Not Just Friends - Chapter 1

“Shen—Teacher Shen Zhong is going to be on this show? I didn’t hear anything about that!”

Backstage was bustling with voices everywhere. Bai Muxi dragged her manager into a small corner of her own dressing room, widened her eyes, and questioned her, her voice trembling in an embarrassingly useless way. Her manager, Li Mingyu, had never seen her good-tempered little artist look as if the sky had just collapsed. She was instantly made nervous too and raised both hands in surrender.

“I only found out last night too. I heard one of the mentors suddenly couldn’t make it, so she came in at the last minute to save the situation—”

She still wanted to explain the whole story, but Bai Muxi cut her off. For some reason, her usually clear voice sank several tones lower.

“…So… she really is coming?”

Li Mingyu was a little confused. After a moment of stunned silence, she nodded.

“Yes. She should already be getting her makeup done next door by now.”

Bai Muxi flinched in instinctive shock. Even though she knew it was completely useless, she still silently took a few steps toward the center of the room, wanting to put a little more distance between herself and the “next door” in her imagination.

How futile. Things had already come to this. Things had already come to this.

Although she had only officially debuted as a singer a little over half a year ago, she had at least seen a bit of the world. Bai Muxi forced herself to take several deep breaths. The dizziness that had struck her like a heavy blow when she saw that familiar name on the script finally eased a little, only to be replaced by an indescribable weight. She could not help frowning as she slowly crouched down in the middle of the room.

“Wh-what’s wrong?!” Li Mingyu was so frightened she rushed forward. “Was it that iced coffee you drank at noon? Did it upset your stomach? Are you feeling unwell?”

“…It’s not the coffee’s fault.”

Even at a time like this, she still remembered to defend the coffee. The tall, beautiful singer, with her long arms and long legs, was only a small little bundle when she crouched down. The look she lifted upward was panicked and wet-eyed enough to soften anyone’s heart. Her tone sounded a little weak, but there was reassurance in it.

“…My stomach just feels a little uncomfortable. I’ll be fine after resting for a while.”

It was not the coffee’s fault, but it was not anyone else’s fault either. This counted as an old problem she had had since she was young. Whenever she got nervous, her stomach easily started hurting. It had been the same back in high school, the first time she had to go onstage and sing in front of everyone. The day before, she had already been so uncomfortable she could barely stand it. All she could do was squat miserably on the ground to ease the discomfort in her stomach, just like now.

But it was not entirely the same.

Back then, there had been someone beside her, bending down to look at her. The elegant scent of cypress drifted over in fine, lingering strands as that person drew closer. Cool fingers gently pressed against the side of her neck, then carefully touched her fever-warm cheek. That person’s tone had been gentle and distressed as she said to her, Your stomach hurts again? How about I rub it for you?

At that age, Bai Muxi had thought she was already an adult. She had felt embarrassed, yet helplessly drowned in that pampering as she was half-embraced and helped to her feet. Her ears red, Bai Muxi had forced herself to stay calm and smiled.

She had said, Why are you holding me like you’re picking up a dog?

Back then, Shen Zhong had smiled at her too. Her delicate features, usually cool and distant, only softened into a gentle moon in front of Bai Muxi. Her voice had been light and slow, tinged with laughter, as she said to her, That’s still different.

Twenty-three-year-old Bai Muxi suddenly startled hard, jolted to her feet by a sensation of weightlessness, like she had taken half a step into empty air. She clearly had not done anything, yet she abruptly felt exhausted. She drew in a deep breath and let it out, only then realizing that a thin layer of cold sweat had already formed on the back of her neck.

Although the old problem of her stomach hurting whenever she got nervous still had not been completely cured, at least she had made some progress. Bai Muxi thought. At least now, she could stand up on her own.

Her manager, unaware of the reason, was still asking her, “Are you really okay? The guest mentor probably won’t go onstage until after everyone else has appeared. There’s still some time. Don’t force yourself too much…”

“I’m really fine.” Bai Muxi tried her best to regain a bit of adult composure and gave a deliberately relaxed smile. “I haven’t finished reading the script yet. I really need to hurry.”

