79 FIRST SEKHMET

There was little to remember about the words Yibo sung. All Xiao Zhan could follow was his face and body, intoxicated on how fluid his limbs were on dancing, the intensity of his movements and stare. He was struck with the dying need to paint. To paint this intensity. To immortalize it.

When the performance was over, Yibo's face on the screen shiny with sweat and sucking in mouthfuls of air to combat the spent energy, Xiao Zhan remained standing in silence, amidst the rising cheers and screams. He wasn't the type of person to scream for his favourite band or singer, or at sports matches. He could only show his support in quiet. It was his personality, and he could not change himself so drastically to match the output of others.

Xiao Zhan made his way out of the crowd to one of the two exits and dialed Guo Cheng's number. "Yibo can meet me in the car park across by the coffee shop. I'll park and wait across there."