Chapter 108: Mountain Streams and Flowing Waters

The sleeper train was peaceful, and when he woke, the Shinkansen had arrived in Tokyo right on schedule.

Gu Cheng had agreed to make a guest appearance, and naturally, S.M. Entertainment provided full support. As for Avex, when the concert organizers heard that the guest would be the aloof and dashing Gu Cheng from "Meteor Garden," they agreed without reservation. It was no joke—given Gu Cheng’s current popularity in Japan, only Takuya Kimura could claim to consistently outperform him; all other idol singers and actors had to tread carefully. Having him as a surprise guest was a surefire way for the record label to boost its influence.

Because this was her debut, Avex was afraid Kwon Bo-ah might not be able to command a massive crowd, so they opted for the Roppongi Center, a 30,000-seat indoor venue, rather than the 50,000-seat Tokyo Dome. Kwon Bo-ah required three days of rehearsals to prepare for her first solo concert. Since Gu Cheng had agreed to the cameo, he showed up for three hours each day, taking the opportunity to repeatedly rehearse the Japanese version of "Ocean of Men" and sync up with the band. The rest of the time, he continued to manage his business remotely.

"Ocean of Men" was well-suited for the piano, and since the piano arrangement wasn't overly complex, Gu Cheng decided to play and sing it himself, with the band merely filling in the base tones and the chorus melody. Gu Cheng’s biggest weakness was his lack of live performance experience; after all, he had never sung in front of such a large crowd. However, his extensive experience with press conferences and public speaking helped compensate for that.

November 9th arrived quickly. It was a weekend, the day of Kwon Bo-ah’s solo debut, and the show started promptly at 7:30 PM.

"It’s time. Get ready to go on stage."

Following the stage director’s cue, Kwon Bo-ah, dressed in exquisite makeup, followed the band onto the dark stage. She nearly tripped, nearly kicking over the temporary steps.

Gu Cheng stepped forward and brushed off the hem of her skirt. "Be careful, watch your step. Just pretend it’s not a solo concert. With me here, surely I’m worth as much as the support of those people like Kumi Koda or Aya Matsuura, right?"

"Mhm." The girl quickly steadied herself, clenching her small fists for encouragement. "Fighting!"

As the energetic music of "No.1" began, the concert officially kicked off. Once she started singing, her nerves quickly dissipated. The cheers of 30,000 people erupted in waves, and the venue soon became a sea of yellow balloons and glow sticks.

After two songs, Kwon Bo-ah went backstage to change during the break. As she brushed past him, Gu Cheng smiled and encouraged her: "Good. If you don't mess up the first two songs, you won't mess up the rest."

This was a truth, a conclusion drawn from Gu Cheng’s two lifetimes of observing countless artists. Whether a singer or a host, mistakes almost always happened during their first time or their initial period of fame. Once Gu Cheng summarized this, Kwon Bo-ah felt more reassured than any medicine could provide; her courage instantly bloomed, and her stage presence became explosive.

The next hour went very smoothly. She breezed through ten consecutive songs, interspersed with improvised interactions. Kwon Bo-ah was one of the rare Japanese-market singers who could dance vigorously while singing live throughout the entire show. Exhausted yet exhilarated, she almost couldn't get her mid-show speech out:

"Thank you all so much for your love. This is my first solo concert, and I am very moved. I will forever cherish your support. However, I regret that I need a ten-minute break, so today I have invited a surprise guest who has been supporting me silently behind the scenes to help me through this time. I hope you will like him too."

The lights in the venue dimmed. For three full minutes, the roar of the fans gradually faded into silence.

Then, a spotlight illuminated a high-end white grand piano covered in flowers. A handsome youth, dressed in a custom Giorgio Armani trench coat, sat before the piano, his slender fingers moving gracefully and fluidly, pulling soulful notes from the keys like flowing water.

"It’s 'Ocean of Men'!" Two or three out of every ten audience members recognized the song from just the prelude.

Although Gu Cheng was quite popular in Japan at the moment, the song "Ocean of Men" was not widely known, as it wasn't a soundtrack piece from "Meteor Garden" but a track from his personal album—an album that was quite difficult to purchase in Japan. Therefore, only the hardcore fans obsessed with "Hanazawa Rui," the character he played in "Meteor Garden," were familiar with the song.

Fortunately, Kwon Bo-ah followed the image of an energetic young girl rather than a "sexy" or "otaku goddess" persona. Thus, at least three-quarters of her paid audience were women. This demographic overlapped significantly with Gu Cheng’s own group of die-hard female fans.

After the 15-second piano intro, the camera on the big screen gradually zoomed in. When the saxophone and other instruments kicked in and the lights brightened, the camera focused on Gu Cheng.

Now everyone recognized him. There was hardly anyone in the venue who hadn't seen "Meteor Garden."

"It’s Hanazawa Rui!"
"It’s Gu-san!"
"Onii-chan, watashi daisuki!"

Gu Cheng, sitting at the piano, looked profound and calm, like a piece of solid ice wrapping around a flame. A deep, hidden affection was masked beneath his aloof exterior.

