At the New Year's Eve gala, my brother, who was supposed to sing, suddenly lost his voice. He was humiliated in front of a national audience. Everyone thought I was the one who drugged him. Even my fiancée joined the crusade to avenge him. Sophia Carlisle cut off all my resources without a second thought. The glory I had fought for for three years was snatched away by her own hands. My stage name, "Zane," was registered as her trademark; I couldn't use it commercially without her permission. My songs were reclaimed by the company; without her signature, I no longer had the right to sing them. She even branded me as the other man, accusing me of interfering in their relationship. My moment at the top was shorter than a firework display. 1 While I was being torn to shreds by a relentless storm of online hate, Leo Kane made a high-profile announcement of his relationship. He posted a photo from his hospital bed, no makeup, looking pale but serene. "Sorry to have worried everyone. The doctor says my voice will be fine after half a month of rest. Also, a little update for you all: we're back together!" In the photo, the notoriously private and never-photographed female CEO was there, her head bowed as she carefully peeled an apple. That woman was my fiancée, Sophia Carlisle. When my parents heard the news, they rushed to the hospital. Over the phone, they refused to listen to a single word of my defense. My mother, hysterical with anger, spat out words she couldn't take back. "Zane, how could I have raised such a vicious son! If you have any conscience left, you'll come down here and apologize to your brother right now!" A paparazzo recorded the call and posted it online. Now, the entire internet was convinced. The evidence was irrefutable. I, Zane, was the villain who had drugged his own brother, Leo, during a live New Year's broadcast because I was afraid of being outshone. And I, Zane Kane, was also the homewrecker who had come between Leo and the CEO of Carlisle Entertainment, serving as his substitute for five years only to tear them apart. "Having a brother like that, Leo Kane must have the worst luck in the world!" "I used to like Zane, but I had no idea he was such a scumbag!" "The other man, and he probably poisoned his own brother? This guy needs to be kicked out of the entertainment industry! Canceled, for good!" I had no way to defend myself. One man’s plea of innocence was a whisper against the hurricane of manufactured outrage and boycotts. All my endorsement deals were terminated. The brands I had signed with demanded compensation. Every penny I had earned over three years was gone, paid out in damages. I was left buried in debt. Perhaps seeing how pathetic I had become, or perhaps wanting to sever ties completely, Sophia finally stepped in and covered the remaining payments. When Leo found out, he wasn't angry. He was magnanimous. He handed Sophia a bank card with a million dollars on it. "It's not much, but it's a gesture," he said. "Sophia, please tell Zane for me that I don't hold a grudge. In fact, I'm grateful to him. He gave you back to me, and that’s more important than anything." "Also, tell him to come home when Mom and Dad have cooled down." The victor stood alone on his pedestal, basking in the glow of our parents' favoritism and his lover's devotion. And me? After years of silent suffering, I was still nothing more than a stray dog kicked to the curb. 【It's a shame you can't be here to share my joy.】 【Sophia is throwing a celebration party for me. Want to come?】 The text was from Leo. He was always like this, effortlessly flaunting his perfect life. He was the heir to a wealthy dynasty, the cherished "white moonlight" of a powerful CEO, the successful protagonist of his own story. Even strangers couldn't help but envy him. "Leo Kane truly has it all!" 2 And I was a rat, crawling through the gutter. No matter how hard I had worked, it was all worthless now. When I didn't reply, Leo even put on a show at his party, his face a mask of guilt and sadness. "Zane didn't reply. Is he still angry with me?" Sophia's expression was unreadable. "If he doesn't want to come, then don't worry about him." Leo and I are fraternal twins. Growing up, he was better than me at everything. I used to wonder if my genes were defective. Compared to my mediocrity, his life was on easy mode. My parents groomed him to be the heir. I was the invisible one, which suited me just fine. It meant freedom. The only thing I was good at, the only place I had any talent, was music. It was Sophia who approached me first, back in our first year of high school. I had just won the school's singing competition, and she, as the student council president, presented me with the award. Under the spotlight, for the first time, I felt like I had stepped out of Leo's shadow. I even found a sliver of confidence. As the heiress to Carlisle Entertainment, Sophia took an interest in me. We started spending more time together. I knew Leo was infatuated with Sophia. So when he suddenly developed an interest in music, something he had always scorned, I wasn't surprised at all. Soon enough, they became the couple everyone envied. After graduation, Sophia offered me a contract with Carlisle Entertainment. That was also the year Leo abruptly rejected the golden path our parents had laid out for him. He vanished, spending six years abroad completely off the grid. Our family was thrown into chaos. Sophia, usually so composed, was devastated. Six years later, when Leo returned, he was a graduate of the Berklee College of Music. With a single tear, he made our relieved parents forget every harsh word they’d planned, and made my fiancée, Sophia, begin to waver, consumed by a guilt she had carried for years. That one tear effortlessly stole everything from me. Now, Leo was basking in the adoration of the public, his name trending on every headline, while I was holed up in a company-owned apartment, teaching myself to write songs. 