Chapter 11: The Omen of a Firestorm

“Oh!” Luo Quan let out a startled cry, and when she came to her senses, a warm, soft bundle was already in her arms.

“Luo Luo, it’s been three years—how did you get so tall?” Wen Xia, like a little girl who’d found a new toy, beamed with surprise and delight; at 1.68 meters, she was already tall for an East Asian girl, yet Luo Quan stood half a head taller—clearly at least 1.72 meters!

“Can’t help it—genes decide everything,” Luo Quan laughed, placing her hand on Wen Xia’s head. Back when they were kids, Wen Xia, proud of her early growth spurt, loved to pat her head; now, the tables had turned.

“Damn it, do mixed-race teens really change this much?” Wen Xia grumbled, swatting Luo Quan’s hand away. “I wish I had hair like yours—too bad my agent never let me dye it.”

Luo Quan laughed. “If you dyed that buzz cut gold, you’d look like a little yellow mop.”

Actually, Wen Xia’s hairstyle was exactly what Luo Quan wanted—clean, neat, giving her an altogether martial air. But if Luo Quan cut hers like that, she’d probably turn into a tomboy.

“Once my hair grows back, I’m dyeing it gold too!” Wen Xia said, stepping to the curb and hailing a taxi.

“Luo Luo, you’ve changed so much these past three years—your looks are at least five times better than before,” Wen Xia said after getting in, pinching Luo Quan’s cheek, then tugging upward.

Luo Quan rolled her eyes. “What are you doing? You think my face is fake?”

Wen Xia let go. “I lived in Korea four years—every idol I met had surgery. But even the best surgeries couldn’t make them look as good as you—and you’re barefaced.”

Hearing her friend’s praise, Luo Quan leaned back triumphantly. “I’ve always lived on talent. Looks? Just fluff.”

Wen Xia lifted her nose slightly, grinning. “You’re so full of yourself.”

Luo Quan asked curiously, “Aren’t you an idol in Korea? Why’d you suddenly come to Tokyo?”

Wen Xia paused, then pouted. “Are you really clueless or pretending? My group departure’s been trending on Weibo for days—how could you not see it?”

I kept coming to Tokyo to find you, and you didn’t care about your old friend at all—you’ve broken my heart, sob sob sob…………

Luo Quan hurried to explain. “I don’t use Weibo, and I’ve been busy these past two days—I didn’t pay attention to entertainment news.”

Wen Xia crossed her arms. “Busy doing what? It’s summer vacation—what’s there to be busy with?”

“Huh?” Luo Quan’s suspicion flared. She remembered seeing Chinese fans comment on Twitter that she’d topped Weibo’s trending list—top three, all her. That kind of buzz was impossible to miss on Weibo—how could Wen Xia not have seen it?

“You really don’t know what I’ve been busy with these past few days?” Luo Quan narrowed her eyes, studying Wen Xia’s expression closely.

Wen Xia’s eyes darted. “B-busy with what?”

Luo Quan crossed her arms. “Yesterday, the top three Weibo trends were all about me—and you didn’t know? Looks like you don’t care about me at all.”

“Really?” Wen Xia grinned foolishly, then grabbed Luo Quan’s arm and shook it. “I’m just teasing! I’ve been swamped with breaking my contract—I haven’t slept properly in days.”

As she spoke, Wen Xia pouted, her black pearl-like Kajal eyes fixed on Luo Quan with heartbreaking innocence.

Luo Quan couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re an idol—do you really act this cute and pitiful in front of your fans?”

“Of course not!” Wen Xia sat up straight, snapped her shirt collar up, swept her hair back with one hand, and declared: “I’m the leader and face of our girl group—this sleek short cut turns every boy and girl into a fan!”

“And here’s a riddle: guess who ranked #21 on last year’s list of the world’s 100 most beautiful faces?”

Luo Quan bit back a smile. “You?”

“Haha, who else?” Wen Xia laughed without grace.

Luo Quan smirked. “Not even number one—what’s there to be proud of?”

Wen Xia grinned mischievously. “Then why don’t you top the list for me?”

“Pfft!” Luo Quan waved her hand dismissively—she had zero interest in such empty honors.

“By the way,” the fake besties finally returned to the point, “you said the top three Weibo trends were all you—what did you even do?”

Luo Quan replied, “I don’t know much about China’s scene, but I wrote three songs and had Sony Records release them. They ran a stealth marketing campaign—split the promo video into two parts, and suddenly I topped both Twitter and Weibo.”

“Really?” Wen Xia immediately pulled out her phone, opened Twitter, clicked the top trending topic—it was Sony’s promo video.

After watching the two-minute clip, Wen Xia exclaimed excitedly: “I had no idea you had this much musical talent—this song is incredible! Is there a full version?”

“Of course,” Luo Quan grinned wickedly. “At midnight tonight, my self-titled mini-album drops worldwide. First print: 100,000 copies. First come, first served—each one costs 2,500 yen.”

“What?!” Wen Xia clutched Luo Quan’s arm in mock outrage. “With us being this close, you’re going to charge me? Don’t you remember how I used to buy you lollipops as a kid?”

“You’re right—I’d almost forgotten,” Luo Quan chuckled dryly. “Every time you broke one open, you splashed water all over me—I always got scolded by my mom when I got home.”

Wen Xia looked guilty. “I didn’t do it on purpose… Come on, Luo Luo, don’t be so stingy—just let me hear the song first. Please?”

“I give up,” Luo Quan sighed. A beautiful girl pouting like this was impossible to resist. She shook her head, pulled out her phone, plugged in earphones, and handed them over.

“Thank you, Luo Luo—I knew you were the best,” Wen Xia said, slipping the earphones in and pressing play.

Soon, she was lost in Luo Quan’s voice, swaying gently to the rhythm, her legs twitching excitedly during the chorus.

After the three songs ended, Wen Xia removed the earphones and stared at Luo Quan seriously. “Luo Luo, I can tell you with full responsibility—you’re going to blow up. And I mean explode.”

Luo Quan smirked. “Really? Then how come you didn’t even know I trended? Seems like you’re not quite there yet.”

Wen Xia groaned. “Why are you bringing that up again? I’m serious—you’re really about to go viral.

These three songs are just too good. Especially ‘I Once Wanted to End It All’—it’s perfectly suited to Japan’s current social climate.”

Luo Quan blinked. “Didn’t know you studied this.”

Wen Xia explained: “Before, my company wanted us to break into Japan’s idol scene—I did my research. Japan doesn’t lack idols who can sing, dance, and rap—it lacks real singers with actual talent!”

Luo Quan blushed slightly. “Don’t flatter me—I admit the songs are good, but my singing? Just average.”

“Your vocals do lag behind your songs…”

Luo Quan’s face darkened.

“But!” Wen Xia rushed to add, “you’re stunningly beautiful. In Japan right now, there are hardly any female singers as gorgeous and talented as you—and your tone is excellent. Improve your technique, and in five years you’ll be a legendary diva!”

“You’re making me blush,” Luo Quan laughed. “Then I’ll take your good wishes—I’ll pull you up when I make it big. Give you a second wind.”

Wen Xia’s eyes widened. “Don’t underestimate me—I just left the group, not retired. I’ve tens of millions of followers on Weibo!”

Luo Quan teased, “You actually believe Weibo followers? Don’t you know how much fake traffic there is?”

As they spoke, the taxi passed a building whose digital screen played an ad.

On screen, a beautiful golden-haired girl held a lemon, bathed in sunlight.

Both Luo Quan and Wen Xia stared at the girl on screen—and smiled in unison.