First, then, love.

The surrounding audience members were all dressed in decent coats and suits, watching the stage intently.

He was the only one who didn't fit in.

He didn't look at the program, didn't talk to the person next to him, and even his posture was stiff and strange.

The black baseball cap was pulled low, covering most of his face.

Under the brim of his hat, only his mouth, twitching slightly with excitement, and his messy stubble on his chin were visible.

The man's breathing grew heavier and heavier, like a broken bellows, wheezing and panting.

The air was filled with the smell of tobacco and a sour stench from not washing for days, causing a woman nearby to frequently frown and cover her nose.

He was completely unaware.

A pair of rough hands gripped the red leather armrests of the seat tightly. The fingernails were curled up from the excessive force, almost tearing through the surface of the leather.

The veins on the back of his hand were bulging, with several obvious scratches and old scars.

A drop of murky cold sweat dripped down his nose and landed on the filthy zipper of his hoodie.

He wasn't listening to any of that rubbish, highbrow music at all.

Beethoven or Piazzolla, it was all noise to him.

In his world, there is only that dazzling light in the center of the stage.

In the aperture, there is a woman wearing a black deep-V long dress.

Dazzlingly white skin, a swan-like neck.

Her chest heaved violently with the violin playing, and her long legs were faintly visible beneath the high slit of her skirt.

Everything was like a lethal dose of poison, frantically stimulating his dark nerves.

His blood was boiling, screaming, and burning.

His Adam's apple bobbed violently as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of greedy saliva.

His right hand, inside his pocket, gripped the handle of a folding switchblade tightly.

My palms were covered in sticky, cold sweat, which soaked the knife handle.

He watched her shine on stage, watched her being looked up to by two thousand people.

The perverse destructive urge in his heart grew stronger.

*

The music reached its climax.

The stage lights suddenly blazed on, so bright that it was blinding.

Shu Yao suddenly pulled the bowstring taut, her right hand drawing a sharp arc in the air.

It ended with a powerful, long note.

The last note vibrated wildly in the air before abruptly stopping.

The entire room fell silent for a second.

Immediately following, thunderous applause and cheers erupted, and some people even stood up and whistled.

Shu Yao opened her eyes, her chest heaving violently as she gasped for breath.

The fingers holding the bow were trembling slightly, and a feeling of exhaustion swept through my body.

She stood up, carrying her heavy cello.

He bowed deeply to the sea of ​​people in the audience.

The moment she stood up.

Suddenly, that chilling intuition struck again without warning, sending a shiver down my spine, making my hair stand on end, and causing me to break out in a cold sweat.

She subconsciously raised her head, her gaze passing over the enthusiastic audience in the front row.

The distance was too far, several tens of meters.

The bright lights on the stage made her eyes blurry, while the audience below was in complete darkness.

She couldn't see anything clearly.

The chilling feeling that had gripped me for a moment was like an illusion, vanishing with the thunderous applause and cheers.

Shu Yao straightened up, her chest heaving violently as she gasped for breath.

Sweat trickled down my forehead and into my eyes, stinging slightly.

She blinked, forcibly suppressing her unease.

It must be because she's been too tired from rehearsals these past few days, leading to neurasthenia. Plus, He Zheng is going to arrest a serious criminal tonight, so she's on edge and acting suspiciously. This is a grand theater in the city center with tight security; how could a pervert possibly sneak in?

She took a deep breath and regulated her breathing.

My gaze naturally fell on the first row of the audience, right in the middle.

VIP seat, V-01.

All the seats around were full of people, men in suits and women in evening gowns, all clapping excitedly.

That seat, however, was completely empty.

The black velvet chair stood out starkly against the noisy crowd, appearing both conspicuous and desolate.

That was the seat reserved for He Zheng.

He once said he wanted to sit in the front row, watch her shine, and gouge out the eyes of any man who dared to glance at her.

But he broke his promise.

Shu Yao's heart sank.

Even though she was mentally prepared, and even though she had personally tidied his clothes before leaving, the moment she saw that empty seat, a huge sense of loss still overwhelmed her like a tidal wave.

Along with the sense of loss came a heart-wrenching panic.

Where is he now? In the abandoned factory in the south of the city? Is he still chasing those desperate criminals carrying explosives in the snowstorm? Is he injured? Did he put on the three layers of bulletproof vest as she said?

Swords and spears have no eyes; those people are all reckless madmen.

Shu Yao dared not think any further, her fingers gripping the cello neck tightened so hard that her knuckles turned white.

"Teacher Shu! That was fantastic! Perfect!"

The principal violinist next to her leaned over and excitedly whispered something, interrupting her reverie.

Shu Yao snapped out of her daze, forced a pale smile, and nodded.

The red curtain slowly closed.

It isolated the noise from the audience.

The moment the curtain closed, the backstage area descended into chaos.

Happy New Year! Best wishes for a successful performance!

"Hurry, hurry! Remove your makeup and change your clothes! Haidilao's private rooms are only available until 11:30!"