“Alright! Kaleido’s ‘Breaking the Formation’ recording is complete! Great work, everyone.”
Hearing the director’s voice, the six members finally relaxed, lining up to bow deeply toward the audience below. Their names echoed from the crowd, the sound washing over them like waves.
Fang Juexia stood at the very center. Though usually composed and self-possessed, his nose stung slightly as he bent his waist. The cold reception they’d endured since debut, the heartache of wanting to perform but lacking a stage—these were states they’d long grown accustomed to. Yet, returning to the music show stage after a year, those feelings surged back.
Though he’d gained unprecedented attention these past days and won new fans who adored them, for Fang Juexia, earning applause through their stage performances was what he truly loved.
As they exited, they bowed to every staff member along the way, murmuring “Thank you for your hard work.” Even Pei Tingsong, who had once disdained such gestures, found himself following suit. He gripped Fang Juexia’s waistband as they navigated the dark passage until they reached the brightly lit corridor.
“We’re off! We’re off!” Ling Yi was overjoyed. “We’re finally off!”
Lu Yuan swayed along with him, and the two inexplicably switched from walking to zombie-style hopping. “Suddenly craving sea squirt dumplings. I’m starving.”
“Let’s order takeout later!”
“Sounds good!”
Seeing his teammate so adorable, Fang Juexia’s mood eased slightly. Back in the break room, the moment he closed the door, Fang Juexia suddenly felt his coat being pulled off. A hand gripped his waist, twisting him around. He turned his head to find Pei Tingsong standing there.
“What’s wrong?”
“Are you okay? “ Pei Tingsong examined him closely. ”I saw the mic clip fall off from the side of the stage. Did it pull on your waist?”
Fang Juexia’s eyes widened slightly. His speech quickened uncharacteristically, tinged with nervousness. “You saw it? Was it that obvious? What if everyone else saw too? This belt doesn’t hold the mic clip securely. Any big movement and it just flings off.”
He sighed. “After practicing for so long, I still messed up.”
No sooner had he spoken than Pei Tingsong cupped both hands around his face, squeezing it until it crumpled. “ he sighed. ”After all this practice, I still messed up.”
No sooner had he finished than Pei Tingsong cupped his face with both hands, squeezing it until it distorted. “What are you talking about? I asked if your waist was okay, and you tell me you messed up.”
Fang Juexia paused, then wriggled free from his grasp and rubbed his face. “My waist is fine. The mic isn’t heavy.” He couldn’t meet Pei Tingsong’s gaze either, only adding in a low voice, “Don’t worry.”
Fang Juexia froze for a moment before gently prying his hands away and rubbing his face. “My waist is fine. That mic pack isn’t heavy.” He couldn’t meet Pei Tingsong’s gaze either, only murmuring softly, “Don’t worry.”
Jiang Miao, who had overheard Fang Juexia’s words, walked over and began massaging his shoulders. “Juexia, that wasn’t a mistake at all—it was saving the day. I was playing right behind you and got startled myself, but the way you tossed that microphone case was seriously cool. And judging by the audience’s reaction, hardly anyone noticed.” “ He deliberately glanced at Pei Tingsong. ”Only Xiao Pei probably didn’t even blink.”
In the past, Pei Tingsong would have rushed to refute that, but now he shamelessly admitted it outright. “Of course not. How could I bear to blink during your performance?”
Fang Juexia felt a bit embarrassed and lowered his eyes without speaking.
Cheng Qiang walked in and gave them each a bear hug. “You guys were amazing! You’re my little puppies! You had me tearing up like an old man.”
Lu Yuan laughed after the hug. “Bro Qiang’s getting more cultured by the day.”
“Nonsense!” Cheng Qiang pulled Pei Tingsong in for a hug, then pointed at him. “You, you changed the lyrics again.”
Pei Tingsong shrugged. “I wrote this last night. Didn’t have time to add it to the studio version. I thought it was too good not to sing.”
