After the Top Idol Omega and I Started Living Together - Chapter 55

Chapter 55

The shadow leaning against the frosted glass grew larger bit by bit, and it seemed one could hear the sound of a hand landing on the doorknob.

Lu Zhao reacted quickly and pulled Sheng Jingyu’s hand, hiding with her behind the backdrop boards stacked against the wall.

Light streamed through the glass into the room, but the smooth floor showed no shadows, completely clean.

The narrow triangular space was extremely hidden, and no one could guess two people were concealed behind it.

Because of this, Lu Zhao stood very close to Sheng Jingyu.

The summer heat gradually rose in the cool space, Lu Zhao’s chest rose and fell with her breathing, and the scent of sea breeze brushed warmly against Sheng Jingyu’s neck, settling into the small hollow of her collarbone.

Her vision was neither clear nor blurry, but because they were so close, every detail magnified in her eyes.

In the past, every time they kissed, Sheng Jingyu habitually closed her eyes, never gazing at this person’s appearance like this.

Lu Zhao’s thick eyebrows formed a sharp, heroic peak, with a straight, delicate nose running down the middle, and from there, warm breath exhaled, carrying a faint fragrance of powder, resting against Sheng Jingyu’s neck.

Perhaps the surrounding temperature grew higher, a lychee-shell blush gradually crept onto Sheng Jingyu’s face.

Even her heart beat irregularly.

“Is anyone inside?”

At that moment, a voice broke the silence at the doorway.

It was a man’s rough voice, his shadow on the frosted glass peering into the storage room.

The man’s question received no response, and his companion walked over upon hearing him: “What’s wrong?”

The shadow moved back slightly, and the man looked at his companion: “Do you smell something? I feel like someone’s inside.”

The companion leaned toward the door and sniffed twice, but he frowned and only smelled dust.

He dismissed it, even thinking the man was acting strange: “I say, are you nearing your sensitive period? You scared that girl this morning, don’t be so paranoid. Everyone’s busy recording the show, who would come here?”

“Did I really smell wrong?” The man, shaken by the comment, touched his head and sniffed again, his brows furrowing deeper, “It’s gone now.”

“You should see a doctor,” the companion said helplessly, then tugged at the man, “Let’s go, hurry up and deliver it, they’re rushing over there.”

With work at hand, the man didn’t dwell on this unproven suspicion.

He nodded, picked up the box he had set down, and said: “Oh, let’s go.”

Footsteps echoed, and the shadow on the frosted glass moved away.

The dim corridor lights seemed to watch the man, urging him to leave quickly.

Finally, the corridor returned to its earlier quiet.

Lu Zhao stared intently at the frosted glass on the door, watching the light where no shadows appeared for a long time, and only then relaxed, letting out a long sigh.

Because her breath was too long, it hit Sheng Jingyu’s neck and surged back, Lu Zhao’s lips parted slightly, and she inhaled a hint of grape scent.

Dazed, she turned back, and Sheng Jingyu was inches away.

At that moment, Lu Zhao’s nerves, focused on the door, finally withdrew, and she noticed the atmosphere here, half a beat late.

Their swaying pupils locked in a mutual gaze, their breaths intertwining, stirring warmth.

Lu Zhao stood face-to-face with Sheng Jingyu, the thin oxygen clung between them, desire flowed faintly, and the atmosphere suddenly became purely enticing.

Lu Zhao’s heart beat a little fast, but her eyes were unusually earnest.

She gazed deeply at Sheng Jingyu and said: “Teacher, there isn’t.”

To prevent what just happened, Lu Zhao deliberately lowered her voice.

Her words seemed out of context, and Sheng Jingyu, across from her, couldn’t help but pause.

Without letting Sheng Jingyu guess, Lu Zhao added: “This kind of deal, I only do with Teacher.”

—She was answering Sheng Jingyu’s question from before the man interrupted.

Who could have thought Lu Zhao would still remember this question.

As if to reassure herself, she emphasized the last word heavily.

The heavy emphasis landed entirely on Sheng Jingyu’s ear.

Her tone was too light and innocent, her amber eyes too sincere, and the warmth burned down from Sheng Jingyu’s ears, quickening her heartbeat.

Sheng Jingyu thought she couldn’t stay like this anymore; if Lu Zhao had to fulfill her duties, it would be troublesome.

