Bai Xia beside him turned to ask Ningning, "What about you, sweetheart? Would you like to perform with Daddy, or do your own act?"
Ningning was already old enough for kindergarten, but his two fathers — Bai Xia especially — had been reluctant to enroll him. They'd brought in a private tutor to teach him the basics, with the emphasis on play rather than study, so he hadn't really developed any polished talents.
"I want to watch Little Dad perform," Ningning said after thinking it over.
Bai Xia and Jiang Xingyang both startled. Jiang Xingyang looked like he wanted to say something, but glanced at the camera and decided to save it for later.
"But Little Dad wants to watch you perform," Bai Xia said. "Why don't we do it together?"
"Okay! Then I want to be with Little Dad." As long as it was Little Dad's suggestion, Ningning was happy to agree to anything.
And so the two families began discussing their performances in earnest, then headed to the market together to pick up ingredients.
That afternoon was given over to setting up the venue. Both groups decided to spend the morning running through their acts. Xiao Yueya had already been in kindergarten for a while and was perfectly at home with this sort of thing — she even cheerfully drafted her award-winning-actor father into service as her backing dancer while she took center stage to sing. She had the whole arrangement mapped out with absolute authority, sending ripples of laughter through the audience and crew alike.
Zhou Yu had his own ideas already settled, though he made a show of consulting Qin Siyao's opinion for the camera.
Qin Siyao hadn't started kindergarten yet. Her father Qin Jiali was extraordinarily busy with work — she could go almost an entire year without seeing him more than a handful of times. Being still a child, Qin Siyao had decided that refusing to go to kindergarten was her way of making the adults pay attention to her.
Fortunately, her father doted on her shamelessly. The moment she said she didn't want to go, he'd promptly hired an army of private tutors — arts, languages, academics, everything — so that her education was no worse than any kindergarten's. Whatever she wanted, whatever she took a liking to, arrived at the house without anyone checking the price tag.
So although Qin Siyao had learned some singing and dancing, she'd had little contact with children her own age, and none at all with the experience of performing on a stage. The idea gave her a little flutter of excitement, alongside the faint, uncertain feeling of someone standing before a stage for the very first time.
A princess who had always gotten what she wanted was hardly going to be stopped by a touch of shyness. Qin Siyao made up her mind at once and trotted over to Xiao Yueya, tugging lightly at the older girl's sleeve.
"I want to perform with you," she said.
Xiao Yueya immediately abandoned her original plan without a second thought and agreed on the spot. The two little ones put their heads together to work out their act. With Qin Siyao in the picture, there was even less reason for Lu Cheng to be involved. He shook his head with a helpless smile. "Looks like we grown-ups had better put something together ourselves."
Zhou Yu had been angling for exactly this — a collaboration, a chance to be associated with the Film Emperor. He jumped in at once: "Then why don't you and I do something together, Senior Lu?"
Lu Cheng had been around the industry long enough to see through moves like this without blinking. He declined with gracious tact: "Ha, I'm getting on in years — I can't keep up with you youngsters anymore. Don't let me hold you back. Save the spotlight for the young ones."
There was nothing more Zhou Yu could politely say, but it didn't matter — he could proceed with his original plan after all.
Meanwhile, the other two families had settled on their acts. Jiang Xingyang and Xie Zimo would perform a pop song together. He'd already taken care to simplify the choreography and divide up the lyrics thoughtfully.
As for Bai Xia — asking Ningning to learn and perform a full song from scratch on short notice felt like too much. Besides, Bai Xia had no intention of singing onstage again. In the end, father and son landed on a small magic act. With the right props, it was the kind of thing a young child could manage easily enough.
When they submitted their program to the production team, however, it was turned down. Too short, they said. Too simple.
Bai Xia had nothing to say to that.
The production team immediately offered a solution: the adults could add a second act each — singing, dancing, whatever they liked. Nothing elaborate.
For an idol-turned-performer like Bai Xia, the suggestion wasn't unreasonable. Still, he hesitated.
Ningning, beside him, lit up at once. "Yes! Yes! My daddy can sing and dance — he's an idol!"
Bai Xia laughed despite himself. "How do you know that?"
"Big Dad showed me videos!"
That actually surprised Bai Xia. Mr. Shen barely had enough hours in the day for work, and was rarely home — yet apparently, without Bai Xia knowing, he'd shown Ningning old performance videos.
Ningning leaned in close to Bai Xia and whispered with great solemnity, "Big Dad said you were the most handsome one."
Bai Xia felt heat rush to his face. He shot a quick glance at the camera and promptly forgot whatever he'd been about to say.