Speaking of altered lyrics, Fang Juexia had a little idea and couldn’t wait to share it. “Earlier, Xiao Pei had a line that went, ‘Original lone soldier, gut-slash with one stroke,’ and then it continued…”
“Drink the blood while it’s hot for eternal youth.” Pei Tingsong finished for him.
“Exactly! “ Fang Juexia’s face lit up with genuine praise. ”That line is brilliant. Truly brilliant.”
Pei Tingsong wasn’t unfamiliar with compliments. He’d heard them all too often—every kind of extravagant praise imaginable. A simple “brilliant” meant little to him. But coming from Fang Juexia, it meant more than anything. He’d never felt this happy before.
Fang Juexia continued explaining his vision, “Our choreography is based on the original lyrics. Since the live version has changes, I think we should update the moves for our next stage performance to match the new lyrics.” He demonstrated a gesture of reaching into his chest, “What do you think?”
Lu Yuan clapped enthusiastically, “That’s great! Six of us doing it together should create a powerful visual impact. Let’s design it when we get back!”
Watching them dive back into stage discussions, Cheng Qiang felt a pang of emotion. These kids had just endured an incredibly grueling performance. Yet instead of relaxing like survivors after a crisis, or dwelling on their comeback’s rankings, they were wholly absorbed in perfecting their stage presence—obsessed with making their performance shine brighter.
They deserved a brighter future.
With that thought, Cheng Qiang clapped his hands. “I’ve already informed the production team. We won’t be attending the awards ceremony later. Since we’re not alternates anyway, there’s no point wasting time here.”
“We’ve got the new album fan meetup coming up next—it’s a live broadcast, so there can be absolutely no slip-ups. Head back to rest, grab a bite, then rehearse all the performances for the meetup, especially your individual solos.”
When they emerged from the MLH recording building, the area outside was unexpectedly packed with fans. They held Klein blue banners and kaleidoscope lights, and the moment they spotted Cheng Qiang leading the way, screams erupted. The members filed out in a long line, the path squeezed narrow by the crowd.
“Go Kaleido!!”
“Juexia!! How can Juexia be this gorgeous!”
“Xiao Pei, look at your mom! He Ziyan, you’re so handsome!”
“Miao Miao! Captain Miao is the best! You’re the greatest leader!”
“Ling Yi! Ling Yi looks amazing with blue hair! Teacher Yuan, you’re so cool!”
Many fans were overcome with emotion. The hardships of this comeback had weighed heavier on them than anyone else.
Fang Juexia was being pushed along by the crowd when he spotted a girl sobbing uncontrollably diagonally ahead. His heart tightened. He pulled a pack of tissues from his coat pocket—he’d just used one to wipe her sweat. As the crowd pushed him forward, Fang Juexia reached out and handed the tissues to the girl. His usually expressionless face softened into a smile as he spoke gently, “Why are you crying?”
This gesture made the surrounding fans gasp in surprise. Pei Tingsong shielded him as they moved forward. “If you hand out tissues like that, I could cry all night long.” ” Fans who heard him laughed along.
“You’re such a…” Fang Juexia didn’t know how to describe him, so he trailed off mid-sentence. Once everyone was in the car, Jiang Miao rolled down the window and smiled at the fans. “Head back now, and remember to watch our fan meeting livestream!”
Suddenly, a girl’s voice cut through the crowd, loud and piercing: “Our Little Hu Ka is the best!”
Ling Yi’s head popped out the window. “Wow, your voice is amazing! You should be our lead singer.”
“Hahahaha!”
Due to their unexpectedly shortened comeback schedule, the solo teasers were all released in the morning, while the MV was pushed back to 9 PM. Though the MV was filmed nonstop through sleepless nights, its impact and expressiveness were exceptionally strong.
Fans shared it over and over, staying up all night to replay the MV on Yunshi Network and other video platforms, boosting their idol’s rankings and view counts. Though it couldn’t propel Kaleido to the top of the charts, the numbers represented significant progress compared to past performances.
