The next morning, Xie Lan washed up sleepily, only to find Dou Sheng wasn’t in the room.

Voices of Dou Sheng and Little Ma drifted up from downstairs. Xie Lan went down and asked, “Is your stomach better?”

Dou Sheng gave a hum. “Much better.”

Little Ma greeted him enthusiastically. “Director Zhao left for her flight just past 5 AM. I’m here to deliver breakfast. You two eat quickly and go to school.”

Xie Lan nodded and said good morning, sitting down to take a slice of bread.

Little Ma turned to pour juice. Dou Sheng suddenly said, “Bilibili… seems to have some drama.”

Xie Lan didn’t react immediately. “What drama?”

“Arrangement.” Dou Sheng hesitated. “The personal work you submitted to Youth on Strings seems a bit similar to an original piece by SilentWaves on YouTube.”

“Hmm?”

Xie Lan was stunned, then immediately opened the Bilibili app.

Under his latest post announcing the opening of his Weibo account, some strange voices had indeed appeared in the top comments.

• Not going to explain the plagiarism?
• Lan-zai, come out and explain.
• This seems pretty big… there are already six posts about it in a certain group this morning.
• That music sheet evidence is solid.
• Lan-zai, look at these posts quickly: #weblink#
• Crying. If there’s a misunderstanding, explain it ASAP. Mama is afraid your feathers will get dirty.

Xie Lan frowned and clicked the link.

[Exposing a Certain Parachuted Big Shot in the Bilibili Music Section, I’d Call Him a Clone of God S from YouTube]

What did that mean?

Xie Lan frowned. “Uh… this verb, why ‘strip’ (pa) me?”

(Note: “Pa” can mean strip/peel or dig up/expose.)

Dou Sheng paused, then quickly said, “Oh, this ‘pa’ doesn’t mean physically stripping you, it means ‘skinning’ (exposing).”

Xie Lan was even more shocked. “Huh?”

Dou Sheng scratched his hair helplessly. “Sigh, my brain is a bit numb. ‘Skinning’ is also a specific term, roughly meaning revealing unknown secrets.”

“Oh.” Xie Lan breathed a sigh of relief.

Scared him to death.

The main text of the post consisted of large blocks of written arguments and comparisons of music scores, interspersed with a lot of “slang” Xie Lan couldn’t understand. A quick glance showed four or five thousand words. Xie Lan followed his exam reading comprehension strategy, attempted to read for five minutes, didn’t understand, and decisively gave up.

He clicked directly on the first comparison image of the music scores, then scrolled right to view them one by one.

After seeing a few, he understood.

These were several pieces of evidence claiming he “plagiarized” his other account’s arrangements.

This person was very professional, actually able to transcribe his music scores. They had invested some time and effort. The first few images were all adapted scores of anime OP covers. Since both he and the YouTube account were doing derivative works, there wasn’t much to say; posting them was probably just to make the lineup look impressive. Xie Lan skipped past them, scrolling all the way to the end, where his fingertips paused.

The last one was the personal original demo posted on the Youth on Strings voting page.

The comparison image was an original piece he had played on YouTube, untitled, just numbered 048.

Xie Lan clicked on the text above that image.

[All of a certain person’s works have a weirdly similar style to SilentWaves (hereinafter referred to as God S). The logic of building up to the climax, the rhythm of emotional progression, several “Bilibili-famous” bowing techniques, and the way of cutting in and fading out. But these are intangible things. The most damning evidence is this part. The two measures paving the way before entering the main melody are at least 80% similar to the two measures before entering the climax in God S’s 048. If you compare the songs above, you’ll find these chords are God S’s most commonly used padding notes, and they are also used multiple times by a certain person. Anyone who has studied music knows at a glance that this arrangement is very unique, not some common sampling.

Finally, I want to say, I’m not sure if this constitutes plagiarism on a professional level, but Xie Lan’s behavior is really disgusting (ex). Is he bullying the majority of people for being too lazy to jump the firewall and suffering from information isolation? Does this kind of person deserve to be a so-called “heaven-sent top UP”? Can’t understand.]

Xie Lan was shocked.

He switched back to the images made by that person.

It was true.

Every time it involved transitioning from allegro to adagio melody, he would use these few chords to bridge it. He was used to it and hadn’t even realized it himself.