That was what she said, but in truth, they had already rehearsed twice over the past few days. Aside from one of the actor mentors being replaced by Shen Zhong, today’s official recording was no different from before in terms of procedure. Still, it was a good thing that her artist was dedicated, so Li Mingyu could not say much. But when she looked at Bai Muxi, who was still staring at the script even during the gaps in her makeup, she could not help asking quietly:

“…Muxi, you don’t dislike Shen Zhong, do you?”

It would not be anything rare. No one in this world could be loved by everyone. Even Shen Zhong, the nationally beloved actress with an always-good reputation and audience favor, was no exception. She stood out even in the acting circle. Ever since her debut, she had never had any scandals, nor did she like messing around with social media, as if she had devoted her whole heart to work. In the eyes of those who liked her, she was an aloof, otherworldly white moonlight. In the eyes of those who disliked her, she was fake and pretentious. Though they were not many, her antis did indeed exist.

Li Mingyu was thinking this when she did not expect her words to startle Bai Muxi badly. She watched as Bai Muxi fumbled several times before barely managing to catch the script that had almost fallen to the floor. When Bai Muxi turned back to look at her, she started stammering again.

“No—what are you talking about?”

Her makeup was only half done. Bai Muxi had a warm kind of beauty. Her delicate, gentle features could more easily win others’ goodwill. It was a pretty face with no aggressiveness. When she was not wearing makeup, she easily looked young, like a fresh college student just stepping into the world, still carrying a trace of childishness. Her cheeks looked soft, making people unable to resist wanting to pinch them. Even Li Mingyu, who had been her manager since her debut, found it a little hard to connect this Bai Muxi with the dazzling star onstage.

Bai Muxi had a pair of very expressive eyes, but that also meant she was equally bad at hiding what was on her mind. Li Mingyu watched coolly as she forced herself to stay calm while her gaze carried hints of evasion. She understood at once that this person must be hiding something from her.

But if Bai Muxi did not want to say it, then she would not press her. She only continued, worried, to comfort her over and over.

“It’s fine. We’re only guest mentors on The Flower Season and You. We’re only recording this one episode. Just follow the script and go through the process. If you really don’t want to, we’ll think of a way to avoid her as much as possible in the future.”

Realizing that Li Mingyu had obviously misunderstood something, Bai Muxi unconsciously tightened her grip on the script. Her gaze fell on the two characters “Shen Zhong” printed at the top of the white paper, and she could not look away for a long time. She felt that she should say something to clear up the misunderstanding, but she did not know how to say it. If she could avoid her, that actually sounded pretty good too, she thought. She had already been avoiding her for more than four years. It was practically becoming a habit.

“…That’s not it.”

So when she opened her mouth to deny it, even she herself was startled. Bai Muxi frowned in frustration, closed her eyes as if giving up on herself, and spoke very softly.

“…I don’t dislike her.”

The guest mentor had an opening stage appearance. There was not much time left before she went on. Bai Muxi put on her headset and waited backstage. She did not dare listen too closely to the commotion onstage, so she was especially enthusiastic toward everyone backstage who greeted her. The staff member who had originally approached her tremblingly to ask for an autograph returned to her friend in a daze after being thoroughly sweetened by her, smiling so widely her mouth could not close.

“She really is just like the rumors say. Muxi is so nice.”

No airs, very kind, like the friend next door. This was the general impression everyone had after meeting Bai Muxi in person. It had not been long since she ended her studies abroad and returned to the country. A little over half a year ago, she had risen abruptly as a new star in the singing competition show For Whom I Sing, becoming popular almost overnight. During the competition, everyone knew she had the highest popularity. That kind of thing easily tested a person’s mentality, but Bai Muxi had always acted as if nothing had changed. On finals night, she had still gone onstage with pockets full of confetti and candy. No matter who came up, she acted as a dutiful little flower girl, happily tossing confetti everywhere. She generously handed out candy too, only to end up not eating a single piece herself. Some of the confetti she had scattered even landed on her nose, making her sneeze under the live broadcast watched by countless people.

[It’s hard to imagine that the person who sang songs like that is actually this kind of person. — Music Critic A]

[If you close your eyes and only listen to her songs, you’d think she was a veteran of failed romances who had experienced secret crushes and heartbreak more than three hundred times. Open your eyes, and you realize she’s actually a little puppy drenched by the rain. — Music Critic B]

“Muxi, how are you feeling right now?”

