After a quick shower, Su Wei felt a little more clear-headed. No matter Zhou Xi’s true feelings toward her, one thing was certain: Zhou Xi had been genuinely kind. If others showed her no ill will, Su Wei would never repay kindness with betrayal—that was her personal code. Wrapped in a bath towel, hair bundled up, she leaned against the bed in her room when a sudden urge to sing washed over her.
She opened the app store and downloaded “Qin Ge.” Come to think of it, this was her own company’s app—and she’d never installed it herself. Right now, it ranked third globally, the trending arrow still climbing. Her investment hadn’t gone to waste. Lightweight, it finished downloading in seconds.
Opening the app, the “Qin Ge Grand Prix” logo appeared instantly. The “X” button sat large and clear in the top-right corner—no fake or shrunken traps like other apps. Inside, the interface was blissfully simple: double-tap to like, swipe up or down to navigate. Perfect for the chronically lazy.
She tapped Register, created a random username, pointed the camera out the window, and riding a wave of sentimental feeling, sang softly:
“Are you going to Scarborough Fair
Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.”
She wanted to continue—but the 15-second limit cut her off. The abrupt stop killed her mood. She uploaded it anyway, then tucked the app into a folder full of forgotten apps.
*Knock knock knock…* “Su Wei! What’re you doing? Wanna game with me?”
“Sure!”
Su Wei threw on pajamas, hastily wrapped her damp hair, and dashed out after Zhou Xi.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to ask—it was fear that prying would only deepen the ache. Zhou Xi wasn’t withholding either; some things in life are simply beyond control.
Su Wei had slipped away—but her 15-second clip was about to ignite the internet.
In review, an employee played nine videos at once, audio clashing as he scanned nine tiny grids. This method only caught explicit or dangerous content—not gems. But amid the noise, an ethereal voice pierced his thoughts. He froze. Leaned in. Stopped all nine videos, blinked, clicked through them one by one—until he found it.
“Are you going to Scarborough Fair…”
He didn’t understand the lyrics, but the voice and melody struck his soul. Goosebumps rose—a shiver from deep within.
“What are you doing?!” Li Keqin stormed over, face tight with anger. “The company pays you over six thousand Zhou yuan a month to zone out?!”
“Manager Li…” The reviewer shrank slightly but refused to let the clip vanish. He played it. “Please, listen.”
“Listen to what?!”
The song began. Li Keqin froze. *Beautiful.* Then—*Wait… isn’t that the Chairwoman’s voice?!*
“Open the user profile.”
He complied. Seeing the registered number, Li Keqin’s expression faltered. *Incognito testing?*
“Leave this to me.” She turned and left.
The reviewer scratched his cheek, muttering, “So… approved or not?”
Back in her office, Li Keqin logged into the backend, entered Su Wei’s number—a fresh account appeared. She changed the ID to “1,” pinned the video to the homepage’s prime spot. Visibility jumped from 5% to 100%—every user would see it. Only then did she call Su Wei. But Su Wei’s phone lay forgotten on the bedroom bed. Unreachable.
Still, those two sung lines went supernova. Nearly everyone saw it at once. That haunting voice looped endlessly in their minds. Casual users searched online in vain. Contestants’ eyes burned green. *Is Qin Ge rigging this?!*
Customer service phones exploded. Ninety percent asked: “What’s the song? Where’s the full version? Is this a tease?” Ten percent demanded: “How is everyone seeing this? Blackmail?!”
Prepped by Li Keqin, replies were ready:
To users: “Uploaded by a user—we don’t have more.”
To contestants: “This is User #1, not competing in the Grand Prix. Special placement only.”
(Many apps reserve early IDs—to showcase popularity or gift later.)
Contestants calmed. Users raged. Calls flooded in. Chaos reigned.
Yet the upside surged: Twitter, YouTube—everywhere, the clip flooded feeds. User numbers skyrocketed.
“Manager! Servers are crashing!”
“Manager! Phones won’t stop ringing!”
Li Keqin moved nonstop, receiver glued to her ear. In a quiet corner, Qiao Yu sipped fragrant tea, gently blowing floating leaves aside, watching the frenzy with a soft smile.
“What a blessed problem to have.”
Meanwhile, Su Wei had long shaken off her mood. After hours gaming with Zhou Xi, she returned to her room, spotted Li Keqin’s missed call, and dialed back.
“Hello? What happened?”
“Um… Chairwoman. Did you… upload a video earlier?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Well… it went viral. Dozens of calls per minute begging for the full song. When might you… record it? For the app’s promotion?”
Su Wei fell silent. She settled into the balcony chair, gazing at the sunset melting into the sea. That tender, sentimental ache… quietly resurfaced.