He clicked his tongue, frowned, and looked at that paragraph again. “What does ‘ex’ mean?”

Dou Sheng paused. “Anyway, it’s insulting you. No need to understand it too clearly.”

“Oh.”

Xie Lan sighed, switched back to Bilibili, and replied under the top comment asking for an explanation.

“No plagiarism. You can check the standards for music plagiarism. Don’t be led astray.”

The industry standard for judging plagiarism is eight measures. Sometimes four measures with excessively high melodic similarity will also be judged. But his two measures weren’t identical, and they weren’t the melody, just padding notes. Professionals would understand.

“This should be enough, right?” Xie Lan took a bite of bread.

He was still very sleepy, planning to catch up on sleep in the car.

Dou Sheng looked carefully at the comments under that post for a while, hesitated, and then said, “Hope so.”

However, things didn’t go as hoped.

Chemistry and biology had been covering difficult material these past two days, plus he was preparing for the weekly Chinese test. The academic intensity was a bit high, so Xie Lan hadn’t had time to go online. When he got home after school on Thursday, he received contact from the Youth on Strings official staff somewhat abruptly.

“We had someone analyze and compare that DEMO. It doesn’t constitute plagiarism, but public opinion is quite strong and will affect your results. We suggest dealing with it.”

“We will also post an announcement on the webpage /handshake”

Xie Lan was stunned for a while before realizing what they were talking about. He casually opened Weibo and found that the comments under his recent posts had exploded.

• Hiding and not responding after plagiarizing God S?
• Do you think that one sentence of explanation is useful?
• Does not constituting plagiarism mean you can deny excessive “borrowing”?
• I really liked your style, but I didn’t expect you took someone else’s style. Goodbye.
• Every day I open the updates to say good morning to Lan-zai. Really speechless. Lan-zai is preparing an explanation, can’t you give him some time?
• Do you live at his house? How do you know he’s preparing an explanation instead of preparing to run away?
• Second Cat, give us an explanation. If you really did wrong, apologize. Bean fans don’t feel good seeing this either.

Xie Lan frowned and scrolled through the condemnations for a long time, then went to check Dou Sheng’s side.

Dou Sheng’s recent posts were also being questioned. Although the voices weren’t as numerous as on his side, they were still somewhat of an eyesore.

This matter was just speechless.

Arrangement plagiarism obviously didn’t stand. As for the so-called style similarity—Xie Lan was very certain that all the tracks labeled “original” he had displayed after returning to China had been de-stylized as much as possible. The YouTube period was a low point in his life. He wanted a brand new start, and he wasn’t willing to inherit certain styles at all.

This kind of boring mud-slinging, anyone with a little knowledge of the industry would scoff at it. He didn’t even know what to explain. Was he supposed to analyze with everyone what counts as style imitation?

Dou Sheng came over and sighed. “Chinese weekly test is coming up. I was afraid you’d be upset, so I didn’t tell you. I’ve already communicated with the anime side. They will post the professional appraisal results on the voting page later. This time it’s obviously someone hiring water armies (paid trolls) to stir up rhythm. There’s no other way but to wait for the onlookers to figure it out and calm down. I’ll also ask a few friends to post some professional analysis. It’s useless if you say it yourself; a third-party tone is easier to believe.”

Xie Lan gave a hum.

The DMs were all curses. At this point, it did affect his mood a bit, so he couldn’t be bothered to look anymore.

“Can we know who is stirring up the rhythm?”

Dou Sheng shook his head. “From the perspective of interest, it could be Ah Ze, or maybe you squeezed Ah Ze in commercial resources, Ah Ze lowered his price and squeezed down, pressing other UPs. I’m having someone help me check. Let’s wait for the results.”

Xie Lan sighed. “That’s the only way.”

Dou Sheng came over and squeezed his hand. “I think you shouldn’t think too much either. Once the announcement is posted, the situation will slowly reverse. Finish tomorrow’s Chinese weekly test first.”

“Mm.”

Fortunately, Xie Lan did okay on the Chinese weekly test. After the exam, he went directly to Old Qin’s office to check the answers. The composition was graded on the spot, and Old Qin roughly estimated he could get around 75.

