Chapter 71: The Reunion of "Hellfire"

“Life at the training camp was tough, wasn’t it?” Lin Qihua glanced at her, noticing how much thinner she’d become. “But it seems you gained a lot.”

“It was hard,” Nana replied, shivering at the memory. “But compared to the days before, it was like heaven. Because now there’s hope. Every day I make progress, and no matter how hard it is, it feels sweet.”

“That’s right. As long as a person has hope, they can endure anything. The most terrifying thing is despair,” Lin Qihua sighed. “Any idea when you’ll debut?”

“I’m not sure yet. There’s still so much to learn. I doubt it’ll even happen next year,” Nana answered, sounding frustrated. “The more I learn, the more I realize how much I’m lacking.”

“That’s because you’ve reached a higher level now—your vision extends further. It means you’re not just aiming for a debut anymore, but have set your sights on something greater. That’s a good thing. The only thing to fear is a narrow vision.”

“You’re right.”

As they spoke, Liu Xing’s clear voice rose from below. “Qihua! Nana!”

They turned to see the members of the “Hellfire” band coming up the steps, Liu Xing waving enthusiastically at them.

“Hey!” The two waved back.

“You’re early,” Ahui and the others said as they reached them, smiling.

“Yeah, everyone’s early,” Lin Qihua laughed, raising his fist to bump with Ahui’s. “Hellfire is reunited.”

“Yes, reunited at last,” Ahui said wistfully, gazing at the two before him. Even though he knew they were no longer part of the band and had found broader worlds, it still felt surreal, as if nothing had changed. Lin Qihua, brilliant as ever; Nana, a sprite on stage, electrifying crowds time and again. Even though the band was thriving now, he still missed those days. Maybe those were the happiest days of his life.

“Really? That impressive?” Lin Qihua replied with a smile, turning to the silent Shen Ming. “Congratulations, you’re doing great.”

“It’s all thanks to the foundation you left,” Shen Ming said, his eyes complicated as he looked at Lin Qihua. Even months after his departure, Shen Ming could still feel the pressure he had left—a mountain almost impossible to cross. As long as he relied on the old songs, he could never surpass him.

“Take it slow,” Lin Qihua understood how he felt. For a proud vocalist, this was hard to accept. “The audience will come to embrace you; the band will eventually bear your mark. Don’t force it.”

“I know,” Shen Ming took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. I was part of the band too,” Lin Qihua waved it off.

“Qihua, we haven’t heard much about you lately. Didn’t you already make your comeback? Why so quiet?” Ahui asked.

“No rush, I’m still preparing. The first impression matters most, so I want to be thorough,” Lin Qihua replied vaguely—he didn’t want to lie, but couldn’t reveal too much either.

“Oh, well be sure to let us know when it happens. We’ll come to cheer you on,” Ahui said, thinking a stage at Music Bank would be the perfect comeback for Lin Qihua.

“Of course, thank you.” Lin Qihua smiled.

“So, how about showing off a bit tonight?” Ahui said softly. “Give the grand opening a boost.”

“Yes, with the whole ‘Hellfire’ crew together, we’re unstoppable,” Liu Xing said happily.

Nana was tempted and looked at Lin Qihua.

Lin Qihua glanced at Shen Ming, whose breath had subtly tightened, and laughed easily. “No, it’s been too long since we played together. We wouldn’t be as tight as you guys. The stage is yours—we’ll sit back and enjoy your performance. Just don’t mess it up!”

Ahui caught on, looked at Shen Ming, and hurriedly agreed. “Alright, we’ll give it our best. You just watch.”

“We’ll make sure you’re satisfied,” Shen Ming assured them.

“We’ll be waiting,” Lin Qihua replied.

Nana joined in, laughing, “I’m not going down there either. I haven’t practiced piano lately—my fingers are stiff. I’ll just watch you all. Liu Xing, you talk big—don’t let it be all talk.”

“Just wait and see,” Liu Xing answered confidently.

The group bantered, laughter and conversation flowing freely. When the time drew near, they went down to prepare for the night’s performance.

Lin Qihua and Nana sat down again to await the show’s start. The place was already filling up with guests.

Examining the buttons on the table, Lin Qihua noticed that beyond the call button for the servers, there was a screen in the center. Guests could order drinks and snacks directly from it; once the order was placed, the bar would receive it instantly and send things over—very convenient. On the other side, a prominent button caught his eye. According to the instructions, it was the “Send Flowers” button. If you liked a band’s performance, pressing it would make a bouquet bloom on the screen behind the stage, showing support. Then, a server would bring a drink to the table, named after the band you supported. For example, if Lin Qihua sent flowers to “Hellfire,” he’d receive a drink named “Hellfire.” It was clever—heightening guests’ sense of involvement and satisfaction.

“Impressive,” Lin Qihua sighed.

“Yeah, Sister Mei and the others are amazing.”

But Lin Qihua was thinking of Sister Feng’s alluring face. She was the true mastermind behind the scenes.

The performance finally began, with “Hellfire” naturally kicking things off. Their opening number was the must-play “Dreaming of the Tang Dynasty.”

Carefully savoring Shen Ming’s performance, Lin Qihua could sense the differences between them. He felt Shen Ming was actually more suited for this song—his voice sharper, his delivery stranger, and the impact more intense. Yet, when it came to emotion and nuance, he still fell short of what Lin Qihua had achieved in the past—let alone compared to his present self. The training methods of Lian Yuling had truly borne fruit; his own skills were now far beyond what they had been.

A “pop” broke his thoughts—Nana had already pressed the flower button, beaming as the special effect flashed across the screen.

Lin Qihua set aside his reflections, smiled, and pressed his own button. A brilliant blossom exploded on the screen.

Perhaps their enthusiasm was contagious; the other guests soon followed suit, and the screen filled with a cascade of virtual flowers, igniting the night’s first wave of excitement.

Shen Ming was clearly spurred on, pouring all his energy into the performance. He knew there was a gap between him and Lin Qihua, but he would not concede defeat. He longed to surpass this “predecessor,” to make a name for himself on his own terms and fulfill his dreams on the grand stage. Tonight, before this man, he would give everything—burn every last ounce of energy—using his greatest skill and finest performance to declare: I will surpass you.

“Go for it!” Lin Qihua felt Shen Ming’s surging fighting spirit and murmured encouragement.

When “The Singer” airs, will he still have this fighting spirit? Lin Qihua didn’t know. But he knew one thing: he would not stand still. He would keep striving forward, always moving toward the future.