? Really?” Pei Tingsong sat down on Fang Juexia’s other side, his hand resting casually on his shoulder. “Aren’t you worried your stomach will hurt when you go on stage later?”
Fans in the venue couldn’t help but scream again at this sight.
“Stop picking on Ling Yi all the time.” Fang Juexia turned the camera to capture He Ziyan and Lu Yuan, who were doing handstands on the sidelines. “What are you two doing?”
The venue erupted instantly at the sight of the handstand duo’s abs.
Jiang Miao appeared carrying a glass of water. “They bet me the rain wouldn’t stop before midnight. They lost, so now they’re doing handstands.”
Fang Juexia squatted down with a smile, the camera zooming in on their flushed faces as they held the pose. He admonished them with deadpan seriousness, “Don’t bet with the captain on a whim. He’s a gambling god.”
A phone alarm rang on the floor, finally prompting the upside-down pair to stand up. He Ziyan walked straight to the sofa and flopped onto Pei Tingsong.
“Hey!” Pei Tingsong, pinned down, was thoroughly annoyed. But Lu Yuan followed suit, landing on top of He Ziyan. “Come play Jenga!”
“Coming!” Ling Yi deliberately took a running start, then plopped down onto Lu Yuan with a thud.
“Get off me, all of you!”
Fang Juexia and Jiang Miao sat on the floor in front of the sofa, chatting casually while holding up their camera.
“What time does it start again?”
“Six o’clock. We can catch some sleep first.”
Ling Yi, the bullied kid who’d turned the tables, was so happy he wished he weighed 200 pounds. “Awesome! I’m sleeping right here on top!”
“…You guys just wait.”
The chaotic pile of unknown creatures behind him grew noisy. Fang Juexia glanced at his watch and held up his index finger. “Shh, time to start the countdown.”
He stared at his wrist and called out precisely: “Ten—”
The six figures on screen shouted together: “Nine—”
The entire fanbase joined in: “Eight!”
Pei Tingsong, pinned at the bottom, raised his hand weakly yet stubbornly to signal the number, “Seven—”
“Six—”
The screen suddenly went dark, displaying the countdown digits, but their voices remained.
“Three—”
Spark-like stage effects appeared along the edges of the four-sided stage.
“Two—”
Blue flames projected onto the air, cluster after cluster.
“One!”
The flames extinguished instantly.
On the pitch-black stage, a distorted, amplified voice echoed—the most familiar spoken line.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to flight Kaleido. Next station is…”
The entire audience shouted, “Future!!”
The amplified voice abruptly transformed into concentric ripples of electronic sound effects. A jumping lyric projection appeared at the center of the stage.
“Say hello to my EGO.”
Six spotlights suddenly descended from above. Six boys leaped from the stage lift, landing steadily on the stage before their long-awaited fans. The venue lights flooded the space, and their faces appeared on the giant screen. The opening track was their debut song, “Kaleido.” The re-arranged drumbeat delivered an even more electrifying impact, instantly igniting the entire venue.
Especially during the chorus, ten thousand voices joined in unison, creating a battle cry atmosphere.
“We gonna fight! Fight! Fight!
With the face in the mirror
Yes we’ll fight! Fight! Fight!”
The kaleidoscope light sticks shone intensely, weaving the vast audience into a dreamlike Klein blue ocean. The fans’ chorus was so powerful it nearly drowned out Kaleido’s own sound. Everyone was immersed in the music and lights, even though this was only the first song.
”Standing shoulder to shoulder, we’ll never retreat
Fight! Fight! Fight!
Embrace the fall amidst the gale
Fight! Fight! Fight!
After the storm, you’ll remember me.”
Finally, Xia Qing’s clear, steady, and sustained high note concluded the battle hymn’s atmosphere.
“Born for passion.”
Overcome by emotion, many fans in the audience couldn’t hold back tears after this song. A year and a half ago, they had persevered through a malfunctioning sound system to finish this very song on stage, introducing themselves to countless listeners.
Now, they finally had their own concert.
Following the opener, they delivered three consecutive songs from Chapter One, performing nonstop without even a break. Only after completing the first four songs did Kaleido finally pause to speak.
After over ten minutes of nonstop performance, sweat glistened on everyone’s faces. Jiang Miao took water and tissues from the staff who had come on stage and distributed them to the group.
“Hello, everyone,” He Ziyan said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a tissue. “It’s so hot.”
Fans in the front rows immediately seized the moment, chanting in unison, “Take it off!”
He Ziyan listened for a while before Fang Juexia relayed the fans’ message: “They want you to take your clothes off.”