【The malicious slander, twisted and turned for sport. The years of hard work, dismissed with a careless flick of the wrist.】 My account with ten million followers had long been banned. I started a new one under my real name, Zane Kane, and began uploading my original work. Within half a day, every track was taken down due to malicious reports. The second year of my blacklisting by Sophia. I had no songs to sing, no shows to book. The company gave me zero resources. My manager and assistant were taken away. My contract was a prison, preventing me from even taking on small commercial gigs. My performances were censored, my face blurred out in variety show appearances. As a "disgraced artist," all my accounts were silenced. Even my burner account on a short-video app was swarmed by haters until it was locked. Meanwhile, under Sophia's protection, Leo won the "Best New Artist of the Year" award at the National Music Awards. The third year of my blacklisting. Leo competed on Celestial Voice, the top music competition show in the country, and won the title of "King of Singers." My five-year contract with Carlisle Entertainment finally expired. I did not renew. My former manager, Anna, heard the news and rushed over to persuade me. "Ms. Carlisle is on a business trip in Paris. Why don't you wait until she gets back?" I knew she was in Paris. In the family group chat I had muted, Leo, who was on vacation with her, was posting photos of their trip almost daily. Seeing my indifference, Anna grew anxious. "Zane, I heard from the higher-ups that before Ms. Carlisle left, she told people to start preparing for your comeback next year. You've endured for three years. We're so close to the finish line. Wouldn't it be a shame to leave now?" 3 Carlisle Entertainment was a top-tier company, a titan of the industry with immense power, connections, and resources. It was the first choice for countless musicians. But after three years of being crushed under its heel, how could I possibly stay? I continued to organize my lyrics and compositions. Anna pleaded, "Zane, you have to think this through. Once you leave Carlisle, your stage name, your songs—they're all gone. Are you really willing to let them go?" My hand froze. It was a question I had asked myself a thousand times during a thousand sleepless nights. I didn't even dare to casually play the songs I had sung countless times. The moment my fingers touched the keys and the intro began, the grief would overwhelm me, and tears would stream down my face. The moment they became a tool for someone to control me, they were no longer mine. I pushed the door open and left without another look back. Anna chased me to the entrance, frantic. "Zane, if Ms. Carlisle doesn't give the okay, no one in this industry will dare to sign you!" I didn't turn back. There was nothing here worth looking back for. That night, my phone vibrated. A message from Sophia. 【Have you made up your mind?】 I didn't reply. I became a spinning top, whipping myself into a frenzy. I started running, constantly moving. I knew it would be hard. Even though three years had passed, no company in the country would dare to sign a disgraced artist like me. Even without Carlisle's direct pressure, the hashtag #ZaneGetOutOfShowbiz was still trending. "Zane, you're still singing?" "Sorry, Mr. Kane, but this is a fan-driven market. Our company isn't willing to take the risk." "Mr. Kane, we recognize your talent, but our company has a lot of partnerships with Carlisle Entertainment, so…" I walked out of the last agency into a downpour. A curtain of rain blurred the world in front of me. Defeated, I opened my umbrella, a lone black boat adrift in a sea of rush-hour commuters at a crowded intersection. I knew starting over would be difficult. I just didn't realize it would be impossible. To get a gig, I drank glass after glass with a wealthy female producer. She draped her arm around my shoulders, her touch too familiar. She kissed my cheek, her audacity breathtaking. I ended up hunched over a toilet, vomiting until my throat was raw and bitter. "Don't be a fool. They're just messing with you. Who would dare to use you now?" her assistant said, finishing her makeup and glancing at my limp form in the mirror. My head was bowed, my hair a mess. The world was a blur of squalor. I don't know what happened to me these past two years, but the tears just wouldn't stop. The moment I looked down, they would fall, relentless and free. I closed my eyes, hot, searing tears pooling in my sockets before spilling over, plunging into a hopeless abyss. The assistant, a woman I'd only just met, seemed to struggle with herself for a moment before pinching her nose and helping me up. "You should go. If you stay any longer, it won't just be about drinking." The next day, my name was in the headlines. BREAKING: FORMER POP STAR ZANE REDUCED TO SINGING AT DINNER PARTIES FOR A COMEBACK! The video showed me at the request of a drunk, wealthy woman, standing in front of a crowd, singing an a cappella version of my debut hit, "Radiant Days." Everyone else was blurred out. Except me. I knew what these women were about, their cruel little games. I could even see the sickening lust in some of their eyes. But I stood up and sang anyway. What if it was a chance? I just didn't expect that my leaving early would anger someone. They sent the casually recorded video to a gossip account for sport. "So Zane has become a rich woman's plaything?" "Say what you will, but his three-octave high notes are still unmatched." "Hate to admit it, but the comment above is right." "How dare this jinx show his face again? Shouldn't you just fade into obscurity with your precious master? Why do you have to come out and disgust people?" 