Green plums cannot become lovers.

I will go and find it myself.

A mother who came with her daughter swayed gently to the melody, while her daughter excitedly waved a glow stick; several college students who came together put their arms around each other's shoulders and nodded to the rhythm; even Section Chief Sato, who came alone, showed a relieved smile at this moment—perhaps those lost friendships have not disappeared, but simply exist in memory in another form.

The atmosphere at the concert gradually heated up. An and Asuka interacted with the audience naturally and without affectation, occasionally saying a few words, sharing the background of a song's creation, or thanking everyone for coming. His stage presence possessed a maturity beyond his years, yet retained the sincerity unique to youth.

As the performance drew to a close, the stage lighting changed again, becoming soft and warm. An and Asuka walked to the edge of the stage and spoke softly:

"The last song is a brand new work that has not been released anywhere yet. This song... is written for a very important person, and also for all those who encounter difficulties on the road of life but still move forward."

He paused, his gaze seemingly fixed in a particular direction—where Kaori Miyazono, Marina, Shizuka, and Ai were sitting.

"Its name is 'If It Can Shine'."

As the intro begins, a simple piano melody possesses a power that strikes straight to the heart. The lyrics of this song lack the complex metaphors of the previous two songs, instead being more direct and sincere.

Kaori Miyazono covered her mouth upon hearing the first line. She knew this song was written for her—for those days lying in the hospital bed, those nights when she thought she wouldn't see tomorrow, for her perseverance in choosing to believe in hope despite the pain. Tears welled up uncontrollably, but this time it wasn't sadness, but a feeling of being completely understood and seen.

It wasn't just her. In the audience, a young girl in a wheelchair clenched her fists. Her name was Miyuki, nineteen years old, and she lost her ability to walk two years ago in an accident. A former track and field athlete, she had fallen into deep despair until she accidentally heard the music of "Asuka," which slowly gave her the courage to start over. At this moment, every word of the song seemed to be speaking to her.

A middle-aged man, recently laid off, straightened his back. His name was Koji, 45 years old. He received his termination notice last month but dared not tell his family. Tonight, he secretly came out to the concert, hoping to temporarily escape reality, but found the courage to face tomorrow in this song.

A student preparing for an important exam, who had repeatedly failed, raised his head. A woman, nearly exhausted from caring for her ailing parents for years, took a deep breath. A young man, burdened with debt after a failed business venture, wiped away his tears.

In the chorus of "If We Can Shine," An and Asuka's voices reached the emotional peak of the entire evening. It wasn't a display of technique, but a complete release of emotion. Every note was filled with reverence for life, praise for perseverance, and celebration of the extraordinary courage of every ordinary person.

The path you chose is your true destiny.

Whether it's the hope clutched tightly in your hand or the anxiety,

It will surely transform into the light that propels us forward.

When the song ended, there was a few seconds of complete silence in the stadium.

Then, applause erupted like a landslide and a tsunami.

"Encore! Encore! Encore!"

The shouts were unified, and glow sticks were waved wildly. An and Asuka stood on the stage, looking at the sea of ​​stars that had lit up for him below, and for the first time, they truly felt the power of music to connect people's hearts.

He bowed, a deep bow, and then gestured to the band.

When thousands of people sang "thank you" together, the entire stadium seemed to become a giant resonant chamber, with everyone's heartbeats beating at the same frequency.

The concert ended twenty minutes late. An and Asuka bowed one last time, their foreheads soaked with sweat, but their eyes shone with an astonishing light.

Thank you everyone! See you next time!

Backstage, Akane Akasaka leaned against the wall, unusually not immediately dealing with her work. Her eyes were slightly red, and she still held the tablet she had used to record the performance details, but her attention was clearly not on it.

As a producer with many years of experience, she has seen too many performances, too many "geniuses," and too many stories of overnight fame followed by a rapid fall. But tonight, in this medium-sized stadium, she saw something different—not a display of skill, not a monetization of popularity, but a genuine dialogue between music and the human heart.

