Thump, thump, thump.

The drumbeats continued, but the rhythm had become steady. The metallic reflectors on the stage were lifted up by the wind, then fell back down, flashing brightly.

Chen Hao tossed the crumpled napkin into the nearby trash can and clapped his hands twice: "Don't just stand there, the first round is about to begin! Everyone, perk up!"

His voice wasn't loud, but it exploded in the backstage area. Several children who had been rubbing their hands with their heads down suddenly looked up, and the team leader also straightened his back.

Nana stood in front of the control panel, her finger lightly tapping the screen. The lighting sequence activated, warm yellow light streaming down from above, causing the shadows at the edge of the stage to recede slightly. At the same time, she brought up the audio monitoring interface, her brow furrowing slightly—there was a delay in the left channel.

“Technician,” she said, her voice steady, “there is a 0.3-second delay in the left channel. Please adjust it immediately and activate the backup channel.”

The man in overalls glanced up at the equipment box, then quickly walked over and tightened the screws. In less than a minute, the noise disappeared.

Susan crouched down near the dance troupe, helping a girl tighten her dance shoes. The girl's hands were trembling so badly that she couldn't tie the laces even after wrapping them around three times. Susan didn't say anything, but gently held the girl's fingers: "You're dancing for Starlight, not for judging."

The child blinked and smiled.

Carl returned from the side of the stage; he had just checked the support structure again. He walked over to Chen Hao and nodded, "The structure is safe; we can begin."

Chen Hao grinned: "Okay, then let's not wait."

He held up the dispatch board and gestured to the person at the sound station. The person there pressed the button, and the loudspeaker emitted a short "beep".

Silence reigned behind the curtain.

The drama troupe stood in a row, no one moved. The leader stood at the very front, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Why aren't they going up yet?" someone in the audience asked quietly.

The crowd began to stir.

Chen Hao frowned, walked a few steps to the backstage entrance, blocked the camera lens with the control board, and lowered his voice: "Just do it like that crazy rehearsal you guys did—forget your lines and you'll act it out, fall down and you'll act it out. Anyway, you're playing a bunch of lost interstellar travelers, who remembers their lines?"

The team leader paused for a moment, then suddenly burst out laughing: "Yes, we were looking for the way anyway."

The music started right on time.

Nana simultaneously activated the background projection, and a nebula flowed slowly, covering the slow gap at the beginning. The curtain rose, and the first line of dialogue came from the darkness.

"Is anyone still alive on this planet?"

Applause immediately erupted.

It wasn't just polite applause; it was genuine cheering.

The actors seemed to be given a push by the voice; their steps became steady, and their voices rang out. The second act was about how the team rebuilt the communications tower, and one actor added a line on the spot: "The signal is back, but my mom can't get through anymore." The entire audience was silent for a moment, then erupted into even louder applause.

Chen Hao stood in the side of the screen, a smile playing on his lips.

“They changed the script,” he said.

Nana stood half a step behind him, and the data stream on the screen kept scrolling: "The peak of audience sentiment has exceeded the threshold, and the support rate has risen to 87%."

"Looks like our 'double opening' wasn't a waste of time." Chen Hao shook his head with a smile. "If only we'd let them argue for a little longer, the buzz would have been even greater."

Susan walked over, carrying a roll of luminous fiber: "The next one is the dance team, but they can't move their main device up; it's stuck at the entrance of the passage."

"What's going on?" Chen Hao asked.

"The box is too wide; it can't go around the corner."

“Then let’s dismantle it,” Chen Hao said. “Anyway, it’ll have to be opened eventually.”

“There’s no time to dismantle it.” Susan had already rolled up her sleeves. “I’ll take some people and go straight up on stage to move it.”

After she finished speaking, she turned around and beckoned several volunteers to rush onto the stage. The scenery box was dragged away by everyone, leaving only a few scattered supports in place.

“Wait a minute.” She suddenly stopped and looked at the roll of fiber in her hand. “This was originally a backup light source, but now it’s simply wrapped around the dancer’s wrist to be used as a dynamic light spot.”

Nana responded immediately: "The stage lighting coordination plan has been updated, and we will focus on motion trajectory capture."

The dance troupe finished changing and stood at the edge of the stage. Each person had thin, long threads of light wrapped around their wrists, which glowed faintly in the shadows.

The countdown has ended.

The music changed to a lively electronic beat, and the first wave of dancers rushed into the illuminated area. The lights on their wrists traced arcs, like shooting stars streaking across the night sky.

