Chapter 2
The video’s popularity quietly spread, and before long, it had climbed into the Top 5 trending topics.
Aside from the exaggerated “Superpowered Young Man Summons Mythical Beasts with His Singing” tag, another trending tag quickly followed—
#Lin Rui is the Superpowered Young Man#
Lin Rui was a rising idol. His acting skills were mediocre, and he wasn’t exactly an A-lister, but he had a great physique and a devoted fanbase that worshipped his looks.
An hour after the blurry viral video hit the trending list, Lin Rui went live as promised, keeping to a previous agreement with his fans. In his livestream, he just so happened to be wearing the exact same outfit as the mysterious young man in the video—cargo pants, a T-shirt, and even a baseball cap.
His voice bore a subtle resemblance to the performer’s, and their builds were similar—both tall and slender, a little over 180 cm (5’11”). With the loose T-shirt and baggy pants obscuring finer details, the differences between them were nearly indistinguishable, especially given the low resolution of the viral video.
As soon as Lin Rui’s livestream started, the chat exploded with comments:
[Rui Rui… this outfit looks kinda familiar ?]
[OMG, did you guys see the trending topic?! After all this time, I had NO idea you were actually a superpowered being!! ?]
[Wait, but… I don’t think the voices match? Lin Rui’s voice is sharper.]
[Not similar? I actually think they sound alike.]
[Rui Rui, what were you doing two hours ago? ???]
Lin Rui looked at the camera and smiled.
“I just arrived in Nan City today. In the afternoon, I wandered around the outskirts for a bit.”
[OMG, it’s confirmed! Rui Rui, you ARE that superpowered young man!]
[My idol is actually a supernatural being?! And he sings so well?! Rui Rui, please release a single, I beg you!]
[Rui Rui, tell us honestly, is that you in the video?]
Lin Rui didn’t answer directly.
No one knew that he had only put on this outfit ten minutes ago. His assistant had scoured the streets, searching for clothes that matched the ones in the viral video, just barely making it back in time for the livestream.
Watching as more and more people in the chat speculated that he was the “street performer”, Lin Rui blinked, raised a finger to his lips, and whispered:
“Shh.”
The chat exploded even more.
[Alright, alright, we won’t say anything]
[Sneaking out behind your manager’s back to perform for love?!! TOO CUTE, how is he this adorable?!]
[Instant fan conversion.]
In just one hour, riding the wave of trending searches and the livestream’s momentum, Lin Rui’s Weibo followers doubled.
*
That day, the sun was blazing. The riverbank had dried up, and even the wind was thick with stifling heat.
It could feel life slipping away bit by bit in that oppressive warmth. Its consciousness blurred—until—
Soft footsteps approached, drawing nearer.
A little boy in overalls, fair-skinned and chubby, had stopped beside it, seemingly drawn in by something. He crouched down and examined it carefully.
A carp, covered in shimmering silver-white scales, beautiful yet struggling, its gills opening and closing weakly as its breath faded.
“This fish is stranded,” the little boy murmured, scooping water onto it with his tiny plastic shovel. “Fang Jianguo, let’s take it back with us.”
“It’s dead,” Fang Jianguo replied absentmindedly, eager to return to his mahjong game. “No way to save it.”
“We can save it,” the little boy said stubbornly, lips pressed into a firm line. “We definitely can.”
With great effort, he lifted the fish and placed it in his little sand bucket, pouring in an entire bottle of mineral water.
On the way home, the boy spoke to the carp in a soft, gentle voice, as if afraid it would feel lonely, as if afraid it wouldn’t hear him, as if afraid it would die in silence.
That clear, pure voice shone through the fading life, anchoring the soul that was about to disperse.
The boy’s voice wasn’t loud, but he repeated himself over and over, stubbornly.
“You have to live.”
“You must live.”
“Because only if you live, you can—”
“…”
The dream ended abruptly.
A pair of pitch-black eyes snapped open.
Ye Yuyuan stared ahead in silence, his gaze as cold and composed as ever—showing no sign that he had just awoken from a long-buried dream.
The Maybach cruised smoothly along the road, the LCD screen inside the car continuously displaying fluctuations in the Hong Kong stock market.
The secretary, unaware that his boss had briefly fallen asleep, continued speaking in a soft yet cautious tone from the front seat:
“The R&D department has submitted its latest results. At the closing ceremony of the Summer Davos Forum, you have a speech. After that, there’s a charity gala. I suggest—”
Ye Yuyuan sat in silence, not uttering a single word from beginning to end. Even his posture remained unchanged—his long, well-defined fingers interlaced in front of him, half-lidded eyes listening with an air of detachment, making it impossible to discern his thoughts.
The secretary observed his expression carefully. Seeing that Ye Yuyuan remained silent, he assumed his boss was displeased and adjusted his tone to be even more cautious.
In reality, Ye Yuyuan was simply…
“Are you distracted?” A voice from his Bluetooth earpiece suddenly asked. “I wouldn’t recommend that. The upcoming closing speech is very important. Perhaps you should review your speech again.”
The AI assistant paused for a moment before continuing:
“You seemed to have fallen asleep just now. Upon waking, I detected an increase in your adrenaline levels and an elevated heart rate—does your dream matter to you? Or rather, does the person in your dream matter to you?”
Ye Yuyuan was silent for a moment.
“No.” His voice was indifferent.
“…But all your physiological data says ‘yes.’ Just now, when I mentioned ‘the person in your dream,’ your heart rate spiked again.” The AI continued.
Ye Yuyuan paused before speaking again, his voice low and deep, carrying the same emotionless detachment as his expression.
“You should learn one thing.”
