Chapter 109

After finishing the song, Fang Juexia looked up and saw many fans in the audience crying.

“Don’t be sad,” he said, holding his guitar. “You’re all the cutest little shops.”

With that, Fang Juexia stood up and tossed the guitar pick from his hand. “This is for you.”

A wave of screams erupted from the crowd. Fang Juexia, who had already turned to walk toward the center of the stage, paused and turned back. “Be careful, everyone.”

More fans wanted to hear him speak more, as he rarely talked during performances. “Talk to us! Talk to us!”

But Fang Juexia, hearing their calls, only smiled sheepishly. “Today’s quota for talking is already used up. Can’t keep the shop open any longer.”

“Hahahaha!”

“I need to go change clothes,” Zhui Guang, who had been leading the way in front of Fang Juexia toward the lift platform, said. “You guys watch the video for a bit. Wait for us.”

“Got it!!”

The lift carried him down slowly as new behind-the-scenes footage appeared on the big screen—scenes of them creating songs together.

“How’s this beat?” He Ziyan sat at the control console, fingers still tapping the electronic keyboard.

Pei Tingsong swayed to the rhythm. “Great.”

“What about adding this drum part?”

“This drum part is a bit…”

Fang Juexia, curled up on the sofa, raised his hand. He hummed a melodic rhythm along with the beat, seamlessly transitioning into the chorus: “Dadadadala… Listen to my song, ‘Break the Formation’.”

The room erupted the moment the a cappella line hit. After the screams died down, everyone chanted the name of Battle Song 2.0.

“Break the Formation! Break the Formation! Break the Formation! Break the Formation…”

On screen, He Ziyan finally stood up after finishing his drop section, stumbling over to collapse between Fang Juexia and Pei Tingsong on the couch. He unlocked his phone and checked the time for the camera.

“5:30 AM. Finally done.”

Pei Tingsong, staring up at the ceiling, mumbled a few indistinct words. He Ziyan nudged Fang Juexia with his knee. Fang Juexia, who had been humming a tune with his eyes closed, interrupted by the nudge, said, “It’s fine, he’s just so tired he’s speaking Spanish.”

The video camera wobbled, suddenly locking onto the ceiling, though their voices remained audible.

He Ziyan asked, “Does rapping ‘Break the Formation’ in Spanish feel like your mouth’s on fire?”

“I wanna hear it,” Fang Juexia said.

It ended with Pei Tingsong’s sigh.

The darkened stage instantly filled with beams of red light, cascading down from above and lining the edges. Fans knew the performance was about to begin, their excitement palpable. A single white spotlight pierced the center of the stage, illuminating the massive red drum at its heart. Pei Tingsong appeared from behind, clad entirely in red, drumsticks bound with crimson ribbons in hand.

“Thud—”

He struck the first beat. The resonant drum sound echoed powerfully throughout the vast venue.

With the second beat, a new ring of lights illuminated the stage, revealing over a hundred backup dancers clad in armor and wielding shields. Forming a square formation, they raised their shields. Viewed from above, the arrangement spelled out a word—Break Formation.

The final strike echoed as the drumstick fell.

Ling Yi’s Peking Opera opening suddenly began: “Suddenly, the clang of golden drums and the shrill blast of horns awaken my ambition to shatter the heavens!”

Pei Tingsong turned, his face concealed by a demon mask.

“What of that clown of a foreign king? My single blade can withstand a million soldiers!”

He stepped forward from before the great drum, the ranks of soldiers parting to either side. Finally, five more red-clad youths appeared at the stage center, each wearing a demon mask.

Music surged as a hundred dancing soldiers formed a battlefield tableau. Amidst the clanging swords and flashing blades, enhanced by projection technology creating a sandstorm arena, the six dancers broke through the encirclement, charging out of the blood-soaked formation.

This was the most spectacular live performance of “Breaking the Formation” yet.

“Don’t ask about the journey ahead—just listen to my song of breaking the formation!”

The drop hit, and the entire venue lit up in Klein blue. Amidst the pounding electronic beats, fans’ adrenaline surged as another open-air dance party erupted.