"Boss?" the assistant asked cautiously, "The media interviews are scheduled for..."

"Postpone it for ten minutes." Akane Kousaka waved her hand, her voice a little hoarse. "Let him take a break first."

She turned and headed towards the lounge, where she encountered An and Asuka, who had just finished performing. The boy looked somewhat tired, but his eyes were clear. He nodded slightly when he saw her: "Sister Zhu Yin."

“You did well,” Akane Akasaka said briefly, then paused and added, “Even better than I expected.”

This is the highest praise she could give.

An and Asuka smiled and said, "Thank you."

At that moment, Marina, Shizuka, Ai, and Kaori Miyazono also arrived backstage. All four girls had red eyes, clearly having cried a lot backstage.

Marina was the first to rush over: "Asuka! That was amazing! I cried so many times!"

Shizuka gently handed over water and a towel: "Thank you for your hard work."

Xiao Ai excitedly danced around: "The audience's reaction was incredibly enthusiastic! I saw so many people in the fan group saying that this was the best concert of the year!"

Kaori Miyazono didn't say anything, but walked up to An and Asuka and gently hugged them. The hug was short, but the emotions within it were profound.

“That song…” she whispered in his ear, “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you,” An and Asuka replied. “Because of you, I was able to write that kind of song.”

Akane Akane watched this scene, a smile unconsciously creeping onto her lips. She turned to leave, giving the young people some space, but then she heard An and Asuka call out to her.

"Sister Zhu Yin, about the next album..."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow." Akane Akasaka waved her hand without turning her head. "Tonight, enjoy the joy of success."

She walked out of the backstage area and lit a cigarette in the corridor outside the stadium—a habit she only had when she was stressed. Through the glass window, she saw the audience leaving one by one, many with wet tear stains and satisfied smiles on their faces.

A mother is holding her daughter's hand, and the daughter is excitedly talking about something;

A couple nestled close together, the boy gently kissing the girl's forehead;

Several friends walked and talked animatedly, imitating the chorus they had just sung;

A middle-aged man walking alone stopped, looked back at the stadium, bowed deeply, and then turned to leave.

Akane Akane exhaled and suddenly smiled.

Perhaps this is why she has persisted in this industry—not for fame or fortune, not for achievement, but to witness moments like these: how music illuminates the ordinary lives of ordinary people and gives them the courage to move forward.

My phone vibrated; it was a message from a senior executive: "The performance data is astonishing, and online discussions are exploding. Arrange the next show as soon as possible."

She replied, "We'll talk about it later. Let him rest for a few days first."

Looking up at the night sky, it was rare to see stars in Tokyo at night. Akane Akasaka stubbed out her cigarette and walked towards the parking lot.

Inside the stadium, An and Asuka were giving a brief media interview. The questions were standard: their impressions of the performance, future plans, and the background of their new song. He answered politely and sincerely, occasionally glancing at the four girls beside him with gentle eyes.

After the interview, they left through a special passage, avoiding the fans still gathered outside. Only when they got into the car did An and Asuka truly relax, leaning back in their seats and closing their eyes.

"Are you tired?" Kaori Miyazono asked softly.

“A little,” he said honestly, “but I’m very happy.”

Marina leaned out from the back seat: "A celebration party! A celebration party! I've already made reservations!"

Shizuka smiled and said, "I made bento boxes, but a celebration party is fine too."

Xiao Ai cheered, "I want to eat cake!"

The car drove into the Tokyo night. Outside the window, the city lights flowed like a river. An and Asuka watched all this, their minds replaying every moment of the night—the tears, the smiles, the hearts that met in the music.

He recalled that when the system first awakened, he only wanted to improve his own and the girls' lives. But unknowingly, this path had transcended its original purpose, becoming a bridge connecting him with many more people, offering hope and warmth.

My phone vibrated; it was a message from Anhe Tiantong: "Flying Bird, congratulations."

A simple sentence, yet it made An and Asuka pause for a moment.

