Chapter 109: The Miracle Finally Appeared
At the end of the corridor.
Xie Xizhao turned on the faucet. The icy water flowed over the back of his hand—a temperature sharp enough to wake him up.
He washed his hands absentmindedly, zoning out as he did. Beside him, Zheng Yunli’s expression was grim. He glanced at Xie Xizhao several times, seemingly wanting to say something, but in the end, he swallowed his words each time.
Say what?
Xie Xizhao never paid him any mind.
They had been promoting songs together for so long, had stood side by side in official interviews, yet the other party still needed a long moment to recall his name. People only remembered what they cared about.
TP didn’t care about them. They were nothing more than a complete joke.
Zheng Yunli took a deep breath.
Suddenly, everything felt meaningless.
Following Xie Xizhao to the restroom for no reason felt meaningless. The argument he had just had with Xue Zixiao in the preparation room felt meaningless. Even the stage he was about to step onto—the honor he once took pride in, the dazzling glow of the spotlight—it all felt utterly meaningless.
Yet, even with that thought, he still didn’t move.
Xie Xizhao dried his hands, picked up the decorative tail ring beside him, and slipped it on. When he turned around and saw Zheng Yunli still standing there, he paused for a moment. “Something wrong?”
Zheng Yunli remained silent.
A few seconds later, he spoke stiffly, “You guys must be feeling pretty pleased with yourselves right now.”
Xie Xizhao thought about it. “Not bad, I guess.”
Zheng Yunli: “……”
Xie Xizhao asked, “Where’s your partner?”
Zheng Yunli reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “Don’t disgust me!”
Xie Xizhao: “Oh.”
“It’s just that I don’t remember his name.”
He said honestly.
Zheng Yunli: “……”
The frustration in his chest suddenly dissipated a little.
He wondered what kind of spectacular expression Xue Zixiao would have if he heard that sentence.
The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to laugh.
And when he wanted to laugh, he really did. While laughing, he said, “A bet is a bet. We lost fair and square this time. Your song is actually pretty good. Don’t take what Xue Zixiao said to heart—he’s just an idiot.”
He paused for a moment before adding, “Also, you really do look better than him.”
Xie Xizhao: “…”
He wanted to say that he truly didn’t care about that, but as the words reached his lips, he realized there was nothing worth explaining.
He looked at Zheng Yunli’s rather serious expression and hesitated for two seconds.
After a brief pause, he asked, “Do you still think it was just luck?”
When Xie Xizhao left, Zheng Yunli was still standing in the same spot.
He sighed inwardly.
‘He had said too much,’ he thought.
He did have a bit of a tendency to meddle, mostly because he had seen too much.
When people walked the right path, their future was full of promise and infinite possibilities. But when they strayed down the wrong road, Xie Xizhao could already see the ending from a mile away. He couldn’t help but feel a little unwilling to just watch it happen.
Of course, no matter how much he cared, he could only go so far.
Everyone had their own fate.
If Zheng Yunli could listen, then it wasn’t too late.
But if he insisted on being stubborn, then there was nothing Xie Xizhao could say that would change his mind. They weren’t friends or family, and Xie Xizhao had no habit of pulling people out of the mud.
When he returned to the preparation room, Ai Qingyuan glanced up at him. “Thought you fell into the toilet.”
Xie Xizhao didn’t mention running into Zheng Yunli. He simply asked, “Is it time to go on stage?”
“They just came to inform us,” Zou Yi said. “It’ll be our turn soon to confirm positions and camera angles. Let’s take a short break, go over the choreography one more time, and then we’ll get ready to head out.”
—
Today was TP’s final performance.
For them, a final performance was like a working person’s Friday—everyone was excited.
Of course, that didn’t mean they slacked off just because it was their last stage.
Over the past few days, as TP skyrocketed in popularity, the attention on their performances had also surged. Initially, new fans had been worried about the quality of their live stage, but after their first performance, those concerns completely disappeared.
Their choreography was sharp and synchronized.
The choreography for “Rift” followed the standard boy group style—most of the movements were designed to be clean and powerful.
Individually, every TP member was easy on the eyes. When they danced together, it was as effortless as slicing through watermelons—fans often joked that no matter how anti-fans tried to pause the video to catch mistakes, if they managed to capture even a moment of chaos, they’d admit defeat.
And as for vocals, TP had maintained a 100% live singing rate so far.
Live singing typically fell into three categories: full live, partial live, and pre-recorded. Pre-recorded meant lip-syncing, while partial live used the original track with adjusted microphone volume. Full live was exactly what it sounded like—just the backing track and the members’ real voices, with no artificial enhancements.
TP’s choreography wasn’t easy, yet they still managed to maintain full live vocals. That alone was enough to prove their dedication.
Not to mention—their vocals sounded great too.
At this point, TP had fully showcased their abilities and had gained recognition within the idol industry. In fact, they were even showing signs of breaking into the mainstream. At the very least, their continuous dominance at the top of the digital charts wasn’t something that could be achieved by just idol fans alone. Their meteoric rise to fame upon debut would undoubtedly remain a hot topic for a long time.
But before all that—
They had two final performances to deliver to their fans and audience.
The first: the last stage of “Rift.”
—
Since today was the final performance, the audience was almost entirely made up of die-hard fans. After a simple rehearsal, the official recording began. The moment TP stepped onto the stage, the crowd erupted into deafening cheers.
Standing at the center, Xie Xizhao gave a small wave to the fans before the performance started.
A girl in the front row was so overwhelmed that she immediately burst into tears.
Xie Xizhao flashed her a dazzling smile before shifting his focus back to the stage, glancing down one last time to confirm his positioning.
For this final performance, the stage outfits took everyone by surprise.