The PD greeted her. Bai Muxi smiled, knowing that there was probably already a camera filming her now, and answered honestly, “Very nervous.”

It was an ordinary reply, but it stirred up a wave of soft laughter. Bai Muxi knowingly laughed along too, her clear, gentle brows and eyes curving. Then she added, “So it’s very suitable for me to sing Nervous.”

The PD gave her a thumbs-up and did not say anything else. Bai Muxi gently exhaled and straightened a little. In her in-ear monitor, she heard the instruction for her to go onstage. She hugged the guitar in her arms tightly and walked forward. Amid the sound of her heartbeat pounding like a drum, she heard the host’s introduction.

“—Please welcome the champion of For Whom I Sing, our guest mentor, Bai Muxi!”

The fervent cheers rushed toward her. The spotlight was very bright. It was not exactly an unfamiliar scene, yet Bai Muxi felt dizzy and muddled for a moment. Her styling today was not particularly elaborate. It had probably been chosen to cater to her fans’ preference for the clean, handsome, youthful feeling about her, so there were not too many decorations. Her oversized blue hoodie carried a lazy air, and her shoulder-length hair fell loosely over her shoulders. Holding her guitar, she sat at the center of the stage. The follow spot fell on her body. Bai Muxi lowered her eyes, and very soon, she was the only bright thing in the entire space.

She would probably be seen very clearly, Bai Muxi thought. Everyone could see her.

Her stomach began to ache faintly again. It was an old illness returning after not appearing for the past few years. The words she had said before going onstage had been especially sincere. She was so nervous that it felt as if she might vomit her heart out the moment she opened her mouth. She had not been like this when she left the country to study abroad alone. She had not been like this on the finals stage of For Whom I Sing either. She was only here as a guest on a show. Just one episode. Just one performance. She was singing the song she had written herself, the song she was most familiar with. Clearly, it should not be like this. It should not be like this.

But Shen Zhong was there.

Bai Muxi did not dare raise her head. She kept feeling as if the world around her was pitch-black, but she knew Shen Zhong was right there. In the spot directly facing her. In the place she could see as soon as she lifted her eyes. There was no screen between them, no pages between them, no wall of a dressing room between them. Shen Zhong was right there.

She had been back in the country for more than half a year and had not contacted Shen Zhong, nor had she planned to reunite with her here. For Whom I Sing had been a semi-enclosed program, and Bai Muxi had naturally avoided contacting the outside world, as if doing that could give her a proper reason to excuse the fact that, even after all these years, she was still hiding.

It was inappropriate. It was inappropriate. But Bai Muxi still could not help thinking, just as she had thought on countless nights over the past half year: since she had already decided to let go, what was she still hiding from? What had she come back for?

Because her studies were over. Because she wanted to chase her dream of becoming a singer. Because she had come to—

—she had come to face her wreckage of a first love, and to become Shen Zhong’s friend.

Bai Muxi still could not hold back. She raised her head and looked toward the audience seats. Shen Zhong was indeed there. She was thinner than the last time they had met, and her already cool-looking beauty appeared even sharper around the edges. She looked at Bai Muxi without blinking. Her pupils were sharply black and white, as if they were surging with indescribable emotions, and also as if they held a clear, glowing curve of moonlight.

Bai Muxi instinctively lowered her eyes. She stared blankly at the stage floor reflecting the lights. When she plucked the strings, she only felt her fingertips stiff and her throat dry.

Her stomach hurt terribly, like on that reckless night years ago when she had crashed headfirst into a wall and shattered herself against it.

She softly began to sing.

“…I won’t look at the moon, I won’t look at the moon.”

“All the racing heartbeats no one knows about—I tell myself they’re only nerves.”

Author’s Note:

New story is here! Tossing flowers!

For this one, I wanted to write a fake broken-mirror reunion that I personally really like. After all, the mirror wasn’t exactly whole in the first place. It’s purely relationship-focused. The whole story is just the two main characters entangled with each other. Aside from elementary-school-level push and pull and some utterly insignificant melodrama, there’s nothing else. And, just like my previous stories, they will only finally get together very late in the story. Friends who mind that, please enter with caution.

Although I’ve said all that, it’s basically an ordinary sweet story. I’m having a lot of fun writing it. It would be wonderful if this happens to match everyone’s wavelength too. In any case, I hope you all enjoy reading!