Xie Lan’s mood improved slightly. When he got home after school, sure enough, there were some voices helping to explain online. The matter seemed to be gradually ending. It was just a pity that he had fallen behind Jiada quite a bit in the webpage voting these past two days, probably affected by this. But since things had come to this, he hadn’t held much hope for the main arranger position anyway.

By Friday night, the storm was about to pass. He felt a bit more relaxed, so he and Dou Sheng took a set of high-definition photos of Wutong (the cat) and posted a nine-grid on Weibo.

During the provincial training on Saturday, halfway through the noon class, Che Ziming suddenly turned around and said, “Lan-ah, your matter doesn’t seem to be over yet.”

“Hmm?” Xie Lan was stunned.

Che Ziming’s phone screen showed Ah Ze’s Weibo. He whispered, “Take another look.”

Overnight, the rhythm that had just started to subside rose again.

This time the opponent changed their grip, shifting from attacking music plagiarism to attacking this style of knowing industry rules well and “imitating” by skirting the edge.

This post was much shorter, the text very powerful. A master at stirring rhythm. Even Xie Lan felt it made sense after reading it once.

It made a lot of sense.

But the problem was that this post slapped a lot of unwarranted labels on him.

Dou Sheng frowned tightly. “This person is dead set on screwing you. Even if there’s no solid hammer (proof), they can shake a large group of your audience. Passersby won’t delve into the truth; they only look at the rhythm. They believe whatever is stimulating. Can’t be helped.”

Xie Lan gave a hum, remembering Che Ziming’s phone screen just now.

“Did Ah Ze come out to take the lead in talking about me?” he asked casually.

Dou Sheng paused. “No… he didn’t…”

Xie Lan had already opened Ah Ze’s homepage.

@ViolinAhZeJun: It’s one thing to follow the crowd and stir up rhythm everywhere, but coming to my place to babble is another. Are you sick? One by one running over to ask me what I think. Let me tell you, I have three words: Does Not Constitute! God S has no presence in the domestic public eye, but now suddenly everyone is an old fan of S. Let me tell you, scroll through my career and see how many tribute videos to S I’ve made. Don’t come at me with your ‘hearing-based plagiarism detection.’ The professional appraisal result is right there. What is there to be stubborn about? Xie Lan is awesome, and that’s it. Is it so hard to admit someone is awesome? Can’t hammer him for plagiarism, so you hammer him for style imitation. I beg my audience lords—I won’t talk about passersby—how many times have I popularized these basic common senses? If bowing techniques count as imitation, if the arrangement structure of ebb and flow counts as imitation, if being fiery and sad can fcking count as imitation, then the whole world only has two or three grandmasters. None of you should be fans of anyone, and don’t follow me anymore! Also, I am very irritable right now. You’d better not fcking confront me in the comments, or you are imitating me!!

Xie Lan: “?”

He was greatly shocked. “Is my Chinese comprehension wrong again…… Why did this person change his face?”

Dou Sheng was obviously also quite frightened. He read it over and over several times, unsure. “Maybe… he refined his Sichuan Opera Face-Changing skills.”

Xie Lan was astonished. “What mysterious oriental magic is that?”

Confusion accompanied Xie Lan all day, even exceeding the shock brought by the overwhelming trolls.

The most confusing part was that Ah Ze seemed to be wound up by magic clockwork. He actually flamed netizens for 800 floors in the comment section, fighting from noon until night. Even after Xie Lan finished class and went home, he was still passionately outputting. The persona of the elegant violin prince “Violin” shattered, earning him the nickname “Keyboardist Ah Ze.”

Not just argumentative passersby; clicking into the Weibo IDs, several of his senior fans—the kind with “AZ” suffixes in their IDs—were also directly retorted by him.

It wasn’t just Xie Lan and Dou Sheng who were confused, but also Ah Ze’s millions of fans.

• Ze-ah, blink if you’ve been kidnapped.
• Oh my god, did Xie Lan hack his account?
• Possible… look at how Xie Lan has been silent for so many days, maybe he went to learn computer technology…
• I don’t want to discuss Xie Lan’s situation now. I just want to take Ah Ze to check his brain. I’m really a bit worried…
• Worried too… Ah Ze, how about starting a stream? I want to see you, make sure you’re safe…
• Whispering, our side lost face pretty bad in the last battle. Did Ah Ze get that Alzheimer’s Syndrome?
• Upstairs, did you mean Stockholm Syndrome?
• Alzheimer’s is senile dementia, Stockholm is falling in love with the abuser or criminal… please sort out your thoughts, uh.