She steadied her breathing, slipped out from the gap first, and said: “It’s time to go back, it’s not good for the camera to miss you for too long.”

Reminded, Lu Zhao looked down at her phone, noticing Yuan Ning had just messaged her.

Not wanting to raise suspicion, she hurriedly said: “Then I’ll go first, Teacher.”

Saying this, Lu Zhao lifted her foot to open the door and leave.

But as the corridor’s light streamed through the opened door, Sheng Jingyu stopped her, saying: “Wait.”

Lu Zhao, puzzled, let out a questioning hum from her nose: “Hmm?”

Sheng Jingyu didn’t explain.

A shadow passed Lu Zhao’s cheek, and Sheng Jingyu slowly raised her hand, reaching toward Lu Zhao’s head.

Her fingertips brushed through Lu Zhao’s hair, making her heart skip a beat.

It was unclear how many seconds passed, perhaps just a moment, when Sheng Jingyu’s hand came down holding a dust ball.

It must have rubbed off when they hid behind the backdrop.

Showing Lu Zhao the dust ball, Sheng Jingyu gestured and said: “Alright, go back quickly.”

“Oh,” Lu Zhao nodded dazedly, then turned, moving the dust ball and Sheng Jingyu behind it out of her sight.

The long, quiet corridor echoed with the sound of high heels, growing fainter as her gaze drifted further.

Sheng Jingyu watched Lu Zhao walk away, holding the dust ball for a while before dropping it into a trash bin near the audience seats.

The preliminary competition was intense; by the end of the first half, Shen Yuanqing’s team eliminated three people, while Lin Yueling’s team eliminated seven.

This had happened in the past two seasons, as the preliminary round, unlike the later mentor assessments with small tests and random checks, was like a hurdle in the competition, where life or death hung in a moment.

Seeing this result, the team members in the viewing room grew tense, and few finished their lunch.

The screen lit up again, and the duel between Zhou Huanyin and Wu Ai began. The first song drawn was Yuan Ning’s, and everyone encouraged her. The nervous girl walked to the stage under the follow-cam’s lens.

It was an energetic song, with the entire stage design bubbling with pink, dreamlike and fantastical.

Lu Zhao watched to ease her mood, diverting some attention from her tense thoughts to appreciate Yuan Ning’s performance.

“I gently knock on your door, wanting to see if you’re here…”

Undeniably, Zhou Huanyin excelled at amplifying people’s strengths, and Yuan Ning’s aura perfectly suited the song.

Though her singing technique wasn’t as polished as the debuted singer who performed later, her released aura compensated for her vocal shortcomings, even elevating the song, creating a sweet, overflowing feeling that felt unbeatable.

Thinking this, Lu Zhao’s tense expression gradually relaxed.

She thought Zhou Huanyin had good judgment, so she must also be the best fit for ‘Destiny’.

After both performances, the screen above the stage rapidly displayed audience votes.

As the first performer, Yuan Ning’s vote bar stood tall on the screen’s left, watching the other side’s votes climb.

The gap slowly narrowed, but the speed gradually slowed.

The two bars maintained a clear gap, and Yuan Ning won with over a hundred votes more than her opponent.

On stage, Yuan Ning excitedly bowed to the audience, and cheers lingered.

Chenchen, gripping her hands tightly, said to Sheng Jingyu beside her: “Miss Sheng, what do we do? I think it’s almost Ah Zhao’s turn.”

Overly nervous, as Sheng Jingyu was about to comfort her, the big screen displayed ‘Destiny’.

As Chenchen spoke, Zhou Huanyin and Wu Ai pressed the draw button together.

“Ahhh! It’s Ah Zhao’s song!” Chenchen’s nerves peaked, and she turned to Sheng Jingyu, “Oh no, Ah Zhao won’t face Si Liaoliao, will she…”

Sheng Jingyu didn’t speak, quietly watching as Lu Zhao and Si Liaoliao’s photos appeared on the big screen.

She didn’t know whether to ask if Chenchen’s mouth was jinxed or to sigh that rivals always cross paths.

Both her statements came true, and Chenchen’s eyes widened, desperately tapping her phone and showing it to Sheng Jingyu: “Miss Sheng, please remind me not to speak again.”

But Sheng Jingyu disagreed: “If your mouth is jinxed, just say ‘Ah Zhao will definitely win,’ and it’ll be fine.”

Chenchen brightened instantly: “Right!”