The solo section retained the six-person dance from the BMA performance, but with a new twist. Each member wielded a sword, performing a synchronized sword dance within the formation while backup dancers outside executed their own group choreography—a breathtaking spectacle.

The choreography for the final chorus also evolved, seamlessly transitioning into the sword dance until Fang Juexia delivered the song’s closing line:

“My path is where no path exists, let your ambushes come.”

The six sheathed their swords and removed their masks, lifting their heads with a smile.

The entire venue chanted their names, as if truly welcoming young heroes returning in triumph.

After the performance, dressed in their stage costumes, they chatted with fans: “Wasn’t this stage super cool?”

“Yes!”

Lu Yuan turned to face the backup dancers and extended his hand. “First, let’s thank our backup dance team! Thank you all, teachers!”

The six of them turned together and bowed deeply toward the backup dancers.

The hundred backup dancers bowed back, smiling as they exited the stage.

“They worked incredibly hard, dancing for us in such thick costumes on this scorching day,” Jiang Miao said into the mic. “Without them, this stage wouldn’t have been nearly as impactful.”

Ling Yi nodded, fanning himself by tugging at his collar. “It really was unbearably hot.”

Fans below the stage started teasing them again. “Take it off! Take it off!”

“You asked for it,” He Ziyan teased them deliberately. “Then we’ll take them off.”

Lu Yuan pretended to grab his arm to stop him. “Bro, Fire, don’t do that. It’s not right.”

Pei Tingsong snorted. “Tell him to take it off.”

“Fine, I’ll take it off.” He Ziyan acted on his words immediately, stripping off his shirt. The fans’ screams hit a sudden screeching halt, turning into boos.

Because underneath his Hanfu, he was wearing a blue short-sleeved shirt and denim shorts.

“Cheater!”

“I didn’t deceive you,” He Ziyan countered. “You only said to take off our clothes. You didn’t specify what we had to wear underneath.”

“That’s called a setup.”

“Every day is a battle of wits with Domino.”

Fang Juexia also removed his own clothes, placing them on the ground. He then gathered everyone else’s discarded garments into a pile and set them aside.

They chatted for a while, sitting on stage and singing a few ballads from their album, gradually easing the tension. The final song was “Swimming Through This Sea.” The projection technology enveloped the entire stage in a sea of blue, making it seem as though they were performing within a cube of condensed seawater, strumming guitars and singing.

Suddenly, childhood photos and videos of them appeared on the big screen—adorable little kids. The production team thoughtfully labeled each with their name and age. Every time a cute child appeared, the fans screamed.

“Swimming across this sea, we’ll become better children.”

As the final line faded, the projected ocean dissipated. Only half an hour remained before the end.

“We’re about to start the prize draw! We’ll randomly select one lucky fan to come on stage for an interactive segment.”

The moment Jiang Miao finished speaking, the venue erupted in the loudest screams yet.

“Wow, another game testing luck,” Fang Juexia suddenly joked. “Then little Pei should opt out.”

“Hahahahaha!”

Pei Tingsong tilted his head and smiled at him. “Now that you mention it, I absolutely have to participate.” With that, he strode toward the stage extension, Ling Yi and Lu Yuan unable to stop him. Fang Juexia looked surprised. “You’re really going down there?”

“Sure.” Pei Tingsong descended, escorted by several bodyguards into the depths of the fan seating area, triggering waves of screams. “Today, I’m going to be the lucky one.” He then instructed the lighting technician, “No spotlight on me. Let me be just an ordinary audience member.”

“Pei Tingsong is getting more and more silly day by day.” ” Ling Yi teased.

“Hahahaha!”

Fang Juexia glanced at Jiang Miao, but the team leader reassured her, “It’s fine, the bodyguards are with him.” Jiang Miao then kicked off the process, “Originally we were going to pick one lucky fan, but now that Xiao Pei’s down there, to boost his chances of winning, let’s pick two.”

“Who wants to pick the first one?”

Lu Yuan raised his hand. “I’ll do it.”

