Chapter 76
December 3rd, 9:00 PM—the peak hour for activity on Weibo.
A trending post was pushed to the homepage, but its content left many people utterly bewildered.
“@StrawberryDaifukuInTheSouth: 5555 I cried so hard, I was sobbing my heart out in the city center. Are there any sisters from Nan City who felt the same?”
Within twenty minutes, the post had gained thousands of shares, likes, and comments.
The replies were practically a massive citywide reunion:
[Same here, wuwuwu, I cried so much my makeup is ruined. Looked at my boyfriend, and he looks like he’s about to cry too.]
[+1. The cool-girl image I’ve maintained for 23 years completely collapsed today.]
[??? What’s going on in Nan City?? Why is everyone crying? Some kind of disaster?? If it were a disaster, would you all still have time to post on Weibo??]
[I know this one!! I was in my evening class at Nanyin University when that song finished playing. Our associate professor stayed silent for a long time, eyes red, and then started analyzing the composition techniques, strengths, and emotional depth of the song…]
[The Silver Birch Awards are a joke. Rigged, for sure. This song shouldn’t just be nominated—it could completely crush the top three.]
*
At the same time.
‘Sharp-Tongued Music Critic Uncle Mango’—Li Mang—refreshed his backend dashboard after posting a negative, agenda-driven Weibo post.
From 8 AM to 6 PM, the EP sales of Abyss Moonlight had been abysmal. He couldn’t be happier. As long as this trend continued, he was safe. He could still—
Then came 8 PM.
Li Mang refreshed the page again and blinked in disbelief.
A minute later, the sales graph remained unchanged—except for the fact that it was skyrocketing at an exponential rate.
Unheard of. Impossible.
His brows furrowed. A terrible suspicion crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. Picking up the phone, he scoffed sarcastically:
“Hello? Did Fang Huai’s team just give up and start botting sales? These numbers are beyond fake.”
“Uh… actually,” the voice on the other end hesitated, “there’s no botting. The data is real… All purchases are verified, with buyers spanning different ages and professions. The patterns don’t match artificial boosting.”
Li Mang: “…”
His hands trembled as he ended the call.
How is this possible?!
Deep down, Li Mang had always known Abyss Moonlight was a great song.
But he had done this kind of smear campaign many times before—it was profitable. And on top of that, he envied Fang Huai.
Back when he was young, Li Mang had been a musician too. But he never found success. Convinced the world had overlooked his talent, he switched careers to become a critic, engaging in underhanded schemes to gain relevance. That was how he rose to fame.
So what made Fang Huai so special?
Fear and frustration gripped him like never before. His entire body shook as he dialed Silver Birch Awards judge Li Guoyang.
But this time—
The ringing went on and on, each tone colder than the last, until finally, a robotic voice cut through the silence:
“Sorry, the number you have dialed is currently switched off.”
Li Mang didn’t know it yet, but in the coming days, multiple lawsuits would be filed against him. The dirty money he had amassed over the years would be forcibly returned. The success and arrogance he had once reveled in would soon turn into unbearable suffering.
He also didn’t know that, in this world, everything comes at a cost.
As the saying goes: Justice may be delayed, but it will never be denied.
*
Meanwhile, Abyss Moonlight’s sales were exploding at an unprecedented rate.
From physical albums to digital downloads, it skyrocketed from the lowest-ranking release of the day to second place—and was on the verge of surpassing the number one spot.
The song’s demo, initially ignored, had surged into the top three on all major streaming platforms within just three hours.
Physical copies were selling out so fast that retailers had to scramble to restock.
Just like that, without warning—Abyss Moonlight became a phenomenon.
The official explanation? None. The whole thing sounded surreal—how had every electronic device in the city suddenly started playing the song?
But in an era of rapid technological advancements, people chalked it up to some kind of experimental tech mishap. No one investigated too deeply.
Of course, as soon as the facts emerged, skeptics started grumbling.
[Let’s be real—if any random song got played citywide like this, it would blow up too.]
But any rational adult could spot the flaw in that logic.
And every single person who had actually listened to the album—knew the truth.
[Are you a grade-schooler? If a song was truly bad, playing it non-stop all over the world would just make people hate it—not rush to buy it.]
