I didn’t think I’d cry over four men singing on a stage in 2025. But I did.

It was July 13 when I saw the clip—an ordinary day, an ordinary scroll. And then, out of nowhere, a not-so-ordinary sight: F4. The F4. Jerry Yan, Vic Zhou, Vanness Wu, and Ken Chu—on one stage again. Singing “Meteor Rain” like the past two decades never happened.

And just like that, I was thirteen again.

The Rush of Coming Home

I used to run home after school just to catch Meteor Garden. That Taiwanese drama was more than just a craze—it was a ritual. It was how we bonded with classmates, whispered about our crushes, doodled hearts around our notebooks with “Dao Ming Si + Me = ❤️” in hidden corners.

Hearing “Meteor Rain” again after all these years was like opening a time capsule sealed in the heart. The lyrics weren’t just lyrics anymore. They were echoes of homework left half-finished, of summer afternoons, of rewound VCDs, and of the feeling that even in fiction, love could be defiant and deep.

The Reunion: Not Just a Performance

Their surprise appearance at Mayday’s concert in Taipei wasn’t just fan service. It was a full-circle moment. A homecoming—not just for them, but for us, their forever fans.

They haven’t performed together like that in 12 years. But on that stage, it was as if time folded neatly into itself. Their harmony, their chemistry, their familiar silhouettes—it felt like watching old friends hug after a long goodbye.

They’re now in their mid-40s. And still, they sang with the same fire that first made our hearts skip. For a few minutes, the world slowed down. The crowd roared. And we—we who had grown up, gotten jobs, crossed oceans, buried pain, and carried dreams—we were kids again. Holding our breath beneath the meteor rain.

What F4 Taught Us—Then and Now

It’s easy to dismiss celebrity reunions as fluff. But this one meant something. Maybe because they were part of our growing up. Maybe because they stayed with us even when we didn’t realize it. Maybe because…

1. They were our first lessons in love and loyalty.
They taught us that even if you don’t come from privilege (hello, Shan Cai), you can stand your ground. That love isn’t always pretty, but it can be brave. That friendship matters, and sometimes, even the meanest boy has a soft heart if you look close enough.

2. They made life feel big, even when ours felt small.
Their world of elite schools, penthouse dramas, and slow-motion kisses gave us room to dream. We watched Meteor Garden not just for the plot—but for the idea that magic could exist in real life. That maybe, one day, we’d find someone who’d fight the world for us.

3. They reminded us: simple days can still be unforgettable.
No smartphones. No endless streaming. Just a TV, a schedule, and a reason to run home. Life was slower, but in many ways, fuller.

Why It Hit Different This Time

Maybe it’s because so much has changed.
Because we’ve lost people. Because we’ve fought silent battles. Because we’ve become adults who forget how to pause.

And then suddenly—F4 sings again.

And it feels like someone lit a lantern inside the memory. A soft voice saying:

“You’re still that kid with wonder in her eyes. You’re still allowed to feel joy like that.”

Closing Thoughts from This Forever Fan

This wasn’t just a performance. It was a portal.

To all those who waited by the TV at 4:30 p.m.
To those who taped posters on their wall, arguing over who was cuter: Dao Ming Si or Hua Ze Lei.
To the versions of us that believed in love because a Taiwanese drama told us it was okay to dream…

This one’s for us.

F4 didn’t just reunite. They reminded us of who we were—before life got too heavy, before the world demanded so much.

So if you’re like me, crying quietly behind your phone screen while listening to Meteor Rain again—know this:

We were part of something beautiful.
And somehow, after all these years, they came back to remind us.