146: Chapter 151 Flash Mob at 3 AM

2:50 AM, Santa Monica Beach.

The noise of the day had long since ebbed; now, the beach was silent, pitch black.

Only the sound of the tide washing onto the sand and retreating remained—one wave after another. Chen Mo's heart slowly sank.

The Instagram accounts of Chen Mo and Bieber simultaneously pushed a real-time notification.

He had posted a short video.

"Do you think they'll come? It's already very late," Bieber said. "We didn't give any notice."

In the frame, a few matches sparked in the darkness, igniting a bonfire that had already been stacked.

"They will come. We don't need notice."

The dry wood popped instantly upon contact with the fire, and the orange-red flames swayed violently in the night wind, inexplicably reminding one of the Nian beast.

Caption: Now.

3:07 AM.

When the first batch of breathless fans ran to the beach, they thought they were hallucinating.

Deep in the beach, far from the streetlights and crowds, a bonfire was burning brightly, with a pile of folding chairs stacked like a mountain.

The firelight tore through the darkness, illuminating a radius of over ten meters, and also lit up the two figures sitting cross-legged on folding chairs beside the fire.

Chen Mo was wearing the black distressed leather jacket he wore during the MV shoot, the collar open, holding an acoustic guitar in his hand.

He was looking down, focused on tuning the strings, his fingers moving across the strings with skill and ease.

Bieber sat next to him, leaning against a large reef rock smoothed by the tide.

He wasn't wearing a hat, his hair was tousled by the sea breeze, and he wasn't wearing makeup; there was only a sense of relaxation after unburdening himself. He was swaying a bottle of beer in his hand, his eyes unfocused as he looked at the fire.

"Holy crap..." a girl who had just arrived covered her mouth, her voice trembling. "It's actually real! What do you call this? This is what they mean by 'the brave enjoy the world first'!"

"Quick, grab a good spot before the second wave of people comes!" Her companion pulled her, and they sat down softly not far away.

Soon, hundreds, then thousands of people surrounded them silently, and no one screamed or pushed forward; no one even turned on their phone flashlights.

Everyone just naturally formed a semicircle, as if attending a religious ritual that only those with an invitation could enter.

"My god, Chen Mo is so handsome in person! This bone structure, this aura—it would be a waste not to act!"

"Why does Bieber feel... different? So decadent, yet so quiet. Not like the jumping-around version we usually see."

"It's so quiet, I don't even dare to speak loudly."

Chen Mo looked up, his gaze sweeping across the sea of black heads. There were enough people, many in the back without seats, and then he gently plucked the guitar strings.

"Zheng—"

A crisp single note, like a stone thrown to test the depth.

"Let Me Love You."

Chen Mo's voice was a bit hoarse as he spoke softly into the microphone.

The girls in the front row covered their mouths tightly, their eyes turning red instantly, almost unable to hold back a scream.

Bieber started first.

He sang the verses, his voice carrying the granularity of being slightly tipsy, more heartfelt than the original version, and also appearing more fragile.

The sea breeze was strong, occasionally blowing away his trailing notes, but no one in the audience was distracted; thousands of eyes stared fixedly at the two men singing in the firelight.

"It's so atmospheric, I want to go up and grab the microphone," someone whispered.

"Want to go to karaoke later?"

"Yes!"

Chen Mo continued with the second verse.

His voice was lower, colder, as if telling a story from a long time ago.

Two guitars supported each other in the darkness; one rough, like waves crashing against a reef, the other clear, like moonlight spilling onto the water.

Neither overwhelmed the other; they just alternated, pushing the melody forward.

When it reached the bridge, Bieber suddenly stood up.

He walked to the bonfire, the intense heat baking his face. He closed his eyes and began to belt out.

The final chorus.

Chen Mo also stood up, walked to Bieber's side, and recreated that classic shot from the MV.

The two voices finally merged together.

"Let me love you... Just let me love you..."

Thousands of people sat in the darkness, one by one turning on their flashlights.

"Oh my god! It's like watching a movie! I'm crying! I'm really crying!" someone suppressed their sob.

"I've never attended a performance like this, wuwuwu."

"I'll be bragging about this segment to my friends for a year. It's so touching; my classmates will be so jealous!"

After singing the last note, Chen Mo's fingers pressed against the strings, stopping the lingering sound.

Bieber let out a long breath and slumped back into his chair.

Chen Mo didn't sit down. He looked at the sea of stars before him, looking at the firelight reflected on those young and sincere faces.

