25 Requests, X Rejections, X Companions

The crowd was silent. Before the results were announced, the entire hall was filled with tension, as if a dark shadow had swept over everyone’s hearts. Even the young man with the gentle smile, who always seemed calm, appeared somewhat unsettled—though his lips curved into a faint smile, his gaze was fixed upon the front. The moment the name was revealed, his smile stiffened imperceptibly.

Of course, Yuan and Yu weren't rivals in terms of strength; Yuan’s style was elegant and refined, while Yu's was more flamboyant and impetuous. Their personalities were so different that they rarely interacted before this. Even if they happened to meet in the corridor, they merely offered a polite nod or exchanged a few words. Yu was never interested in the arts, so he seldom attended exhibitions or performances, and most of the time, he would disappear after the event.

The audience waited quietly, their eyes focused on the stage, but the judges hadn’t responded to Yu’s performance yet.

The tension was palpable, almost suffocating.

In the end, after a brief discussion among the judges, they announced their decision. The result was not surprising; Yuan had won. The judges praised his technique and artistic expression, and Yu, though talented, hadn’t managed to surpass Yuan in this round. In the rankings, they were close, but only one could be the winner.

Yu’s gaze remained fixed on the stage, his eyes reflecting a mixture of disappointment and unwillingness. The judges’ comments were straightforward, acknowledging his strengths but pointing out areas where he needed improvement.

Yuan, always composed, accepted the result gracefully, his smile returning as he bowed to the judges and audience. He didn’t make any dramatic gestures, merely stood quietly, his posture dignified.

Yu’s expression was icy and distant, but he didn’t protest or argue. He simply nodded, turned, and walked off the stage. His departure was swift and silent, as if he wanted to leave the hall as soon as possible.

Though Yu seemed unaffected, it was clear he was deeply disappointed. He had always believed that his unique style would give him an edge, but today, he was forced to confront reality—a world where technique and artistry mattered more than bravado.

He left the hall, his footsteps echoing in the corridor. The crowd slowly dispersed, and the tension faded away. Yuan’s supporters congratulated him, while Yu’s fans offered words of comfort. But Yu didn’t respond; he simply continued walking.

He was not one to dwell on losses. He had never cared much about the outcome, nor had he ever sought fame or recognition. He was only interested in expressing something truly meaningful, and he had always believed that art should be honest and authentic.

After leaving the hall, Yu wandered through the city, his thoughts drifting. He didn’t return home or attend any follow-up events. He simply walked, the evening breeze rustling his hair as he passed through the quiet streets.

After a while, he stopped at a café. He ordered a drink and sat by the window, watching the city lights flicker. He didn’t speak to anyone, nor did he answer his phone. He just sat there, lost in thought.

The world outside continued to bustle, but Yu remained silent, unmoved.

He had always been this way.

In reality, there was nothing particularly special about the event; it was just another ordinary day in the city.

Even though the organizers had put in great effort to ensure everything ran smoothly, most of the attendees were simply there to watch, and only those who participated truly cared about the results. For some, the competition was a means to prove themselves; for others, it was just another challenge.

When Yu left, he didn’t say goodbye to anyone. He simply glanced at Yuan’s supporters, nodded faintly, and walked out. He didn’t linger, nor did he look back.

Yuan, on the other hand, remained. He chatted with the judges, exchanged pleasantries, and accepted their praise graciously. He was accustomed to this, and his composure never faltered.

Yu didn’t attend the post-event gathering, nor did he participate in any interviews. He had never liked such occasions, and he preferred to be alone.

The city’s night was calm; the lights twinkled, and the streets were quiet. Yu wandered aimlessly, passing by the riverside, where the moonlight shimmered on the water. He paused for a moment, gazing at the reflection—a solitary figure beneath the vast sky, lost in his own thoughts.

He had always been this way.

No one tried to stop him.

He was a solitary soul, content with his own company, never seeking validation from others.

The competition was over, and the audience left. The judges reviewed their notes, and the organizers prepared for the next event.

Yu walked away, leaving everything behind.

He didn’t care about the outcome. He had never cared about winning or losing; technique, artistry, and the accumulation of experience were all secondary to him. What mattered most was the truth he sought, the meaning he wished to convey.

He had always been this way.

The city lights flickered.

In the quiet night, Yu found solace in solitude.

There was no need for elaborate farewells or grand gestures—just a simple departure.

After all, nothing extraordinary had happened that day.

The competition had ended, and Yu was still himself.

He would always be himself.