92: Item A

November in Milan, the weather cools down faster than in Los Angeles.

When Chen Mo came out of Malpensa Airport, the wind blew from the direction of the Alps, carrying a crisp, cold chill, completely different from the sea breeze in Los Angeles that had been filtered through palm trees.

Jessica walked beside him; she was truly a powerful career woman now.

The drive from the airport to the Mediolanum Forum was only half an hour. She was wearing a beige trench coat, clutching only an espresso she'd brought from the airport, the paper cup so small it looked like a toy.

"Scott has already arrived," she said, glancing down at her phone.

"He's waiting for you at the hotel. He said he's seen the seating arrangements for tonight; you're sitting to the left of Ed, and to the right of Ari. The director specifically arranged the three of you together, saying it would be popular when the camera pans over."

The Mediolanum Forum is in the southwestern suburbs of Milan, a massive oval building with EMA billboards on the exterior walls illuminated in purple.

The red carpet stretched from the entrance all the way to the roadside, crowded on both sides with fans and media from all over Europe.

The camera flashes were as dense as the autumn rain in Milan.

Chen Mo was wearing a dark grey Dior suit with the top two buttons of his shirt undone.

His hair was a bit longer than it had been at the VMAs, with his bangs falling across his forehead, swaying slightly in the Milanese wind.

The red carpet host was a local Italian, with black hair and dark skin, her English carrying a distinct Italian inflection.

She passed the microphone over.

"Chen Mo! Welcome to Italy! What's your goal for tonight?"

Chen Mo took the microphone, thought for a moment, and said, "Win an award, then take the trophy to go eat some pasta."

The host laughed out loud, said "He loves our pasta too" to the camera in Italian, then patted his shoulder and let him go.

The auditorium was already more than half full. Chen Mo found his seat, second row on the aisle.

To his right was Ari, wearing a silver miniskirt with a high, tight ponytail, currently typing on her phone. Seeing him approach, she looked up and smiled.

The seat to his left was empty, with "Ed Sheeran" stuck to the back of the chair.

He sat down in the middle, his Cartier watch on his left wrist reflecting a warm glow under the venue lights.

Two minutes later, Ed squeezed in from the side aisle, his red hair blown by the Milanese wind until it looked like it was on fire, his tie crooked to one side.

"Traffic! Milanese people have traffic too, I don't understand it. Florentines drive aggressively, Milanese drive aggressively—everyone in this entire country drives aggressively."

He retied his tie, then leaned over to look at Chen Mo's hand. As if discovering something, he pouted and said, "Your hand is shaking."

Chen Mo placed his left hand flat on his knee and stubbornly said, "It's not shaking."

Ed tucked his tie under his suit button and lowered his voice.

"Every time you get nervous, your ring finger moves. It's been like that since that half-cover of 'Closer' at Coachella. You think no one knows, but I know."

Ari leaned over from the right, her silver earrings swaying in the light.

"He's nervous? Then I'm betting on him to win tonight."

Ed gave her a thumbs up.

The nominations for Best Song were announced midway through the ceremony. The big screen began scrolling through the list of nominees, and every time a name was read, a spotlight hit the face of that nominee.

When Chen Mo's name was called, the big screen cut to that frame of him looking hesitant in the "Closer" music video.

Hesitant, I am so melancholic.

Ed leaned over and made a quiet joke, saying, "When have I ever been wrong?"

Chen Mo said, "That's called being authentic."

Ed said, "Authentic is authentic, but your mouth is also truly stubborn."

The presenter opened the envelope, took a look at it against the light, and then leaned into the microphone.

"Chen Mo."

Chen Mo stood up. Ed reached out his hand, and the two high-fived, a crisp sound despite the light force.

Ari hugged him from the right, her silver earrings brushing against his suit collar.

He walked onto the stage, and the spotlight enveloped him in a circle of white light.

The trophy was the iconic EMA silver globe shape, with the MTV flag stuck on top, his name and the award engraved on the base.

He stood before the microphone and looked at the trophy in his hand.

"Thank you, MTV, and thank you to everyone who voted." He paused for a moment. "Last night, I told Ed that if I won tonight, my acceptance speech wouldn't exceed three sentences. He said it was impossible for me not to exceed three sentences, and I said I could."

Ed shouted from the audience, "You've already said three sentences!"

Chen Mo lowered his head and smiled.

"Well, for the fourth sentence: Mom, this one is for you." He held the trophy up, and the light passed through the silver globe, casting a refracted spot of light on his face. "Alright, now I can go eat some pasta."

The entire audience burst into laughter and applause.

Ari buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

Ed crossed his arms over his chest, smiling and shaking his head.

The Best Male Artist award was announced at the end of the ceremony.

The presenter was last year's EMA Best Female Artist winner; she opened the envelope and glanced at it against the light.

"Chen Mo."

Chen Mo walked onto the stage for the second time, trophy in hand, holding the two EMA silver globes side-by-side against his chest.

He stood before the microphone, thousands of eyes in the audience watching him, and television signals from dozens of European countries broadcasting this moment across the entire continent.

"I don't enjoy this award alone." He glanced at Ed in the audience. "Ed is the first friend I made in this industry. The first time we met was in Beverly Hills, and I helped you change the inversion on 'Photograph'."

Chen Mo looked at Ari again. "Ari, you let me know that going into the recording studio could also be a very happy thing."

His gaze swept across the audience and landed on an Asian face in the third row on the aisle—G-Dragon of BIGBANG, wearing a dark blue suit, his hair dyed light gold, nodding slightly at him.

"And also senior G-Dragon. When I was at Thornton, I listened to a lot of BIGBANG's songs. Your performances are the most infectious I've ever seen. Thank you! Thank you Shawn, Taylor, The Weeknd, Charlie, James, Kobe Bryant..."

He paused for a beat. "There are too many friends. Finally, thank you to Scott. He isn't in the audience today; he's backstage counting the money."

The whole audience cracked up.

In the backstage lounge, Scott stood in front of the monitor, pressing his lips together again and again, but he couldn't hold back a smile.

After the ceremony ended, the backstage hallway was packed with people.

When Chen Mo came out of the side door of the stage, the two silver globes in his hands reflected the fluorescent lights of the hallway.

Ed chased after him from behind, carrying the tie he had taken off.

"You said your acceptance speech wouldn't exceed three sentences, but you ended up speaking for about two or three minutes, mentioning a different person in every sentence. Are you here to accept an award or to send out thank-you notes?"

"Accepting the award, and sending out thank-you notes while I'm at it."