The night before the college entrance exam results were released, I redeemed my Peking University ad

Beijing, old Western-style houses.

Yan Dahai leaned back in the mahogany chair of the old house, staring at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling, and exhaled a long breath.

I didn't sleep a wink all night.

From the very first song Ji Baifa sang last night, his heart felt like it was being gripped by an invisible hand, tightening and tightening.

The notification sound of each Weibo post was like a death knell, scaring him so much that he almost silenced his phone.

He gritted his teeth and said "The Wind Rises" wasn't good enough.

He forced himself to say that "If Only" was too simplistic.

He insisted that "Why Not?" was too cliché.

He stubbornly insisted that "It's something that appeals to both the refined and the common people" lacked depth.

Four songs, four styles, each one causing a sensation across the internet, each one leaving him with no way to retreat.

His old face was swollen from being slapped, and although he said "it's not up to the Golden Melody Award standard," he knew better than anyone else what was going on.

Any one of these four songs is worthy of being called the best work he ever wrote, or even better.

But he couldn't admit it.

If I admit it, the "hall-of-fame" reputation I've built up over half a lifetime will be shattered, shattered into nothingness.

Fortunately, it got light.

Ji Bai has not released any more songs.

Yan Dahai rubbed his throbbing temples, finally relaxing his nerves which had been tense all night. The cold sweat on his back soaked through his silk pajamas, making them feel cool against his skin.

"Thank God..."

He murmured, his voice terribly hoarse.

It seems this kid's limit is four songs.

Come to think of it, who can write an endless stream of timeless classics?

Four songs are already an incredible feat; there can't be any more.

He picked up the strong tea on the table, which had long since gone cold, and took a sip. The bitterness exploded on his tongue, but he felt reassured.

As long as Ji Bai doesn't release any new songs, he can continue to insist that the song "doesn't meet the Golden Melody Award standards." Once the hype dies down, the matter will be over.

"Young people are still young people; no matter how strong their firepower is, their stamina is limited."

Yan Dahai put down his teacup, and a slight twitch finally appeared at the corners of his tightly pressed lips.

……

Su Wan felt at ease in the private club.

She leaned against the armrest of the velvet sofa, her burgundy silk robe loosely wrapped around her body, revealing a section of her fair and smooth calves.

A slender cigarette was held between her fingers, and wisps of smoke rose, blurring the lingering fear in her eyes.

I almost brought her to orgasm last night.

It's not that kind of climax, it's the kind where your adrenaline surges and your heart feels like it's about to jump out of your chest.

Every time she comes across a new song, her blood pressure spikes.

One song.

Two songs.

Three poems.

Four poems.

That boy's creative ability was like a bottomless pit. For a moment, she even had the illusion that she had not offended a high school student, but a thousand-year-old demon in the guise of a teenager.

Fortunately, there are limits to what young people can achieve.

As dawn broke, Ji Bai quieted down.

Su Wan took a deep drag on her cigarette, exhaled a thin column of smoke from her red lips, and smiled.

"Since you've reached your limit..."

She flicked off her cigarette ash, picked up her phone, and dialed a number.

"Have the trolls intensify their efforts and crush them to death."

"They said his songs were saved up in advance, and now they've all been released at once, so he's out of stock."

"Let him know where my limits are."

……

In the special care ward, Shen Yizhen leaned against the headboard. The gauze on her face had been changed, revealing only her bloodshot eyes.

He didn't sleep a wink last night either.

But unlike Yan Dahai, he was too excited to sleep.

Ji Bai is terrifying.

Four hit songs in one night—is this really something a human being can do?

He even had a thought—he shouldn't have stolen the song and infringed on copyright, and he shouldn't have provoked this monster.

But now, it's dawn.

Ji Bai stopped.

Shen Yizhen stared at her phone screen for a full five minutes, and only after confirming that Ji Bai had not updated his Weibo did she finally feel relieved.

It's good that it's stopped.

If it stops... that's his chance.

He sat up abruptly, wincing in pain as the wound on his face aggravated his pain, but he couldn't care less.

"Sister Nan! Quick! Hint to the fans, let's go!"

……

Online, Blackwater has once again swept across the internet.

The comments section of Ji Bai's Weibo post, filled with music critics' accounts and marketing accounts, was full of the same message, trying to stir up trouble.

"It's gone silent, hasn't it?"

"Is it out of power?"

"Four songs in one night, and that's it? Isn't this just songs they'd prepared in advance and released all at once? Does he really think he can write anytime he wants?"

"Maybe it was just something I wrote casually before, and now I'm just throwing it all out at once. If you really want to create something on the spot, where would you get so much material in reserve?"

"His true colors have been revealed! His genius persona has crumbled, hasn't it? Go ahead and keep writing if you dare!"

"What are you bragging about with your songwriting ability? You churned out four songs in one night, are you out of your mind now?"

"I knew it! Where does an eighteen-year-old student get so much inspiration? These four poems are probably the culmination of years of hard work, and now they've all come out."

"It's not even close to being a Golden Melody! Four songs, or even forty, wouldn't matter; it's just a catchy pop song!"

"No matter how much you write, it doesn't change the fact that the quality is low. Fans, stop bragging, it's embarrassing."

……

Ji Bai's Weibo comment section was flooded again.

Although many bystanders disapproved of the fans' and online trolls' madness, a few voices of righteous indignation appeared sporadically in the comments section:

"That's enough. They've released four great songs in one night, and you're still nitpicking. Is that really necessary?"

"So what if it was written before? Didn't they write it themselves? Is writing more a mistake?"

"Some fans are disgusting. Their idol is in the hospital and they still can't stay quiet and are stirring up trouble."

"I'm just a passerby, but I can't stand these paid trolls anymore, it's too obvious."

How could an unorganized passerby possibly compare to a well-organized online army and brainless fans?

Those who spoke out in defense of justice were immediately drowned out, chased and scolded as "rational and objective", "paid trolls", and "fake bystanders and real bootlickers", and even the spokesperson's homepage was dug up and attacked.

Public opinion shifted back to a negative direction for Ji Bai, with topics such as "his talent has run dry," "he's out of ideas," and "his true colors have been revealed" trending on social media again.

The royalists were so anxious they were stamping their feet, spreading rumors and launching counterattacks everywhere, but they couldn't withstand the overwhelming numbers of the enemy, and all the bullets they fired were drowned out by the sea of ​​people.

And just then...

10:18 AM.

Ji Bai updated his Weibo.

It's the same familiar style, the same familiar taste.

Please enjoy "Boundless Oceans, Vast Skies"!

……

Everyone was stunned.

This is not a short video of singing and playing an instrument recorded with a mobile phone.

The video footage shows a professional recording studio.

The mixing console, soundproofing panels, condenser microphones, and monitor speakers—every detail exudes professionalism.

Ji Bai stood in the center of the recording studio, holding an electric guitar with the cord plugged in, with an array of instruments including drums, bass, and keyboards behind him.

He did the music arrangement all by himself.

He recorded all the instrumental pieces by himself.

He composed the harmonies all by himself.

The video opens with a clear piano prelude, with each note falling like ice water droplets on a stone slab, crisp yet with a touch of chill.

Then, the guitar chords suddenly burst in.

It wasn't the simple accompaniment of an acoustic guitar like last night, but rather a wall of electric guitar sound layers upon layers, with dense and powerful drumbeats, and bass lines like muffled thunder rolling through the chest.

The song's arrangement, starting from the very first measure, completely shattered the criticisms from last night about its "thin arrangement" and "insufficient production."

And the moment he opened his mouth:

"Today, I watch the snow fall in the cold night..."