Chapter 119: Listening to the Sound of the Ocean Weeping

On the monthly voting leaderboard, “Coiling Dragon” had already climbed to the coveted first place, and the book review section was ablaze with activity.

Su Tong noticed that most of the recent tips were dated that very evening.

Fortunately, after signing the platinum contract, all tips this month would be fully returned to Nian Nu Jiao, though the necessary taxes would still be deducted—there was no escaping that.

As a proud taxpayer, one could boldly point at those civil servants and say, “I’m a taxpayer; it’s people like me who support you, so serve the public well.”

Well, ideals are lofty, but reality is harsh. There’s nothing truly glorious about being a taxpayer. Life is just a continuous process of self-entertainment and growth. Otherwise, how many people would consider you the center of the world?

For the first three days, the monthly votes lagged behind, so why did “Coiling Dragon” suddenly break through the ranks of the Dragon Alliance and many neutral readers today? Su Tong found it puzzling since “Coiling Dragon” was still considered public enemy number one across the platform these days.

After a quick glance, Su Tong realized that those who had been supporting “The Great God” had withdrawn their votes—the misunderstandings had been cleared up, and naturally, fewer people were helping the Dragon Alliance blindly.

Tonight, because of some photos taken by the seaside, several large Silver-tier alliances appeared, all eager to meet Su Tong. More than a dozen alliance leaders showed up, all discussing plans to gradually push towards the Silver-tier alliances and eventually win over Ge Ge.

Sigh, I don’t want to rely on looks to get by, Su Tong thought, touching his face.

The administrator had pinned Nian Nu Jiao’s poem “Nian Nu Jiao: Red Cliff Reminiscence” in the review section, which had already attracted hundreds of replies.

“Always knew Nian Nu Jiao was no ordinary mortal—this poem is magnificent.”

“Just for this poem alone, I have to support Nian Nu Jiao.”

“A genius! Now I finally believe Nian Nu Jiao can write 80,000 characters daily. When she goes wild, it’s like she’s cheating—writing over 100,000 characters in a day is possible. Otherwise, how could she sustain such an explosive output?”

“Seven days of National Day, ten updates daily—I’m truly blessed to be a reader of A Jiao’s work.”

“Exactly, and each chapter is over 3,000 characters. That’s so solid. Writers like this are rare.”

“Full subscription support, monthly vote support, support for the beautiful and talented A Jiao.”

“……”

Online bullying exists, but so does positive energy.

Yet, upon seeing the nickname “A Jiao,” Su Tong couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed; it seemed these commenters were not from the Hero Alliance.

Members of the Dragon Alliance were already too exhausted to complain—the tide of public opinion could change in an instant.

In terms of financial might, the flashy rich and beautiful from the fashion world far outnumbered those in the online literary circle. A few heavy hitters dropping in from the fashion scene caused the morale of the Dragon Alliance to plummet.

They couldn’t compete with money; the only option was to compete with fan numbers.

Fortunately, many Dragon Alliance members gradually returned, so on this day, the wild surge of “Coiling Dragon” didn’t manage to pull far ahead of “The Great God” in monthly votes.

At this point, even if Su Tong announced he wasn’t competing for monthly votes with single chapters, the Hero Alliance members probably wouldn’t accept it.

After all, the Dragon Alliance had been too arrogant and hadn’t even considered who their opponent truly was, foolishly treating them like mere rookies to trample on.

The Hero Alliance couldn’t swallow that slight.

Su Tong wasn’t interested in the monthly voting leaderboard and was too lazy to read the noisy discussions in the review section. He closed his browser, dealt with some messages on QQ, then shut down his computer to prepare for sleep.

After turning off his machine, he saw the time—it was almost one o’clock.

Browsing forums, microwaves, and Tieba really was a waste of time, Su Tong decided he would do less of that in the future.

Back in his room, Su Tong saw that Xiaoyu and Xiaoxiao were sleeping in very unruly positions on the bed, having long since drifted off course, sprawled across the mattress.

Su Tong had to adjust them one by one; otherwise, there wouldn’t be any space left for him to sleep.

