Volume One: Rising to the Pinnacle at Debut Chapter Twenty-One: A Night of Darkness and Murder

Inside Chen Jing’s office, Lin Zitan entered, leading Gu Tao by the hand.

Chen Jing rose to greet them. “Hello, Miss Gu.”

Gu Tao, a bit shy and faltering, replied, “Hello, Mr. Chen…”

Chen Jing smiled wryly. “If you don’t mind, Miss Gu, just call me Chen Jing or even Jing.”

Embarrassed, Gu Tao bowed her head and murmured, “Then I’ll call you… Chen Jing.”

Seeing how she avoided his gaze, Chen Jing felt helpless. For heaven’s sake, I’m not a wild beast—am I really so frightening?

He got straight to the point. “So, Miss Gu, what brings you here today?”

At this, Gu Tao finally summoned her courage, lifted her head to meet his eyes, and—upon making eye contact—her cheeks flushed red. Instantly, she ducked her head again like a startled ostrich.

Chen Jing couldn’t help but sigh—just as he’d guessed.

She asked softly, head lowered, “I… I wanted to ask if you’ve already chosen your partner for the second round of the competition, Chen Jing?”

He shook his head gently. “I’m sorry, Miss Gu. I’ve already teamed up with someone else.”

“Oh… I see…” Gu Tao was visibly taken aback, her voice trailing off into confusion.

The atmosphere cooled. Chen Jing was about to say something when Gu Tao spoke first.

“I’m sorry for bothering you, Mr. Chen Jing,” she said, bowing her head slightly in sincere apology. “I won’t disturb you any further. I wish you the best of luck in the second round.” With that, she turned and left.

“Gu…” Chen Jing watched her go, disappointment clear on her face. He wanted to say something more, but in the end, he kept silent.

After she’d gone, Lin Zitan grinned and teased Chen Jing. “So, do you regret teaming up with Li Qingwei now? For his sake, you’ve turned down two beautiful girls. Does your heart ache?”

Chen Jing laughed, feigning grief. “Of course! My heart is shattered. When Li Qingwei comes, I’ll have to make him treat me to dinner a few times to make up for it.”

“Haha, if Li Qingwei finds out, he’ll be devastated,” Lin Zitan giggled, covering her mouth.

Chen Jing rolled his eyes. “Why should he be upset? I’m the one who’s lost my chance to get to know two lovely women.”

After more than half a year, Ling Ruohan—known as the Sweet Song Princess—had finally released a new album. The moment it hit the shelves, her fans snapped it up, sending sales soaring.

Many fans had intended only to support their idol, but after listening, they were surprised by just how good the songs were—especially the title track, “Aurora,” which was simply stunning. Fans eagerly shared the song with friends. With Jinrun Entertainment’s promotion, even casual listeners became instant converts, recommending “Aurora” to everyone.

As a result, less than a week after release, “Aurora” shot to the top of every major music chart. Ling Ruohan’s fame exploded once more. With the current fervor, if her popularity continued to rise, she might soon lose the “junior” from her “Sweet Song Princess” title.

But that’s a story for another day. For now, her new album had achieved remarkable success.

“Jing, I really can’t thank you enough.” On the night of the album’s release, Chen Jing received a call from Ling Ruohan.

He shook his head. “You don’t need to thank me, Ruohan. You’re the one who sang the songs. The success is all yours.”

Ling Ruohan chuckled. “You’re too sweet, Jing. Alright, when you’ve got some time, let me treat you to dinner.”

“Let’s wait a while. Now that your album’s out, you’ll be busy, and I need to prepare for the next round of Voice of Hua Xia.”

“True…”

After ending Ling Ruohan’s congratulatory call, Chen Jing returned to the studio to continue rehearsing with Li Qingwei for their performance in the upcoming round.

“This part needs to be a bit quicker. If you drag it out, you’ll fall behind the rhythm,” Chen Jing advised as he made the final adjustments.

Li Qingwei nodded seriously. In all their days working together, he’d learned that whenever Chen Jing suggested a change, the result was always better. At first, he’d been amazed; now, he took it as a matter of course—he was completely convinced by Chen Jing’s talent.

He used to call him “Boss Jing” out of politeness and gratitude. Now, the title came from genuine respect. With this much talent, what’s wrong with calling him boss? Others would be lucky to have the chance, Li Qingwei thought contentedly.

The list of team pairings for the second round of Voice of Hua Xia was out. One pairing in particular surprised Chen Jing: Xie Weiyu had teamed up with Gu Tao. Both had approached him separately about forming a team, and now they’d ended up together. Was he their matchmaker, perhaps?

Chen Jing and Li Qingwei’s team was Group 15—neither early nor late in the lineup. Xie Weiyu and Gu Tao were Group 12, so they’d likely appear in the same episode.

At last, the second round of Voice of Hua Xia began filming. Chen Jing’s group wasn’t performing on the first day, but he still attended to watch the other teams’ performances.

Sure enough, when two unfamiliar contestants teamed up, mistakes became more frequent. Some errors were due to lack of practice or inability to keep up with the rhythm; others occurred when one contestant’s brilliance overshadowed their partner, causing undue pressure and more mistakes. Either way, these teams didn’t score highly.

After the evening’s recording, Chen Jing parted ways with Lin Xi and the others, since their routes home didn’t match. He rode a shared bike back to his apartment.

The night was deep and silent; the winding path was deserted. Chen Jing pedaled leisurely past a garment factory.

Bang! A sudden noise broke the stillness.

“Huh?” Chen Jing stopped, glancing curiously at the factory. That sound… He was certain it was a suppressed gunshot.

Heavy, ragged breathing—someone was gasping for air. A thin figure squeezed through a high, small window in the factory wall, tumbled inside, and darted silently through the building, finally squeezing into a hidden storage locker.

Shutting the locker door, the figure took a deep breath and forced their breathing to slow. Silence fell.

Creak.

“The door’s locked.”

“Open it.”

Bang!

The lock was shot open. Footsteps approached. The figure inside the locker tensed, peering through a crack to see several men breaking into the factory.

“Where is he? Where did he go?”

“He’s got to be here. Search thoroughly,” ordered a burly man in charge.

“Be careful—he’s dangerous,” another warned.

The men fanned out, searching every inch of the small factory.

The person hiding in the locker watched as the searchers drew closer, heart pounding. There was nothing to do but pray they’d overlook this particular locker.

But was that possible? The leader began to search his way toward the locker. He stopped in front of it, about to open it, when a commotion erupted elsewhere.

“Over here—there’s something here!”

Everyone rushed over, only to discover a rat had caused the noise.

“Damn!” The man who’d called out, seeing the dead rat, nearly vented his frustration on it.

The leader cut off his impotent rage. “Enough. He has to be here. Search again.”

They scoured the place once more, but still found nothing. The leader frowned—he was sure the boy was hiding somewhere. He surveyed the room, his gaze settling on the storage locker. Did he check that one?

His eyes lit up. He signaled to the others, and they started toward the locker.

But before they took two steps, the locker door burst open. A small, thin figure shot out, bolting for the factory’s main door.

Someone instinctively raised a gun to shoot, but the leader grabbed his arm. “What are you doing? No shooting—we need him alive. After him!” He was already in pursuit.

“Damn it!” the man cursed, holstering his weapon and joining the chase.

Panting desperately, the small figure raced for the exit. I can’t let them catch me again—Father gave his life to let me escape. If they catch me now, everything’s lost.

The door was close now. As the child dashed forward, he tripped over the threshold and crashed hard to the ground. Perhaps he’d been running too fast, because the fall was brutal. His arm twitc