[Speaking from experience—I saw Abyss Moonlight’s packaging before. It looked too simple, so I just skimmed a short preview of the intro and wasn’t interested. Then I heard the whole song. And I bought the album immediately. Damn. I almost missed out on a masterpiece.]
[Didn’t some idol rent out giant screens to play her song 24/7 for a whole week? And in the end, it still flopped. By that logic, square-dance music albums should be topping the galaxy’s bestsellers list. ]
[Either it got lucky with exposure, or it was a hidden gem covered in dust all along.]
Of course, haters never listen. They immediately started questioning:
If the song is really that good, why didn’t it even get nominated for the Silver Birch Awards?
[The Silver Birch Awards have never made a mistake in all these years. They’re 100% fair and just. What do you have to say now? Lol, maybe the song just isn’t good, and you can’t accept it.]
[I seriously suspect there’s something wrong with this year’s judging process. Can we get a breakdown of the evaluation criteria, scores, and the full selection process? @SilverBirchAwardsOfficial]
[Was there a mistake in the official announcement?! How does a song of this caliber not even make the shortlist? Do they think the entire world is deaf?!]
The Silver Birch Awards staff were in complete panic mode.
At such a critical moment, their head judge, Li Guoyang, had suddenly become unreachable.
Rumors were spreading that he had been taken in for investigation over bribery and corruption.
The Silver Birch Awards had a century-long reputation, with well-documented rules. Even if the whole world questioned their decision, they had no grounds to change it.
But this year was… different.
Anyone with half a brain could see that Professor Li Guoyang had been bribed.
If this got exposed, it would be a massive scandal.
And this year’s selection process had been unusual in more ways than one.
With no better option, the awards committee could only bite the bullet and issue an official statement:
@SilverBirchAwardsOfficial:
“We have not found any errors in the selection process or public announcements. A re-evaluation is currently in progress. Please wait for further updates.”
Polite wording—but the message was clear:
No mistakes were made. Fang Huai really hadn’t been nominated.
Everyone: “…”
[Corruption confirmed, undeniable proof.]
[The Silver Birch Awards are a joke this year. Nothing worth watching. Let’s move on.]
[#SilverBirchAwardsScandal# I think it’s time we make this trend.]
Normally, in a specialized field like this, public opinion alone doesn’t carry much weight. Sales figures are considered in awards, but they’re never the sole deciding factor.
But this time… things were different.
How should we put it?
At 10 PM that night, Professor Dong from Southern Drama Academy, Professor Zhang from Southern Music Academy, and several other highly respected industry figures—the kind whose mere footstep could shake the entire field—all, one after another, called the Silver Birch Awards’ judging panel.
Their tone was calm, their words subtle.
But they all brought up the issue of “Abyss Moonlight” and inquired about why it wasn’t shortlisted.
The staff: “……”
Professor Dong even had his great-grandson use his personal Weibo account to share the awards’ earlier “no errors found” post.
@Dong Rulan V: “Review carefully. I hope you’ll take this seriously.”
Everyone: “……”
*
One hour later.
The former head judge of the previous Silver Birch Awards, the Chinese-American musician Jester Chen, posted on Weibo, delivering the final verdict.
@Jester.Chen V:
“Apologies for the sudden turn of events. The Silver Birch Awards’ nomination list has been updated as follows. [Image]
The new head judge will be me instead of Mr. Li Guoyang. Haha. Oh, and Mr. Li? He’s been arrested—
No, no, I mean… he’s just been ‘invited for tea’ and is currently having a nice chat with some people. Hope you understand. “
Jester had always been known for his laid-back, unfiltered personality.
By openly admitting the previous process was flawed and that Li Guoyang’s corruption had led to an unjust decision, he defused the situation before it could escalate into a full-blown PR disaster.
The Silver Birch Awards’ official account quickly retweeted his post and issued an official statement.
And in the updated nomination list—Fang Huai’s name was right there.
This marked the first time in Silver Birch Awards history that an official nomination list had ever been changed post-announcement.
To ensure full transparency, the committee also released the judging criteria and scores—
During the re-evaluation, “Abyss Moonlight” scored nearly ten points higher than the second-place contender, securing first place by a landslide.