"Holding you in my arms, leaves drifting with the waves; you are here, yet my heart has flown away. Unaware of your heart, I wander in confusion..."
"My devotion is like the sea, my love is boundless; unbound, I let you set sail; to the other shore, your paradise..."
"My devotion is like the sea, my deepest love hidden; like the moon accompanying you, I bear the pain alone; breaking my own wings, I grant you the sky to soar..."

(Note: If a Chinese song is covered in Japanese and translated back, it generally loses two-thirds of its character count. Since writing it in Japanese would be unintelligible to many, I have only written the "streamlined" Chinese version.)

The sound of people "thumping" to the floor was constant, as one after another, young Japanese fans, over-imagining the scene, fainted in their seats.

The cheering grew softer, yet it remained continuous, like hypnotic white noise. It was the result of 30,000 people wanting to cheer but forcefully suppressing it for fear of drowning out the heavenly melody. It was as if 30,000 voices were swirling in 30,000 throats, unable to burst forth.

The Roppongi venue seemed to be shrouded in a massive vacuum created by rapid rotation; only Gu Cheng, the source of the centrifugal force, could emit sound, while the audience could only suffocate in the silent, intoxicating vacuum.

Five minutes was too short. As Gu Cheng’s voice faded into silence, countless fans even forgot that they were there for Kwon Bo-ah’s solo concert.

"One more! One more!"

Gu Cheng brushed off his clothes, stood up with a wry smile, and said in Japanese: "I’m sorry, everyone. I believe you all know that this is the only song of mine with Japanese lyrics. I am here today as a senior guest to support my junior. Let us return the stage to Ms. Kwon."

"Meteor Rain! Meteor Rain! Chinese is fine too! The one played on NHK was in Chinese!"

The venue was in chaos for two minutes. It wasn't until Kwon Bo-ah came back on stage that the fans finally quieted down.

Kwon Bo-ah scanned the crowd calmly. There was no dissatisfaction or resentment in her eyes, only a genuine desire to enjoy the moment with her fans. She smiled and said: "Since Chinese is fine, I will sing 'Meteor Rain' with Senior Gu. He is a mentor and friend for life, and I am very happy that you all like today’s arrangement."

"Awwwww!"

The band was excellent and quickly made the adjustments. "Meteor Rain" was easy to play, and after a few dozen seconds, the music began to play softly.

Kwon Bo-ah had been learning Chinese for a year and could finally sing some slow songs. After Gu Cheng led the first line, she immediately calmed down and entered the zone.

For the first three verses of murmuring lyrics, they had no rehearsal, yet they chose to sing as a duet with natural, tacit understanding. When the climax arrived, a single look from Gu Cheng signaled to Kwon Bo-ah that it was time to join in.

"...Accompanying you to watch the meteor rain fall onto this earth; letting your tears fall onto my shoulder. I want you to believe that my love is only brave for you; you will see where happiness lies..."

The only regret was that the lighting technician hadn't made any preparations for this song, so there were no falling meteors or cool effects—only two simple spotlights following the singers, like cold, white moonlight.

But what did that matter?

"Gu-san~ Watashi daisuki~"
"BoA~ I love you~"

The young fans below were going wild, shouting "I love you" as if it cost nothing. Of course, the twenty percent of male fans were mixed in, though they weren't quite gay enough to shout that at Gu Cheng; they mostly just screamed.

As the song ended, even Kwon Bo-ah was so moved by the atmosphere that she didn't know what to say.

Never mind, Gu Cheng had to step in.

"Thank you all for your love. I have never held a concert, and it is unlikely I ever will. Today’s cameo might be a precious life experience."

His words didn't sound at all like what a singer would say on such an occasion—but then again, he wasn't really a singer.

Tens of thousands of people in the venue were somehow hushed by him.

Gu Cheng smiled with a "charming and wicked" air and continued, setting the rhythm: "I once sang for 30 people, and today I sang in front of 30,000. Right now, I feel that singing for 30 people is harder than singing for 30,000.

"Because when I sing for 30,000, your faces are blurred. You have only one soul, and that is loving me. But when I sing for 30 people, each of their personalities and souls returns. I can truly feel that while I might please 25 of them, the remaining five distinct individuals might very well dislike me. My sincerity, talent, and depth are all tested at that moment.

"So, the moment I stepped on stage, I considered: if you all really shouted 'I love you' wildly, then I should join in the fun and shout 'I love you too.' But now, I have decided to express my respect for those who truly understand me in a more sincere way—I will not shout 'I love you too' again. Because if I said that, you would no longer be individuals with independent souls and personal pursuits in my eyes; you would be twisted by me into a blurred mass—'The Mass'."

Having said this, Gu Cheng flicked his coat and left happily.

Kwon Bo-ah still had ten songs left, but she stood there in a daze, watching Gu Cheng leave the stage, at a loss.

"I am very sorry, everyone. I was distracted just now. I feel like in that moment, I learned so much—I hope to make a pact with you all here today. For the rest of my life, I will never say 'I love you too' at a concert, because I have found a better way to respect my fans."