[The kid wouldn't lie, would he? The way I see it, Bai Xia and his husband are actually doing fine.] [Oh, so now we're doing image rehabilitation?] [Nobody said their relationship was bad — just that his ugly husband went bankrupt.] [Ugly husband LMAO.]
After some back-and-forth, the production team held firm. Bai Xia eventually proposed a compromise: ask the other families, and make it consistent — every household would do two acts each, one with the children and one from the adults alone. That way no group would be short-changed on screen time, and everyone agreed.
After lunch came a rest period, with all cameras off. Bai Xia was just getting ready to head back with Ningning when Jiang Xingyang drew close and murmured, "Teacher Bai — I've seen your old stages. You're going to be great."
Bai Xia was quietly surprised. They'd been filming together for days, and this was the first time Jiang Xingyang had ever brought it up.
"Is that so," Bai Xia replied modestly. "I came at it sideways, honestly — I still can't compare to professionals like you."
"Teacher Bai, please. Your videos are the kind people use as actual teaching material — people replay them over and over." Jiang Xingyang's voice grew a little warmer, and just a touch shy. "I wanted to say it the moment I met you, but there were cameras around, and you never brought it up, so I didn't. It's not just Senior Lu — you're one of my idols too."
Bai Xia looked at him with new eyes. This young man, who seemed so easygoing and carefree on the surface, was quietly perceptive beneath it all. There was something genuine in the way he spoke now — less performance, more sincerity. Bai Xia smiled. "Then thank you, truly."
"Which is exactly why you need to get out there and give those critics nothing to stand on." Jiang Xingyang's tone shifted slightly. "My manager told me most of the negative comments are clearly paid trolls. If you ever need anything—" He knew Bai Xia was genuinely talented, and that the bullying claims were baseless. But the rumours about his marriage being unhappy — those had never really been disproven. And looking at Bai Xia, who never pushed back against anything, who didn't even seem to have a proper agency behind him — Jiang Xingyang couldn't help wondering if he was quietly struggling with the whole situation.
"Xiao Yang — I really am grateful," Bai Xia said. "I'll handle it."
With other staff nearby and the other two families not far off, there wasn't much more either of them could say.
"Then remember," Jiang Xingyang called after him as he left, "if you need me, just ask."
To keep the evening's performances a surprise, cameras were switched off during rehearsals. Since the night party would add to the broadcast, the total airtime that day came out roughly the same as usual.
That left the guests with about half a day to prepare — which was tight, though manageable for the adults. All four had years of performance experience between them, and once a song was chosen and the sound and stage setup confirmed with the crew, most of the work was done.
The real challenge was the children. Young performers could easily eat up the whole afternoon.
Xiao Yueya and Qin Siyao, after much deliberation, settled on a cheerful, sweet pop song designed for little girls — simple choreography included. Both children were quick studies; a few runs through the tutorial video and they had it more or less down. Lu Cheng stood to the side offering occasional direction. Zhou Yu, meanwhile, had disappeared entirely for most of the afternoon.
Jiang Xingyang's rehearsal took considerably longer. Xie Zimo was essentially learning a new song from scratch. His lines were few, but for a three-year-old, even a short verse carries real difficulty. The boy had a good memory and a natural sense of rhythm, though, and the stage itself was a small, informal one — it didn't need to be perfect. Jiang Xingyang had privately decided his own part required minimal effort. It was the child who ended up treating the whole thing with absolute seriousness, drilling through the song all afternoon and refusing to take his nap.
With Little Dad's help, Ningning got his magic act ready too. He was especially excited today — not only was it his very first time performing onstage, but tonight he would finally see Little Dad's stage in person. He'd always felt a small pang of wistfulness, knowing Big Dad had watched Little Dad perform before and he never had. He hadn't expected the chance to come so suddenly.
Everyone was occupied with their own preparations. The afternoon gave way to evening before long.
After a dinner put on by the production team, everyone moved to the outdoor venue where the party would be held. The livestream went up.
The production team had set up an open-air performance space — simply dressed, with strings of coloured fairy lights hanging all around. The guests took their seats in the warm evening breeze, with small plates of snacks and drinks on the tables, stars scattered across the sky above. The mood was quietly lovely.
The host was a crew member — voice only, unseen. The evening was divided into two halves, beginning with the children's performances.
First up were Xiao Yueya and Qin Siyao. Their song was lively and bright, their high, sweet voices cutting through the warm air and instantly lifting the atmosphere. Both wore dresses in matching shades. Their movements weren't perfectly synchronized, but they radiated charm and energy at every turn. The audience below waved glowsticks in time.
