Chapter 126: An Ending and a Beginning

At exactly 5:00 PM on July 8th, Beijing time, when the final bell for the English exam rang, Cheng Xiaoyu found it impossible to put his feelings into words.

At this moment, don't ask how the test went, don't talk about when the results would be out, and don't bother comparing answers—all he needed was a hug. Every examinee he knew was embracing one another, celebrating the end of a chapter in their lives. High school was finally coming to a close.

The silence and heavy atmosphere that had followed each exam over the past two days were replaced by boisterous noise and earth-shattering cheers.

In this moment, youth was defined by laughter. Forget the figures hunched over desks buried in mountains of exercises, forget the motivational slogans plastered all over campus, and forget the countdown calendar on the study desk at home that had finally reached its last page.

At this moment, stepping out of the exam hall, life turned a new page.

There is a kind of youth called "Senior Year." That summer, there were no equations we couldn't solve, no vocabulary lists we couldn't memorize, and no poems or prose we couldn't recite. The college entrance exam, or *Gaokao*, represented the peak of your knowledge. Your superhuman ability to solve problems, memorize texts, grasp complex concepts, understand English listening passages, and interpret classical literature—all of it would vanish the moment the exam ended.

That year, we ran toward the future, giving up much, yet gaining much in return. No matter how many years pass, we will never forget the sweat dripping down our cheeks, the pencils clutched in our hands, the scorching sun, and the endless stream of practice problems.

Cheng Xiaoyu walked among the sea of students leaving the exam, surrounded by happy faces.

The *Gaokao* was over; youth had only just begun.

Wang Ou was the first to call Cheng Xiaoyu to ask how he had done. Since neither of them was particularly stressed by exams, they spoke freely. Cheng Xiaoyu had performed well in everything except math, and in any case, his admission to the Shanghai Theatre Academy was a foregone conclusion.

After chatting aimlessly with Wang Ou for a while, they made plans to meet at school the next day. The graduation ceremony was scheduled for tomorrow; it was a long-standing tradition at Fudan High School. Students would not only take group photos, but representatives from each class would also deliver graduation speeches before the entire faculty and student body. The representative for Cheng Xiaoyu’s class was their monitor, Li Liwei. Meanwhile, a representative from the lower grades would offer blessings, and this year, that representative was Su Yuxi.

Shanghai high schools had adopted a custom from Japan: on graduation day, if a girl could obtain the second button from a boy’s uniform, it signified that he was the one she loved.

For boys, the second button of their standing-collar uniform or shirt was considered a token of love. The first button was kept for oneself or a close friend of the same gender, the third for a friend, the fourth for family, and the fifth for acquaintances. If a girl received the fifth button, it meant she had been struck out.

The second button represented true love because it was closest to the heart, symbolizing the boy’s willingness to give his "true heart" to his beloved. Legend has it that this custom originated during World War II, when soldiers, fearing they might never return from the front lines, would leave the second button of their uniforms to their loved ones as a lifelong keepsake.

Cheng Xiaoyu was completely unaware of this custom at Fudan High School. So, when Wang Ou asked to reserve his first button, he found it inexplicable, though he didn't press her for the reason.

After hanging up with Wang Ou, Cheng Xiaoyu called Xia Shama. She told him she had done quite well, which made Cheng Xiaoyu feel relieved and even happier than he was about his own performance. However, she seemed to hesitate as if there was something else she wanted to say, but in the end, it remained unsaid.

When Cheng Xiaoyu asked if something was wrong, she claimed it was nothing, trying to cover it up, and then hung up. Although he found it strange, he didn't pursue it.

That evening, Cheng Xiaoyu returned home and opened the music portal. Since his account had been unblocked, he had been too busy studying to check his homepage.

Upon logging in, he was immediately stunned by the countless messages on his page. The message board could only display 99 pages, with one hundred comments per page, and his was already full, with new ones still flooding in.

He took a quick look; they were all requests to unlock downloads or demands for new updates. The music portal hadn't changed his settings—it remained five yuan per song, with no downloads allowed. His contract stipulated that he had to upload ten to twelve songs to form an album before downloads could be enabled. Furthermore, the contract prohibited him from collaborating with other companies to release records during the term. Of course, it didn't forbid him from writing songs for others.

Cheng Xiaoyu checked the data for his songs: "Sunny Day" and "In the Name of the Father" had each reached over two million streams in just five days, while "Class 2, Grade 3" was slightly lower, with over a million. This made his heart ache a little—over ten million in potential income had just slipped through his fingers.

The enthusiasm of the netizens caught him off guard. He hadn't expected so many people to support him, given the five-yuan fee per stream. In his past life, Jay Chou’s first album release had been a rocky road, so he had been prepared for a lukewarm start. He hadn't anticipated that the portal’s heavy promotion would launch him like a rocket. While these numbers couldn't compare to the tens of millions of streams major stars received, he had to remember that he was a newcomer, and his streams came with a five-yuan price tag.

Cheng Xiaoyu didn't want to miss the chance to promote his "Whisper" account. He updated his profile: "I am the singer 'Duyuan'. If you like my music, follow my Whisper account 'Duyuan'." He included the web address and added, "The release date for my next song will be announced on Whisper. I hope you enjoy my music."

Without reading more of the comments, he closed the music portal. He had no idea what a sensation his music had caused.

The moment the 'Duyuan' account was unblocked, Hao Yifeng had played his three songs on the Guangzhou Music Radio. After "Sunny Day" aired, the station’s hotline was flooded. Many who hadn't caught the introduction were calling to ask who the artist was and what the song was called.

Duyuan’s homepage nearly crashed under the traffic, but fortunately, the music portal had been prepared and had set up a dual-line server for his page.

In reality, the stream counts should have been much higher, but Duyuan’s wealthy fans had seen comments on the page complaining about the high cost. They had set up a "Duyuan Voice Group," where they played his four songs on a 24-hour loop. Although the quality was slightly lower, many less affluent fans chose to join the group to listen. This caused Duyuan to lose a significant portion of official streams, but the portal had no way to stop this sharing model. Besides, these fans meant well; they were promoting him for free out of a deep love for his music.

This led to the birth of numerous "Duyuan Fan Groups." Some groups played only "In the Name of the Father" 24/7, while others played "Sunny Day" and "Class 2, Grade 3" around the clock. This was a unique phenomenon created by Duyuan.

Cheng Xiaoyu knew nothing of this, and perhaps he had little interest in knowing. He planned to start recording the next song he would update on the portal.

Since he didn't need to wake up early the next day, he stayed in his studio until very late.

When he arrived at school the next morning, he saw a red banner fluttering in the wind at the school gate.

It read: "Fudan High School Class of 2010 Graduation Ceremony."