We both froze.
Fang's hair was damp from a shower, holding a glass of water like he'd just wandered out of his cave. He stared at me like I was a ghost.
"You're home," I blurted, pulling off my headphones.
"No shit." He said it flatly, eyes narrowing. "You were singing again."
I winced. "Sorry, I thought I was home alone."
He didn't say anything for a moment. Just walked past me, shoulder brushing mine on the way. I half expected him to make a snide comment. But he didn't.
Not obviously. Not full-on stalker style. But I caught him peeking from the corner of his eye when I passed through the living room. Once, when I was humming under my breath doing dishes, I turned to find him on the couch, pretending to scroll his phone. He looked away too fast.
People at school were whispering, bout me. I felt it before I heard it, I pulled my hood up and kept my head down, assuming it was something dumb. Then, after lunch, a girl from my class approached me. She had a shy, sweet voice. She said something in Mandarin I only half understood. Something about music.
Then she said in English: "Your voice… it's beautiful."
I blinked. "What?"
She smiled. "I saw the video."
My stomach dropped.
"What video?" I managed to bring out.
That night, I found Fang in the kitchen, eating instant noodles. I slammed my hands down on the table. "Did you record me?" I had said the sentence in fluent Mandarin.
He didn't flinch. He didn't even stop chewing. "You're welcome."
"What the hell, Fang?!"
He finally looked at me. "You sounded good. I figured someone should hear it."
"So you posted it?"
He shrugged. "I idn't use your name or anything. Just 'Foreigner Girl Singing Avril.'" A pause. "It's got like, thirty thousand views."
"Why would you do that?!"
"Because you keep singing like in a bad teen drama, might as well share it with the world."
Before I could answer, he pushed back from the table and walked away, leaving his half-finished noodles behind.
I stared at Fang like I couldn't believe him.
Aunt Mei handed me her phone.
On the screen was a message, half in Mandarin, half translated into English:
We're reaching out from Xingguang Entertainment. We saw your video. Would you be interested in auditioning for China Star Rising?
My hands shook. I looked up, heart pounding. "Is this real?"
Uncle Dawei shook his head instantly. "No. You're not doing that."
"But..."
"It's not a game," Aunty Mei said.
"I can handle it."
"You can barely handle lunch at school."
It was like the air had been knocked out of me. One chance. One opening. And just like that, it was shut down.
Then, from the hallway, a familiar voice cut through the silence.
"I'll go with her."
We all turned. Fang leaned against the wall, hoodie half-zipped, hair messy like he just woke up. His eyes were serious.
"I'll take her. I'll make sure she's safe."
Uncle Dawei frowned. "You have school."
Fang shrugged. "So does she. But this is more important."
Aunt Mei looked between us. "Why would you do that?"
He met her gaze. Then looked at me. "Because… she deserves at least one shot to stop being like this."
Aunty Mei opened her mouth to object again, but something in his voice had silenced her. Even Uncle Dawei looked… unsure.
"Just the audition," Fang added. "Let her see for herself."
I held my breath.
Aunty Mei finally sighed. "Only if you promise to come straight back home after."
"I'll drag her home myself," Fang said, like it was no big deal. Then he looked at me. "Pack your bag." I didn't object or argue for once.
The train to Hangzhou left early Saturday morning. Fang met me downstairs, yawning into his hoodie, a bag of a self-made lunch box in one hand. "Eat. Don't faint on national TV."
"I'm not even on the show yet," I muttered.
"You will be." He smirked. "You're too stubborn not to be."
"Do you ever get nervous?" I asked quietly.
Fang glanced over. "Yeah. But I act like I don't."
He paused. "It works about half the time."
I smiled. A real one. Not the tired, polite one I gave adults.
"Are you still nervous?
"A little."
"Why?"
I shrugged. "Because this might be the first thing that's real since I got here. And I don't want to mess it up."
Fang didn't say anything for a second. Then he leaned back and muttered, "You won't mess it up.
The audition was in a huge hotel ballroom. Hundreds of people filled the space, kids with perfect hair, girls in glittery jackets, boys practicing scales in bathroom stalls. There were posters everywhere for China Star Rising, giant spotlights, and staff with headsets and clipboards barking orders in rapid Mandarin.
I felt like I was going to throw up. A woman waved me over to a registration table. Fang followed, hands in his pockets like he wasn't even impressed.
"Name?" she asked in Mandarin.
I hesitated. Then something clicked.
"Foreign name?" she prompted, pen hovering.
I looked up.
"Foreigner," I said.
Fang looked at me sideways. "Really?"
"You started it," I said under my breath. "Now I'm owning it."
The lights were hot. My palms were sweating. A panel of three judges stared at me, unimpressed. One of them was a famous producer I'd only seen in magazines.
I don't even remember how the notes came out. Every line was for the people I missed. Every word for the girl I used to be, and the one I wanted to become. When I finished, there was a beat of silence. Then polite applause. They thanked me and told me they'd be in touch. I walked offstage numb.
I didn't cry. But I wanted to. Outside, I found Fang sitting on a bench near the exit, earbuds in, staring at the sky. When he saw me, he stood.
"Well?"
"I didn't throw up," I said.
"Impressive."
"I think they liked it?"
He nodded once. "They did."
I paused. "You listened?"
Fang pulled one earbud out. "Wasn't gonna miss your big debut."
My phone buzzed.
Congratulations. We'd like to offer you a training contract and a spot on China Star Rising. Please reply within 24 hours to confirm.
I stared at the screen.
Fang leaned over and read it too. He gave a low whistle.
"Holy shit."
We got home late that night. I didn't sleep. And for the first time since I had arrived in China, I didn't cry myself asleep.
"No," Uncle said immediately.
I hadn't even opened my mouth.
"This isn't a hobby anymore," Aunt Mei added. "They want to sign you."
"This is everything I've ever wanted," I said. "You don't understand..."
"You're only thriteen. We're responsible for you. And this, this is too much."
And then, from the doorway, Fang spoke.
"I'll go with her."
Everyone turned to look at him. Again.
He stepped into the light, hands tucked in his sleeves. "Let me take her. I'll keep her in check. I'll make sure she's not alone."
"This isn't a trip to the corner store," Uncle said, frustrated.
"I know that," Fang said. "But you're asking her to give up the only thing that's made her feel like herself again."
Aunty Mei looked between us. Torn. But listening.
"The two of you don't have to listen to her sing all day every day at home. Please, mom, dad, have mercy on my poor ears and mental health."
Aunty Mei turned to me.
"We'll… discuss it," she said. "But only if Fang is with you every step of the way."
He nodded once. "I'm not letting her screw this up."
"Watch your mouth", I muttered.
He grinned.
"Nice pronunciation, foreigner."