Xie Lan scrolled down, confused all the way. The more he scrolled, the more confused he got.

Tonight was the game stress-relief session Dou Sheng had agreed upon with fans long ago. It was considered his monthly routine as a UP: playing an old game casually and chatting with the bullet comments.

After getting home, Dou Sheng warmed up a bowl of porridge from the fridge, slurped it down, then took a stomach pill.

Xie Lan said worriedly, “Go to the hospital to check?”

Dou Sheng waved his hand. “Doesn’t hurt right now. Didn’t take it the last two days, afraid of relapse, just consolidating.”

Xie Lan breathed a sigh of relief. “Then you stream. I’ll go back to my room to write the competition paper. Call me if you feel bad.”

Dou Sheng hummed.

Xie Lan walked up the stairs with his bag. Dou Sheng called from behind him again, “Xie Lan.”

Xie Lan looked back. Dou Sheng chased after him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Dou Sheng paused, asking in a low voice, “Just wanted to confirm, are you sure you won’t respond?”

Xie Lan thought for a moment. “Style plagiarism is really impossible to explain. Even if asked to explain in English, I wouldn’t know what to say. It’s too fabricated out of nothing. Since it’s come to this, let’s wait for everyone to calm down.”

Dou Sheng said, “But your popularity will be affected. Not to mention anything far off, you can completely forget about the main arranger position for Youth on Strings this time.”

Xie Lan sighed. “Let it be.”

He really wanted this opportunity, but even without this incident, he probably wouldn’t have beaten Jiada anyway.

If he couldn’t win, he’d continue to work hard. He was indeed interested in arrangement, and spending some energy outside of class to supplement some professional foundations wasn’t bad.

Xie Lan continued upstairs. Dou Sheng didn’t follow. When Xie Lan reached the top of the stairs, he turned back and hissed, “Do you think Ah Ze is an enemy or a friend? I really thought he was harming me before, but he spoke up for me very genuinely today.”

Dou Sheng fell into a subtle silence hearing this. “If he’s stirring things up behind the scenes, staying silent would be fine. No need to come out and act. Cursing at his own fans like that is truly brain-dead… I’m even worried he’ll lose more followers than you this time.”

Xie Lan gave a hum.

“When was the last time you dealt with him?” Dou Sheng asked again.

“Just that last livestream.”

Xie Lan’s last impression of Ah Ze was that battle stream. After he finished playing all the pieces, Ah Ze only left a “Learned a lot” and left, then deleted the previous sarcastic posts and never caused trouble again.

After that, Xie Lan’s video popularity exploded several times, each time suppressing Ah Ze’s updates, crushing Ah Ze completely, but Ah Ze didn’t make a sound.

Including business deals, MR.X secretly mentioned that Ah Ze’s offline quote had been adjusted down a bit. The ranking among top UP hosts in the same section was very important to brands.

Actually, Xie Lan exposed quite a lot in that battle. He had a vague guess that maybe Ah Ze saw something in that livestream.

Of course, he couldn’t rule out it being a flashy maneuver after playing dirty. He had crossed swords with many big bloggers on YouTube. Human hearts are complex, especially for those at the very top of the industry; everyone is multifaceted.

“Don’t think so much about it. I asked a friend to help me investigate,” Dou Sheng said soothingly. “The smear campaign is too obvious this time; we’ll find out sooner or later.”

Xie Lan nodded.

“Dou Sheng.”

“Hmm?”

Xie Lan hesitated. “Didn’t you ever suspect?”

“Suspect what?” Dou Sheng was slightly stunned. “Suspect you?”

Xie Lan nodded.

“No, never.”

Dou Sheng’s gaze was frank, yet somewhat gentle. He hesitated to speak several times, finally whispering, “I think Ah Ze might know something.”

Xie Lan: “Hmm?”

Dou Sheng didn’t explain this sentence, just went upstairs to his room, turning on his computer while saying, “But it doesn’t matter. I understand what kind of person you are better than anyone else, whether in the past or now.”

