It had been nearly three weeks since the Veiled Musician last graced the public eye.
No livestreams. No performances at Jade Pavilion. No surprise pop-ups.
Nothing.
At first, fans assumed it was part of the allure—an intentional silence to stir anticipation. But as the days dragged and the *gala date drew nearer*, the excitement began to curdle into frustration.
*Social media platforms exploded.*
#Where's the Veiled Musician? Ghosted us like my ex."#
#"So she pulled a disappearing act? Typical."#
#"Was she even that good or were we just hypnotized by the hanfu and mystery?"#
#"One-hit wonder. Meanwhile, our Bai Lanyue is still blessing us with REAL artistry."#
#"This is why real musicians don't need to wear masks."#
*Bai Lanyue's fans*, in particular, were relentless.
With the pianist's name headlining the *Annual Golden Strings Gala*, her supporters seized the moment to elevate her while tearing down the mysterious upstart who had stolen the spotlight weeks prior.
#"Funny how the Veiled Musician vanished right before the gala. Afraid of being overshadowed by Bai Lanyue?"#
$"You can't hide behind a veil forever. The stage belongs to the real queen."#
Clips of Lanyue practicing began circulating online—her flawless form, delicate expression, and graceful posture reminding the audience why she was called the *Daughter of Melody*.
Meanwhile, photos and recordings of the Veiled Musician's past performances were reposted with sarcastic captions.
#Who even was she? A ghost in silk?"#
#"Gone with the wind, literally."#
In the penthouse, *Bai Zhiqi* scrolled through the latest threads in silence. Dressed in simple indoor robes, she sat cross-legged on the couch, phone in hand, face unreadable.
Beside her, Xiao Lin brought over a cup of herbal tea. "You're trending again," she said softly.
"I figured," Bai Zhiqi replied, setting the phone down. "They're getting restless."
Xiao Lin looked hesitant. "Do you… want to respond? Maybe a hint, a photo—just to stir things a bit?"
"No," Bai Zhiqi answered firmly. "Let them mock. It makes the silence louder. Let them believe I've run away."
A pause, then she added with a calm edge, "It'll only make the return more devastating."
At that moment, the door clicked open.
Ji Yanluo stepped into the room, his tie slightly loosened and coat draped over one arm. His sharp eyes scanned the tension in the room before settling on Bai Zhiqi.
"They're getting loud," he said simply.
She met his gaze. "Let them."
Ji Yanluo moved to the bar to pour himself a drink. "Lanyue's fan base is doing most of the work for you. Your silence is becoming… unsettling."
"Good," she murmured.
He took a slow sip, then walked to the window, looking out at the city below. "And what do you plan now? The gala is in five days. If you don't appear soon, public opinion might turn entirely."
"Exactly," Bai Zhiqi said, rising to her feet. "Let them believe they've won. Let Lanyue feel secure. Then—when the spotlight is at its brightest—I'll take the stage."
Ji Yanluo arched a brow. "You enjoy theatrics."
She gave a small smile. "No one remembers the quiet ones. Only the ones who break the silence."
Xiao Lin, watching the exchange, tried to hide her admiration. She had watched Bai Zhiqi evolve in the past months—each step calculated, every silence intentional. This wasn't just revenge—it was orchestration.
"But we can't ignore the risk," Ji Yanluo added. "If they dig too far, they may uncover who you are."
"They won't," she replied coldly. "Bai Zhiqi is dead to them. What they see is a masked performer. That's all they'll get—until the stage is mine."
He gave a slight nod. "Then we prepare for the gala. Everything must go as planned."
As the city buzzed with rumors and online forums grew chaotic, the real storm brewed in silence—behind veils, within shadows.
And Bai Zhiqi, once buried by betrayal, was now poised to return—not as a victim, but as a vision.
A whisper in silk.
A reckoning in music.
And the world wouldn't know what hit it.