Looking at Sheng Jingyu, who got her a front-row seat again, her gratitude overflowed: “Miss Sheng, you’re so kind, I don’t know how to thank you.”

Sheng Jingyu remained calm: “Then cheer hard for Lu Zhao, let her see you.”

Chenchen patted her chest, promising with her jinxed mouth: “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Ah Zhao sees both of us!”

She had only meant for Lu Zhao to see her, but Chenchen included herself.

Sheng Jingyu paused briefly at her words but didn’t correct her.

She hadn’t thought of it initially.

But if Lu Zhao could see her too, that wouldn’t be bad.

The big screen flickered, and the draw order appeared: Si Liaoliao first, Lu Zhao after.

Since the audience voted after each singer’s performance, going second wasn’t advantageous, as comparisons to the first could affect votes, like Yuan Ning’s round.

Sheng Jingyu looked at the result, her gaze falling on Wu Ai, who appeared even calmer than before.

She showed a moment of excitement, but her eyes held no surprise, as if everything was unfolding as planned.

In the dim light, Sheng Jingyu slightly furrowed her brows.

Familiar accompaniment played, and a spotlight hit the stage’s center.

White veils softly wrapped Si Liaoliao’s figure, exuding purity, and she held the microphone, her light pink lips singing smoothly as the music began.

“I can’t forget the day I met you, it was like meeting my destiny…”

Her voice was clearer than during auditions, like silver bells striking the heart.

Despite her recent negative news, her voice made many audience members sit up straight.

Sheng Jingyu listened to Si Liaoliao’s singing, her gaze pausing.

Every singer had unique techniques, and those who understood could tell.

Wu Ai listened attentively from the mentor’s seat, almost enraptured, and Sheng Jingyu understood: Wu Ai had invested much in Si Liaoliao, even sharing her insights.

Si Liaoliao and Lu Zhao were indeed evenly matched.

But such a match was truly dirty.

The familiar melody was interpreted differently, and Sheng Jingyu’s gaze grew heavy.

Her thirteen-year journey had been smooth, soaring high, never imagining someone’s path could be so thorny, with jagged brambles clawing at Lu Zhao, wanting her bloodied, her bones buried in the earth as their fertilizer.

The song reached its climax and stopped abruptly, the audience, emotionally stirred, cheered below.

The host took the stage to manage the crowd and announced vote counting. Shen Yuanqing and Lin Yueling both gave Si Liaoliao mentor bonus votes.

The audience votes on the screen surged, Si Liaoliao’s total reaching 785, nearing 800 with mentor votes.

The audience totaled 1,000, and the highest vote in the first half’s duel was only 771.

Chenchen grew nervous: “So high, what will Ah Zhao do…”

But Sheng Jingyu’s eyes were firm: “Trust Lu Zhao, she’ll be fine.”

The audience marveled at Si Liaoliao’s score, cheering wildly.

Sheng Jingyu wouldn’t let Lu Zhao stand alone; she stood calmly, steadfastly behind her.

Whether the place was desolate or blooming.

Seeing her score, Si Liaoliao smiled confidently.

Then tears fell timely from her eyes, and she bowed deeply to the audience: “Thank you, thank you all, thank you for your love, I won’t let you down.”

“Liaoliao, keep going!”

“Liaoliao, we’re always here!”

Cheers rose, and the stage and audience broke the barrier with interaction.

Si Liaoliao looked at her big fans, acting deeply moved, and gracefully walked off stage.

As she descended the stairs, her tears vanished.

She lifted her chin, glancing at Lu Zhao, who was about to go on, with a contemptuous look, heedless of possible hidden cameras.

“Good luck,” Si Liaoliao tossed out casually, like charity.

But Lu Zhao ignored her.

Since it was thrown at her, she let it fall to the ground, stepped over it, and let her high heels grind it into the dirt.

The stage lights dimmed, and Lu Zhao, holding the microphone, walked to the center as instructed.

She looked at the audience captivated by Si Liaoliao’s voice, gripped the microphone tightly, took a deep breath, and curved her lips into a smile.

Wasn’t fate perfectly embodied in this duel?

“I can’t forget the day I met you, it was like meeting my destiny…”

The earpiece countdown ticked rhythmically, and Lu Zhao raised the microphone, letting her voice soar.

Her voice burst out, like a bird freed from a cage, too pure without technique, clear and free, making people look up to find the bird’s form.