4 "That's just what homewreckers do. They'll do anything for fame and fortune." When public opinion decides to destroy someone, they see that person's very existence as a mistake. My father's call came for the first time in three years. He launched into a tirade. "Zane, are you not going to stop until you've completely disgraced the Kane family name?" I hung up. I didn't want to hear any more. I drew the heavy curtains in my rented apartment, blocking out the sunlight that seemed to mock me, and buried myself completely under the covers. Five hours after the scandal broke, I got a call from Sophia. "Zane, you really know how to piss me off." Her voice was devoid of any warmth in the darkness. I heard that the usually stoic CEO, Ms. Carlisle, had been uncharacteristically furious during a financial report meeting today for some unknown reason. In the room, the only light was the name "Sophia Carlisle" glowing on my phone screen, so bright it hurt my eyes. "I'm asking you one last time. Are you coming back or not?" Her voice was as cold and unyielding as I remembered. "Sophia, do you still think I was the one who drugged him?" My hand gripping the phone was nearly white. "Does it matter?" she retorted. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. A profound sense of powerlessness washed over me. She was right. It didn't matter. To her, nothing I did mattered as much as a single one of his tears. My efforts, my explanations—they were all meaningless. I hung up, feeling as if I had been plunged into an icy abyss. It was only then that I realized the truth. The truth had never mattered to Sophia. The six years Leo was gone had bound her to him with chains of guilt. As long as he wanted something, she would give it to him, no matter the cost. The screen went dark. I stared at the ceiling, the hair at my temples soaked with bitter, cheap tears. At 21, I became an overnight sensation with "Radiant Days." After three years of hard work, my fanbase, the "Lucky Stars," was a sea of people. Now, at 26, I was trapped in the mud, unable to move. I thought sacrificing my dignity would buy me a chance. I thought enduring the humiliation would lead to a better tomorrow. But in the end, I had only fallen into a deeper, filthier pit. All my struggles, in their eyes, were just the pathetic, self-inflicted failures of a desperate man. I threw an arm over my eyes and let out a wretched, hollow laugh. I laughed until tears streamed down my face, laughed until my body shook. This past year had been agony. In a swamp of despair, I wrote a rock song stained with my own blood. 【They throw mud at me; I use the mud to grow lotuses.】 The track was still reported and shadow-banned. The song still went unheard. The fourth year of my blacklisting. Leo won "Best Male Artist of the Year." His concert tour sold out arenas from the mainland to the Hong Kong Coliseum. Forbes named him the most commercially valuable male artist in the country. And then, at the height of his fame, Leo announced his retirement from music. He said he was just "playing" in the entertainment industry. Now that he had achieved a grand slam of music awards, he was going back to fulfill his promise to help his parents run the family company. At his final, sold-out farewell concert, Leo sat on a throne in a custom Pronovias suit, looking out over the sea of faces like a king. He was handsome, radiant as the morning sun. "Actually, I've been waiting for someone," he said into the mic. "I want to ask a certain lady, tonight, are you willing to let me be your groom?" The atmosphere exploded. The giant screen split. On the right was Leo on stage, his eyes full of anticipation. On the left was Sophia, in a special VIP seat, her expression completely unreadable. In the end, the crowd witnessed a fairytale moment as the dark knight walked toward his princess. The screams nearly blew the roof off the dome. This "winning the beautiful bride" finale was the perfect end to Leo's music career. 5 Fans posted videos of the concert online, hailing it as an "epic, perfect farewell." Countless people witnessed their happiness. The music I had chased with every fiber of my being was just a fleeting, whimsical experience in Leo's brilliant life. Now that he'd had his fun, he was going back to inherit his billion-dollar fortune and marry the love of his life. In the face of their happiness, all my resentment and frustration, all the lyrics and melodies I had written, seemed ridiculous, meaningless. My life was a complete and utter failure. I couldn't write another song. The fifth year of my blacklisting. Sophia and Leo held their wedding of the century. Leo personally delivered an invitation to my home. I didn't go. I got drunk, so drunk I collapsed in an alley behind a bar. The night was pitch black, a hopeless void. My heart was empty. I didn't feel sad, just an overwhelming sense of being lost. The next day, the morning light spilled onto me. A woman selling breakfast from a street cart tossed a large meat bun at me. She was a whirlwind of activity amidst the steam and sizzle of her stall. "Get up, will ya? A big guy like you, lyin' around here? Don't block my business!" Holding the bun, I inexplicably thought of the assistant who had pulled me up from the bathroom floor. Two complete strangers, living their own lives, with no connection to each other. Yet they had both shown me a sliver of kindness. Tears welled up in my eyes. I had faced so much blatant cruelty that I had begun to hate the world and my own fate. For years, I had been a tireless madman, desperately craving success, hard and unyielding as a stone. All because I wanted to prove something to the people who had wronged me, who had mocked me. I wanted to see them repent, to see them in pain. But in the end, I discovered the truth. They didn't care. If I died in the street right now, no one would notice. Maybe that was the real reason I had shattered. It wasn't until today, staring at the sun through the steam of a food stall, that I finally understood what it meant to be alive.
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