After Kaleido’s schedule for music show recordings was revealed, online buzz about their comeback clashing with Seven Stars’ release reached a fever pitch. The overwhelming majority approached it with schadenfreude and mockery. Those slightly more charitable expressed pity for the small-label group, while harsher comments included accusations of exploiting homoeroticism for attention, a reckless comeback, and even claims that the leaked song was a deliberate stunt by Star Map and Kaleido to boost hype.
If the entire Kaleido group was drowning in a sea of online abuse, then Fang Juexia was the epicenter of that violence. Always Fang Juexia. Countless anonymous threads dedicated to bashing him sprang up, with many who had previously resented his frequent trending topics and appearances on major variety shows seizing this chance to trample him mercilessly.
[Just so you know, fjx will never truly break out. Playing the “genius manipulator” persona will only backfire, okay? There are tons of good-looking, talented people out there—what’s the point? Major stardom is all about luck.]
[Who says Astar didn’t lose out by not debuting fjx? Thank goodness he didn’t debut from Qiao, right? That disaster magnet persona is spot-on—anyone who gets involved with him just gets unlucky.]
[If he loves hype so much, maybe the leak was intentional too.]
[As long as fjx doesn’t leave the group, his flop card will stay buried forever, hehe.]
Such comments have been endless throughout the fandom. Fang Juexia had long since let it go, disconnecting from the internet as if nothing happened. He treated every stage as if it were his last, giving his all to the performance and caring about nothing else.
Yet no one could have predicted that Kaleido, trampled into near-helplessness, would begin to rebound during the Music Live House broadcast.
At the time of airing, Yunshi Network’s homepage MLH promotional cover still featured the supergroup Seven Stars, with headlines lavishing praise upon them. Though an online variety show, its viewership remained consistently high, attracting a substantial audience.
The entire music show featured sixteen performances, followed by awards and encore stages. Each of the sixteen groups or solo artists had corresponding fan-cam videos linked in the show’s related section, ranked in real-time based on view counts. For group performances, a fan-cam was a dedicated camera fixed on one member, capturing their entire performance throughout the song.
Initially, no one noticed until after the broadcast, when Fang Juexia’s solo camera footage quietly became the most-viewed solo clip that day, signaling the first hint of a rebound.
At 10 PM following the music show’s broadcast, a million-follower Weibo influencer specializing in live performance critiques unexpectedly posted Fang Juexia’s solo camera footage for “Break the Formation.”
[@MO the Performance Watcher: You know I usually don’t pay much attention to music show solo shots. I always thought only fans would watch their idols’ solo footage. But Fang Juexia’s shot has become the highest-viewed solo clip on MLH this episode. In just five hours, it’s already leading by a staggering eightfold margin—over 150,000 views—while the second place is barely past 20,000. Curious, I clicked to watch and found the reason—calling it a divine save isn’t an exaggeration. I dare say this level of image, vocal prowess, stage presence, and improvisational skills firmly places him at the pinnacle of Chinese entertainment idols. (Feel free to disagree, but watch the full video before arguing.) PS: This performance is Kaleido’s “Break the Array.”]
This blogger’s daily routine involves sharing quality music and outstanding performances from around the world, while also critiquing domestic stages. Most of their followers are casual music fans. The Weibo post quickly trended.
[@StriveHardEveryDay: Holy crap, MO actually posted an idol’s raw footage? The dimensional barrier’s broken.]
[@MySanHasntReturnedToday: Mind-reading! I just finished watching the junior group’s stage on Yunshi and found the live footage here. Fang Juexia was absolutely flawless—commanding presence upfront, then that classical dance break was breathtakingly beautiful. Everyone must watch their full performance! I’m on my knees recommending it!]
[@Bobbi Doll: Can someone tell me—did the mic drop at 2:43? That recovery was insane. I rewound it multiple times, thinking he was flinging some weapon or something. x Never seen a save this graceful before.]