The photographer’s camera began scanning the entire venue. The big screen flashed with faces—all their fans. Lu Yuan covered his eyes with his hand as he stood on stage.

“You can call ‘cut’ now, Teacher Yuan.”

“No, wait a bit longer. I have a feeling it’ll catch Pei Tingsong. Photographer, once you get him, run fast, got it?”

“Hahahaha!”

Feeling it was about right, Lu Yuan finally called out, “Cut!”

The entire venue erupted in screams. The image on the big screen showed a little boy waving a kaleidoscope light stick.

“Wow, it’s a kid!” Ling Yi smiled happily. “So cute.”

Jiang Miao offered kindly, “His mom can come up too, it’s okay.”

Little did anyone expect that the child refused to let his mother follow him. Like a little adult, he walked out alone. Every fan he passed smiled at him and patted his head. The little guy made his way to the edge of the stage, trying to climb up by himself. But he was too small to even reach the edge. In the end, Lu Yuan had to go over and lift him up.

“Here comes our little lucky charm.” Lu Yuan set him down, and everyone crouched to talk to him.

“What’s your name?” Ling Yi asked, holding the microphone to his mouth.

The boy still had a blue “K” sticker on his cheek. Pinching his right index finger with his left hand, he said in a babyish voice, “My name is Qiqi.” He then added his age: “I’m five years old.”

He Ziyan mimicked his voice: “I’m twenty-five years old.”

Jiang Miao joked, “We should call you Uncle.”

To everyone’s surprise, Qi Qi actually called him Uncle.

“He picks up on jokes better than I do,” Fang Juexia chuckled.

Ling Yi ruffled his hair. “Are you our little fan?”

Qiqi nodded. “My mom is too, and my sister is too.”

Lu Yuan simply sat down on the floor. Staff came up from the side of the stage, handing him a sheet of Klein blue paper and a pen.

“Qiqi, big brother has a question for you,” Lu Yuan said. “Have you ever thought about what kind of person you’ll become when you grow up?”

Qiqi gave a long, adorable “Mm-hmm,” and the entire audience laughed along.

He Ziyan remarked, “That means he’s thinking about it right now.”

“Hahaha.”

“I think, I think…” Qiqi started, then hesitated. Fang Juexia found him adorable and smiled encouragingly, “It’s okay, just say whatever comes to mind.”

Qiqi reached up toward the sky with his hand, gesturing. “Like that… the kind that flies in the sky and can pilot airplanes…”

“Oh,” Ling Yi understood, “a pilot.”

“Yes.” Qiqi nodded emphatically.

“So cool.” He Ziyan gave him a thumbs-up. “You’re the coolest kid here.”

Just then, Lu Yuan handed him a piece of paper, showing it to all the fans through the camera lens. “Now, Qiqi, look. Let’s make a promise, okay? Big brother will write a sentence for you—Qiqi will become a pilot someday.”

Qiqi nodded. “Okay.”

“Now write your name underneath, okay?”

Encouraged by Lu Yuan, the little boy carefully wrote his name on the paper, stroke by stroke. Finally, he folded the paper into a paper airplane and handed it to Qiqi.

“You can become anyone you want to be someday, so keep working hard.”

Carrying their promise, Qiqi returned to her mother’s side.

On stage, Kaleido waved at him.

“Alright, time for our second lucky audience member.”

“Still no trace of this Pei.”

“Hahahahahaha!”

Jiang Miao glanced at Fang Juexia. “Let Juexia do it this time.”

Fang Juexia obediently nodded, stepping between them and covering his eyes. When he heard the signal to start, he silently counted to ten in his mind.

The fans seemed to be screaming nonstop, making all sorts of noises, but he remained undisturbed, counting steadily.

…Three, two, one.

“Stop.”

Even the usually composed Fang Juexia couldn’t wait to see which lucky fan he’d chosen. But the moment he opened his eyes and looked at the big screen…

He froze.

On the screen appeared his grandfather.

No one had informed him of this beforehand. Fang Juexia had even assumed it was just a pre-recorded segment, but the backdrop behind his grandfather was undeniably the live concert venue.

