The invitation arrived during a moment so ordinary that it almost felt cruel.
Anqi was sitting on the living room floor with a laundry basket tipped onto its side, clothes half folded and half forgotten. One sock had disappeared entirely, and she was debating whether it was worth searching for when her phone vibrated once beside her knee.
She glanced at the screen without much thought.
Then she looked again.
Then she stopped moving.
Orange TV Creator Gala
Official Invitation
Her name followed beneath it, written plainly, confidently, without hesitation.
Gu Anqi.
For several seconds, she didn't open the email. She simply stared at the notification as if it might vanish if she acknowledged it too quickly. Her chest felt tight, not with excitement, but with the unfamiliar pressure of being noticed.
This wasn't a joke. This wasn't a fan-made graphic. This wasn't Lin Xu teasing her after a good stream.
This was real.
She turned the phone face down and pressed both palms against the floor, grounding herself. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears, uneven, like it hadn't decided whether to race or slow.
"I guess," she murmured to herself, "this is what it feels like when a dream stops being polite."
When she finally opened the email, she read it slowly. Then again. The wording was formal, restrained, unmistakably official. The gala date. The venue. The dress code. A short note congratulating her on her growth and "impact within the platform community."
Impact.
She snorted softly. "That's one way to say I talk too much on camera."
Lin Xu wandered in from the kitchen a moment later, chewing loudly and wearing one of Shen Zhi's sweaters like it was borrowed property rather than stolen. He stopped mid-step when he saw her expression.
"That face," he said cautiously, "means either your life just improved dramatically or the internet finally canceled socks."
She held the phone up to him without a word.
He leaned in, squinted, then straightened slowly. The chewing stopped. He swallowed.
"…Okay," he said after a moment. "I need a second."
She waited. He didn't make a joke. That alone told her how serious this was.
"You're scared," he said finally, sitting down beside her.
"I'm thinking," she corrected.
"That's scarier."
She laughed softly, then glanced back at the email. "What if I go and realize I don't belong there?"
Lin Xu tilted his head, studying her. "You didn't belong in your family either," he said gently. "And you still figured out how to exist."
Her laugh faded. That hit closer than he probably intended.
From across the room, Shen Zhi set aside the tablet he had been reading and spoke calmly.
"You should attend."
Anqi turned toward him. "You say that like it's simple."
"It isn't," he replied. "But avoiding it will not make it simpler later."
She hugged her knees, considering. "This will put more eyes on me."
"Yes."
"And more opinions."
"Yes."
"And more assumptions."
"Yes."
She sighed. "You're terrible at reassurance."
"I am not reassuring you," he said. "I am being honest."
That, strangely, helped.
She looked down at the invitation again, then nodded once. "Alright. Then I'll go. But I won't perform a version of myself that's easier to digest."
A faint smile touched his lips. "Good."
That night, long after Lin Xu had fallen asleep in a chair he absolutely did not deserve, Anqi lay awake scrolling idly through her phone.
A private message notification appeared.
Felix Valentine.
Her fingers stilled.
She didn't open it immediately. Felix was not the type to send casual messages. His words always carried weight, not because he intended them to, but because he chose them carefully.
When she finally opened the message, it was exactly what she expected.
He congratulated her. No exclamation points. No overenthusiasm. Just a simple acknowledgment. He mentioned the gala briefly, said events like that could feel louder than they looked. Said attention often arrived with expectations disguised as compliments.
She read that sentence twice.
She replied honestly. She told him she was excited. She told him she was nervous. She told him she was afraid of losing the version of herself who streamed because she loved it, not because she was expected to.
The reply took longer this time.
When it came, it was shorter.
Felix told her that stages demanded pieces of you whether you offered them or not. The trick, he said, wasn't refusing entirely, but knowing which parts of yourself were non-negotiable. He told her not to mistake visibility for safety.
He didn't tell her to be brave. He didn't tell her to shine.
He told her to stay intact.
Anqi pressed the phone to her chest, exhaling slowly.
Across the city, Felix leaned back in his chair, eyes unfocused. His room was dim, monitors dark. He looked calm, the way he always did on stream.
But something inside him felt tight.
He remembered his first gala. The way applause had felt like relief and pressure at the same time. The way people had started wanting more once they realized he could endure it.
He hoped she would fare better.
The internet did not wait for her to be ready.
Two days later, a photograph surfaced.
Shen Zhi holding open a car door. Anqi laughing, mid-sentence, unaware of the camera.
It was ordinary. That was what made it explosive.
The narrative wrote itself.
She stared at the screen while comments multiplied. Some were curious. Some were cruel. Many assumed they understood her intentions better than she did.
"This is loud," she said quietly.
Shen Zhi stood beside her, already reviewing reports. "I can issue a clarification."
"No," she said immediately.
He turned.
"If you erase me, they'll redraw me however they want," she continued. "I won't disappear so you can look untouched."
There was no anger in her voice. Only resolve.
A pause stretched between them.
"Then we stand openly," he said.
His statement went live within the hour. Brief. Controlled. Unapologetic.
The response was immediate. Polarizing. Unavoidable.
And Gu Anqi's name no longer belonged to the margins.
Xu Ruyan watched the coverage with measured interest.
"So she chose visibility," she murmured, stirring her tea.
Her assistant hesitated. "Should we respond?"
"Not yet," Ruyan replied. "Let her feel steady."
She smiled faintly. "Confidence makes people careless."
That night, Anqi stood on the balcony, city air cool against her skin. Shen Zhi joined her without a word, close enough that she felt his presence before she saw him.
"I'm not backing out," she said.
"I know."
"I'm scared," she admitted. "But I don't feel wrong."
"That matters more than comfort," he replied.
She turned toward him. "If this costs you…"
"It was already costing me something to remain untouched," he said.
The honesty startled her.
They stood close, not touching, the space between them charged and deliberate.
The gala was coming.
The world was watching.
And for the first time, Gu Anqi wasn't shrinking from it.