[@Sleiyoujh: Did I see this guy trending before? His voice is so unique—it has this cool undertone, but the resonance makes it rich and full. Can’t quite describe it, it’s frustrating! And his vocals? If he was actually singing live, that’s insane. He didn’t break a sweat through that intense choreography, and his high notes were rock-solid.]
[@绝美风景线 replies to @Sleiyoujh: It was fully live. By the way, his name is Fang Juexia, Kaleido’s ACE. This song was also created by the entire Kaleido group—it’s their original work, including the choreography.]
[@人就该狗：This melody sounds familiar—is it the leaked demo from a few days ago? The demo doesn’t hold a candle to the final version. Seeing this makes me realize their post-production is seriously top-notch.]
[@没人想看你的废话：Fun fact: Before debuting, Fang Juexia was a super-hot trainee dubbed the “ace card.” But after switching agencies, rumors about “unspoken rules” started swirling. That said, I don’t buy it. With his talent, if he had a backer, he’d be skyrocketing to fame. Staying this underrated must mean he’s rubbed someone the wrong way. I’m not an idol fan, but I’m genuinely impressed by this guy’s solo performance.]
[@BlueberryCheesecakeCupcake: As someone trained in classical dance, his solo clearly showed deep foundation. He saved the stage seamlessly, never letting his expression or presence slip—not even a single unnecessary twitch—regardless of whether the main camera was on him. Even when sweat stuck strands of hair to his forehead, he didn’t reach up to brush them away. So professional. His stage presence is impeccable.
[@JustTellingItLikeItIs: I really want to analyze how amazing this performance is like the other sisters, but I’m too shallow—I just kept staring at this guy’s face the whole time. He’s just too gorgeous… ]
Soon, this straight-cam Weibo post surpassed 30,000 reposts. The hashtags #FangJuexiaStraightCam and #FangJuexiaSavesTheDay gradually climbed the trending charts, entirely driven by organic audience engagement. Driven by social momentum, more and more people flocked to Yunshi Network to watch Fang Juexia’s solo footage and the group’s entire live performance.
Numerous entertainment bloggers and marketing accounts seized this trend, editing highlight clips of Fang Juexia’s performance—moments like his rescue move, the choreographic collision with Pei Tingsong, the transition into the movie-style hand-to-gun gun gesture before the movie clip, and the final ending sequence. These moments were turned into GIFs and shared on Weibo, attracting growing viewership and discussion. Even many casual viewers who never watch idol music shows found themselves drawn in by these GIFs.
The ripple effect propelled Kaleido’s full performance onto trending topics, even being reposted across major social platforms. This electronic-inspired Chinese dance track performance was unprecedented among male groups, unexpectedly becoming MLH’s most viral performance in recent times. By the next day, all six members’ solo shots had climbed into the top tier of Yunshi Network’s solo shot rankings. Fang Juexia maintained his commanding lead at the top, while Pei Tingsong secured second place.
If Fang Juexia’s rise was an unexpected breakthrough, Pei Tingsong was the explosive force sustaining momentum and igniting viral fervor.
Eagle-eyed fans noticed discrepancies between his rap verses and the original main track’s lyrics, prompting comparison videos. Netizens adore sharp, edgy, and confrontational content—and Pei Tingsong embodies this aesthetic, especially in his lyrics.
[@HomelessTurtle: Regarding these live lyrics, I suspect they’re newly written rap verses by Pei Tingsong after the leak incident. Every word cuts deep—”Heart rotting, consumed by jealousy’s fire, this sickness craves a potent cure. The original artist, alone, cuts open the wound, drinking the blood while hot for eternal life. ” Savor that—a stark, naked satire of malicious leaks that harm original creators. When I listened to the song, I realized he wrote nearly all the lyrics. I sincerely recommend everyone give it a listen, but this part really needs to be seen live. ]
[@User1234567: Watching this segment on the show, I nearly screamed in front of my mom! He’s so badass! That final line—“I’ll trample your head beneath the heavens”—utterly stunned me. The whole song radiates lethal intent. Everyone must listen!]