He turned blankly, looking down at the sea of blue lights below, straining to find that figure.

A spotlight descended, landing precisely on the person he was searching for. His vision was blurry, unable to see clearly. Everything was hazy, like a dream.

The other members held microphones and said, “Please welcome our lucky fan to the stage.”

Under the spotlight, Pei Tingsong supported his grandfather as they emerged from the audience, walking toward the stage. Then, step by step, they advanced along the long catwalk toward Fang Juexia.

Their figures grew clearer, yet Fang Juexia’s own eyes blurred.

Only when his grandfather truly stood before him did tears finally fall.

Fang Juexia didn’t want to cry at all, especially not in front of his grandfather. How he wished he could be a strong enough child in his eyes—someone who could shoulder everything alone, someone who could fulfill the fantastical dreams he had promised.

He didn’t want to disappoint him.

Grandfather took the phone from Pei Tingsong, his face as stern as it had been years ago. Seeing Fang Juexia standing before him, choked up and unable to speak, he spoke first. “Shouldn’t you be asking me if I ever thought about what kind of person I would become?”

Still reeling from surprise, Fang Juexia froze momentarily at the question. Seeing Pei Tingsong smile at him beside his grandfather, he nodded and asked, just as Lu Yuan had asked that child before, “What… what kind of person will you become?”

“Twenty-four summers ago, the most extraordinary child in the world was born. “ Grandfather looked at him, his eyes holding an almost imperceptible tenderness. ”I would name him Juexia. I would become his grandfather.”

Tears welled up once more. Fang Juexia’s hand holding the microphone dropped as he lowered his head, his shoulders trembling slightly. The entire venue of fans chanted his name, tears streaming down their faces alongside his.

Fang Juexia was a man who stuck to his path, rarely dreaming—at least never dreaming of this. He’d never imagined he’d one day have a concert truly his own, much less that his grandfather would appear at it.

“I’m not good with words, and I know you’re the same,” Grandfather patted Fang Juexia’s shoulder. “There are things I’ve wanted to say for so long, but they’ve always felt too hard to voice.”

He cared for this boy more than anyone, yet could only watch his TV shows alone in the empty old house. He worried Fang would fall on stage, yet always used the harshest words to make him abandon his impossible dreams. He feared Fang would suffer losses and hardships, yet couldn’t bring himself to make a single phone call.

But when this child was born, he was the happiest one of all.

Finally, he embraced the weeping Fang Juexia.

“Juexia, you’ve always been Grandpa’s pride, and you always will be.”

Fang’s mother, seated in the audience, also shed tears. This once-broken family was slowly mending itself through love and dreams. They were all gradually reclaiming what had been lost and found again.

One by one, the other members greeted their grandfather. Staff brought him a chair, and they all gathered around him to finish singing “Last Summer.”

The summer of birth, the summer of dreams taking root, the summer of debut, the summer of reunion and liberation, and now this summer of gathering together.

Each one was worth commemorating.

“Grandpa, be careful.” Ling Yi stepped in before Pei Tingsong could help, smiling sweetly as she supported him down the stairs.

Grandpa waved back at them. “Come over for dinner, all of you. Together.”

“Sure thing.”

Time slipped away, leaving only six minutes remaining in the concert.

“It went by so fast,” Jiang Miao glanced at the clock. “It feels like it just started, but it’s almost over.”

“Don’t end it!!” the fans below the stage shouted.

“It’s okay,” Jiang Miao smiled. “We still have one more song.”

Six enormous glowing “clouds” were wheeled onto the stage by crew members. One by one, the members of Kaleido stepped onto them, appearing as if standing atop fluffy white clouds.

“For our final song, we’ve tweaked the lyrics a bit. We want everyone to sing along with us.”

“Guess what song it is?”

Fans below shouted out several song titles all at once.

“Juexia, give them a hint.”

Catching the signal, Fang Juexia picked up the mic and sang a line: “You are my…”

Fans instantly guessed the correct answer: “Daydream!!!!”