Back in his room, Xie Lan was still a bit dazed.

Lingering repeatedly in his mind was that sentence Dou Sheng just said.

I understand what kind of person you are better than anyone else.

Whether in the past or now.

Many absurd thoughts flashed through his mind. Listening to the game sounds from next door, after a long time, he clicked open Dou Sheng’s Weibo.

Dou Sheng was a chatty person online. Weather, mood, snacks at hand, newly bought lenses, good songs heard recently, Wutong didn’t bury its poop today… he would post about big and small things on Weibo to chatter with everyone.

Xie Lan hesitated for a moment, then typed “Paganini” in the search box on his homepage.

System prompt: [No Weibo found matching the conditions]

Couldn’t find it.

Such an admired violinist, yet he never mentioned him?

Xie Lan’s heart trembled. His finger paused on the input box. After a long time, he typed again.

SilentWaves

[No Weibo found matching the conditions]

None.

The moment he was hit by disappointment, Xie Lan realized what his heart was actually expecting.

He zoned out at that bean avatar for a while. When he came back to his senses, he suddenly remembered that there seemed to be only game sounds from next door; Dou Sheng hadn’t spoken much.

He put on his headphones and clicked into Dou Sheng’s livestream room.

The big screen showed the game interface. Dou Sheng’s avatar was in a small box in the bottom right corner, wearing headphones, staring at the screen playing the game.

Unlike his usual livestreams, his brows were slightly furrowed, and his expression was somewhat cold.

Today’s bullet comment style was not quite the same as usual.

Although most were still chatting about the game or joking around, some stinging words were always mixed in.

• Not going to explain Xie Lan’s matter?
• Is Xie Lan there? Is Xie Lan there? Is Xie Lan there?
• Has Bean heard of SilentWaves?
• That arrangement is indeed similar, especially the two segments accused of plagiarism.
• It’s two measures, not two segments… You guys are really enough, it’s been clarified.
• Doesn’t constitute plagiarism, but imitation is there, right?
• Did you know about Xie Lan imitating?
• Reported the ones above. This is Bean’s livestream room.
• Watch if you love to, get lost if you don’t. Why bring your damn rhythm here?
• But Bean and Xie Lan are bound together now. Can’t people even ask?

The situation wasn’t right. At first, the number of questioning comments wasn’t large, but after the two sides started arguing, the comments surged. No one was watching the game anymore; all the comments were fighting.

Dou Sheng’s frown deepened. A moment later, he spoke a few sentences of commentary on the game, but still, no one paid attention.

Xie Lan couldn’t sit still.

He wasn’t a newcomer to self-media in the true sense. He knew very well that this kind of peer competition attracting disaster was inevitable. Although annoying, his mindset was relatively peaceful. Compared to admitting his identity on the foreign network and being bound to the past, he preferred to let everyone discuss for a while.

But the premise was that all losses stopped with him.

He couldn’t watch Dou Sheng be disturbed because of him.

Just as he was about to get up to clarify things, a clatter suddenly came from his headphones.

Dou Sheng slammed the mouse onto the desk, his expression grim. With this throw of the mouse, the Japanese samurai he controlled kicked out a beautiful combo in the air. Special effects trembled, and the samurai slashed down at the villain’s face, landing a critical hit.

• Why make such a loud noise?
• Is the streamer venting with the mouse? Smashing it for us to hear?
• Are you guys sick? It was to hit that combo just now.
• I give up, is this your first time watching Bean’s stream??
• Why are there so many haters tonight? So annoying.
• I’m not a hater, I’m a fan, and I also think he’s angry.

Dou Sheng glanced at the bullet comments and closed the game expressionlessly.

After a long time, he said coldly, “I am angry.”

The headphones fell into a hollow silence, quiet enough to hear the faint electric current.

Dou Sheng looked at the bullet comments, his black eyes revealing a distance that felt unfamiliar, and masking a trace of disappointment.

Xie Lan had never seen him look at the comments with such eyes, as if staring at those fans through the screen.

After a long time, he raised his hand, seeming to aim for his stomach area, but lowered it mid-air.

He whispered, “Today is my livestream, the happy game session at the end of every month. Just me and you guys. Our reserved program, it hasn’t changed whether Xie Lan comes to my house or not.”

