Chapter Five: Fleeting Years Like Flowing Water

“Elder, what song is it exactly? Hurry and let Big Qiao sing it.”
“Yes, yes, don’t keep us in suspense. You’re hyping it up so much, let’s hear how good it really is.”
“Everyone, get in position! Sing, sing!”
“Sing, sing!”
“Sing, sing!”
…
With Su Tong’s words, all the fans were now even more eager, impatient to hear the song for themselves.
“Streamer, I want to hear a joke. My friend dragged me here just for the jokes.”
“Tell a few more jokes—those are all new ones, so witty.”
“I want Xiao Ming!”
“I want the lady teacher!”
…
Some of the newcomers had come for Su Tong’s jokes, not for the singing. Shows like gaming or stand-up were their true passion.
“No fans, no voice—move aside, I want to hear the song.” This was the die-hard fans pushing back against the newcomers; Big and Little Qiao’s show was what they loved most.
“If there are no jokes, we’re leaving. The singing is too noisy, I don’t want to listen.”
“Then get lost. Take the door on the right, and if you fall into the toilet, it’s not my problem.”
…
Old and new viewers broke into a war of words.
Naturally, Su Tong had her true fans in mind. She slid her chair back, letting Xiaoyu get closer to the mic.
Xiaoyu sat in front of the microphone, looking unexpectedly nervous. “This song… this song was written by my brother for me. Thank you, brother. I really like it, and I feel so moved and happy to have such a wonderful brother.”
As she spoke, Xiaoyu sneaked a glance at Su Tong, worried she might not sing it well.
“Wow, Old Su wrote it?”
“I never heard that Old Su could write songs!”
“Oh no, if Old Su wrote it, will it even be listenable?”
“Watch your mouth, it’s our Big Qiao singing. If you doubt her, you doubt me. After school tomorrow, don’t run—I swear I’ll beat you up.”
“Agreed, even though I doubt Old Su, I believe in Big Qiao. Anything she sings is good.”
…
The chat was lively, and though they were supporting Big Qiao, everyone doubted Su Tong’s songwriting ability.
Xiaoyu didn’t look at the chat; she didn’t want to know what the fans were saying. What she needed now was to adjust her state and sing the song well.
No matter what others said, this was her favorite song—unique and irreplaceable.
She glanced at Su Tong, who nodded at her.
In that moment, courage welled up inside Xiaoyu, and she pressed the button.
The accompaniment began.
She started to sing.

“La la, la la la, la la la la la la la…”
It was quite rhythmic; fans nodded along. Most importantly, Xiaoyu’s voice was innocent and sweet, airy and fresh.
“The pond is full, the rain has stopped, and the muddy fields are teeming with loaches.”
A warm rural scene appeared before them, serene and evocative.
“Every day I wait for you, wait for you to catch loaches. Big brother, let’s go catch loaches, shall we?”
At this point, fans could feel the deep longing in Xiaoyu’s voice and eyes, tinged with happiness.
Xiaoyu remembered how her brother had taken them fishing the night before—three siblings chasing lively fish in the fields under heavy rain, their laughter echoing across the land.
Her brother had led them into mischief, and the thrill was hard to describe. Most importantly, her brother had changed, becoming more like a caring elder brother.
She would never forget coming home, the three of them covered in mud, her brother holding two big fish, laughing with his head thrown back.
“Little Niu’s brother took him to catch loaches. Big brother, shall we go catch loaches too?”
Xiaoyu recalled the past—before their father’s bankruptcy, her brother had always been indifferent to her and her sister; after the bankruptcy, he’d often scold them and never played with them.
Even now, Xiaoyu longed for her brother to be a little kinder, to be like the brothers in other families—protective and willing to play with their siblings.
The chat fell silent; everyone was absorbed in the music and lyrics.
Xiaoyu sang the Lin Miaoke version of the children’s song, which was perfect for her age, especially the lively instrumental section in the middle, instantly transporting listeners back to years gone by, a wave of simple nostalgia washing over them.
That was childhood—the most precious time of life.
As the years go by and memories accumulate, it might be buried deep, fading until it feels like a past life. But once unearthed, it brings endless sighs of longing.
“I miss my hometown.”
“I wish I could go back.”
“Let me relive my lost innocence—boohoo.”
“Ah, so that’s what a rural childhood is like? I’ve lived in the city since I was born. I envy that so much!”
…
The song wasn’t over, but some couldn’t help expressing their feelings, forgetting the usual ritual of sending virtual ice cream before sharing their thoughts.
Childhood—golden childhood. Whether happy or sad, it is golden.
Children’s hearts are pure, filled with fairy tales. As they grow up, they yearn for love, but the fairy tales break, the heart’s path grows rough, and each day is a struggle for food; only when full does one think of clothing; when both are sufficient, one dreams of a beautiful spouse…
Childhood—a piece of candy, a picture book could fill the world with color.
When the song ended, the audience lingered in distant memories until Xiaoxiao brought them back to the present.
The little one was calling out again, “Brother, fishing! Let’s go catch fish—Xiaoxiao wants grilled fish!”
Instantly, the screen filled with a barrage of virtual ice cream, and even Australian abalone and lobsters.
The platform’s tip amounts were fixed: from smallest to largest, 100, 588, 1888, 5888, 8888, 10000, 50000, 100000, 1000000, 10000000—measured in Cool Coins. Streamers could assign different gifts to each amount: Su Tong set ice cream for 100, abalone for 588, and lobsters for 1888.
“Boohoo, brother, we want to catch loaches too, take us with you!”
“Brother, for the first time I’m jealous of Big and Little Qiao for having you. Next time, take me fishing, I’m begging you.”
“Brother, I want to catch loaches.”
“Boohoo, Little Niu’s brother, take me to catch loaches.”
…

