["Mengxi, how about... forget it? This style doesn't seem to suit you very well. Look, your voice is almost hoarse, and you're struggling to dance. We can try other styles you are better at."
"No! I can practice! This is... this is very important!"
"Why do you insist so much? You obviously don't like it and aren't suited for it. Shouldn't being an idol be about doing what you like and are good at?"
"I like it! I think it's very important! Brother, leave me alone!"
"I'm not trying to control you, I'm worried about you! What if you hurt yourself by forcing it like this? The stage effect won't be good either!"]
...
Such conversations happened more than once.
In Yun Feng's eyes, his sister suddenly developed a paranoid interest in heavy metal rock, which might be her newly sprouted, unique "dream."
And because he always harbored the heavy guilt that "sister embarked on this path to fulfill my dream," he worried that rock wasn't suitable for her on one hand, and held a contradictory mindset of "if this is her true dream, then I should support it even more" on the other.
He even privately contacted some musicians in the rock circle, wanting to create better learning conditions for his sister, but the feedback was all "Miss Yun... might really not be very suitable for this route."
In the end, Yun Feng chose to hand over the decision-making power completely to Yun Mengxi.
He suppressed his worries and confusion, and said to her: "Mengxi, this is your path, your dream. No matter what style you choose, Brother supports you.
"As long as it's what you sincerely want to do, Brother will help you to the end."
He thought he was respecting his sister's personal wishes, but didn't know that what his sister clung to was precisely a joking remark he had long forgotten.
And his sister's "dream," from beginning to end, was just to piece together the fragments he lost.
Yun Mengxi knew her brother misunderstood, but she couldn't explain.
Could she say "Brother, it's not that I like rock myself, it's because you once said 'it's also okay,' so I feel I must achieve it"?
That would only make her brother feel more guilty and sad, violating her original intention of "letting Brother see a beautiful future."
Thus, she could only turn this misunderstanding and the subsequent full support from her brother into heavier pressure and carry it on her back.
She stumbled on an unsuitable path, spending several times more energy than others, but with little effect.
Every failure deepened the confusion and self-doubt in her heart.
Is she... unable to do even such a "small thing" well?
Can her clumsy persistence really let her brother see the "future" he wants?
Or is she actually just stubbornly moving herself in a wrong way, while getting further and further away from the real goal?
At this moment, sitting in front of Fu Hua, retracing all this, that deep-seated confusion and faint unease clearly surfaced again.
She recounted her determination, efforts, and bond with her brother, but the weak voice deep in her heart was still asking.
Is this really right?
Is the path she walks really the one leading to her brother's "future"?
Or did she get lost in the obsession she wove long ago, and the shadow of the shining brother I desperately want to protect is actually being dragged into deeper haze bit by bit by my clumsy efforts?
She raised her head and looked at Fu Hua. Her eyes were clear, but carried a trace of imperceptible, deeply buried bewilderment.
She said a lot, but the core confusion and fear, perhaps even she herself hadn't completely sorted out, let alone knew how to speak of.
Yun Mengxi's sincere and somewhat fearful gaze covered her clear eyes like a thin mist.
She was waiting, perhaps for a few words of comfort, perhaps for some enlightening advice, just like the direction a normal psychological consultation would take.
As expected, Fu Hua spoke.
Her voice was still steady, even lacking fluctuation more than just now, but the words spat out were like sharp swords suddenly unsheathed—precise, cold, piercing straight to the core, completely subverting the slightly clumsy communication mode before.
"So..."
Just an opening word made Yun Mengxi's heart tighten inexplicably.
Fu Hua's gaze through the lenses seemed able to penetrate all appearances, looking straight at the most wavering part deep in her soul.
She didn't detour, didn't pave the way, using the most concise and sharp language, threw out a series of questions leaving almost no room to breathe—
"Do you regret it?"
Yun Mengxi's pupils constricted suddenly.
"..."
"Carrying his dream to this day, what have you achieved?"
"I..." Yun Mengxi subconsciously wanted to open her mouth to defend, but Fu Hua's questions didn't stop, instead cutting off Yun Mengxi's thinking logic at a faster speed.
"Then..."
Fu Hua's tone didn't change at all, but it made the next question appear particularly sharp.
"Have you satisfied yourself?"
Her breathing, somewhat rapid due to memories, stopped abruptly.
These three questions, one more direct than the last, one touching the sensitive area Yun Mengxi tried to avoid more than the last.
Regret... do I?
About choosing this path? About replacing Brother? What have I achieved?
Did I successfully replicate the fantasy, or just struggle in vain?
Satisfy myself?
Have I... ever considered "myself"? Or has "myself" long been swallowed by that heavy promise?
Fu Hua's performance at this moment was abnormal and sharp, completely different from her previous clumsiness trying to fit into the role of a "gentle consultant."
It was a calmness stripping away all social camouflage and reaching the essence of the problem, even carrying an almost cruel frankness.
Every word was like a needle, pricking on Yun Mengxi's mental defense which was already fragile due to memories.
At the same time, it wasn't just Yun Mengxi's heart that exploded.
"Master?! This... this way of asking is too direct! Will it be overly stimulating?!"
"...This is Master... facing the core directly, showing no mercy. But the target's emotional fluctuation is rising sharply!"
"Powerful! But the risk is too high!"
Worry, surprise, and nervousness permeated the background.
Everyone understood that stimulating Yun Mengxi, who might be the Herrscher core, directly with such sharp questions was tantamount to pushing her hard on the edge of a cliff, with unpredictable consequences.
However, this commotion lasted less than three seconds.
Lin Chaoyu clenched her fists tightly, looking at Fu Hua's calm profile on the screen, and took a deep breath: "...Believe in Master."
The shock in Su Mei's eyes slowly turned into a burning light. She licked her lips and whispered: "Master doing this... must have her reasons. She saw something we didn't see."
Ma Feima clicked his tongue, but didn't object anymore, just leaning forward slightly.
Cheng Lingshuang remained silent, but her gaze locked tightly on the screen.
Jiang Wanxi and Jiang Wanru looked at each other, held each other's hands tightly, and chose to believe.
Himeko stared at Fu Hua's unshakeable figure. After a moment, she said in a deep voice on the intercom channel: "...Maintain monitoring, ready for emergency plans at any time. Trust Fu Hua's judgment."
No analysis, no discussion, simply because the person making this "dangerous move" was Fu Hua, simply because of her abnormal yet firm performance at this moment, everyone in the background—despite their different personalities and unresolved worries—chose unconditional trust in an extremely short time.