“That’s right! Our final song is Daydream!”

Bae Ting Song held the mic and said, “We’re all constantly growing, but growing up doesn’t mean losing the right to dream. Even if it’s a daydream many dismiss as silly, how can you know what it feels like if you never try dreaming?”

“So today, let’s all create our very own daydream together.”

The lyrics appeared projected above the stage, line by line in handwritten script.

Meanwhile, suspended within glowing clouds, the members were gradually lifted high above the venue, gliding over the heads of countless fans. Fang Juexia, afraid of heights, was hoisted much lower than the other members.

This upbeat song was especially suited for a chorus. As the voices filled the air, countless cloud-shaped balloons appeared in the sky, tethered to the venue. Massive and densely packed, they swiftly blanketed the venue’s night sky with clouds reminiscent of daylight.

The scene was breathtakingly beautiful. Everyone couldn’t help but look up at the gathering clouds.

“I know something will fall from the sky, like a summer shower.”

The moment these lyrics were sung, a cracking sound echoed through the sky, and all the cloud balloons burst. Instantly, a shower of blue paper fluttered down like millions of swirling butterflies, filling the entire venue and every fan’s heart.

Never had a moment felt so perfect.

It felt like a true daytime dream.

They paused their singing, holding the microphone and saying, “Right now, each of you has a blue piece of paper printed with the letter K. The kaleidoscope light sticks you’re holding can actually be opened—there’s a pen inside.”

“Take it out. Let’s write our own daydream together.”

“What kind of people will we become ten years from now?”

“What kind of lives will we be living?”

As his teammates spoke, Fang Juexia softly harmonized with them, but the lyrics had changed—from “You are my daydream” to “It’s time to daydream.”

Fans below the stage bowed their heads, encouraged to jot down their daydreams—about life, about themselves, about the future ten years from now.

Everyone suspended mid-air also earnestly wrote down their aspirations for a decade ahead.

“I’m done,” Ling Yi raised his hand. “Who else is finished? Turn on your lights so I can see.”

Starlight flickered on one by one.

Pei Tingsong asked, “Do you know how to fold paper airplanes?”

The entire crowd shouted in unison, “YES!!!”

“Great. Then let’s all fold paper airplanes together. On the count of three, two, one, you’ll launch the paper airplanes with your daydreams written on them toward the stage, okay?”

After agreeing, they all began folding their planes. Fang Juexia also lowered his head, carefully folding his blue paper. About the future, he wrote only one line.

[Still Kaleido. Still love Pei Tingsong.]

What he didn’t know was that on another cloud, his soulmate had unconsciously made the same decision. Scrawled in hasty English, his words held a sincere promise for the future.

[Forever K, forever fjx.]

The suspended clouds drifted toward the stage and gently descended. The six of them returned to the stage. He Ziyan picked up the microphone. “Raise your paper airplanes for us to see!”

Stage lights flooded the venue. Fang Juexia gazed into the distance, seeing one raised hand after another, each clutching their dreams.

“Excellent.” Jiang Miao raised his own hand, displaying his creation. “Now we’ll begin the countdown. Ready—”

“Three—”

“Two—”

“One!”

In that final second, Fang Juexia saw a sky filled with paper airplanes flying toward them. Piercing through beams of light woven from dust particles, they carried daydreams, tracing arcs of dreamlight across the night.

Their stage was their dream.

Everyone’s dreams had flown onto their stage.

“It’s so beautiful.” Witnessing this scene, Ling Yi couldn’t help but shed tears.

“Hey, why are you crying again?” Lu Yuan chuckled.

“I just feel like crying.” He crouched down and gathered a large pile of paper airplanes. “We have so many daydreams. We’re so rich.”

“That’s quite a profound statement.” Pei Tingsong offered him praise for the first time.

“See? I could study philosophy!”

Jiang Miao smiled. “Thank you all for writing down your hopes for the future. I hope you’ll always remember the version of yourselves captured on these pieces of paper.”

“We have one last little activity.” He Ziyan couldn’t help but tease, “We really went all out with the girly stuff, didn’t we?”