The audience was lively again; Xiaoyu’s song was catchy, the imagery simple—just a few scenes—but utterly captivating.
Earlier, Su Tong had casually mentioned the events of last night, but fans hadn’t thought much of it. Now, after the song, their feelings were magnified. Imagining the three siblings out in the rain with flashlights, fishing with boundless joy—it was enchanting.
Because of the song, fans now began calling Su Tong “brother.”
“Brother, did you really write this song? I asked Baidu and it didn’t know either.”
“Same question. I’m beginning to believe it, but I want to be sure.”
“Brother, you’re so talented! It’s not a pop song, but it will endure far longer than one.”
…
Fans kept asking. Su Tong glanced at the chat and suddenly caught a glimpse of a number that made his heart skip a beat.
He hadn’t noticed when, but the viewer count in “Nian Nu Jiao’s Room” was nearing ten thousand.
How exciting! In a year of streaming, “Nian Nu Jiao’s” viewers had never topped eight thousand; now it was almost ten thousand.
With ten thousand fans, he could apply for a new contract, increasing his tip revenue share from 60/40 to 70/30.
Their family was just getting by; Su Tong’s old wooden guitar had been used for years, and he couldn’t afford to replace it. Xiaoyu once had a piano, but it was sold to pay off debts after their father’s bankruptcy.
The little girl had loved piano since she was five and loved to sing.
Su Tong didn’t have many grand ambitions at the moment—just to make life better at home and buy Xiaoyu a piano.
“I said, I wrote this song for Xiaoyu,” Su Tong replied to the fans.
Baidu knew everything, but since no one could find this song online, even if Su Tong didn’t answer, everyone would believe it was his.
“Brother, what’s this song called?” someone asked; Su Tong still hadn’t revealed the name.
He smiled and said, “It’s called ‘Catching Loaches,’ in memory of our pure and beautiful childhood. There will be more campus folk songs written for Big Qiao in the future, and they’ll be just as good as ‘Catching Loaches.’ Please look forward to them.”
“Wow, more songs?”
“Damn, brother, you’re amazing!”
“Brother, you’re incredible.”
“Brother, write more—I want to hear them all!”
“Never mind that for now—Big Qiao, sing it again! I haven’t had enough!”
“Everyone, get ready—encore.”
“Encore!”
“Encore!”
“Wait, let me get my friends in here.”
“Yeah, I’m going to pull people from my QQ group and WeChat group. Hold off a few minutes so we can reminisce about our childhood together.”
…
Die-hard fans in a frenzy are a terrifying force; out of thousands, at least a few hundred were unstoppable, instantly springing into action.
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