From the moment the act began, Lu Cheng had his phone out recording. The corners of his mouth — the devoted-father expression — did not once come down.
Next came Ningning's magic show. The production team had somehow sourced all the props he needed. Bai Xia stood beside him as his assistant. The first trick involved producing a small animal: in place of a real one, the crew had provided a stuffed toy.
Ningning first displayed the empty tabletop and the cloth in his hands, shaking it out and squeezing it to show there was nothing inside. Then he scattered a little handful of glittery powder across the table with a flourish. He held up the cloth again — empty — then wrapped it into a bundle. The bundle grew rounder and fuller. When he lifted it away, a small plush animal had appeared on the table. Qin Siyao and Xiao Yueya shrieked in delighted amazement, right on cue.
The final trick was pulling sweets from an empty cup. Ningning turned a cup upside down on the table, then picked it up again to show it was empty. He set it back down, screwed his face into an expression of profound concentration, and recited a string of gibberish that was clearly meant to be a spell. Then he reached inside — and produced four sweets.
The adults and children below burst into applause and cheers. Ningning's cheeks glowed pink. He climbed down from the stage and solemnly distributed one sweet to each of the other three children, then returned to take a bow beside Little Dad.
The third performance was Jiang Xingyang and Xie Zimo's song. The driving tempo of the pop track sent the energy of the evening soaring. Jiang Xingyang's rich, magnetic voice wrapped around Xie Zimo's high, clear child's tone, and the two wove together into something that felt entirely new — the song refashioned. Both were dressed in polished idol looks, and the playful moments they shared onstage gave the whole performance a warmth and completeness that took everyone's breath away.
The comment stream flew:
[Jiang Xingyang, you've finally remembered who you are.] [Xie Zimo's little dance moves — someone please explain how he can be that cool AND that cute at the same time.] [Beautiful. Again. More.] [I can't believe a three-year-old just won me over.]
Having just come off an idol variety show, Jiang Xingyang slipped into performance mode with barely any warm-up. The audience — crew included — felt for a moment as though they'd been transported to a proper concert. That tiny, makeshift open-air stage had somehow become something worth ten times its size. Lu Cheng joked that no one left on the programme would dare to follow that.
The next two acts were Lu Cheng and Jiang Xingyang performing solo. Lu Cheng offered one of his best-loved classics — an upbeat number that had the crew singing along almost involuntarily. Jiang Xingyang followed with his newest single, also pop, but somewhat quieter in tempo than his earlier performance.
Then came Bai Xia's solo.
When the host announced his name, a ripple of shock moved through the audience — viewers and guests alike. Lu Cheng, who had been watching calmly, blinked. Three years out of the spotlight, Bai Xia had been reduced, in the public mind, to either a punching bag for people with the same grievances on repeat, or an unknown quantity — someone audiences hadn't even realised had started out as an idol.
Because the act required instruments, the crew came up after the announcement to set the stage. In the brief pause, the comment stream filled with doubt:
[Bai Xia?? Singing??] [I guess anyone can be a singer these days.] [Why does he have to sing? Just be a pretty face — leave the singing to people who can.] [He's going on after Lu Cheng and Jiang Xingyang. What is he thinking?]
Bai Xia had chosen a slow song. He had written it himself over these past few years — after Ningning came into his life. He'd never released it. He'd assumed it would never see the light of day. But here, of all places, he'd been given a chance to let it breathe.
His voice — warm, clear, gently luminous — flowed out into the evening like a soft current of air, and the whole space seemed to settle and soften around it. There was depth in his tone, subtle layering, and something in his gaze under the stage lights that drew listeners in — as though the world beyond had narrowed to this single, quiet place, and everything in it had turned to something gentle and beautiful and half-dreamed.
A fast pop song could electrify a crowd in seconds, set hearts racing on instinct. But a slow song — a song with feeling — was something else. It told a story at its own pace. Each note carried something of him. The whole of it unfolded like a fine painting made not in strokes but in breath.
The comments shifted in real time. The opening snark — actually kind of good? — wait, hold on — I thought we were getting bronze and we're getting grandmaster — gave way to something else entirely:
[I genuinely did not expect this from Bai Xia.]
[You'd never know just looking at him. Slow songs take a completely different kind of presence — he has it.] [That look he just gave the camera. I'm deceased.]
[As if hearing celestial music — I finally understand that phrase.]
[How many things are you hiding from us.]
[Bai Xia fans, you've been eating well this whole time and said nothing.]
