Chapter 159: The Thirteen-Year Promise

Xu Yunzhou chuckled softly.

He suddenly felt that his future self arranging for Xu Nuo to lead the Incense Gang probably wasn't driven by that petty, unspeakable motive of "stabilizing the harem and mediating conflicts."

She genuinely had the ability, the courage, and the sense of responsibility.

Song Jiaru was still feeling a bit confused by that "we met in 2015" exchange earlier, but glancing at the rapidly ticking clock hands on the wall, time truly waited for no one.

"Big Brother! Lord Nuo!"

She waved at the two of them, her smile as radiant as the midsummer sun:

"I need to get ready to go on stage! See you later!"

"Have fun! I've already arranged a VIP box for you—Chairman Song will show you the way!"

With that, she took a deep breath, straightened her back, and instantly switched back into that full-powered, radiant queen-of-song state. Surrounded by staff and bodyguards, she strode toward the passage leading to the stage.

Her back was resolute, her steps carrying the wind.

Like a queen heading to her own battlefield.

Song Jinxuan smiled and made a "please" gesture toward Xu Yunzhou and Xu Nuo:

"Mr. Xu, Lord Nuo, the VIP box is ready with the best view. Please follow me."

Xu Yunzhou nodded and glanced at Xu Nuo beside him.

Xu Nuo was also looking at him.

Their gazes met gently in the air.

She curled the corner of her mouth slightly. The smile was faint, yet it seemed to carry a thousand unspoken words.

Xu Yunzhou instantly understood.

They had communicated in consciousness for so many years—basic unspoken understanding was still there.

She was telling him with her eyes:

See?

I didn't let you down, did I?

I said I would apologize to Song Jiaru on behalf of my father. I said I would protect the people you care about.

I meant what I said.

My promises are worth a thousand gold.

"Let's go, Teacher."

She said softly.

The three of them arrived at the VIP box located to the side and slightly above the stage, offering an excellent view.

The box was spacious and comfortable, with one wall made of large one-way glass that provided an unobstructed panoramic view of the entire stage.

Song Jinxuan had specifically arranged for a set of Yixing purple clay gongfu tea utensils to be brought in.

She personally sat before the tea table, skillfully warming the pot, placing the tea leaves, pouring water, and dividing the cups... Her movements were fluid and natural, carried out with a deliberate elegance.

After all, in her view, someone like Xu Nuo who presided over an ancient gang and moved through the gray zones—a "big shot of the underworld"—would likely prefer a more traditional and refined style of hospitality.

Soon, it was showtime.

The massive dome of the stadium—all lights gradually extinguished.

From the edges to the center, the light receded like a tide.

Eventually, the entire space that could hold thirty thousand people was plunged into pure darkness.

Only the sporadic glow sticks in the audience's hands flickered faintly, like scattered phosphorescent specks in the deep sea.

Suddenly!

BAM!

A single pure white spotlight pierced through the darkness without warning, striking directly in the center of the stage!

Within the beam of light, countless specks of dust wildly danced and spun, like joyful spirits startled awake by this sacred radiance.

And at the very end of that column of light, Song Jiaru, dressed in a dazzling, resplendently beautiful wedding gown, appeared in everyone's sight—quietly, as if born from the light itself.

She walked along that path of light, step by step, toward the very front of the stage.

Like a bride heading to her coronation ceremony.

Or a warrior stepping onto her exclusive battlefield.

So breathtakingly beautiful it was shocking.

And so powerfully strong it left one breathless.

...

She reached the very front of the stage and stood still.

Standing in the light.

The countless crystals and tassels on her wedding dress refracted an dazzling display of multicolored brilliance under the spotlight, as if her entire being was glowing.

She tilted her face slightly upward and took a deep breath.

Gripped the microphone tightly in her hand.

That breath was drawn very deep, slightly amplified by the top-tier sound system, clearly audible in the ten-thousand-person silent venue.

Then, she spoke:

"Before I sing the first song tonight..."

She paused.

The sound of her inhaling came again, carrying a faint but unmistakable sob and tremor.

"I'd like to take up... about a minute of everyone's time first."

She raised her other hand—the one not holding the microphone—and gently pressed it against her chest.

The crystals on her wedding dress made a delicate, crisp sound with her movement, like the sound of a heart breaking.

"Thirteen years ago..."

Her voice was very soft, yet carried a strange penetrating power:

"There was someone... who was very, very important to me who appeared in my life."

A slight stir and curious murmurs erupted from the audience below.

"Back then..."

She paused, as if recalling, and her voice took on a distant hint of a girl's timidity:

"I still didn't dare to sing in front of so many people."

"I was afraid of the camera, afraid of the emptiness of the stage, afraid of the harsh lights, even... afraid of other people's gazes."

A few scattered, encouraging shouts came from the audience:

"Come on, Jiaru!"

Song Jiaru heard them. She nodded slightly in the direction of the voices, showing a grateful smile, but the smile was quickly replaced by deeper emotion:

"It was that person..."

Her voice became more choked:

"At the time when I doubted myself the most, when I wanted to hide the most... he told me—"

She mimicked that gentle and assured tone from her memory:

"Jiaru, your voice... can touch people's hearts."

"It can bring comfort, bring strength, bring light... to countless people like you who are going through darkness, confusion, and loneliness right now."

Sensitive fans in the audience began to sob softly.

Song Jiaru's tears finally overflowed uncontrollably, glistening brilliantly in her eyes:

"He said to me at that time,"

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice, but the trembling still lingered at the end:

"If one day you can overcome all your fears, stand on the biggest stage, and sing the song I wrote for you..."

She paused for a full three seconds.

Tears slid down her face.

But at that moment, her voice miraculously became incredibly clear, incredibly firm:

"Even if I'm no longer by your side by then..."

"That will definitely be the proudest moment of my life."

The audience erupted into thunderous applause, screams, and frenzied shouts!

Many fans were already in tears, waving their glow sticks vigorously!

Song Jiaru's tears poured down like a broken dam, but she stubbornly refused to wipe them away. Instead, she lifted her face, letting the tears shimmer like diamonds under the spotlight.

She took a deep breath, her voice carrying the weight of tears but growing brighter and steadier:

"These words... were like a seed."

"They were buried in my heart... for thirteen whole years."

"Those thirteen years..."

She slowly shook her head, her smile bitter and complicated:

"I've experienced the lowest of lows where no one cared, endured mockery and doubt from the entire internet, gone through countless nights in the recording studio where I broke down, in hotel rooms where I cried my eyes out, wanting to give up..."

The sobbing in the audience became a chorus.

The sea of glow sticks began to sway rhythmically, slowly, like breathing—a gentle tide.

"But every time..."

Her voice suddenly rose, carrying a power that broke through a cocoon:

"Every time I close my eyes,"

"I could hear... that voice whispering in my ear,"

She mimicked it, speaking those words in the gentlest, most determined tone:

"Don't be afraid. I'm here."