“Setting aside other things, the most basic speech norms must be observed, right? I said at the start that only I am streaming today, only playing games, not mentioning anything else. Yet you still ask, still tear each other apart. Looking to get scolded?”

His voice in the headphones was very low, but the low magnetism carried an unquestionable aura.

He seemed a bit agitated, moved, and reached out again wanting to cover his stomach, but changed direction midway and just took a sip of water.

It took a long time before he spoke again, saying lightly, “I don’t want to argue with the chat. I’m an old UP; I know very well when to speak up and when to play dead.”

“But look, the popularity count today isn’t much higher than usual. What does this show? The haters or so-called passersby pouring in don’t account for much. Even among those scolding me just now were old fans, wearing badges. I’m not blind. The incident happened suddenly; you have doubts, you have anger, I can understand. But again, plagiarism is not a fact. Style imitation is even more vacuous. The reason for the illusion of style imitation is that 80% of the examples in the post are anime OP covers. Xie Lan was modifying based on S; of course, there are similarities.”

The comments started arguing again, this time about the definition of style imitation.

“If it offends some people’s moral cleanliness, then unfollow me. I have nothing to say. If you are new fans, have a good journey. If you are old fans, fate isn’t enough; I’m very sorry.”

Dou Sheng looked away again, paused, and opened the game folder, seeming to want to pick another game.

His expression was calm as usual, but those black eyes were somewhat unfocused. He stared blankly at a spot on the screen for a good while before gathering some spirit to continue picking a game.

What Dou Sheng cared about most was his fans.

Xie Lan remembered very clearly that from when they weren’t very familiar, Dou Sheng had mentioned his fans many times.

He said this group of people loved to talk trash, loved to stir things up, had no shame, listened to nothing, and owed fees on their IQs one by one.

But he also said his fans were like him, the group of people on the internet who cared the least. Very tolerant, very casual. They could generate their own rhythm, but never followed the herd.

After picking for a long time, Dou Sheng actually clicked on a greasy merchant icon with a chubby face.

“Stomach hurts a bit. Not playing action games anymore. Playing two rounds of ‘Fight the Landlord’ then ending the stream.”

• Better to end the stream now.
• End stream and take medicine. Is your stomach hurting? Don’t lower yourself to the chat’s level.
• The mindless sprayers really aren’t fans.
• Whether one is a fan isn’t judged by how long they followed.
• Can you stop whitewashing? One plagiarizes, one covers up. Isn’t that solid enough proof?
• I think you’re getting carried away. Calm down and think, how long have you known Xie Lan?
• Not spraying or hating, just caring for you. Hope you cherish your reputation. Don’t give your heart to someone you’ve only known for a few days.

Dou Sheng suddenly frowned.

He tapped casually on the cards, playing four twos, with a six and a seven.

The game’s default voice suddenly came from the speakers: “How do you play cards? Do you know how to play?”

Frowning, he pulled the speaker cable directly, paused, and turned off the bullet comments on his screen.

“Ending stream.” This time he really put his hand on his stomach.

Mouse hovering over the button to close the stream, he paused again.

His eyes flickered, brows furrowed several times, then relaxed somewhat weakly.

After a long time, he whispered, “Thank you all for your concern. I was in a bad mood just now, and my words were harsh.”

“Those who want to stay can stay; I won’t stop those who want to leave. My stance will not change. I knew Xie Lan far earlier than you imagine. I know what kind of person he is.”

As soon as his voice fell, the stream interface went black.

[Streamer is pondering life, go check out others first]

Xie Lan really felt heartache and discomfort at this moment, but amidst the discomfort, that faint sentence just now lingered in his mind.

I knew Xie Lan far earlier than you imagine.

What exactly did that mean?

Xie Lan stood up abruptly.

He didn’t want to wait anymore, nor did he want to guess anymore.

Xie Lan went downstairs and heated a cup of cocoa milk in a small pot, taking it to Dou Sheng’s room.

The door was ajar. He knocked and pushed it open. Dou Sheng had recovered his calm. The computer screen showed a notification that a post had been sent successfully.

“What did you post?” Xie Lan asked casually.

@Ren Jian Jue Shuai Dou (Devastatingly Handsome Dou): I respect Xie Lan, and I also implore everyone to respect the facts. Don’t be swept away by rhythm and emotions. Almost three years. Stay or leave, take care of yourselves.

