The price of resistance

In the arrangement room during the second public performance, sunlight filtered through the blinds, scattering thin strips onto the spread-out sheet music. Yunheng crouched over the keys, her fingertips tracing the chord markings of "Moonlight Rose." Azhe, a trainee from Class C, pointed at the chorus and said, "Try adding a transition here? Your voice is suited to a more dynamic approach."

"Is that okay?" Yun Heng looked up, a serious glint in her eyes. Azhe was a recognized talent in arranging music. Although ranked lower, he always managed to create stunning melodies. This was the first time he'd taken the initiative to discuss music with someone, avoiding Yu Xiao's gaze. The air felt relaxed.

"Of course," Ah Zhe smiled and circled the changes with a pen, "Try singing it like this..."

Before he could finish his words, the door to the arrangement room suddenly opened. Yu Xiao stood in the doorway, staring at their overlapping sheet music with a sullen expression, like a lion whose territory had been invaded. He had ripped the collar of his training uniform loose, revealing the line of his collarbone, a suppressed anger.

Yunheng's heart skipped a beat and she subconsciously shrank back.

"Did you enjoy the chat?" Yu Xiao's voice was as cold as ice, and his eyes swept across Azhe's face with undisguised hostility.

Ah Zhe's smile froze on his face, and he stood up tactfully: "Master Yu, I'm going back first."

"Stop." Yu Xiao didn't look at him, his eyes fixed on Yun Heng. "Who told you to leave?"

Ah Zhe paused, his face pale. Yun Heng frowned and stood up: "It has nothing to do with him. I was the one who discussed the arrangement with him."

"Discuss?" Yu Xiao sneered, and suddenly reached out to grab Yun Heng's wrist with such force that it seemed as if he was going to crush her bones. "I think you are deliberately trying to make things difficult for me."

He dragged Yunheng out, ignoring her struggles and Ah Zhe's panicked gaze. The trainees in the corridor all moved aside, whispers flooding in like a tide, and the red dot of the camera flashed in the corner, recording this awkward tug-of-war.

"Let me go! Yu Xiao, are you crazy?" Yun Heng's wrist was strangled so hard that it hurt. Her fingertips scratched at his arm but couldn't move it at all.

The stairwell door slammed shut, blocking out the view from outside. Yu Xiao pressed him against the cold concrete wall, his knee against his knee, staring down at him condescendingly: "Stay away from him."

"Why do you care about me?" Yun Heng felt a sharp pain in her wrist. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she stubbornly refused to let them fall. "He's my friend. What's wrong with discussing music? Can't you bear to see me talking to other people?"

"I won't allow you to." Yu Xiao's voice tightened, and his fingertips unconsciously increased the pressure. "The way he looks at you is not right."

"So what?" Yun Heng laughed, almost crying. "Who I make friends with, who I discuss music with, is it any of your business? Who do you think you are? My master?"

"I'm not..." Yu Xiao's Adam's apple rolled, and his eyes suddenly became panicked. He looked down at Yun Heng's wrist, where a glaring red mark had appeared, like an ugly chain.

"I'm sorry." He suddenly let go of her hand and took a half step back as if he was burned, his fingertips shaking violently, "I didn't mean to, I..."

He spoke incoherently, like a child in trouble, a stark contrast to the prince who controlled everything. Yun Heng looked at his panicked eyes, and the anger in her heart suddenly deflated like a popped balloon.

"Don't touch me." He rubbed his red wrist, his voice as cold as ice, "Yu Xiao, you have no right to interfere with my social life."

After saying that, he turned and ran down the stairs, leaving Yu Xiao standing there alone. The warmth of the other person's skin still remained on his fingertips, which was hot and numb.

That afternoon, the hashtag #YuXiaoViolentDrag# became a trending search topic. An anonymous user uploaded a video of the hallway surveillance camera. While silent, it clearly captured YuXiao dragging YunHeng out. The close-up of YunHeng's wrist, marked by red marks from her struggle, was particularly striking.

The comment section instantly exploded:

[Holy crap, is this a kidnapping? The prince is so scary!]

Yunheng's wrist is so red, it hurts just looking at it. Is this because she's overly controlling?

[Don't be so mean, you guys, maybe you're just joking? I don't think Yunheng really put up a fight.]

[Is the person above blind? Is this a joke? Does the prince of capital really treat people as his property?]

[I suddenly felt sorry for Yunheng. Being tied up like this, anyone would want to escape.]

