211: Chapter 219 Geneva was totally worth it

The acoustic segment ended, and the lights went completely dark again.

A few seconds later, a beam of warm light fell on Chen Mo. He had taken off his performance outfit and changed into a sky-blue casual suit, with "Don't Stop" on his chest shining brightly under the lights.

Claire stood on the side of the stage, watching her student—the one who was initially criticized for being like a robot—now slightly bending his knees and arching his back, ready to spring into action.

Three months of separation, and one should look at him with new eyes.

The disco beat exploded, and he took a single stride from the front of the stage to the center. His side-step and turn were clean and crisp, every movement stretching out with the rise and fall of the drumbeat.

His pop dance frame had been trained to be very expansive; as he pushed off the ground and pivoted his hips, the hem of his jacket swirled, the rhythm incredibly powerful.

"Let's see who dares to say Chen Mo can't dance now?!"

The girl with the bun hugged the girl beside her, who was also drenched in sweat, as they tapped along to the beat in the stands.

The girl next to her swung her glow stick until it almost flew out of her hand, slapped the railing in front of her, and shouted hoarsely: "I told you his frame was big, and his dancing looks good!"

All the fans in the inner arena stood up, swaying their bodies to the rhythm.

The boy wearing the baseball cap turned his brim to the back of his head, raised his hands above his head, and clapped along to the beat.

The entire inner arena was infected by this scorching rhythm; no one was sitting and looking at their phones. Everyone was dancing along with the figure on stage who was radiating a dazzling light.

For the emotional segment, the lights dimmed again, leaving only a single beam of warm white spotlight.

Chen Mo changed back into that white Dior suit, the one from the Grammy Awards, causing the whole venue to quiet down again.

Staples Center fell into a brief silence, with only the sustain of the piano slowly dissipating under the dome.

Chen Mo lifted his fingers from the keys, hovering in mid-air, and then the whole venue began to shout for an encore in unison. Everyone stood up, the rhythm identical.

The lights didn't turn on. Chen Mo disappeared to the side of the stage. A few minutes later, he reappeared on stage, having changed into that co-branded T-shirt with "AWAKENING" printed on the back.

"Ahhh! We're wearing the same outfit!!!"

A wave of cheers rose and fell from the audience. The boys were not to be outdone, conquering Staples Center almost purely by the intensity of their voices.

The previous "Perfect" was a remixed version designed for the stage, but this time Chen Mo decided to sing the original version.

Chen Mo sat down at the piano and played the A-flat major prelude to "Perfect." The phone lights of the entire audience lit up simultaneously, spreading out from the inner arena like a sea of silver-white stars.

After singing the last note, he stood up and walked to the front edge of the stage, pushing the microphone stand aside. The lights turned into a blazing mix of gold and red.

"I rarely rap, and many fans might not know much about it, so tonight I wanted to give everyone a surprise and let you see a different side of Chen Mo!"

The screams of the entire venue drowned out the end of his sentence.

Drums, bass, and electronic synthesizers wove together into an industrial storm. Chen Mo stood straddled at the front of the stage, lowering his center of gravity; the rhythm was like a beast slowly waking up.

The boy wearing the baseball cap in the last row took off his hat and held it high above his head.

The encore ended. Chen Mo stood in the center of the stage, with the huge "AWAKENING" light sign slowly descending behind him.

Chen Mo tilted his body slightly, his hands hanging naturally, and performed a curtain call bow.

"Tonight is the first stop of the tour. Thank you all for allowing me to say everything I wanted to say through this performance."

The fans in the stands—perhaps not all were fans—had rushed here from different cities, speaking languages with different accents, all coming solely for "Chen Mo."

Chen Mo revealed a hearty smile and asked: "Tonight, did you have a good time?"

"Yes!"

"It was worth it! You're worth it!"

Chen Mo's eardrums were almost blown out, but he still happily walked to the edge of the stage and said: "I had a great time too. Although tonight's revelry ends here, please be safe when leaving."

Chen Mo suddenly thought of something and laughed: "Each and every one of you is very important to me, so—take care of yourselves."

"Everyone, goodnight!"

When the dome lights of Staples Center came on, no one moved.

The past two hours felt like being uprooted from life and thrown into a storm. Now the rain had stopped, and everyone was drenched, standing in place, not knowing what to do.

The girl in the hoodie in the front row had been standing for a long time. Her glow stick had long since run out of power, but she was still clutching it in her hand.

"It's over."

The boy in the baseball cap next to her took off his hat. The handwritten words on the inside of the brim were slightly dampened by sweat. He said in a hoarse voice: "I want to write a fan song for him."

He took out his phone, opened his notes, and tapped a few letters quickly on the screen.

"What did you write?"

"Off-beat."

People in the back rows began to slowly move toward the exits. No one was pushing or shoving. Everyone looked as if they had just woken up from a very long dream, their steps light, still carrying the lingering aftertaste of the dream.

Someone stopped on the way and looked back at the stage.

That huge "AWAKENING" light sign was slowly descending. The lighting technician was still on the truss doing a final check, and the fluorescent green tape had been stepped on until the edges curled up.

When the girl with the bun passed by the B-section corridor, she saw Miguel, the security officer, leaning against the railing. She walked over and stuffed a pack of unopened throat lozenges into his hand.

"Officer, thank you for your hard work! This is for you; my voice is all used up tonight."

Miguel looked down at the pack of throat lozenges and remained silent for several seconds.

The crowd leaving the venue slowly walked away along Figueroa Street.

The early morning mist of Los Angeles was drifting over from the direction of Santa Monica, and the silhouettes of the palm trees swayed gently under the streetlights.

The boy in the baseball cap put his phone into his pocket, took a deep breath, and said to the girl beside him that he had already bought tickets for the Seattle show and was trying to persuade his boss to approve his leave. If he really couldn't get the time off, he would just have to call in sick.

The girl laughed out loud, looked down at the matching hoodie she was wearing, and said that she had also bought tickets for several shows.

She used to think that chasing a star was a one-way street, but tonight she finally understood: Chen Mo was standing there, giving the light they had given him back to them.

After the crowd dispersed, Miguel helped the cleanup crew check the last row of seats. In the aisle of the highest stand, he found a canvas bag with "All proceeds go to music education" printed on it.

On the folding chair next to it, there was also an individually wrapped throat lozenge. On the candy wrapper, a few very small words were written with a marker: "For you, who will be shouting for an encore tomorrow."

He put the throat lozenge back into the canvas bag and handed it to the lost and found. When he arrived, his colleague at the lost and found was registering the serial number for an unclaimed Anta pin.

Miguel leaned against the table and said to his partner: "When I was young, I saw Floyd at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum once. When the show ended, tens of thousands of people stood in the night just like this. No one was in a rush to leave, and no one was pushing."

"Everyone just stood quietly in place, savoring the moment. I thought I would never see that kind of unspoken understanding again in my life."

His partner asked him which was more moving, tonight or that one back then.

Miguel thought about it, put his walkie-talkie on the table, and pondered for a long while before speaking slowly.

"That show back then, after listening, I felt the world was further away; I wanted to escape. But tonight, I suddenly feel like the world might still get better, because of these kids."

"My daughter is also a fan of his," he said suddenly, his voice a few degrees softer than before.

"She just started high school this year and has posters of that Asian boy all over her room. I used to tell her she wasn't focusing on her studies, but tomorrow morning, I will tell her: The person you're following is pretty good."

Miguel hooked his walkie-talkie back onto his waist and watched the last batch of fans outside Staples Center slowly walking away along Figueroa Street.

The End.