89: How many times will a person die in their lifetime?

Friday afternoon,

the backstage of the Jiangcheng No. 1 High School auditorium,

was like a cheap perfume bottle exploded by over-excitement.

In the air, the cloyingly sweet chemical scent of cheap hairspray,

overpowered the powdery smell of foundation and the greasy aroma of backstage bento boxes,

coalescing into a thick, suffocating turbid current.

The grade 10 dance team was stretching their legs,

a few girls in fashionable short skirts chattered about lipstick shades,

the sound engineer was adjusting the microphones upfront,

and piercing feedback occasionally drilled into ears, making one's brain ache.

Lin Que sat on a stack of discarded soft mats in the corner,

snapping away with Lin Jianguo's instant camera.

It wasn't until the film ran out that he looked at the photos, a smile curving his lips.

He took an unopened lollipop from his pocket,

which Wu Di had forced on him earlier,

saying it was to prevent low blood sugar from causing him to faint on stage due to nervousness.

He looked at the chaotic crowd around him, feeling somewhat bored.

"Excuse me! Make way! Props team, move that screen to the left!"

Li Ze, holding a rolled-up program list, had a voice loud enough to drown out the sound system.

Today he wore a sharp black suit, his hair slicked back, chin slightly raised,

as if the entire backstage was a stage built for him alone.

Passing by Lin Que, Li Ze stopped.

He scrutinized Lin Que's unremarkable school uniform,

and let out an extremely short snort through his nose.

"Student Lin, you're not planning to go on stage in that, are you?"

Li Ze pointed to Lin Que's slightly faded sweatpants.

Lin Que unwrapped the candy, put the strawberry-flavored lollipop into his mouth.

"What's the problem? I'm going to recite, not to a beauty pageant."

"This is the New Year's Eve gala, and city leaders are sitting out there."

Li Ze frowned, reaching up to adjust his bow tie.

"Could you show a little respect for the stage?

When the lights hit, your school uniform will look drab,

people who don't know might think someone skipped class to get in."

"That's perfect then."

Lin Que mumbled indistinctly.

"That's authentic. Isn't our school's main theme 'recalling past bitterness to appreciate present sweetness'? I'm just sticking to the theme."

Li Ze was choked for words:

"Fine, just be glib.

Lin Que, don't say I didn't warn you, during rehearsal just now,

the skit from grade 11, class 5, was a huge hit, the whole audience burst into laughter.

"Oh, by the way, Student Lin."

Li Ze seemed to suddenly remember something,

and professionally tapped his palm with the rolled-up program list he held.

"The program team made a slight adjustment to the schedule.

We've decided to place your recitation after the skit 'Exam Storm,' as the grand finale.

You know, a successful gala,

is all about perfectly managing the audience's emotional curve.

When the entire audience's emotions are pushed to their peak by comedy, a strong 'anchor point' is needed to settle the atmosphere, transitioning from revelry to reflection.

This position is crucial, not just anyone can handle it."

He smiled faintly.

"We unanimously agree that only you, the first prize winner, have the gravitas for this.

How about it, entrusting you with the most important position,

isn't this our program team's highest respect for you?"

Wu Di, listening nearby, was furious.

"Brother Que, he..."

"Director Li is right."

Lin Que, however, held back Wu Di and stood up,

his lazy demeanor finally receding a bit. He looked at Li Ze and smiled.

"For such an important position, I truly must thank Director Li for his trust."

Li Ze looked at his 'unappreciative' expression, the disdain in his eyes deepening, and turned to leave.

"Brother Que, are you crazy? He's pushing us into a pit of fire!"

"That skit was so lively, isn't this intentionally setting you up to fail?"

Wu Di stamped his foot in exasperation.

"No."

Lin Que smiled, a playful glint in his eyes.

"He's handed me a barrel of oil."

Wu Di was even more confused:

"What oil?"

Lin Que stood up, patted Wu Di's shoulder,

stretching his somewhat stiff neck, and said leisurely:

"Oil that makes the fire burn brighter."

Just then, Shen Qingqiu rounded the front stage, her heels clicking.

"Are you ready?"

Shen Qingqiu walked up to Lin Que, her voice very low.

"The photos and background music are all in here. I've already spoken to the sound engineer, he'll only give you a single spotlight."

"OK, thank you, Teacher Shen!"

Lin Que took the USB drive, spinning it once between his fingers.

Shen Qingqiu looked at his carefree demeanor, opened her mouth,

as if to instruct him on something, but ultimately just sighed:

"Lin Que, I don't ask you to perform exceptionally, just don't mess things up.

Those few photos..."

"Teacher."

Lin Que put away the USB drive, his smile fading, and looked at her with rare seriousness.

"Some words sound too affected when said normally, but in specific situations, they are like wine.