He took two steps forward, the wind blowing the stray hair on his forehead, and he bowed deeply.

His waist bent very, very low.

"Thank you for listening to this song," Chen Mo's voice wasn't loud, but it was carried far by the sea breeze. "Thank you for letting me continue to love this world."

Bieber sat on the ground, tilted his head back to take a big gulp of beer, raised the bottle toward Chen Mo's back, and said in a low voice: "Cheers, bro."

The crowd began to disperse quietly.

Everyone stood up silently, left in order, and looked back at the bonfire still burning, and the two people behind the firelight.

11:00 AM the next day, Pasadena.

Sunlight shone into the living room through the floor-to-ceiling windows, warm and cozy.

Rachel was lying flat on her back, sleeping on the acoustic guitar Chen Mo had played last night.

The guitar strings had been bitten by the cat and were a little loose.

Chen Mo was wearing a loose gray hoodie, sitting cross-legged on the carpet. On the coffee table in front of him were two mobile phones and a laptop; the number of unread messages on the screens had long exceeded 99+.

He was holding a cat teaser in his hand, poking Rachel's chicken leg from time to time.

"Ding-dong—"

The doorbell rang.

Martha poked her head in from outside the window and said, "Mo, someone is looking for you."

Martha had woken up early to plant jasmine flowers in the yard, calling it: the national flower of China.

Chen Mo remembered the national flower was the peony.

But Martha had only heard of "Jasmine Flower."

Chen Mo put down the cat teaser. Rachel meowed in dissatisfaction and turned over to continue sleeping.

Scott was standing at the door.

This golden agent from Universal Music looked exhausted yet excited at this moment.

His expensive custom suit was wrinkled and stuck to his body, his eyes were full of bloodshot veins, but he was clutching a kraft paper file bag tightly in his hand.

"Chen," Scott walked in, his gaze sweeping over the sheet music all over the floor and the cat sleeping on the guitar, and sighed helplessly. "Do you know that phones all over the world are about to blow up my phone right now?"

Chen Mo kicked his slippers over and pointed at the sofa. "Sit down, pour yourself some water."

"Let's talk business first." Scott didn't even sit down. He slapped the file bag onto the coffee table with a "slap," his voice slightly hoarse from excitement.

"'Let Me Love You' has been online for 48 hours, and global streaming views have exceeded 400 million, breaking the record Bieber held himself, and breaking your record too."

Chen Mo fiddled with the cat's ear and didn't speak.

"This morning, the Grammy Awards committee called." Scott took a deep breath, still digesting the explosive news. "They said that although the registration deadline had long passed, they decided to make an exception and nominate you both for 'Best Pop Duo/Group Performance,' and they want to invite you to perform as the finale."

Chen Mo froze for a moment, his fingers pausing on Rachel's head.

He looked up at Scott, his mouth slightly open, asking in disbelief: "Really?"

A strange smile appeared on Scott's face. "Really. So get ready; you're likely going to be reaping awards at this year's Grammy Awards like cutting grass."

Chen Mo looked at Scott's exhausted yet excited face and suddenly smiled easily.

"Then you'll be counting money until your hands go soft," Chen Mo teased. "Remember to buy me a decent New Year's gift."

Hearing this, Scott chuckled twice, his tense nerves finally relaxing a little.

He collapsed onto the sofa, rubbed his brow, and said, "There are plenty of New Year's gifts, but you won't be able to rest anytime soon. The four major American talk shows, Rolling Stone cover, interviews with major radio stations... The schedule is already booked until next month."

Chen Mo reached out and made a stop gesture to stop him. "Stop. Leave these messy announcements to Jessica to screen; I get a headache just listening to them."

"Fine, all up to you." Scott compromised, his gaze falling on the cat. "By the way, is Rachel the most popular cat in the US now? You can take a picture of it; fans are looking forward to it."

"Probably." Chen Mo picked up Rachel, and the calico cat twisted unhappily in his arms. "It hasn't had much of an appetite lately; maybe it was scared by you."

"How would I dare scare it." Scott smiled bitterly. "It's the 'guardian treasure' now. By the way, Universal Music wants to ask if we can record last night's live version and make a Live Album?"

Chen Mo stroked Rachel's chin and thought for a moment: "Sure, but don't add those fancy post-production effects. Just keep it raw."

"Deal."

Scott left, and the living room returned to quiet.

Chen Mo held the cat, looking at the bare jacaranda tree in Pasadena outside the window.

He knew that the real storm had just begun.