“Hahahaha!”

Staff handed them six kaleidoscope light sticks identical to those held by the audience.

“Actually, these were specially designed with a built-in mini-program,” Jiang Miao explained, pointing to a small raised button on the kaleidoscope. “See this switch? Pressing it alone won’t do anything.”

Fang Juexia nodded. “There are fifteen thousand audience members here. Including us, that makes fifteen thousand and six kaleidoscopes. If we all press this button together, something very special will happen.”

“So we’re sure no one’s left early, right?” Pei Tingsong chuckled at his own joke. “If you see any kaleidoscopes without owners, please help press the button for them.”

“Hahahaha!”

“Ready?”

A countdown appeared on the giant screen. Everyone below the stage chanted in unison until it hit zero.

“Press!”

A colossal kaleidoscope projection suddenly filled the sky. Dazzling colors wove fantastical shapes across the night, breathtakingly beautiful—like millions of overlapping blossoms, or the intertwined wings of countless butterflies.

“So beautiful.”

Everyone gazed upward at this magnificent kaleidoscope, awestruck by its splendor.

Fang Juexia spoke, “Remember, each and every one of you is important.”

He repeated once more, “Tell yourself: you are important.”

Beneath the magnificent kaleidoscope, everything was about to end.

“Finally, thank you all for coming to our concert,” He Ziyan said gently. “We were actually very nervous and prepared a lot. We hope we didn’t disappoint you.”

“We weren’t!!”

“That’s good,” Ling Yi sniffed, wiping away tears. “Why does it have to end so soon?”

Yes. Fang Juexia gazed at this kaleidoscope dream.

So fast. It’s ending.

“Don’t forget the theme of our first tour: EGO,” Pei Tingsong said with a smile. “Ego represents the self. Perhaps it’s not something each of us relies on to survive, but it is the core that sets us apart from others. Maybe you’ve already found it, already understood its existence. Maybe you haven’t yet, but that doesn’t matter. Because one day, you will discover it.”

“When you meet your own ego, please protect it well, for that is protecting the purest, most authentic version of yourself.”

“So—” He walked over to Fang Juexia, lining up with the other teammates. Six stood shoulder to shoulder. “When we part, let’s not say farewell. Instead, let’s solemnly introduce ourselves to each other once more.”

Fang Juexia nodded. “This is an advance self-introduction for ten years from now.”

Lu Yuan smiled. “I hope when we meet again in ten years, we can say the same words to each other.”

A line of text appeared on the large screen. Jiang Miao pointed at it. “This time, it’s your turn to go first, okay?”

Counting down with them, tens of thousands of fans raised their voices one last time in unison, matching the words on the screen. It wasn’t a farewell—it was an introduction. Their voices were like the waves of a June summer night, carrying a stunning vitality and surging life force.

It was love, it was dreams, it was an unyielding passion.

“Hello, we are Domino! We are us!”

Six young men stood before them. “Three, two, one…”

They simultaneously formed the K gesture, their sweat-dappled faces smiling brightly under the lights.

Like the first time, and like every time since.

“Hello everyone, we are Kaleido!”

Author’s Note: The main story is complete, but there will be some extra chapters. Barring any surprises, they’ll be updated daily.

When I finished writing the final scene, I was genuinely moved. I feel like I’ve grown a bit, because back in the summer of 2018 when I first started writing, I wouldn’t have possessed the depth of feeling or emotional maturity to craft Fang Juexia and Pei Tingsong, nor could I have fully realized Kaleido or the story of the so-called “Business Paradox.” But now, I’ve managed to do it—barely. For that, I owe gratitude to every experience. If these characters and their story touched you even for a moment, that would mean the world to me. That alone is my greatest fulfillment.

I usually write afterwords, but I’ll wait until the side stories conclude to write a proper one—this isn’t quite the end yet.

Finishing the main story on May 4th holds special meaning, as the themes of the final two chapters align perfectly with this date. Happy May Fourth Youth Day to all—let’s strive to become better versions of ourselves.

See you in the side stories.