Hearing this, He Ziyan’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t miss the chance to play along with the joke: “Whoa, that’s a bit much.”
“Hahahaha!”
Pei Tingsong took a sip of water and handed the bottle to Fang Juexia. Fang took it and drank directly from the mouth, only for the fans below to suddenly erupt in screams.
Jiang Miao began chatting, “Thank you all for coming to our first concert. After three and a half years since our debut, we finally have our first tour. It’s truly exciting.”
“We are too!”
Hearing the fans’ voices, Jiang Miao smiled. “None of us slept last night—we all had insomnia.”
Lu Yuan nodded. “So we played Landlords at the hotel.”
Fans below the stage shouted, “Who won the most?”
“Me.” Xiao Pei raised his hand with a hint of pride, shamelessly tooting his own horn, “A talented person excels at everything.”
Ling Yi immediately shot him down, “That’s because Juexia didn’t join in at first during practice. When he came back, he just watched Xiao Pei play and even helped him count cards!”
The audience erupted in another wave of teasing screams.
Lu Yuan chuckled, “Oh, and we also learned a few Cantonese phrases from Juexia.”
With that, they began introducing themselves one by one in terribly broken Cantonese. It felt like a live sketch comedy show, with Fang Juexia correcting every single line they uttered.
Pei Tingsong quipped self-deprecatingly, “If this keeps up, we’ll really get an invitation to Happy Comedy People.”
“Hahahaha!”
“Alright, next we’ll sing a quieter song.” The lift platform behind them rose again, lifting a massive white piano. Crew members also brought up an acoustic guitar. Jiang Miao teased, “Guess which song it is?”
Lu Yuan immediately offered a hint, pointing skyward. “It’s getting dark.”
The fans instantly caught on. “Night Walk!!”
“Correct.” The members dispersed onto the extended walkways surrounding the stage, mingling deeply among the fans. Fang Juexia walked alone to the piano, while Pei Tingsong, holding the guitar, sat at the edge of the stage. He plucked the strings and glanced back at Fang Juexia.
The two began the accompaniment in perfect harmony.
The solo version of “Night Walk” felt like two people drawing closer in mutual, unspoken affection. The six-member version, however, was more like lovers holding hands as they strolled along the summer night beach.
“Green algae blooms wildly along the coastline,
Just like my fantasies about you.
Fireworks suddenly burst into bloom,
My desire to kiss you has nowhere to hide.”
As Fang Juexia sang these lines seated at the piano, fireworks erupted across the night sky. Though merely projections, they were strikingly lifelike—as if the audience and the six boys singing on stage were truly immersed in a summer fireworks festival.
They gazed upward at the fireworks, at the six beautiful faces on the screen. Each firework’s sound effect struck their hearts, every second meticulously prepared by these boys. They responded to this precious sentiment with a harmonious chorus, until the fireworks gradually faded away, until Pei Tingsong, strumming his guitar, tenderly sang the final line.
“You blame me for being good at lying, I say summer is so long.”
Summer had arrived.
May it linger just a little longer.
After the night tour concluded, the six members went backstage to change. The big screen began playing behind-the-scenes footage of their concert: scenes of them discussing new arrangements in the recording studio, dancing all night in the practice room, and sleeping on the floor.
Every shot was a moment fans wished to treasure forever.
As the behind-the-scenes footage concluded, Ling Yi appeared in a white suit on a platform that steadily rose—his solo segment. Each member chose their own solo song, and he selected his favorite English track.
Ling Yi’s voice was crystal clear, especially in the high notes. As he ascended higher, projections of blue whales surrounded him, like a little prince stepping out of a fairy tale. At the song’s conclusion, the giant whale shattered, transforming into countless falling points of light.
Fans couldn’t resist reaching out to touch the glow.
“Thank you all,” Ling Yi said from the elevated stage, chatting with them. “The theme of this concert is ‘ego’—self, right?”
“Yes!”
“This song is about not being afraid to face your true self and believing in your own power. That’s what it means.” Ling Yi leaned against the railing with a smile. “Don’t think I’m always just smiling and laughing. I’ve had my share of confusion too. During that time, I listened to this song often, and it gave me so much strength. So I hope that by singing it myself, I can give you some strength too.”
As he chatted about his past singing competition days, he stepped down from the elevated platform. Suddenly, inspiration struck. “See? That’s exactly how I was back then. After achieving some kind of honor, you might find yourself trapped up there—unable to leave, unable to reach further. So you have to learn to come down first.”
“Return to the starting point, rediscover yourself, only then can you venture into a wider world.”
After speaking, Ling Yi reverted to his usual self. “Ah, I’m so philosophical! I should have studied philosophy.”