Tonight, I'm responsible for pouring the wine; whether they get drunk is their business."

Shen Qingqiu was stunned for a moment, then shook her head helplessly,

reaching out to straighten his slightly rumpled school uniform collar.

"Go. Wait backstage."

The announcement from the front stage sounded, and the gala officially began.

The Jiangcheng No. 1 High School auditorium could accommodate over two thousand people, and it was now packed with heads.

The first three rows were occupied by city leaders, school leaders, and heads of various teaching and research groups,

while the back rows were filled with students and homeroom teachers, seated in their class formations.

Glow sticks waved in the darkness, like a cheap, colorful ocean.

The opening dance was a cheerleading routine by the grade 12 students,

short skirts flying, full of youthful vigor,

drawing howls and cheers from the boys in the audience.

Lin Que stood in the shadow of the curtain,

watching his peers on stage exerting themselves, yet his heart was as calm as still water.

The overlap of memories from his previous life and this one,

gave him a natural sense of detachment from such lively events.

"Nervous?"

A voice came from beside him.

It was Zhang Ya.

She was one of the hosts tonight, wearing a borrowed red evening gown,

her makeup a bit heavy, obscuring her youthful face somewhat.

She was trembling, clutching her cue cards tightly.

"Not really."

Lin Que leaned against the iron frame.

"Why are you trembling? Afraid you'll forget your lines?"

"So many leaders are watching."

Zhang Ya took a deep breath, then quickly exhaled.

"And Li Ze just told me,

if your act falls flat, I should quickly go up and save it,

tell a few jokes to lighten the mood."

Lin Que glanced at her:

"So, have you prepared your jokes?"

"No."

Zhang Ya turned her head, looking at him seriously.

"I believe..."

She paused mid-sentence.

"I heard that Teacher Shen was unyielding to the school leaders for your performance. Lin Que, don't disappoint her!"

With that, she tidied her dress and gracefully walked onto the stage.

Lin Que put his hand into his pants pocket,

feeling the manuscript for coco, which he had read countless times these past few days.

"Next, please welcome Li Ze from grade 12, class 1, performing a solo — 'Fly Higher'!"

As soon as the announcement ended, a burst of screams erupted from the audience, mostly from girls.

Li Ze, holding the microphone, strode onto the stage.

The spotlight instantly hit him, making his small suit gleam.

The prelude began, he closed his eyes, and started belting it out with a look of intoxication.

To be fair, he sang quite well,

hitting the high notes, though slightly on the verge of cracking,

it was enough to ignite the screams of half the girls in the audience.

The applause from the audience was fervent.

Li Ze, moved by the song, even interacted with the leaders in the audience, waving his hand,

acting as if he was already performing a concert at the Bird's Nest stadium.

After the song, Li Ze, flushed, bowed and exited the stage.

As he passed Lin Que, he raised his chin,

smugly raised an eyebrow, and mouthed a sentence:

"Your turn."

Next was a skit,

about funny incidents of cheating on exams, the jokes landed well,

the audience was roaring with laughter, and the atmosphere reached its peak.

"Next... the final act."

Zhang Ya walked onto the stage, her voice a little dry,

she glanced at the still laughing and noisy crowd, paused, and then continued.

"Please enjoy the poetry recitation by Lin Que from grade 11, class 3 — 'coco'."

The laughter from the audience didn't stop immediately; many were still discussing the skit's jokes,

and upon hearing the words "poetry recitation," scattered applause was mixed with obvious sighs.

"Recitation? Boring!"

"Can we leave early? This must be dull."

"Wait, did the announcement just say Lin Que?"

"Yes, it's that Brother Waiting-to-Die!"

"It's him, but good at writing essays doesn't mean good at performing."

...Amidst the clamor,

all the lights on the stage receded.

The once colorful LED screen also went dark.

The entire auditorium plunged into a sudden darkness.

The previously restless crowd paused, thinking there was a power outage,

just as a stir began, a beam of cold white top light,

unexpectedly hit the center of the stage.

Within the light circle, there was only a high stool and a standing microphone.

Lin Que, wearing the school uniform that Li Ze had mocked, walked out of the darkness and sat on the stool.

He didn't hold a manuscript,

his hands rested casually on his knees, his head slightly bowed, his expression unclear.

That sense of ease contrasted sharply with Li Ze's tension earlier.

He just sat there, not speaking.

One second. Two seconds. Five seconds.

The noise in the auditorium was slowly pressed down by an invisible hand.

Students began to wonder, leaders began to look up.

This silence felt out of place at a lively gala, yet it was unusually captivating.

Just as everyone was about to lose patience, Lin Que raised his head.

He didn't use the deep, resonant voice characteristic of recitations,

but rather a conversational, slightly hoarse voice,

and asked into the microphone:

"How many times do you think a person dies in their life?"

...