Chapter 111: Behind the Glory-My Little Sister Is an Idol(Zhao Qingshan)

Compared to music critics like Hao Yifeng, the general public might prefer "Sunny Day," but at this moment, Hao Yifeng was deeply conquered by "Class 2, Grade 3."

A brand-new musical form, vast musical content, lofty lyrical themes, and complex background arrangements—these left Hao Yifeng obsessed. He wished he could put the song on repeat ten thousand times, dissecting every note and every sentence. This music was truly the "Poison of Jay," and once ingested, it was impossible to stop.

Hao Yifeng could no longer express his reverence for "Poison of Jay" with mere words. With trembling hands, he clicked on another track, "In the Name of the Father." The very title evoked a sense of supreme transcendence rising from the depths of his heart.

Then, he began his fantastical journey.

The opening Italian prayer by the priest transported Hao Yifeng into a medieval cathedral. A priest, with his back turned, knelt before God, whispering the Bible. The flapping of white doves and the mournful sound of a violin made the scene solemn and grave. Suddenly, the appearance of a coloratura soprano aria layered over the chanting turned the atmosphere eerie and heavy. A sudden scream pierced the silent night sky, and a grand audiovisual feast began.

Hao Yifeng shuddered before this intro, which possessed the texture of an oil-painted opera. Such an opening felt terrifying; this kind of music was called epic.

"Cool morning dew wets the black tuxedo,
Mist clings to the cobblestone road, Father whispers low.
Helpless realization can only be more cruel,
Everything is for the path leading to the sanctuary.
The mist that cannot be blown away hides the intent,
Who paces softly and stops?
Before there is time to cry, the passing bullet steals the warmth.
We are all guilty,
Committing different sins.
I can decide who is right,
And who should sink into slumber.
Arguments cannot resolve,
In the never-ending night,
Shut your mouth.
The only mercy,
Those who block the way are all guilty.
There is no road back even with regret,
Sentenced in the name of the Father.
There are no words for that feeling,
Just like shedding tears while smiling,
Staring into the absolute black.
The tragedy that blocks the spread of tragedy intoxicates me.
Bowing my head to kiss my left hand,
In exchange for the promise of forgiveness.
The old pipe organ in the corner,
Plays the accompaniment, on and on and on.
The black curtain is stirred by the wind,
Sunlight silently pierces through,
Spilling onto the beasts I have tamed.
Silently screaming, silently screaming,
Loneliness begins to ferment,
Laughing at me without end.

Memories gradually burn,
The once-innocent scenes,
Cruelly and tenderly appear.
The time of fragility has arrived,
Let us pray together.
Merciful Father, I have fallen,
Into a kingdom where sin cannot be seen.
Please forgive my arrogance,
No one can speak, no one can say,
It is so hard to bear.
Behind the glory is carved a loneliness.
Closing my eyes, I see again,
The dream of those years.
The sky is a hazy mist,
Father holding my hands,
Walking gently,
Across that quiet cobblestone road in the early morning.
Bowing my head to kiss my left hand,
In exchange for the promise of forgiveness.
The old pipe organ in the corner,
Plays the accompaniment, on and on and on.
The black curtain is stirred by the wind,
Sunlight silently pierces through,
Spilling onto the beasts I have tamed.
Silently screaming, silently screaming,
Loneliness begins to ferment,
Laughing at me without end.

Merciful Father, I have fallen,
Into a kingdom where sin cannot be seen.
Please forgive my arrogance,
Carved with a loneliness.
Merciful Father, I have fallen,
Into a kingdom where sin cannot be seen.
Please forgive my arrogance,
No one can speak, no one can say,
It is so hard to bear.
Behind the glory is carved a loneliness.
I spent the night wiping the mottled family crest,
Only then did I understand the feeling of lonely radiance.
The candlelight flickers unceasingly,
The owl on the window lattice gazes toward the distance.
The long corridor leading to the hall,
Holds the same unspeakable vicissitudes.
No clamor, only silence surrounds,
I slowly fall asleep as the sky just breaks into dawn."