CP fans and black fans quarreled with each other. Some people dug out the previous "support post" and said "it's indeed the sponsor's desire for control"; some people captured the scene of Yunheng and Azhe discussing the arrangement, and posted the topic #YunhengRunQuick#; some marketing accounts even began to analyze the "plight of trainees under the control of capital in the entertainment industry", using Yunheng as a typical case.

Yun Heng stared at his phone screen, his fingertips lingering for a long time over the hashtag #云昅快跑#. He wanted to reply, to explain, but found that any words paled in the face of the irrefutable video evidence.

In the evening rehearsal room, Yun Heng habitually glanced towards Class C, only to find it empty. Ah Zhe's sheet music was still spread out on the table, highlighted with his suggested arrangements for "Moonlight Rose," and next to it lay half a loaf of uneaten bread.

"Don't watch it anymore." The trainee next to him lowered his voice. "Azhe was asked to leave. They said he 'violated dormitory regulations' and sent him away by the production team this morning."

Yun Heng's heart sank, as if struck by a huge rock. Violating the rules? Ah Zhe was a well-behaved student, even blaming himself for staying up late. How could he possibly be violating the rules?

He suddenly looked up in Yu Xiao's direction. He was leaning against the mirror, looking at his phone. His profile looked remarkably calm under the light, as if nothing had happened.

"You did it, didn't you?" Yun Heng rushed over and grabbed his collar, the bloodshot eyes spreading like spider webs. "Why did you do this? What did he do wrong?"

Yu Xiao frowned, neither admitting nor denying: "He is not suitable to stay here."

"Isn't it appropriate for me to be an eyesore?" Yun Heng's voice trembled, filled with desperate anger. "Just because he discussed a few arrangements with me? Just because you don't like him? Yu Xiao, is this the right way to bully others?"

The trainees around were stunned, no one dared to speak. The red dot of the camera silently recorded everything, and the air was filled with a suffocating silence.

Yu Xiao grabbed his wrist, this time with very little force, and said helplessly: "Stop it, it will have a bad influence."

"It's a bad influence?" Yun Heng shook him off, pointing at the empty practice area. "You forced him out! How will he face his family? How will he continue his musical dream? Can you afford the compensation?"

Yu Xiao's face darkened, and his voice was as cold as ice: "I'm just following the rules."

"Your rule is that those who obey you prosper, and those who disobey you perish?" Yun Heng's tears finally fell, a mixture of anger and powerlessness. "You cleared out everyone who approached me and trapped me by your side. Is this what you call protection?"

He looked at the trainees around him, their eyes evading him, and suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. How many of them truly wanted to be his friend, but were afraid to approach him for fear of offending Yu Xiao? How many of them were secretly talking about him behind his back, calling him a "caged canary"?

That night, the hashtag #阿哲被劝退# quietly climbed to the top of trending searches before quickly being suppressed. However, some people still dug up Azhe's original works, lamenting that "genius is crushed by capital." Others dug up photos of Yunheng and Azhe discussing music arrangements, captioning them with the words "The price of resistance." Some fans even started a fundraising effort to help Azhe find another agency.

Yunheng lay on the bed, looking at the last message sent by Azhe on the phone: "Don't worry, I will go back to my hometown to continue making music, you keep going." Tears silently soaked the pillowcase.

For the first time, he truly felt how insignificant individual resistance was in the face of the absolute power of capital. Ah Zhe was like a mirror, reflecting his situation—he seemed to have choices, but in reality, he had long been bound by invisible chains.

Footsteps were heard in the corridor, stopping at the dormitory door. Yun Heng knew it was Yu Xiao, but she didn't move. The door was gently pushed open, and the other person placed a cup of hot milk on the table, his movements cautious and flattering.

"I didn't let him go." Yu Xiao's voice was very soft, with a hint of defense, "He was the one who..."

"Get out." Yun Heng interrupted him, her voice as cold as ice.

Yu Xiao paused, then finally closed the door and left. Silence returned to the dormitory, with only the steam from the milk rising slowly under the light, like an unclaimed apology.

Yunheng stared at the glass of milk and suddenly felt a surge of irony. He thought of Azhe's empty practice area, his own red wrist, and the online comments about "run away!" His heart felt like it was being gripped by something, aching with suffocation.

This resistance ultimately opened his eyes to reality in the most brutal way possible—in this gilded cage, even his breathing was controlled. It seemed he had no choice but to accept it.