He replied, "Thank you, Ms. Anhe, I will continue to work hard."

Then, he opened social media and saw that "Asuka's First Concert" had reached number one on the trending list. Clicking on the topic, the screen was filled with viewers sharing their feelings:

"I cried so much that my contact lenses fell out, but it was worth it."

"If I Can Shine" gave me the courage to start over.

"I never imagined that a sixteen-year-old could write such music."

"From today onwards, I am a lifelong fan of Asuka."

He glanced at a few messages, then put his phone away and looked at the girls in the car. They were excitedly discussing what to eat at the celebration party, with occasional bursts of laughter.

At that moment, he felt incredibly fulfilled and at peace.

Volume 1: Chapter 188 A New Encounter

After a concert, An and Asuka's fame spread throughout the campus and beyond.

He was already highly regarded on campus for his academic talent and the production background of "Where the Stars Are," and now he has the added halo of "musician Asuka."

Walking down the corridors of Toyosaki Academy, he could clearly feel that the gazes directed at him were more numerous and complex than ever before—there was curiosity, admiration, inquiry, and even undisguised affection in the eyes of some female students.

Confessions started becoming more frequent. Sometimes it was a carefully prepared love letter being secretly slipped into the shoe cabinet; sometimes it was a blushing girl stopping him in a corner of the corridor during lunch break; and once, in the library, a strange girl walked right up to him and said in a trembling but firm voice, "Please go out with me."

An and Asuka politely but clearly refused each time.

He wouldn't say, "I already have a girlfriend"—after all, his relationships with the girls haven't been made public yet.

He wouldn't say "I'm not interested in romance," because that would obviously be a lie.

He simply replied gently but distantly, "I'm sorry, I'm focused on music and my studies right now."

These scenes naturally did not escape the eyes of Marina, Shizuka, and Ai. The three often exchanged information in the activity room, like playing some kind of interesting observation game.

“Today it’s Yamada from Class D, Year 2,” Marina said, biting her pencil and writing in her notebook. “That’s the third one this week.”

Shizuka brewed tea, a faint smile playing on her lips: "Asuka handled it very well."

Xiao Ai rested her chin on her hand, a mischievous glint in her purple eyes: "If Xun finds out, she'll definitely be jealous, right? Should we tell her?"

“No need.” Marina waved her hand, a sly smile spreading across her face. “This is just a little test for Asuka. Besides—”

She paused, looking at the cherry blossom trees outside the window. "We're not worried, are we?"

They weren't worried at all. They knew An and Asuka too well—that seemingly gentle but actually stubborn boy, once he made up his mind about something, he would be as steadfast as a rock. Whether in the past or present, they had been through so much together with her; how could a few naive confessions shake the bonds built upon them?

The weight of their shared experience makes those fleeting infatuations seem so light.

As the frenzy sparked by the concert gradually subsided, An and Asuka's lives returned to a rhythmic tranquility. The March wind still carried the last chill of winter, but the air already held the unique fresh scent of spring, a blend of earth and flower buds. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the budding branches, casting dappled shadows on the asphalt road.

That afternoon, after finishing their discussion about the arrangement direction of their new album at Rouge En Rouge, An and Asuka didn't head straight to the station as usual, but instead chose to walk. He carried a shoulder bag containing sheet music and a notebook, his pace unhurried, as if enjoying this rare moment of leisure.

A thought kept swirling in my mind: when should I go back to Aichi?

Counting the time, they've been in Tokyo for a full year. So much has happened in that year—the game's success, the album release, the concert, and most importantly, Kaoru's recovery and reunion. They've been so busy, like spinning tops, that they've barely had a chance to catch their breath and look back.

But one can neither return to one's hometown nor not return to it. The small town in Aichi Prefecture is not big, with a main street running north to south, a few old shops, and a gently flowing river.

Many sad things did happen there, but there are even more beautiful memories that have been gently etched by time.

