For Peng Xue, freshman life at Pengda University was exceptionally hectic.
Between standard academic duties and band rehearsals with Xia Yuan’s group, she had little time left for dorm life.
Having taken a gap year and weathered society’s harsh realities, Peng Xue differed starkly from her sheltered peers.
Yet her unfiltered charisma quickly won them over. Her musical background cultivated a fanbase among classmates, granting her quasi-seniority status despite being a freshman—so much so that she received confessions during military training.
Such earnest but immature proposals naturally found no traction with Peng Xue. After gently rejecting the boy, she refocused on band practice.
With both Peng Xue and Xia Yuan being established artists (though Peng Xue’s alter ego “Mi Xue” only had one breakout hit—The Strange Power of Love—it secured her a spot in last year’s Top 10 Viral Online Singers), and Xiang Bingbing still developing her skills, Liu Xiaoyu became the default lead vocalist.
Backed by two seasoned performers, Liu Xiaoyu felt the weight of her role acutely, striving to excel.
However, keyboardists doubling as lead singers remained rare in China’s music scene, leaving Liu Xiaoyu to navigate uncharted territory alone.
Thankfully, her bandmates offered critiques and guidance.
“Also, you’re too restrained,” Peng Xue added. “We haven’t solidified our style yet, but relying solely on folk ballads won’t cut it. Rock anthems are essential for energizing crowds—if you can’t hype up, no one will.”
Liu Xiaoyu sighed. “Inhibitions are one thing, but playing and singing simultaneously is genuinely hard. I envy you guitarists and bassists…”
Watching Liu Xiaoyu endure this roasting, Xiang Bingbing protested: “Xiaoyu’s doing great! Aren’t you being too harsh?”
“It’s not harshness,” Xia Yuan explained. “Lead vocals shoulder immense pressure.”
“Her uniqueness could be her strength!” Xiang Bingbing insisted. “Some audiences might prefer it! We’ve only practiced in studios for months—without real feedback, who knows what works?”
“Lacking external input does stall our growth…” Xia Yuan mused. “Maybe I should ask Ah-Fang to arrange—”
Peng Xue flicked her forehead. “Wait—have you leaned on Mei-dog so long you forgot your own agency?”
Xia Yuan blinked. “Right! I’m Lin Wanwan now—no relying on Ah-Fang… Let’s scout venues ourselves. Bars, maybe?”
“Established bars have resident artists. As newcomers, livehouse gigs are more feasible.”
“Underground concert spaces—huge in Japan. Ticket-holders get intimate performances.” Peng Xue elaborated, “In Rongcheng, they’re everywhere.”
“Perfect for our debut!” Xiang Bingbing drummed excitedly. “Any in Pengcheng? Let’s see our earnings!”
Peng Xue shook her head. “Only famous bands profit from tickets. We’ll be lucky to get stage time—this is about exposure, not income.”
“Ugh, that sucks! When do we earn?”
“Depends on popularity. Music festival invites mean stable pay, otherwise it’s negotiable…” Peng Xue pondered. “Street performances are an option, but beneath ‘Lin Wanwan’s’ dignity.”
“Dignity? Don’t treat me like some spoiled heiress!” Xia Yuan puffed her cheeks. “I’ve endured hardships too!”
Peng Xue eyed her skeptically. “Define ‘hardship.’ Our high school summer game-dev marathon?”
“W-well, we pulled all-nighters!”
“Team efforts don’t count. Give me solo struggles.”
Xia Yuan faltered. “Prepping for Fangciyuan Project took ages! And composing my first song—I’d brainstorm till dawn…”
“And where were Ah-Fang and Youxi?”
“Ah-Fang… massaged my shoulders… Youxi made herbal chicken soup… so nourishing…”
“That’s your idea of suffering?”
Xiang Bingbing licked her lips. “How good was that soup?”
As Xiang Bingbing pouted at Liu Xiaoyu, the latter simply smiled.
“Bottom line—have you ever faced adversity alone?”
Xia Yuan fell silent under Peng Xue’s gaze.
“Lin Wanwan, your life’s been extraordinary. However tough things got, Youxi supported you, Mei-dog protected you—that safety net let you take risks…”
“But why suffer alone? Even without them, I have you now! We’ll struggle together!”