The audience gasped in surprise.

The choreography has clearly changed. What was originally a neat and uniform formation has now incorporated improvisational elements. If someone falls, they simply roll over and continue dancing; if someone breaks away from the group to dance solo, the others form a circle and clap in response.

“This isn’t the rehearsed version,” Carl said in a low voice.

“Even better.” Chen Hao stared at the stage. “They’ve started playing.”

One program after another was broadcast.

When the music group came on stage, the performers carried a bunch of oddly shaped instruments, including iron pipes, discarded circuit boards, and a string of bells made of recycled metal sheets.

The lead musician struck the first note, like the wind blowing through ruins.

The piece is called "Echoes of the Wasteland," and it has no main melody; it's all just a patchwork of ambient sounds. But the more you listen to it, the more you sit up straight.

Nana quietly opened the voting channel. On the screen, the support rates for the two opening teams alternated, with the difference never exceeding 5%.

"Should we announce the results?" she asked.

"No rush," Chen Hao waved his hand. "Let them hang in there a little longer."

After the drama troupe took their final bow, the children ran off the stage, their faces covered in sweat, but their eyes shining. One little girl threw herself into the leader's arms, crying out, "We did it!"

The team leader patted her back, and he himself was trembling.

As the dance troupe finished their last dance, everyone lay on the stage, and the lights on their wrists slowly went out, like stars falling one by one.

The entire audience stood up and applauded.

Chen Hao finally emerged from the side of the stage and stood at the edge. Looking at the densely packed crowd below, he suddenly felt his throat go dry.

"Do you want some water?" Nana handed her a bottle.

"No," he shook his head. "I want to stand right now."

Susan walked over, holding a strange pen in her hand. It was made from performance waste, with a broken optical fiber casing and metal wire wrapped around the nib.

“Someone gave it to me,” she said. “They said it was a thank you for the award certificate I drew.”

"It looks pretty good." Chen Hao glanced at it. "Can you write on it?"

"Haven't tried it yet."

Carl squatted beside the equipment box, shutting off the power connectors one by one. He moved slowly, as if checking each cable for damage.

"You're quite particular." Chen Hao walked over.

“We’ll need these tomorrow,” Carl said. “We can’t just pull them out.”

I thought you would find it troublesome.

"Doing too many troublesome things makes you afraid of making mistakes."

The stage lights up again, and the next act is about to begin. This time it's a mixed performance, with the drama troupe and dance team jointly performing a piece called "Interstellar Reunion".

The actors patted each other on the shoulder as they walked onto the stage.

Nana stood in front of the control panel, confirming that the voting data had been uploaded. Her device tilted slightly, entering low-power standby mode.

Susan sat on the edge of the stage, twirling the discarded pen in her hand. Laughter echoed in the distance, but she remained motionless, watching the crowd.

Chen Hao returned to the side of the stage and looked at the stage.

This time, there were no arguments, no panic. Everyone knew their place and was willing to let others shine.

He recalled the days when he stayed up all night repairing equipment, the moments when he was complained about and called useless, and the time when Nana said, "Data analysis shows that your heart rate is too fast."

Those things seem so far away now.

Now all that remains is the light on the stage and countless upturned faces below.

After the last performance, all the performers went on stage for a curtain call.

The applause lasted for a long time.

Chen Hao raised his hand, intending to clap, but found his right hand still clenched into a fist. He loosened it, revealing a shallow indentation on his palm, a result of pressing too hard earlier.

He smiled.

Nana's voice came from behind: "Audience satisfaction rate of 92.6%, setting a new record for the highest single segment of this event."

“Not bad,” he said.

"It is recommended to keep the current stage setup and continue using it tomorrow."

Let's talk about it tomorrow.

Susan walked over and shoved the scrap pen into his hand: "Here, a souvenir."

"I don't write."

"Then you can take it."

Carl stood up and shut down the last port. The equipment box closed with a click.

The stage lights dimmed, but were not completely off yet.

The crowd gradually dispersed, but many people remained to take photos and chat.

Chen Hao stood still.

In the distance, a child is skipping and hopping towards this place, holding up a small robot he made in his craft class.

The robot was crooked and distorted, with protruding joints and a round head.

The child waved at him: "Brother Chen Hao! Look, I made you!"

Chen Hao looked down at the pen in his hand, then looked up at the child.

He had barely opened his mouth when the child rushed in front of him and shoved the robot into his other hand.

The robot's hand is made of bent metal wire, which can just hook onto its fingers.