Xie Lan finished reading this post. There were already over a hundred comments underneath.

The top one read: Respect Bean.

The replies below were almost identical, occasionally interspersed with a few doubts from haters, but quickly washed away.

Dou Sheng sighed lightly, sounding a bit helpless. “The comments were led astray. The post comments are much better. There are also low-IQ children among my fans; takes time for them to find their brains back.”

Xie Lan gave a hum. “Delete it.”

“Hmm?” Dou Sheng looked over in surprise. “Delete it?”

“Mm.”

Xie Lan pulled a chair and sat beside him, lowering his head to quickly post a status update on his phone.

@Xie Lan_em: Will post a video clarification tomorrow. Preparing now.

“You’re posting a video?” Dou Sheng paused, then frowned helplessly. “A bit rash. Leaving this kind of video always looks bad.”

Xie Lan looked at him for a while and whispered, “Not using this account to post.”

The room was subtly quiet for a while.

Xie Lan gazed at Dou Sheng, watching surprise flash through Dou Sheng’s eyes, followed by a long tranquility. His eyes moved slightly, carrying some sentiments Xie Lan might not have known about.

In a trance, he suddenly remembered a long time ago, the day he was coaxed into playing HBlood on the livestream for the first time. Dou Sheng stood at the door looking at him with this exact same look.

After a long time, Dou Sheng raised the corners of his lips faintly and hummed. “I respect all your decisions.”

“But…” He paused and added, “I don’t hope you compromise because of me. Protecting one’s own boyfriend, sharing and bearing some things, is only right and proper.”

Hearing this, Xie Lan lowered his eyes and smiled. “Then I say the same. Protecting my own boyfriend is also my duty.”

“You’ve seen my videos, right.” Xie Lan’s voice was very light, but his tone was very certain.

Dou Sheng didn’t speak. A moment later, his fingers resting on his leg moved, finding the mouse again and clicking open a Twitter page.

The avatar in the top right corner was a small phoenix tree leaf. ID: QZFXR.

Xie Lan stared at that account in a daze for a long time.

He thought he had guessed the truth, but he didn’t expect the truth to be even gentler than his expectations.

Dou Sheng suddenly smiled. “Did you never suspect this account?”

Xie Lan was dazed. “No…”

“I gave you so many hints. Raised two cats, one catching bugs for the other and stuff…” As Dou Sheng spoke, he casually typed the letters of his name on the keyboard. “One look and I know you haven’t memorized the ‘Seven Steps Verse’. Boiling beans to make soup, filtering pulse to make juice. The stalks burn under the cauldron, the beans weep in the cauldron. If you input these letters, you could have guessed it was me.”

Entering the five characters QZFXR, the computer auto-completed: Qi Zai Fu Xia Ran (The stalks burn under the cauldron).

Dou Sheng let out a long sigh of relief. “The name is a bit chunibyo (adolescent delusions of grandeur), so I used the previous line. But when I chose this broken name, I was really sad. Just after my dad died, I was a tragic bean frying in a cauldron of oil, crying woo woo woo.”

He spoke lightly, with a faint self-mocking joke.

But Xie Lan could already see through the person in front of him.

Peeling away those nonchalant, lazy, indifferent shells of wandering through the world.

Hidden in his heart was that soft little bean.

Somehow, he suddenly remembered that day two or three years ago when he first noticed a DM from QZFXR.

He had forgotten the exact words, but it roughly said: I picked carefully from the phoenix tree next to my house and chose a leaf very similar in shape to the one in your video. I made it into a pendant and hung it on my schoolbag, ready to take it to school.

At the time, he thought this fan was very cute, so he sent an Apple “leaf” emoji and spelled in unfamiliar Chinese: Be happy every day.

Xie Lan’s mind went blank for a long time until Dou Sheng reached out, interlacing fingers with his hand resting on his leg, squeezing tight.

“But…” He said blankly, “You never mentioned SilentWaves on your Weibo…”

Dou Sheng smiled at this. “I told you this a long time ago, right?”

He clicked open his favorites, then clicked on SilentWaves’ YouTube homepage.

“You are my private collection.”

“So I can’t share you with others.”