“We will,” Peng Xue conceded. “But we’re no Youxi-level geniuses or Mei-dog-caliber pillars. We won’t coddle you—flaws will be called out.”
Xia Yuan nodded firmly. “That’s precisely why I refuse their help.”
As she affirmed this, Xiang Bingbing interjected:
“Can we not call him ‘Mei-dog’ every sentence? What’d he ever do to you?” The source of thɪs content is ɴo(v)elFɪre.ɴet
Peng Xue stiffened. Even the underdog defends him?
But objectively, Mei Fang had wronged her only by rejecting her confession.
After a pause, Peng Xue jutted her chin.
“I’ll call him what I want.”
“It’s fine, Bingbing!” Xia Yuan mediated. “Xiao Xue can say it—he is a dog, two-timing like that…”
Though meant as diplomacy, Xiang Bingbing suddenly championed Mei Fang:
“Lin Wanwan! He’s your boyfriend! If you won’t defend him, who will? I feel bad for him!”
Liu Xiaoyu facepalmed. “Bingbing… that came off really green-tea.”
After discussion, the band democratically ratified “Mei-dog” as an affectionate insult. Ironically, post-approval, Liu Xiaoyu became its most frequent user—revealing how often she’d muttered it privately.
Their livehouse hunt began in earnest.
October’s golden autumn marked peak season for established bands, leaving little room for unknowns. Days of cold calls and walk-ins yielded only rejections—not even audition slots.
Exhausted, Xiang Bingbing wiped her brow. “Weekdays are all booked? Guess we’re street-performing…”
“Poor visibility, plus police hassles… Last resort only.”
Peng Xue sighed. “Let’s try smaller venues—though sound quality varies, and safety’s iffier. We can’t afford a botched debut.”
“Agreed. No expecting major stages yet.”
Xia Yuan dabbed Peng Xue’s sweat. “We’ll keep trying.”
“Just don’t think, ‘Ah-Fang would’ve handled this effortlessly.’“
“Xiao Xue! Have faith in me!”
Xia Yuan pinched Peng Xue’s cheeks, prompting a reconciliatory hug. “Sorry… I just feel so inadequate compared to Mei-dog…”
“He’s the problem! I’d never think that!”
Xia Yuan shook tiny fists. “Pummel him to death!“
Their camaraderie restored, the duo playfully shadowboxed.
That evening, a drained Xia Yuan returned home in full “Lin Wanwan” disguise. Mei Fang immediately relieved her of her guitar and bag.
“Rough day? Any livehouse luck?”
Xia Yuan wordlessly shook her head, even rejecting his hug.
“I-I’m Lin Wanwan now… no PDA.”
As Xia Yuan flopped onto the couch, Mei Fang tenderly removed her shoes, socks, wig—methodically dismantling the persona.
“All clean. You’re my YuanYuan again. Now, talk to me.”
With a whimper, Xia Yuan crawled into his lap, burying her face in his chest before unleashing a torrent of grievances about their futile venue hunt.
“Some owners wouldn’t even look at us! One demanded we pay them for ‘exposure’! Another tried groping us—”
Mei Fang’s gaze turned lethal. “Which venue? Name them.”
“Don’t glare like that! Bingbing handled it—lifted him one-handed. He peed himself!”
“Bingbing’s a lifesaver…”
Mei Fang frowned. “Why not hire a manager? Yuanxi Music has professionals.”
“That’s cheating! No shortcuts… Wait, am I relying on you now by venting?”
“Sharing struggles isn’t ‘help.’ Or should Bingbing/Xue/Xiaoyu stay single forever to match your suffering?”
“What? Want me to find them boyfriends?”
His teasing tongue-out expression disarmed her.
“Jerk or not…” Mei Fang eyed her unbuttoning blouse. “Why undress now?”
“My feet are callused from walking! Your car rides spoiled me…”
“Your wish is my command, Princess YuanYuan~” He lifted her bridal-style. “So did you book a venue?”
“Qianhai Road… tiny but decent…”
As they kissed, Mei Fang casually added:
“That groper’s venue name?”
“Planning to buy it like some CEO cliché?”
“Buying rewards him.”
Mei Fang smirked. “I have… simpler methods.”
That night, exposés about the venue’s misconduct trended on C Station, sparking outrage. Soon after, the establishment shuttered permanently.