Just as he was about to lie down, he got up again to carry Xiaoxiao to the bathroom, so she wouldn’t wet the bed in the middle of the night.

Xiaoxiao was not yet four years old and still occasionally wet the bed this year.

Ever since Su Tong’s divine body had reached its fourth stage, Xiaoyu and Xiaoxiao loved to snuggle close to him because the closer they were, the more comfortable they felt. His body cells breathed rapidly, stirring the surrounding air, creating a cool breeze.

Especially at night, during summer, he was like a moving little fan; in winter, according to Sister Yaya, he was like a small stove, warm and cozy.

So, in recent days, every morning when Su Tong woke up, he would find the two sisters clinging affectionately to him, sleeping soundly.

On the fifth day of the long holiday, Su Tong continued to take Xiaoyu and Xiaoxiao out to play, this time mainly to accompany Lin Yin.

As their landlord, it would be rude not to spend time with Lin Yin during the seven-day holiday.

The two of them were also preparing to participate in the Great Qin Voice competition. During their outing, Su Tong took the opportunity to teach Lin Yin singing techniques and impart vocal music knowledge.

After the Great Qin Voice ended, Lin Yin would release an album and officially enter the music industry.

Her album was tentatively planned to have eight songs, and Su Tong intended to write four more songs for her, including “The Older I Grow, The Lonelier I Am,” making a total of five.

“Xiao Tong, it would be great if you wrote them all. Those famous composers and lyricists, I don’t think anyone compares to you,” Lin Yin said, already admiring Su Tong. She looked down on other songs.

Yang Feifei, standing nearby, said, “Yinyin, you can’t say that. Su Tong’s fame isn’t enough yet; we still need renowned musicians to carry the banner. Fame is important; there’s no way around it—that’s good for promotion. Hehe, once you finish the Great Qin Voice, your popularity will explode. Qin’s darling, with a youthful face, a huge chest, and a doll-like voice—wow, a killer for all ages.”

“Feifei, stop teasing me! No matter how popular I get, I won’t surpass you,” Lin Yin said shyly.

Yang Feifei sighed and took a spoonful of ice cream. Now, whenever she went out, she wore sunglasses and no longer bothered with masks.

“The entertainment industry is a cold place for human relationships. I’m not just talking about insiders; even the public outside quickly forgets a celebrity. I haven’t appeared in months; many people have probably forgotten me by now.”

Yang Feifei’s last post on Weibo was from four months ago, when she said she was taking a year off. Since then, many fans had asked questions and speculated: family troubles, studies, love affairs… but no one guessed right.

As time passed, fan enthusiasm waned, and Yang Feifei’s Weibo and Tieba pages grew quiet.

The group sat by the sea, gazing at the waves, feeling both content and a touch melancholic.

Yang Feifei, bound by rules, still had to remain silent for eight more months. During this time, she couldn’t interact with Su Tong or Lin Yin on Weibo.

If she were to interact with Su Tong now, it would surely bring a lot of attention to Nian Nu Jiao. After Lin Yin went on Great Qin Voice, their interactions would also benefit her greatly.

“Feifei, sister, let me sing you a song,” Su Tong said, carrying a violin out of the RV and opening the case.

Yang Feifei looked surprised. “Got some inspiration?”

“Just listen and you’ll know,” Su Tong smiled. He looked out to the sea, standing tall, his gaze profound and distant, tinged with melancholy. He held the violin under his chin and shoulder, raised the bow in his right hand, and placed it on the strings.

A melodious violin sound arose.

Yang Feifei and Lin Yin sat at Su Tong’s feet, also looking toward the sea, listening to the music and his voice.

A few minutes later.

“Did you write this for me?” Yang Feifei lifted her head, her eyes sparkling.

“Of course, you’re so pitiful,” Su Tong laughed heartily.

Yang Feifei grabbed a handful of sand, ready to throw it at Su Tong, but seeing Xiaoyu and Xiaoxiao playing nearby, she hesitated and let it fall.

You scoundrel! I was so moved I almost cried and wanted to hug you—but one sentence crushed all my feelings. What kind of hug is that?