Compared to Si Liaoliao’s voice, Lu Zhao’s was more natural.

The audience, still lingering on the previous performance, was cleansed anew, all thoughts turning to Lu Zhao, even Si Liaoliao’s big fans sitting up straight.

This time, Lu Zhao didn’t close her eyes like during auditions.

One hand held the microphone, the other held the courage Sheng Jingyu gave her in the storage room, her amber eyes scanning the audience under shifting lights.

Chenchen, as promised, raised her glow stick high, Lu Zhao’s support color, cyan, shimmering in the dim world.

It was hard to miss, and with one glance, Lu Zhao pinpointed Chenchen in the crowd.

And beside her, the ever-calm Sheng Jingyu.

Their eyes met, fiery pupils crashing into deep waters.

She was looking at her.

And she was looking back.

The self she had shaped these days.

With the rising and falling accompaniment, her voice was no longer mocking fate as it was at the start.

“I understand that this is a world between us, and our destiny is far more profound than what we know—”

Lu Zhao sang, her voice leaping with her breath, each note marveling.

She, who lifted her from despair, became her only Alpha to ease her pain, and gave her someone irreplaceable in her life.

Meeting Teacher in this life was perhaps what fate meant.

She respected her, cherished her.

Could she also…

Her immersed singing sent thoughts diving uncontrollably, unformed words flashing in Lu Zhao’s mind, like a pause before losing control.

Her voice carried it too.

It was a complex emotion.

Confusion, melancholy.

A cowardice that ventured deep into her heart but dared not face clarity.

Dry ice mist brushed Lu Zhao’s lips, the cool touch disorienting.

Sheng Jingyu’s silver-gray eyes flickered in Lu Zhao’s sight, clear yet blurry, and she chased them, as if succumbing to greedy desire.

And beneath that desire?

The stage lights flashed chaotically with the rising notes, and Lu Zhao fully unleashed her voice.

The lyrics questioned fate loudly, and she questioned her own.

“So is this the fate that cannot be ceded between us?”

A soft tremble linked the words, each pressing into the audience’s hearts.

Though the emotion came from the singer’s throat, and empathy wasn’t absolute, listeners still wept.

Lu Zhao sang of herself, yet made the audience think of themselves.

It was doubt, obsession.

A cautious murmur before fate, fearing loss.

“So is this the fate that cannot be ceded between us?”

The repeated song floated like a feather, gently but noticeably crossing the sight in sunlight.

Lu Zhao held the microphone with both hands, her breaths, light and heavy, spreading through the venue.

The high notes left visible veins on her forehead, connecting to her Alpha’s heroic brow.

Rarely, even Alphas felt no rejection to Lu Zhao’s aura.

Silence followed, then thunderous applause, like a dream awakening, echoing through the venue.

The viewing room erupted in cheers for Lu Zhao.

“Lu Zhao, awesome!”

“You made me cry…”

“Come, wipe your tears, you still have to perform.”

“It’s secured! Absolutely secured!”

Mentor bonus votes weren’t enough; Shen Yuanqing pulled Zhou Huanyin to stand.

Both shed their composure, waving arms, shouting Lu Zhao’s name: “Lu Zhao! Lu Zhao!!!”

Lu Zhao, still catching her breath, smiled shyly at the sight.

She rarely received such heartfelt, fervent welcomes. Her gaze swept the audience, more excited than during auditions, and tilted her head toward Sheng Jingyu.

She sought her with ease.

And she didn’t let her down.

Those silver-gray eyes, submerged in a dim sea of stars, calmly locked onto Lu Zhao’s the moment she looked.

They held each other’s gaze for one second, two…

“The audience is so enthusiastic, Shen, won’t your trainees be jealous?” the host said, walking up with the microphone, teasing Shen Yuanqing.

Shen Yuanqing waved it off, saying boldly: “No, they know I’m heartless.”

The audience laughed at this.

The host, also laughing, teased a bit more before smoothly shifting to Lu Zhao: “Forget Shen, I was quite moved listening. Lu Zhao, you really earned a lot of tears.”

“You’re too kind,” Lu Zhao said politely, with hidden intent, “I owe today’s performance to my Teacher.”

Unlike before, she didn’t call Zhou Huanyin “Teacher Zhou.”

Her words indeed included more than Zhou Huanyin.

Unable to share the stage with Sheng Jingyu, she imprinted “Teacher” in her words.

