Mr. Carter is really reckless, even accepting gifts without any sense of propriety, and he thinks we don’t know about it. Weren’t those few cellists and clarinetists who failed the divisional assessment also at the ensemble rehearsal last Sunday? Tch, who was it that said there would be strict checks this time? Anyway, as long as it doesn’t come back to him, he doesn’t care.

“It’s all for school selection and extra points, isn’t it? Just turn a blind eye, it’s not the first time. But, Alan Carter, you’d better be careful, that first chair of the second violins is definitely not simple.”

“Oh, come on, no matter how clever, there’s no way they’d dare mess with Alan Carter…” They all talked at once, and Zoe Young could barely understand, but she stood quietly to the side, not leaving.

Alan Carter was surrounded by the group, smiling with her lips pressed together, not saying much, but still friendly, as if she was born to be at the center. She seemed even more mature and steady than the older boys and girls. Zoe Young didn’t know what she was waiting for. Although being left aside halfway made her a little stifled, the small world formed by the teenagers around her made her feel okay.

They criticized the teacher, they cared but acted indifferent, they spoke in ways she didn’t understand, they were used to all sorts of unspoken rules, they were familiar with each other, they…

Inferiority, annoyance, envy, fondness… all sorts of emotions churned in Zoe Young’s heart. She calmly watched the boy in the crowd. He was no longer the older brother who used to sit silently with her on the sofa watching cartoons. He probably didn’t even remember that slip of paper with their two names on it. This time, he appeared with his own world, and the edge of that world was like a transparent bubble, instantly pushing Zoe Young several meters away, leaving her standing there like a fool, staring blankly.

They kept talking, and Zoe Young heard voices from afar as several hosts announced in unison, “I declare, the ‘Kanghua Pharmaceuticals Cup’ Provincial Children’s Storytelling Competition, now—be—gins!”

There were forty-five contestants in the youth and children’s groups combined, and she was number forty-one. But she still turned and left, going backstage to wait for her turn. Behind her came Alan Carter’s voice, calling a few friends to the audience to watch the competition—it turned out his little cousin from his aunt’s family was also participating, and he had just finished rehearsal with the student orchestra at the Children’s Palace, so he came by to show support.

Zoe Young’s nerves at seeing the crowd became… even more tense after running into Alan Carter. Strangely, after being ignored just now, she actually calmed down. If at first she was afraid of embarrassing herself because she knew there was someone she knew—an important someone—in the audience, then after quietly walking away, what she thought was: even if she did embarrass herself, it seemed like he wouldn’t really care?

He would just think it was a little kid’s joke. Zoe Young quickly ran through her story twice against the wall, making sure she had it memorized, then stood up and ran to the curtain to sneak a peek at the competition, where she unexpectedly saw a very nervous Claire Daniels. “Jiejie?” “No need to call me ‘sister’, we’re the same age, I just started school earlier.” “…I didn’t call you sister.”

Only then did Claire Daniels realize, sticking out her tongue, “Sorry, I’m just a little nervous.” More than “a little”, right? Zoe Young felt her hand was icy cold: “Are you okay?” Claire Daniels’s script had been crumpled so much it was falling apart, with several tears. She nervously muttered her lines while folding and unfolding her script over and over. “My whole family came to watch me, even my cousins. What if I mess up?” Hearing her on the verge of tears, Zoe Young suddenly felt that this girl, who always acted like a second-year senior in front of her, was more like her own little sister. She patted Claire Daniels’s back comfortingly and smiled to reassure her. After Benny, this was the first person she felt really needed her protection, even though this girl was much more stubborn than Benny.

On stage, contestant number 17 was drawing a prompt and handed it to the host. The host announced loudly, “Okay, the slip number 17 drew says: ‘two cents, red scarf, police uncle, little kitten, grandma, eggplant’.”

To help the little kids, who probably couldn’t read, remember, he repeated it three times: “So contestant 17 has 45 seconds to think, and the story is limited to three minutes.”

Claire Daniels started to look miserable again: “What if I can’t make up a story in a bit…” Time was up, and contestant 17 stared at the slip and slowly began: “On Sunday morning, a little kid wearing a red scarf found two cents on the road. She immediately gave the two cents to the police uncle. The police uncle… the police uncle… uncle nodded at me…” The child’s tone started to sound a bit like singing, and the audience burst into good-natured laughter.

“See, see, I’ll definitely do even worse than him…” Claire Daniels was almost in tears, her makeup for the competition smudged from sweating.

“On the way home I met a little kitten, then grandma… grandma told me we’d have eggplant for dinner.” Contestant 17 finished bravely, took a quick bow, and ran backstage. The audience applauded and laughed. As Claire Daniels was about to go on, Zoe Young shouted “Good luck!” loudly in her ear. Claire Daniels was so startled she collapsed onto the sofa, clutching her chest and yelling, “What are you doing?! Are you trying to scare me to death?!” Zoe Young laughed, and Claire Daniels finally regained some of her “I’ll go block it” spirit. Zoe Young pinched Claire Daniels’s cheek: “Not nervous anymore, right?” Claire Daniels blinked, dazed for a moment, then smiled too: “Huh? I guess not… haha, thank you, Zoe.”

“No need to thank me, it’s my mom’s trick for curing my hiccups. Good luck!” Claire Daniels’s performance went smoothly, though her impromptu story at the end was a bit lacking—she basically just made a sentence for each keyword and strung them together. Claire Daniels ran off stage excitedly, back to her senior self, patting Zoe Young’s head loftily, saying, “You have to do your best, okay.”

When Zoe Young went on stage, the audience was already a bit tired, and the buzzing never stopped. Except for their own children, no one really listened attentively to over forty kids’ patriotic speeches.

She told Zhao Yiman’s story smoothly, then drew a slip from the big box and handed it to the host. The host unfolded it and read loudly, “Contestant 41’s prompt is: ‘mouse, cat, yellow balloon, superstar’.” Zoe Young blinked—what kind of combination is that? The audience always quieted down for the impromptu story part, because that’s when you’d hear all sorts of joke-like stories. As Zoe Young frowned in thought, the stage lights suddenly malfunctioned, the orange background lights went out, and only two white spotlights at the edge of the stage shone on her, like the lights American police use to interrogate suspects on TV.

Zoe Young wasn’t flustered. The explosive noise from the audience felt distant to her; she just stood there, a mysterious excitement rising in her heart.

The world was pitch black, and there was only her. Only herself.

Zoe Young actually felt like crying. In that moment, she understood why every time Seiya was knocked down, he’d see the faces of friends, family, and Athena, and then get up and unleash his cosmos to defeat the enemy—she really saw them, right there in the darkness ahead: she saw The Duke and Three-Eyed Kid, and Westbank holding the Holy Jug, and Sweetie transforming…

They said, Zoe, you can do it.

The lights switched back, and Zoe Young returned to reality, squinting to adjust to the brightness. The host came back on stage to explain the little malfunction to the audience, then turned to comfort Zoe Young, asking if she needed more time.

“No, I’m ready,” she said softly. The audience immediately quieted, all eyes on her.

“Once upon a time, there was a little country mouse named… Benny. He always thought he was born to be a superstar, to sing the best songs on stage, to have everyone sing along with him, to be the most amazing… um, mouse.

“But Benny’s family never believed in him, only his best friend always encouraged him. His friend said, only by going to the city could he make his dream come true.