At that moment, even those who had been skeptical had no choice but to accept it.
Sales for “Abyss Moonlight” continued to skyrocket, quickly reaching the #1 best-selling album of the day—
And at this rate, it was on track to challenge the record set last year by Duan Yang’s album, “Drug.”
*
The train rolled through the city’s firework-lit streets, making its way toward the final stop.
Inside the dimly lit carriage, the passing glow of streetlights flickered in through the windows, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow.
The cold winter air carried the scents of frost and ginger tea, blending into a uniquely seasonal aroma.
Fang Huai’s hand was pressed against Ye Yuyuan’s chest—right over his heart.
His expression was completely blank.
The teenager sat there, dazed, his lips slightly parted, his nose flushed red from the cold wind. His light amber eyes were hazy with disbelief, like someone lost in a dream.
Ye Yuyuan: “……”
The man’s thin lips pressed together.
Even though he had mentally prepared himself, at this moment—
His heart still ached from the overwhelming tension.
The evening breeze drifted in gently, the starry sky dazzling outside the dimly lit train carriage.
Fang Huai’s breathing quickened, and he could clearly feel it—Ye Yuyuan’s heartbeat was racing.
Was he really…?
The wind brushed softly past, yet the temperature inside the carriage kept rising. The air between them felt humid, and a subtle, indistinct tension wrapped around them.
Ye Yuyuan rested one hand on Fang Huai’s shoulder, leaning down slightly. Fang Huai tilted his head up to meet his gaze. Their breaths intertwined, and their noses almost touched.
It smelled faintly like warm milk mixed with the crisp scent of winter cedar.
For a moment, Fang Huai’s heart felt like it couldn’t keep up.
He had a strong, undeniable feeling—They were about to kiss.
Ye Yuyuan’s voice was slightly hoarse, deep and rich like a well-tuned cello, carrying a faint trace of nervousness as it lowly murmured against his ear.
He asked, “…And you?”
It meant—I love you.
And you?
“……”
Fang Huai’s lips parted, his heart beating unbelievably fast. He looked at Ye Yuyuan and, for a split second, almost wanted to ask—
Are you seriously asking me to answer right now, instead of just kissing you?
But before he could respond—before he could kiss him—
Their phones rang.
At the exact same time.
“……”
*
Half an hour later.
“Surprise! Happy Birthday!”
Ye Yuyuan stood frozen, his expression completely blank, staring at the crowd of people in front of him.
Yin Wanyue held up a huge vanilla cake, the frosting piped into the shape of musical notes. Next to her, Feng Lang stood grinning, holding a bouquet in one hand. Lin Huan carried a bag full of gifts.
Meanwhile, Duan Yang leaned against the side, one hand in his pocket, the other playing a little serenade on his harmonica like a show-off.
The videographer, with a camera in hand, recorded everything.
It was today’s plan—a surprise birthday celebration for Fang Huai.
Fang Huai: “……”
*
On the way back.
Yin Wanyue pulled him aside and whispered, “Huaihuai, why do you seem… a little unhappy?”
Fang Huai immediately answered with sincerity, “Not at all. I’m really happy.”
After saying that, he glanced at Ye Yuyuan.
Ye Yuyuan was always the one walking at the very back of the group. At that moment, he lifted his gaze, looking straight at Fang Huai—silent yet gentle.
Fang Huai’s heartbeat sped up again.
He exhaled softly.
The feeling was almost dizzying.
Of course, he was happy—Yin Wanyue and the others had remembered his birthday. He was even so happy he didn’t know what to do with himself.
But…
There was still something on his mind.
So, naturally, he couldn’t fully focus on the celebration.
Online Discussions:
[Wait—it’s his birthday today?! The official accounts didn’t even announce it! I’m crying!! I wanted to do a birthday event for him too!]
[Random passerby—just heard “Abyss Moonlight” playing in Nan City. Came here to check out the genius who wrote this masterpiece. Damn, he’s really good-looking.]
[+1 to staring at the genius. Honestly, I kinda get why the haters exist? If I saw his face first, I wouldn’t believe he could write something that good either. ]
[Oh. My. God!! Did you guys just see Fang Huai and President Ye staring at each other from across the room?! Why did that feel so subtly romantic?! My shipping heart can’t handle this!!]