[@WordsFailMe: Finally, someone discussing this new song’s lyrics! I casually listened yesterday after seeing a recommendation, and it’s truly exceptional—just too obscure. My favorite part is the ending—that soothing melody paired with “My path is where no path exists, let your ambushes be.” It feels like she’s calmly sheathing her sword after slaughtering all comers.]
[@Putuo Temple Scenic Route: The closing verse was written and composed by Fang Juexia, while the middle sections are all Xiao Pei’s. Honestly, their styles are super distinct. Pei Tingsong’s is pure, raw killing intent—that rapper’s fierceness. Jue Xia’s line, though? Totally his laid-back, zen vibe: “Anyway, I’ve always been backed into corners like this. Go ahead and ambush me. I’m not scared at all.”]
[@Today I Wept for My Account Card: Everyone, watch the full stage performance. Beyond the stunning dual-ACE rescue and creative contributions, we have powerhouse vocalist Ling Yi’s Peking Opera intro, captain Jiang Miao’s guzheng accompaniment, rap-handling DJ He Ziyan who also arranged the track, plus choreography throughout. Our main dancer Lu Yuan—our cards might not be trending, but these guys are absolute treasures. This song is the heart and soul of every member. Listening to it every three minutes is totally worth it!]
[@Severe Procrastinator: Didn’t they say Pei Tingsong grew up abroad? How come his Chinese is this strong?]
[@HasTheGrapevineGrownToday replies to @SevereProcrastinator: He grew up bilingual in Chinese and English, plus he’s deeply into traditional Chinese culture—he’s mentioned this in streams.]
[@MusicMakesYouWise: “Just be a speechless ornament, stop interfering with real voices. I accept my fate of being surrounded by enemies—let’s see your karma come back to you.” Isn’t that line brilliant? It satirizes the idol industry, openly acknowledging the constant blows and oppression their group has endured. The leaked demo incident nearly drove them to the brink, didn’t it? No wonder everyone used to say Pei Tingsong was particularly fierce.]
Amidst wave after wave of buzz, several prominent music bloggers dug up the leaked demo that once flooded the internet and compared it to the final live version.
[@Uncle A Doesn’t Play Music: Since yesterday, tons of fans have been urging me to listen to Kaleido’s new song “Breaking the Array.” I’ve said before that leaks severely damage a song’s lifespan—it’s a heavy blow to original music. But now I must say, demo leaks aren’t necessarily detrimental—this ‘Breaking the Formation’ is proof. Honestly, I was skeptical when I first heard the demo. The arrangement felt chaotic, the melody overcrowded. Just as you’d build up emotional momentum, it abruptly shifted to another arrangement—definitely not a successful piece.
But the final product astonished me. They cut out so many melodies—something most producers can’t bring themselves to do. The opening Peking Opera vocals instantly anchored the tone, creating incredible depth. After listening, you feel like you’ve witnessed a desperate last stand. Apparently, the band members wrote this song themselves. Here’s a suggestion for their agency: let them write their own songs from now on.
The music blogger’s analysis and mini-essay quickly drew a large online following of music enthusiasts. Though seemingly a niche group, they are actually heavy users of music streaming apps. Seizing the momentum, Star Map secured the app’s splash screen and homepage promotions, capturing casual listeners’ attention. Driven by this dual promotion, “Break the Array” skyrocketed from beyond the top 100 to second place on the streaming charts by 10 PM the very next day after the show aired, instantly pushing Seven Stars’ new release down to third.
Amidst the shifting online sentiment, Yunshi Network replaced all subsequent MLH program covers with Kaleido’s “Breaking the Array,” headlined as “Kaleido’s Powerful Comeback: The Battle of the Reversal in Public Perception.” Fang Juexia’s solo performance video also shattered the record for the fastest MLH solo video to reach one million views, catapulting her to fame overnight.