Cheng Xiaoyu’s storytelling voice seemed to be recounting a tale, painting a memory. The sheer visual quality of the music left Hao Yifeng immersed and unable to pull himself away.

After the music finished, Hao Yifeng spoke into the microphone with immense sorrow: "This music is too perfect—so perfect that I worry I will never hear such a great work again. When I heard the intro, I was afraid; I was afraid the author would never be able to write such music again. The four chords that enter the melody at the beginning—the religious sense, the exoticism, and every other feeling of the entire song are all pulled forward by these four chords. I don't know if the listeners noticed, but I watched helplessly as these ghost-like chords knocked me to the ground with an overwhelming momentum. It is simply a stroke of divine inspiration. I won't go into a detailed critique of this song here; in short, it is extremely complex. Religion, fatherly love, one's own original sin—it would take a forty-five-minute lecture to cover it all. Now, please allow me to turn off the broadcast so I can enjoy it in peace for a while. As for the friend who didn't get their song requested, I can only apologize; we’ll make up for it next time. Well, the Spicy Music Hour ends here today. Thank you for your company over the last two hours. Thank you, this night, for letting me encounter my idol, 'Poison of Jay.' Oh! I see a netizen saying he might be named Zhou Jielun and is currently in his third year of high school. That’s what the lyrics suggest, right? It might not be reliable, but I hope to one day pay tribute to him in person. His music will define this era."

After finishing, Hao Yifeng turned off the microphone and the broadcast page, ignoring the explosive message board. He opened the home page of "A's Poison." The bio was empty, save for a tag labeling him a "Free Musician."

Hao Yifeng clicked 'repeat list' and 'auto-charge,' then closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair to listen to these gifts from God.

The traffic on Cheng Xiaoyu’s music page soared. Countless messages demanding the opening of downloads filled the comment section. No one complained about the high price of the previews; everyone felt the price was high, but they could not deny it was worth it. As long as they could download the songs, they felt satisfied. Over a million netizens flooded into Cheng Xiaoyu’s page.

The music website soon detected abnormal data. In the past, such occurrences usually meant someone was boosting play counts, and the site took a very strict stance against such behavior. A music editor clicked into the suddenly viral page of "A's Poison." Seeing the explosive growth in a short time, he didn't investigate carefully. Since he had never heard of "A's Poison," he concluded it was a bot and blocked the account, removing the four songs from the charts.

As a result, those who remained on the page could still listen, but refreshing the page would trigger a "link invalid" error.

Unaware of this, Cheng Xiaoyu was texting Duanmu Linsha. A crescent moon hung obliquely over the gray sky of the capital; the larger the city, the easier it was to feel lonely.

The familiar sound of a text message chimed. The screen flickered, and Cheng Xiaoyu saw a message from Duanmu Linsha: "Brother Xiaoyu, what do you want to do in the future?"

Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, Cheng Xiaoyu held his phone in silence for a long time. Outside, rows of streetlights stretched into the hazy distance. The towering buildings loomed over the living like creators, and cars, like ants, raced through the city's visceral organs to the roar of their engines.

Cheng Xiaoyu raised his phone and replied cautiously: "I want to protect the peace and tranquility of the Earth." In his heart, however, flashed a series of faces, some blurry, some clear. Before the power of the era, the individual was so small. The more precious things are, the more people covet them, but no matter what, he wanted to protect the happiness right before him.

Duanmu Linsha sent a "fighting" emoji.

Cheng Xiaoyu smiled, turned off his phone, and let himself fall onto his bed like a free-falling object. His contacts list had grown significantly compared to the original three people. He was slowly merging into this era, and he was already on the path to creating an era of his own.

Thinking of the vague and unknowable future, Cheng Xiaoyu drifted into a deep sleep, unaware that he was just a single step away from fame.