Unaware of Lu Zhao’s thoughts, Zhou Huanyin stood immediately, dutifully canvassing votes: “If you liked Lu Zhao’s song, please vote for her! I believe she’ll bring more surprises!”

The screen’s countdown ticked down, the audience lights tightened, and the host began counting: “5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Voting closed.”

A preliminary tradition, Lu Zhao’s votes weren’t announced immediately, kept as suspense. The host interjected: “Let’s invite Si Liaoliao back to announce the votes.”

The tech team hurriedly tallied Lu Zhao’s votes and prepared comparison animations, while the host livened the atmosphere: “I remember you two were teammates in a girl group, right? So coincidental, sharing the stage again.”

“We still are,” Si Liaoliao said sweetly, smiling at Lu Zhao, “If you’re interested, come to H City on July 19 for our disbandment concert, you’ll see Ah Zhao again.”

Her words were light, as if she assumed Lu Zhao would lose.

How could Lu Zhao not hear it? She returned a professional smile: “Not only that, we’ll both bring our original songs, right, Liaoliao?”

Lu Zhao’s voice didn’t emphasize, but “original” pressed heavily on Si Liaoliao.

Her past scandal made those words a thorn, painful to touch, especially since she planned to dilute her “original singer” label with this stage.

Si Liaoliao’s smile twitched, barely maintaining perfection.

She kept her pretty, refined look, agreeing in front of the camera: “Yes.”

After brief chatter, the host got the signal and interrupted: “That disbandment concert sounds important, but something more important just came up—Lu Zhao’s vote tally is ready!”

“Let’s turn to the big screen!”

With the host’s gesture, Si Liaoliao’s previous vote bar appeared on the screen’s left.

The blue bar soared to 805, like an insurmountable mountain.

That mountain had weighed on Lu Zhao for nearly a decade.

Lu Zhao lifted her head, watching her numbers rise.

The red light closed in on Si Liaoliao’s numbers, the changing digits reflected in everyone’s eyes.

It approached, leveled.

Then surpassed!

Cheers erupted from the audience, but then they held their breath.

The bar kept rising, showing no sign of stopping.

It not only crossed that daunting mountain but built her own.

991.

Nearly the entire audience voted for Lu Zhao.

The mentors’ 20 votes joined her pool, towering over everyone with a four-digit score.

This wasn’t just victory—it was a record-breaking performance!

Lu Zhao couldn’t believe it, her amber eyes lifted high, gleaming red.

She recalled the second public performance, watching her votes rise, only to see the production team swap her votes with Si Liaoliao’s in the broadcast.

Fairness came so easily.

Yet she waited two years to see it.

Lu Zhao felt it wasn’t real.

Used to filth and deceit, when clean light hit her eyes, tears fell uncontrollably, as if her eyes couldn’t bear it.

Deeply, Lu Zhao bowed to the audience and the production team behind.

The microphone pressed to her lips, her voice choked: “Thank you, thank you all!”

“Lu Zhao!”

“Ah Zhao! You’re the best!”

“Lu Zhao, don’t cry! Keep singing!”

Waves of audience encouragement surged to the stage, and Si Liaoliao stood aside, her face grim.

She stared at the votes, fists clenched, ignoring Wu Ai’s glance.

This Chen Ruozhi, what went wrong again!

She didn’t recall how the host sent Si Liaoliao off, announcing her regretful exit.

After leaving the stage, Lu Zhao headed straight to the corridor outside the viewing room, forgetting to even pretend to console Si Liaoliao.

The long, bright corridor bathed Lu Zhao in golden light.

Chenchen and Sheng Jingyu were waiting, waving to her from afar.

Chenchen’s excitement was uncontainable, grabbing Lu Zhao’s hand and jumping: “Ahhh! Ah Zhao, you’re amazing!”

Lu Zhao glanced at the staff passing by and reminded: “Calm down, you’re half my manager, after all.”

“Oh,” Chenchen obeyed instantly, but her eyes fixed on Lu Zhao.

Lu Zhao felt uneasy under her stare: “What are you looking at?”

Chenchen frowned: “This color looks familiar…”

Then she gasped, shifting her gaze to Sheng Jingyu’s lips: “Ah Zhao, your lipstick matches Miss Sheng’s shade!”

Chenchen, with the most innocent tone, said the most blush-inducing words.

Chenchen: I’m awesome!