The reversal came too swiftly—much like Kaleido’s forced early comeback—as this backlash heat surged just as rapidly, all stemming from that initial rescue attempt. That tiny microphone box, like a butterfly flapping its wings, triggered a tsunami of upheaval across the entire internet within a mere two days.
The song “Break the Formation”—from its melody, arrangement, choreography, and stage design to each member’s stage presence—earned generous praise from most netizens for every contribution.
Despite the worst possible start, they ultimately pulled off a stunning comeback. The lyrics perfectly mirrored their real-life circumstances, delivering a genuine victory against all odds.
KALEDO’s new album quickly caught up in digital sales to the massive fanbase of Seven Stars, with most being casual listeners. Many predicted that at this rate, overtaking them was just a matter of time.
To manage public opinion, Cheng Qiang monitored online trends throughout the process. During this, he saved only one comment in his album.
[Witnessing the entire journey from leaked tracks to an upset victory, I learned one thing: no matter what happens, true creative talent and passion will never be buried. What moved me most was seeing these boys—who no one believed in—prove that originality never dies.]
At the epicenter of the storm, Fang Juexia logged into Weibo at Ling Yi’s urging. He’d just returned from recording his third promotional performance and was resting in the dorm. Fearing his account would crash from the sudden surge in data every time he logged in, he now had Xiao Wen log in daily. That way, if he ever used Weibo himself, it wouldn’t crash upon opening.
He received countless comments, most of them fans’ divine, rainbow-colored praise. Swiping through the page, he spotted a fan with a particularly unique ID.
[@DidTheGrapevinesBendToday: Brother Juexia, how can you sing so amazingly! Today is my birthday, and I really, really want to hear you sing a Cantonese song. I don’t care—I’m making this wish right now, even though I know you’ll probably never see it…]
Cantonese song.
Fang Juexia thought about it. Since his debut, whether on variety shows or live streams, he had never sung a single Cantonese song—even though it was his own dialect.
Anyway, tomorrow’s new album meet-and-greet would feature a solo segment. He’d originally chosen an English song, but maybe he should switch to Cantonese instead. With that thought, he messaged Cheng Qiang. The company was usually flexible—he could change it on a dime.
So Fang Juexia sat on his bed, opened his Cantonese playlist, and prepared to find a familiar song to practice.
Suddenly, he heard the sound of a guitar playing a melody that felt incredibly familiar.
Fang Juexia jolted awake. Wasn’t this the song he had written?
His finger accidentally tapped the shuffle button, and a Cantonese ballad began playing automatically. Fang Juexia took off one earbud and walked to the balcony. Sure enough, the guitar sound was coming from the room next door. Fang Juexia turned to head over, intending to ask Pei Tingsong why he was playing his song in the dorm. But he paused abruptly, not wanting to involve Ling Yi and He Ziyan. He took two seconds to calm down before opening WeChat.
[Pretty as Ever: Are you playing a song I wrote?]
Before long, he received a reply.
[Guide Dog]: Oh, I forgot you were home too. I wrote some lyrics and just played a bit to test them out. Want to see what I wrote?
Fang Juexia was somewhat taken aback. Before he could reply, another message arrived.
[Even if the odds are one in ten thousand
I’ll still take a shot
The sparks that burst before the fall
Enough to make me blissfully die]
For some reason, though it was only four short lines, Fang Juexia felt his heart skip a beat upon reading them, every pore on his body trembling for an instant.
The Cantonese song playing randomly through his headphones poured out lyrics that struck Fang Juexia’s heart with stark, fitting clarity, trapping him in place with nowhere to run.
His phone vibrated again, this time from Cheng Qiang.
[Bro Qiang: Oh, forgot to ask—did you pick a song? I’ll submit it.]
Fang Juexia sat back on the bed, opened the lyrics interface of the music app, and carefully read through and listened to this Cantonese song he knew so well.
Finally, he typed the song title into the chat box and clicked send.