The fans burst into laughter again at his joke.
“Who’s next for the solo?” Ling Yi teased, listening to the crowd shout out the other five members’ names. Just as he was about to speak, a wave of screams erupted.
Turning around, he saw Lu Yuan had already taken the stage. Ling Yi fumed, “Hey, what’s with you? Zero teamwork. I wasn’t even done with my intro!”
“You talk too much,” Lu Yuan replied, tilting his chin. “There’s the exit. Go ahead.”
“You’re kicking me out,” Ling Yi pouted. “Fine, I’m leaving.” With that, he actually walked over to the lift platform, pretending to wipe away tears as he waved goodbye.
Lu Yuan’s solo was a dance he’d choreographed for a week, performed with fifteen backup dancers. It blended multiple dance styles, creating a spectacular stage effect. After the dance, he announced exciting news: the dance troupe he co-founded with several choreographers would soon hold its first public performance, followed by competitions worldwide.
“This is my deepest, most primal wish. After all these twists and turns, it’s finally coming true.”
“It’s my ego!”
The fans below genuinely rejoiced for him, echoing his words in a resounding shout.
Following the two solos, the entire group reunited on stage to perform “Ice War,” “The Hunt,” and “Xmas.” Immediately after, the others departed. Jiang Miao shed his jacket to reveal a wide-sleeved robe beneath, sitting at the center of the ethereal stage created by dry ice. He performed a solo guzheng piece, “General’s Command,” its crisp notes building the atmosphere layer by layer to its peak.
Under the spotlight, Jiang Miao’s slender hand rose as the final note fell. Two additional spotlights appeared on stage, one left and one right, illuminating He Ziyan and Pei Tingsong. The stage lights instantly burst into brilliance, silver and blue hues intertwining and flashing rhythmically with He Ziyan’s beat.
Holographic projections of blue lyrics appeared overhead with a 3D effect, delivering a visually explosive spectacle.
Pei Tingsong took the stage, performing remixes of “Rap God” and “Lose Yourself” over He Ziyan’s electronic beats. Finally showcasing his astonishing lyrical prowess at the concert, his fastest delivery even outpaced the projected lyrics.
The two most aggressive members of the team collaborating ignited the entire venue, just as fiercely as ever.
At the end, fans throughout the venue continued chanting their names. The four-sided stage went completely dark, and the overhead screens also blacked out.
Fans waited in discussion, anticipating a surprise. “Is it time for Jue Xia’s solo?”
“Looks like it!”
The screen lit up again, showing Jiang Miao carefully removing each of his fake fingernails used for playing the guzheng. His voice echoed through the venue.
“They said you shouldn’t waste money on useless things like this. Nobody listens to guzheng anymore.”
The scene shifted to Lu Yuan dancing in the practice room.
“They said you should become a choreographer. Joining a boy band is such a waste. Or are you just after quick money?”
Ling Yi appears in vocal class, practicing high notes over and over.
“They said your looks are nothing special, you have no real talent, singing won’t put food on the table.”
The scene shifts again to He Ziyan sitting before a drum pad.
“They said you should invent a more respectable family background.”
Fans in the audience were already on the verge of tears. The big screen showed Pei Tingsong’s face as he casually ran his fingers through his hair.
“They told me to give up my dream of being a hip-hop artist, to learn how to become a ‘mature’ adult like them.” Pei Tingsong curled the corners of his mouth. “I told them to fuck off.”
The voices of five people overlapped, along with recordings from countless others. Projected onto the stage, these words formed layers upon layers of black text on white paper seals, suffocatingly dense.
[Don’t do this, don’t become that. You’re ugly, you’re ordinary. You should be more like so-and-so, someone more likable.]
[You must grow up, mature, change yourself.]
[People like you truly disgust me.]
[Learn to shut up, learn to endure.]
[Why don’t you just die!]
[How dare you talk about dreams? You don’t deserve it.]
[You’re utterly repulsive.]
[You’re completely insignificant.]
The stage lights up, revealing Fang Juexia seated at the center, holding a guitar. His gentle smile appears on the large screen. After adjusting the microphone, he begins, “This world is filled with so many voices, right?”
Fans roared his name, a tidal wave of cheers.
“I grew up amidst these voices too.” Fang Juexia strummed the strings casually, his cool tone suited for confession. “You all know—many of my innate conditions conflicted with the dreams I pursued.”
“So everyone tried to stop me from chasing my dreams, because they all thought it impossible. Living within the confines of those three words, ‘impossible,’ I spent a long time practicing how to be normal, adapting to the darkness, avoiding mistakes.”