The piano music flowing from the activity room, the riverbank we walked together after school, the laughter of catching goldfish at the summer festival, the hot steamed buns shared at the convenience store in winter. There was his beloved old house, important moments in the girls' growing up, and the friends who stayed there.

"Let's go back and discuss it with Shizuka and the others," Anwa Asuka murmured to herself, stopping in her tracks.

He was standing at the entrance of a ramp.

The road is called "Detective Slope"—a somewhat quirky name, yet full of stories. He recently stumbled upon this detour home from the company, choosing it for a simple reason: it's quiet, scenic, and perfect for walking and contemplation.

The slope was indeed quite long, the bluestone pavement smoothed by time, flanked by old houses and walls, with a few early-blooming camellias occasionally peeking out from the tops. But what truly attracted Anhe and Feiniao were the cherry trees at the top of the slope. He had discovered this place last year in early summer, missing the blooming season, and could only imagine the scene of petals falling like snow in spring.

At that moment, he stood at the bottom of the slope and looked up, and sure enough, he saw the scene he had been expecting—the cherry trees were in full bloom, their pink and white blossoms clustered like clouds, swaying gently in the cool March breeze. A slightly stronger gust of wind blew by, and the petals fell like a fine rain, shimmering with tiny sparkles in the afternoon sunlight.

It was beautiful. But what attracted his attention even more was the figure standing under the cherry blossom tree at the top of the hill.

A girl in a white dress and a red cardigan was looking up at the falling petals. An and Asuka were too far away to see her face clearly, only her shoulder-length brown hair swaying slightly in the wind, and the white beret that was being blown off by the wind.

The girl reached out to catch the hat, but her movements were a beat too slow. The hat slipped lightly past her fingertips, landed on the slope, and began to roll down the sloping road—once, twice, faster and faster, until it bumped against a small indentation in the middle of the slope, changed direction, and rolled straight toward where An and Asuka were.

Then, it stopped at his feet.

An and Asuka paused for a moment, then bent down to pick up the hat. The hat was of fine quality, with a single, inconspicuous letter embroidered on the lining. Just as he straightened up, a panicked shout suddenly came from the slope:

"Get out of the way! The brakes have failed!"

Looking up, they saw a bicycle hurtling down the hill at an alarming speed. The rider was desperately gripping the brakes, but the screeching sound indicated that the braking effect was limited. An and Asuka instinctively swerved to the side, calculating the bicycle's trajectory—if the rider didn't change direction, they would likely crash into the roadside utility pole.

Fortunately, at the last moment, the cyclist suddenly twisted the handlebars, and the bicycle drew a semi-circle in front of An and Asuka in an almost out-of-control manner before finally coming to a stop, with the front wheel less than ten centimeters away from his calf.

"Isn't that right—"

The cyclist looked up, but the words of apology caught in his throat.

An and Asuka recognized the face. A year had passed, and the boy who had challenged him when the club was founded and who had cast complicated glances at him on campus many times seemed unchanged. He was still wearing those black-rimmed glasses, his hair was a little messy, and his face was flushed from exercise and embarrassed at the moment.

Aki Tomoya's lips moved, but no sound came out. He looked at An and Asuka, at the white beret in their hands, at their calm, expressionless faces, and a series of images flashed uncontrollably through his mind—

The harsh words he uttered after being rejected multiple times, and his smugness upon learning that his club couldn't find any members.

He once thought he would eventually win the match.

Because of his personal charisma, he took the lead in forming a team when this guy couldn't even gather enough members for his gang.

But in the end, he lost completely.

In less than three months, this young man and his team created an excellent game. At that time, he had only written an immature plan, and his plan was revised several times later.

At the same time, the boy himself is also very talented. He listens to the songs he writes and likes them very much.

His performance was so impressive that even if he was unconvinced, he had to admit and admire it. Of course, what made him feel even more ashamed was that the other person was just standing there, radiating a composure and brilliance that he could never reach.

All the words he wanted to say—apologies, explanations, even long-lost jokes—were swallowed back.