[..Ma’am, please, your ‘CP filter’ seems permanently attached to your face. Might want to take that off?]
Everyone returned to the signal cabin and began lighting candles to make wishes.
All the lights went out.
Fang Huai stared at the flickering candle flame and thought to himself—
I wish for world peace, for everyone to stay safe and healthy. I hope I can keep writing the songs I love. I hope Fang Jianguo and Lin Shuheng are doing well wherever they are.
And…
I hope I can stay with Ye Yuyuan.
…Cough.
When Fang Huai opened his eyes, he instinctively looked for him—but didn’t see him.
But soon, a hand gently grasped his.
The person beside him remained silent, hesitated for a brief moment, and just as the candle was about to be blown out—interlaced their fingers with his.
“……”
Fang Huai’s heart nearly stopped.
He squeezed the other’s hand back—and blew out the candle.
As soon as the lights turned back on, their hands quietly separated.
The rest of the night was filled with cake, conversations, and games. Fang Huai couldn’t stop overthinking at first. Despite it being winter, he felt way too hot.
It wasn’t until he got absorbed in the games that he finally calmed down.
By 11 PM, the birthday celebration officially ended.
The two of them acted no different than usual, saying their goodbyes before heading back to their rooms separately.
Fang Huai felt like he was floating in a dream.
Their room’s balcony extended out into a spacious platform filled with green plants, bathed in soft moonlight.
Fang Huai sat on a small stool, long legs stretched out, staring into space—and occasionally grinning like an idiot.
It wasn’t until he heard footsteps behind him that he forced himself to calm down.
He met Ye Yuyuan’s gaze for a few seconds.
It was unbearable.
He quickly looked away.
Ye Yuyuan paused for a moment before stepping forward.
Tonight, the moonlight was faint, but the stars shone brilliantly, spreading across the dark winter sky like a glittering river.
“Fang Huai.”
After saying his name, Ye Yuyuan hesitated. Then, he corrected himself—
“…Huaihuai.”
Fang Huai used to dislike hearing his name spoken that way. It felt childish, a little awkward.
But coming from Ye Yuyuan—it felt different.
He was always so aloof, so distant. You’d never expect him to say anyone’s name with such a gentle, lingering tone.
His thin lips parted and closed again, effortlessly sensual.
Fang Huai lifted his gaze to meet his.
Ye Yuyuan stopped in front of him, dark eyes lowered, his lips slightly pressed together.
He still hadn’t heard Fang Huai say it to him directly.
So his heart remained restless.
He had feared it countless times—that maybe, that day, he misheard.
That maybe Fang Huai didn’t actually like him.
That everything was just wishful thinking.
Because Fang Huai was just… too good.
He was terrified of losing him.
The moonlight spread gently at their feet.
“I want…” Ye Yuyuan gazed at him, his voice low. “I want to know what you think.”
Fang Huai didn’t say anything.
Ye Yuyuan watched him, his eyes tender, lowering himself completely.
For a fleeting moment, Fang Huai felt as if he held absolute power over this person. As if Ye Yuyuan had carefully offered up his heart, leaving it entirely in his hands—whether he chose to cherish it or toss it aside like a plaything.
Fang Huai remained silent, his fingers clenching slightly.
Ye Yuyuan continued waiting for his response, his breath restrained. His face stayed composed, but deep inside, he was filled with unease.
Even if Fang Huai were to tell him now that this was all just a joke—that he never expected Ye Yuyuan to take it seriously—he wouldn’t be surprised.
He’d just… feel a little sad. Just a little.
Seconds ticked by.
Fang Huai still hadn’t answered.
In that silence, the barely maintained smile in Ye Yuyuan’s eyes gradually faded.
“…I understand.” His voice was hoarse.
He was about to take a step back, say goodnight, pretend that nothing had happened tonight—so that when they woke up tomorrow, Fang Huai could still treat him as a friend.
And then—at that very moment—
The wind stilled.
Fang Huai took a step forward, stood on his toes, and—clumsily—kissed him.
Good!! The suspense was killing me ?