“So I developed a habit: avoiding mistakes. In doing so, I lost the ability to feel the world, locking myself in a tiny, dark room like a calculator. To achieve this impossible feat, I would give up anything.”
Fang Juexia’s fingers paused on the strings as he gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “But humans are social creatures.”
“Living within this social group is like running a shop.”
As he spoke, the projection shifted, transforming into rows of cartoonish little shops, side by side.
Fang Juexia continued, “To keep our businesses running smoothly, we try every trick in the book. The simplest approach is comparison—if the shop next door is doing well, we strive to decorate ours similarly, at least meeting standard expectations. To attract more customers, we switch to popular merchandise, even staying open 24 hours.”
These words suddenly struck a chord with many fans in the audience.
Holding kaleidoscopes in their hands, transformed into countless points of light, they themselves were like these struggling shops.
Fang Juexia continued, “But what we don’t realize is that the shop across the street is doing the same. Day after day, it changes itself through comparison, observing every other store except itself, operating by imitation.” At this point, he looked into the camera, his eyes like a spring pool. “So then, who exactly is the model of correctness?”
“No one knows. It’s a paradox. A paradox about business.”
Fang Juexia smiled softly, head bowed. “In the end, we become alike. We converge. Every shop on this street is more or less the same. People in this society are like that too. But at least this way, we can keep our businesses running. We can keep living.”
“Not long ago, I received a letter from a struggling small shop. She was on the verge of closing down, so she shared her story with me. It moved me deeply. I wrote the next song and replied to her, saying this.”
Fang Juexia gazed into the camera, speaking softly, “Hello. My youth was spent the same way—constantly correcting deviations, minimizing errors, preserving myself while edging closer to what was right. I feared mistakes, knowing this world has no margin for error. One slip-up could mean closing down.”
“Now I just want to say, screw it.” He laughed, his crinkling eyes and birthmark merging into a crescent-shaped beauty.
“Whether I go under or stay open, I refuse to chase only what’s right anymore.” He lowered his head, cradling his guitar as he strummed the intro. The minor key melody was gentle and warm as he spoke his final line: “I’m going to be the strangest shop around.”
“Today’s sign still isn’t hung right
No ‘Welcome’ sign, but there’s a hug
Inside it’s dark, be careful not to trip over butterflies
No need to turn on the lights, fireflies always shine bright early”
Fang Juexia sang softly, occasionally glancing up at everyone with a resigned smile.
“Thank you to every customer who visits
But save your comments for yourself
If you don’t like it, feel free to browse next door”
“It’s okay if we’re closed today.”
Suddenly, the stage filled with people in giant costume suits—koalas, giraffes—wobbling along with little baskets brimming with candy.
“Kind souls get freebies.
Kids are always welcome.
Just weird enough to defy logic—
But this is who I am.”
Amidst Fang Juexia’s warm vocals, they showered colorful candies upon all the fans.
“Misplaced merchandise can be quite amusing,
Shelf searches reveal hidden treasures,
Mislabeled items hold special meaning,
Who says proper branding isn’t monotonous?”
Suddenly, countless projected starlights filled the night sky. At the center of the stage stood a small shop with a crooked signboard. Fang Juexia, guitar in hand, seemed seated right before its door. All the little animals gathered back around him.
“Why is this shop so peculiar?
How could you possibly be loved by everyone?”
Fang Juexia pressed the guitar strings, lifted his eyes, and sang the final line.
“But the most frequent customer said
He loved the real me best.”
Author’s Note: ————Lyrics Warning————
《The Odd Shop》
Composer: Fang Juexia
Lyricist: Fang Juexia
Arranged by: Pei Tingsong
Final interpretation rights: Zhi Chu
Today’s signboard still hangs askew
No “Welcome” sign, but hugs are offered
Inside it’s dark—watch out for tripping over butterflies
No need to turn on the lights—fireflies always glow bright
Thanks to every customer who visits
But leave your feedback for yourself
If you don’t like it, feel free to browse next door
Closed today? No big deal
Kind souls get freebies
Kids are always welcome
Weird to the point of defying logic
But that’s just who I am
Mismatched merchandise? That’s part of the fun
Discover hidden treasures while browsing shelves.
Mislabeled items? They hold special meaning.
Properly branded? Who says they aren’t all the same?
Thank you to every customer who visits.
But keep your feedback for yourself.
If you don’t like it, feel free to browse next door.
Closed today? No worries.
Gentle souls get freebies.
Kids are always welcome.
Just weird beyond reason.
But that’s who I am.
Why is this shop so peculiar?
How could you possibly charm everyone?
But my most frequent visitor says,
He loves the real me best.
