Rebirth of Chinese Entertainment, the Diary of a 95 Flower

Jiang Yang opened the door and saw Zhao Jinmai outside wearing a light pink cotton short-sleeved pajama set.

The top has several cartoon bunnies printed on it.

My mom bought it; she complains about it but wears it often in private.

The trousers were a little long, bunching up at the ankles.

My hair was half-dry after I washed it and was blow-dried when I came over after video chatting with my mom. I didn't have time to dry it completely.

Her hair was loose and a little frizzy, with damp ends and a few stray strands sticking to her cheeks.

Wearing disposable white slippers from the hotel made my feet look very small.

Standing at just over 1.5 meters tall, she looked like a small animal with its fur standing on end in front of the door, looking up at Jiang Yang, who was more than a head taller than her.

She hugged her waist with her left arm, her fingers unconsciously clutching the hem of her pajamas. The corridor was chilly at night. "Xiao Jiang, say something."

"What?"

When Jiang Yang spoke, Zhao Jinmai was taken aback.

He immediately laughed so hard his nose wrinkled and his shoulders trembled.

Because Jiang Yang said "what?" in a hoarse voice, it sounded like a "quack": "Jiang duck, you've come all the way to Beijing for roasting."

The elevator doors in the corridor opened.

Liu Haochun, who was practicing dance in the dance studio on the first floor, had her hair tied in a high ponytail, with stray hairs stuck to her forehead and temples by sweat.

I've most likely passed the third round of auditions for the Beijing Dance Academy.

Dance training cannot be stopped every day.

She had just finished dance practice and returned to her room with flushed cheeks and beads of sweat still clinging to her nose and chin.

He was wearing a loose black sweat-wicking T-shirt with a slightly crooked neckline and a small sweat stain on his back.

The pants were gray sweatpants, with the cuffs rolled up to reveal the ankles.

The innermost room, covered with a short-pile carpet, is Jiang Yang's room.

Seeing Mai Mai dressed casually and lightly, chatting with Jiang Yang at the room door.

I know they were both very tired from promoting "A Little Reunion" today.

I was just about to go over and say hello.

Hearing Jiang Yang's hoarse voice, "I told you not to sleep here, but you still insisted on sleeping here. Go back to your room."

"I'm all alone in my room, it's so boring!"

"There's nothing fun in my room either."

"Your house is interesting, there are ducks quacking in your house."

Jiang Yang's lips twitched.

If it were his sister, he would have directly pressed Zhao Jinmai's head down and forced her back down.

He put the throat lozenges that Zhao Jinmai had brought him into his mouth.

They devised a solution.

He knows those rebellious kids all too well.

My younger sister is going through a rebellious phase and likes to argue back: "Arguing back, huh, MaiMai?"

“I’ll stick to my guns, so what?” Zhao Jinmai tilted her head back.

"Let's sleep in your room."

"I'm not going, do whatever you want."

"Be good, MaiMai."

"I won't listen to you."

Jiang Yang was convinced. Was there any trick that could make Mai Mai obey instantly?
"MaiMai, do you really have to go against me?"

"I'm going to go against you, you're not happy about it?" Zhao Jinmai stood on tiptoe, trying to make up for the height difference.

The pace of each rebuttal increased.

really.

Jiang Yang knew what was going on.

Zhao Jinmai is currently in a state where she likes to do things against other people's wishes.

He wants Zhao Jinmai to go back to her room, but she refuses.

If he asks Zhao Jinmai to sleep in his room, she will definitely insist on going back to her own room.

They can easily manipulate a little kid, pinching him with their bare hands.

"Then don't go to your room tonight, just sleep in mine." Jiang Yang turned sideways to make way for Zhao Jinmai.

"Go to sleep! All that arguing with you has made me sleepy!"

Done.

Zhao Jinmai walked into Jiang Yang's room with her head held high and her chest puffed out.

He came to the bedside, kicked off his shoes, and deliberately flung them far away.

She got into bed, crawled under the covers, and immediately pulled them over her head, hiding away and giggling.

Finding the light too bright and bothersome, he reached out and snapped the bedside table light off.

In the darkness, I bit the corner of the blanket, afraid that I would laugh out loud.

The room was dark.

Only the light from the corridor shone in. Zhao Jinmai covered her head for a few seconds, then quietly pulled the blanket down to peek out, only to find Jiang Yang still standing at the door. She then pulled the blanket back up to cover herself.

At first, I deliberately breathed loudly and pretended to be angry.