Each member was dressed in outfits from the MV.
Xie Xizhao himself was wearing the sheer, pale gold shirt from the MV’s cover. This kind of delicate fabric suited him well—whether it was silk-thin or thick as wool, he always managed to give it a unique charm.
His teammates on either side formed a stark contrast.
Zou Yi and Yun Pan represented pure angels who had yet to develop cracks in their divinity. Their outfits were white with gold accents—one looking like a young prince, while the other radiated warmth like polished jade.
Ai Qingyuan and Fu Wenze, on the other hand, were dressed in black and gold.
Both of them stood with identical blank expressions, their faces unreadable before the performance even began. Xie Xizhao had privately mocked them more times than he could count—calling them “No-Brain” and “Not-Happy” in his head.
Soon, the equipment was fully set up.
The lights dimmed. On the massive screen behind them, a pair of pristine angel wings suddenly unfolded.
Amidst the crowd’s deafening screams, a pair of glazed, celestial eyes slowly opened within the wings, locking gazes with the audience.
The eyes blinked softly, like flickering notes in a melody.
And then, at a precise moment—
A delicate piano melody burst forth like a cascade of sound.
The stage lights blazed to life. At the center, Xie Xizhao rose from his teammates’ formation, lifting his hand gracefully. With a fluid turn, he guided Yun Pan into the spotlight.
The lead vocalist’s voice rang out, steady and rich with his signature slightly hoarse, metallic texture as he adjusted his earpiece and sang:
“The hour and minute hands spin, light and shadow flicker in an instant.
In the cracks of time, God opens His eyes—
A light-year in a second.”
The moment the final syllable left his lips, he stepped backward into formation. The stage flickered between light and shadow, like the sacred glow of a candlelit temple.
At that moment, Zou Yi took center stage and continued the melody:
“Does a dragon lurk deep within the forest?
The children of God weep in the night.
An angel wipes away the bloodstains—
A flower blooms upon an arrow’s tip.”
His voice was pure in a way that was entirely different—like a white flower blooming on a rusted arrowhead, gentle yet unwavering.
When the bridge arrived, the members spread out into a circular formation.
The lights dimmed again.
When they flared back on, Ai Qingyuan stood cold and still at the center, clad in deep black.
As the music shifted sharply, he raised his arm with precision, his forearm snapping to the beat with force. The strands of his hair quivered with each pulse of the rhythm.
His clean, sharp movements traced a perfect arc, leading into a swift yet stunning ten-second dance solo.
As the grand, soaring melody swelled, Xie Xizhao, who had returned to center stage through the choreography, slowly lifted his gaze from where it had been lowered.
And just as the climax arrived, he softly whispered the French phrase that had been looping endlessly on countless fans’ homepages, day and night:
“Tu me manques.”
At that exact moment, the screen behind them exploded into a dazzling burst of golden light.
The miracle had finally appeared.
—
TP was in exceptional form today.
That was the unanimous thought among the fans in attendance.
Realistically, for the sake of consistency, idol groups rarely changed their styling or stage setup during a promotional cycle. After a dozen or so performances, everything—from makeup to choreography to line distribution—remained the same. No matter how stunning a song was, seeing it over and over again inevitably dulled the initial excitement.
TP’s performances were always visually spectacular, but even they weren’t exempt from this rule.
It wasn’t that the stage had become repetitive—just that it was expectedly good. The only noticeable difference today was how visibly relaxed they all looked.
Fans had witnessed their hard work over the past few months, and seeing them finally enjoy themselves was both heartwarming and satisfying.
At the same time, it was a little bittersweet.
As soon as the first stage ended, the fans in the audience began whispering among themselves:
“Ah, the album’s b-sides are so good too, but they barely got any performances…”
“Right?! There are so many amazing songs, but I guess it makes sense—only the title track gets full promotions. Still, Shenghong is really amazing. The non-title tracks are so good it almost hurts. They should’ve saved some of them for the next album!”
“Don’t worry, as long as Zhaozhao is here, they’ll never have a problem picking a title track.”
“Speaking of Zhaozhao, I was just thinking—he’s already incredible now, but back during the competition, he was still so fresh and inexperienced… This time, they included ‘Boundless Sea’ in the album, and it completely took me back to the competition days—wait, huh?!”
The lights flared back on.
By the time the audience realized, five transparent high stools had already been placed on stage.
Resting atop each stool was a microphone—each in a different color.
Colors that corresponded to the members’ individual fan support colors.
“A special stage?!”
“AHHHH!! The final show has a special stage!!”
Amidst the wave of gasps and cheers, Xie Xizhao was the first to step onto the stage. Facing the electrified crowd, he smiled and said,
“Up next is a special stage, just for you all.”
The energy in the venue surged to an all-time high.
Xie Xizhao gazed out at the sea of lights below, pausing for a few seconds before continuing,
“We thought for a long time about what kind of performance should mark the end of this journey. In the end, we decided on this song.”
“Back then, the members who originally sang this song weren’t the ones standing beside me today. But each and every one of them has told me how much they love it. Ever since this song was released, I’ve read so many comments and messages from you all. You told me that this song gave you courage and strength.”
“I’m truly grateful that you love it.”
“Today marks the end of all promotions for TP’s debut album. But TP’s story is only just beginning.”
“I hope, in the future, we can keep walking this path together.”
He paused.
As if sensing what was coming next, the audience’s screams reached an almost deafening level, threatening to lift the roof off the venue.
And within that storm of exhilaration, Xie Xizhao smiled and said,
“No need for the tides to rise. No need for the world to end. At this very moment, we have met again.
Thank you for this encounter. Thank you for staying with us.
Special stage—’Boundless Sea,’ rearranged version.
We hope you enjoy it.”