The AI hesitated. “Hm? Learn what? In fact, as the fourth-generation product of Ptah, my learning ability is extremely advanced—”
“Silence is golden.”
With that, Ye Yuyuan raised a hand, pressed the power button on his Bluetooth earpiece, and switched it to Do Not Disturb mode.
The AI: “…”
*
One hour later, at the Summer Davos Forum closing ceremony.
This year’s opening and closing ceremonies were livestreamed globally, and the qualifications for both attendees and speakers were more stringent than ever.
“It certainly surprised many that this year’s Summer Davos Forum is being held in Nan City,” the official live streamer from Jinjiang Broadcasting had eased into casual conversation with the audience as the ceremony neared its conclusion. “There’s a rumor that it’s because Ptah’s headquarters is in Nan City—yes, the company founded by Mr. Ye Yuyuan.”
At that moment, the camera switched to the stage, instantly stirring up the live chat:
[AAAAHHH LOOK AT MY HUSBAND!]
[Wait, the closing speech is by Ye Yuyuan…?!]
[HOLY—?! International Top 10 billionaire and he’s THIS handsome?! I always thought he’d be some middle-aged bald guy!]
A man stood on stage, clad in a perfectly tailored, high-end suit, buttoned all the way to the top with an air of strict precision. His appearance was almost unreal—too striking, too distant, as if crafted with inhuman perfection.
His nose bridge was sharp, his thin lips elegantly shaped, and his obsidian-black eyes carried a chilling clarity, like cold jade submerged in an icy spring—freezing upon touch.
“The evolution of human-machine interaction will inevitably drive—”
As he began the highly anticipated closing speech, the weight of its significance spoke for itself.
Delivering his entire speech without a script, Ye Yuyuan refrained from using excessive hand gestures or emotional inflections. His deep, magnetic voice was calm and measured—just like the man himself. He had never been a charismatic orator who captivated with words; instead, he was a silent, decisive, and almost cold-blooded decision-maker.
Some were fascinated by him, while others loathed him.
A faint shadow of melancholy rested between his brows, yet under the scrutiny of hundreds of thousands of eyes, there wasn’t a trace of panic in his expression—only an almost detached indifference. It was the aura of someone who had long stood at the top. By this point, he no longer needed to please anyone.
“Oh, for those who might not know,” the host, reading the flood of comments, nodded knowingly. “A few years ago, CEO Ye’s striking looks were often a hot topic—but in recent years, no one really brings it up anymore.”
“He holds too much power now. Something as trivial as appearances… stopped mattering a long time ago.”
[I’m in awe.]
[I’m jealous—he’s richer and more handsome than me.]
[So, Ptah’s rise happened after the launch of the fourth-gen AI, right? Before that… wasn’t Ye Yuyuan constantly called a pretty boy? Lol.]
[Wait—don’t underestimate the young just because they’re struggling!]
[You two up there, wake up. Ye Yuyuan was already a Top 10 billionaire before the fourth-gen AI even launched. ORZ]
The host chuckled mischievously. “Honestly, if Ye Yuyuan hadn’t been chosen for the closing speech today, we might’ve never had the honor of hearing him say this many words in one go.”
Ye Yuyuan’s reluctance to speak was well known in the industry. So much so that only now, as he stood on this grand stage, indifferently looking down at everyone, did people finally realize—
His voice was really, really nice.
As the host and viewers chatted idly, the closing ceremony neared its end.
“In any case, the Summer Davos Forum is also drawing to a successful conclusion. Let us—”
The host’s voice suddenly paused.
Something was off.
“…There are still technological barriers to overcome. Humanity—”
Ye Yuyuan’s voice faltered for a brief few seconds.
His dark, abyss-like eyes seemed to waver—just barely noticeable.
After that brief silence, he resumed seamlessly, as if the pause had never happened, as if it were merely an illusion.
But many had caught it.
[Wait… was there a moment of silence just now?]
[Did he forget his lines? No way, doesn’t Ye Yuyuan have some kind of perfectionist compulsion? He always ensures everything is flawless.]
[It was just a few seconds, don’t overthink it.]
The closing ceremony ended swiftly.
Under tight security, Ye Yuyuan stepped off the stage. Many people approached him to converse and shake hands.
But he remained silent, merely nodding in acknowledgment before leaving the venue.
*
“CEO Ye,” his secretary, Wang Qiang, followed closely behind, speaking in a hushed voice. “Here’s the schedule: Tonight, you’ll need to attend a charity gala, and after that—”
Ye Yuyuan raised a hand, signaling ‘wait.’
He stepped around the corner, leaving all the noise and commotion behind.
Standing there quietly, he reached up and pressed on his miniature Bluetooth earpiece.
From the other end, the AI assistant asked:
“Shall I play it now?”
Ye Yuyuan: “Mm.”
—Ten minutes ago, at the closing ceremony.
Contrary to what many had speculated, those few seconds of silence were not because Ye Yuyuan forgot his speech.
It was because the AI, which had been set to Do Not Disturb mode—only permitted to intervene in emergencies—had spoken to him through his Bluetooth earpiece:
“Critical information detected.”
The critical information was a video.
Ye Yuyuan stood there, silently watching the entire clip.
The footage was taken in the outskirts of Nan City, with a noisy background. A tall, slender boy stood in the middle of a crowd, a small bird perched on his fingertip.
The low resolution made it blurry, and even after the AI processed and enhanced the data, it was far from restoring every fine detail of the person in the video.
As always, Ye Yuyuan’s expression remained calm and indifferent.
Only at the very end, he closed his eyes and let out a long breath.
…His exhale trembled slightly.
Author’s note: The antagonist won’t be jumping around for long! The face-slapping in this story is fast and satisfying, don’t worry!