Gradually, the frequency of falling asleep will become gentler.

I'm so sleepy.

Jiang Yang's temples throbbed as he watched this scene.

This little brat doesn't follow the rules.

Liu Haochun was deeply shocked as she watched Jiang Yang close the door and enter the room.

They didn't say a word, nor did they disturb Jiang Yang and Mai Mai.

Pretend not to see it.

She paced nervously around the corridor several times, making sure no one was taking pictures before finally letting out a sigh of relief and returning to her room.

Opening Yang Chaoyue's Weibo account, it was found that his number of followers had risen to 10,000, but the rate of increase had slowed down.

Then open Jiang Yang's Weibo.

The number of followers has risen to 90,000.

The song I released the day before yesterday has over three hundred comments.

The song sung by Jiang Yang was playing.

Go to the bathroom to take a shower.

Back in bed, I looked at the comments section of Jiang Yang's Weibo post.

The newly added comments are mostly positive.

For the past three days, I've checked Jiang Yang's Weibo several times a day.

I specifically looked at the comments on this Weibo post.

Seeing positive reviews makes me smile.

I've listened to this song dozens of times, I can remember the lyrics perfectly, and I can sing it just by humming it. I never get tired of listening to it.

At first, I felt very upset when I saw the negative comments criticizing Jiang Yang.

I'm gradually getting used to it.

Because Jiang Yang didn't take it seriously at all.

I saw another long, negative comment:
[This song has a completely unoriginal melody and overused chords. And yet, someone's praising it as talent? What does this young kid know about life? He should wait a few years to be toughened up by society before writing songs. Coming from a small town in Sichuan or Chongqing, his lyrics are as greasy as hotpot broth—only spicy, no depth. All he talks about is love, the starry sky, and the ocean. People who haven't seen the world are always fantasizing about these things.]
Liu Haochun squinted at the comment.

Even though I've gotten somewhat used to negative comments, I still feel a burning anger inside.

I really want to go through the internet and give the person who posted this nasty comment a piece of my mind.

I feel powerless.

Refreshing the page, I found that someone had replied to this negative comment. It was from a female account, and the reply was:
[Fuck you! I'm from Sichuan and Chongqing, what do you know about music? Do I need you to tell me what kind of music I like?]
Liu Haochun was stunned.

I felt a surge of relief.

He uttered the words he dared not utter, and said the things he dared not say.

Upon opening the other person's Weibo profile, it was discovered that they were a female college student.

The latest Weibo post was made a little over ten days before the Lunar New Year, right after the school winter break started.

The background is a stone tablet at the entrance of Mingdao University in Taiwan.

A pink bicycle was parked nearby, its basket crammed with textbooks and a milk tea cup.

Tilt your head back at a 45-degree angle and place a peace sign on your chin.

Stand with one leg turned inward and the other leg slightly raised on tiptoe.

Thick, straight bangs covered half of one eye, and the ends of her hair were dyed an exaggerated fluorescent pink. She was wearing a pink hoodie.

The photo pose looks familiar; I've seen it many times in Jiangyang's QQ Space updates.

The Weibo post reads:
Some people say I have princess syndrome, but who knows that there are never fairy tales in a princess's castle?
When I was little, I wanted to sunbathe, but my mom said I would get a tan.

I want to get a puppy, but my dad says it's dirty.

Now I buy my own sunshine, and I'm my own knight.
The last Weibo post was made a month ago.

The accompanying picture shows the rooftop of the teaching building at the Affiliated High School of Southwest Jiaotong University.

The railings are covered with graffiti by graduating students.

One line of text was carved by her; it read: "Sisters Forever."

The caption is:
It's been two months since I broke up with my best friend from high school, and I still haven't gotten over it.

She knows my weaknesses and hits them precisely when we argue.

The person who understands me best is now hurting me the most.

She once squatted in a toilet stall and cried with me until dawn, but now she doesn't even reply to my messages.

When I saw that my favorite bubble tea shop had released a new product, my finger automatically tapped my contacts before I realized it.

Wanting to break off the friendship but unable to bear it, tormented by this constant struggle.

Because what you lose is not just friends, but also a part of yourself.

My personality is terrible, and I don't understand social etiquette; it's all my own fault.

From now on, if a friend breaks up with her boyfriend and confides in me about his shortcomings, I'll just listen. I'll never help her criticize her boyfriend again, otherwise, if they get back together, they'll all criticize me too. (End of Chapter)