The rain tapped gently against the large windows of Bai Zhiqi's bedroom, misting the view of the city beyond. Inside, the soft glow of the lamp caught the edges of her open sheet music. She sat at the vanity, her fingers idly curling a strand of her dark hair, gaze distant, almost unreadable.
The knock on her door was light, but insistent.
"Come in," she said, already sensing who it would be.
Ji Lanxue entered first, arms crossed, wearing a stormy expression that didn't match the crisp elegance of her blazer. Xiao Lin followed behind her, clearly less confrontational, but equally concerned.
Bai Zhiqi gave them a small smile in the mirror. "You both look like you're about to stage an intervention."
"That's exactly what this is," Ji Lanxue snapped, closing the door behind her. "We need to talk. Now."
Bai Zhiqi turned slowly, folding her hands in her lap. "Let me guess. You're here to convince me not to go public."
"Not just public," Xiao Lin said gently. "Public as *you*. Bai Zhiqi. At Bai Lanyue's birthday gala, no less. You know what this looks like from the outside, right?"
"I do." Her voice was calm, too calm. "And I've accepted it."
Lanxue paced once across the room. "No, you've *decided* it. And now you're forcing everyone around you to adjust."
"I'm not forcing anyone."
"You are," Lanxue snapped. "Zhiqi, I respect you—I admire you. But this? You're poking a hornet's nest in full view of the media, the elites, and everyone who's ever doubted or hated you. Lanyue will not just stand back and let you reclaim the spotlight."
Xiao Lin walked closer, her expression pained. "Look, we all want the truth out. But timing matters. Right now, your music is speaking louder than any name ever could. The veiled musician has the world listening."
"And what happens when the mask comes off and they realize it's me?" Bai Zhiqi asked, rising slowly to her feet. "Will they still listen? Or will the world remind me I was never meant to sing again?"
"They might," Xiao Lin admitted. "But is this the right battlefield?"
Bai Zhiqi moved to the window, looking out at the fog-covered skyline. "Five years ago, they took everything from me. My name, my future, my voice. The veil gave me room to breathe again. But I can't hide behind it forever."
Ji Lanxue sighed, stepping forward. "Then wait. Just… wait a little longer. Let the noise settle. Let your music carry you further before the name does."
Bai Zhiqi turned, her gaze locked on Lanxue's. "You think I'm doing this for revenge?"
Lanxue's eyes narrowed. "Aren't you?"
"I'm doing it because the truth doesn't serve any purpose in the shadows," she replied. "I'm not afraid of Bai Lanyue anymore. I'm not afraid of Su Yiran. Or their lies. What I am afraid of—what I *refuse*—is to live in fear of my own name."
Xiao Lin looked at her, face unreadable. "And Ji Yanluo? What about him?"
Bai Zhiqi blinked. "What about him?"
"He's risking more than you know," Xiao Lin said carefully. "You may not be hiding anymore, but when you step into that light, he'll be pulled into it too."
Bai Zhiqi hesitated. "He made his choice."
"Then let us make ours," Lanxue said, her voice quiet but firm. "Let us stand by you, but *don't* shut us out by walking into that storm alone."
The silence that followed was heavy, but not cold.
Bai Zhiqi stepped forward, placing a hand gently on Xiao Lin's shoulder, then Lanxue's.
"I'm not doing this to burn bridges," she said. "I'm doing it because I want to build new ones—starting with myself."
They stood there for a beat, the three women, each carrying pieces of the same broken story.
Then Ji Lanxue sighed again, the fire in her voice dimmed but not gone. "Fine. But if you're going to go to war…"
Xiao Lin finished, "At least let us help you sharpen your sword."
A flicker of a smile crossed Bai Zhiqi's lips.
"Deal."