Chapter 119: The New Wave

Cheng Xiaoyu’s haste to get home had nothing to do with the upcoming college entrance exams; rather, today was the day "Whisper" was officially integrated and launched with the Alumni Registry. Lacking the funds for extensive advertising on other websites, Whisper’s entry into the surging tide of the internet was a quiet, understated affair.

Sitting before his computer, Cheng Xiaoyu opened the green login interface of the Alumni Registry. On the left was a compact box for usernames and passwords, and on the right, a large display featuring a map of China. Users could select their province to proceed to the registration screen.

It had to be said that Wang Dongliang and his team had done solid work. They had not only completely redesigned the login interface but also performed extensive optimizations, making the site load much faster than it had under the management of "Slim Fox."

When taking over the servers, Wang Dongliang had shut them down for three days for a comprehensive maintenance overhaul. Maintaining large-scale servers is tedious, and with the limited staff at Xiyu Company, it was an impossible task to complete alone. Wang had no choice but to pay a premium to hire a few network engineers who worked tirelessly for three days straight to complete the security, hardware, and software maintenance.

Hardware maintenance is just as critical as software, forming the foundation for the server and the entire network environment. Hardware work involves adding or removing components, replacing equipment, dusting, and moisture-proofing. Software maintenance, however, is the most labor-intensive part, covering operating systems, network services, database management, and user data.

While these tasks sound simple, they are anything but—especially the dry, rigorous work of checking event logs, which drained the engineers of their energy.

Naturally, Cheng Xiaoyu could not see the silent efforts behind the scenes. As he entered the internal interface of the Alumni Registry, a video box automatically popped up.

Cheng Xiaoyu clicked play. The screen was filled with the bustling, skyscraper-packed cityscape. The camera angle shifted downward, showcasing busy overpasses, glowing windows of countless homes, and colorful billboards. In the center of it all was the lonely silhouette of a man in a blue shirt riding a bicycle.

A clear voice drifted from the speakers: "Every day, I drift through this city alone. The only connection I have to my hometown is that hot-dry noodle shop in Shanghai."

The advertising firm Wang Dongliang hired was truly impressive; the video had an excellent aesthetic quality. The first half was tinted with a sense of loneliness, while the second half, after the protagonist meets an alumnus through Whisper, shifted to warmer tones.

The cartoon avatars that appeared later were cute, original designs commissioned specifically for Whisper. While Cheng Xiaoyu couldn’t handle the professional technical tasks, he had personally selected each of these avatars, giving the platform a friendly, approachable feel.

The casting choice by the ad agency was equally sharp. They didn’t pick a classically handsome lead, but rather a young man with a scholarly, clean, and refined air. This highly relatable character stood in stark contrast to "Kehan," the trendy and beautiful girl who appeared at the end of the party.

When the camera panned to Kehan, Cheng Xiaoyu froze. The person playing Kehan was none other than Sun Jingyao. When she smiled on screen and delivered the line, "Did you think I was a boy?" Cheng Xiaoyu couldn't help but glance toward the bottom of the screen, lamenting that the director had missed the point—there was no close-up of the key detail.

Sun Jingyao’s acting was surprisingly good. She showed no awkwardness in front of the camera, delivering a natural, authentic performance that radiated a chic yet innocent beauty. She was dressed modestly, avoiding any overtly provocative display, and successfully captured the raw, naive purity of a fresh female college graduate—it was truly captivating.

Cheng Xiaoyu watched the ad until the very end, when the screen faded to black and a line of text was typed out: "A male graduate from Wuhan University: I found a fellow alumnus on Whisper to chat and eat noodles with. Join Whisper and start your own story."

Then, the Whisper logo appeared—a cute dog character—accompanied by the slogan: "A lonely universe; share my world with you. Look closely, and there’s always something new around you."

Cheng Xiaoyu closed the video, feeling quite satisfied. He logged into his own Whisper page, shared the video, tagged a group of Xiyu staff members, and posted his first "Whisper":

"In this bizarre and colorful world, no one can live their life perfectly smoothly. But I have always believed that after walking through misty lakes, rain, and the vast mountains and rivers of time, those who have endured trials and tasted the bitterness of life will only become more vivid and refined. Time is always a bystander; we must bear the journey and the results together. Those with dreams do not take multiple-choice questions; they only solve proofs. Do not worry about whether you will succeed. Since you have chosen the distance, just embrace the wind and rain. Go where you want to go, do what you must do, without hesitation or lingering. 2010, promise yourself, and give a 'like' to all of you."

At this point in time, "chicken soup for the soul" content wasn't yet rampant, so Cheng Xiaoyu’s eloquent, seasoning-rich post was immediately shared by all the Xiyu staff. Not just because it was well-written, but because it was the first post from the Big Boss—a moment truly worth commemorating.

Wang Dongliang called to report on the day’s progress, as was his daily routine. However, today’s call included a grim update: they were running out of money.

Cheng Xiaoyu felt a pang of frustration, recalling that he had just turned down a large sum of income. He had considered focusing on Xiyu first and waiting until they were profitable to pursue his charitable goals, but he couldn't get past his own conscience. He knew the darker side of human nature—once some things start, they are hard to stop.

Cheng Xiaoyu still had 1.3 million on hand and promised to transfer it to the company account the next day. If he didn't insist on changing offices, the money would cover the company’s operations for a year, but he felt an urgent sense of "time waits for no one." If he didn't accelerate the pace, he might miss the first wave of the trend. With his music income gone, he could only bank on Whisper.

He took another casual look at Whisper. There were virtually no users yet, save for the joke archives, "Funny Moments," and the public accounts for women’s fashion magazines, men’s magazines, and major restaurants that the staff had been tasked to populate.

Cheng Xiaoyu closed the browser, feeling the road ahead was still very long, and pushed his financial worries to the back of his mind. He decided to start recording the songs he had recently composed.

He had already recorded "Cute Woman" at Xu Qinning’s insistence and burned it onto a disc, which also included the previously recorded "Our Story."

He made one disc for Su Yuxi and one for Xu Qinning, carefully crafting the covers himself. For Su Yuxi’s cover, he used a close-up photo Wang Ou had sent him, taken with a high-magnification lens. He uploaded it to his computer, applied a blur effect, and replaced half of her face with intricate, complex machinery, leaving only her red lips intact.

For Xu Qinning’s, he zoomed in infinitely on her eye, applied a comic-book filter, and the small cover became a wash of watercolor blue, dominated by one of Xu Qinning’s beautiful, exaggerated eyes.

As for the songs he planned to upload to the music site, he didn't intend to tell anyone. That was his own little territory, a place for a touch of romantic nostalgia.

It was a projection of his other world—A’s Poison. Call him A, call him Poison.

But he could not be called Cheng Xiaoyu.