Chapter Eighty: The Battle for Monthly Votes

Sitting in Yaya’s car, Yang Feifei had already taken off her mask, and her restless hands were pinching and prodding at Su Tong’s chin and throat.

“That’s enough, will you?” Su Tong felt like some animal under Yang Feifei’s curious scrutiny and swatted her soft hand away.

Yang Feifei glared, forcefully turning Su Tong’s head to face her. She pinched his jaw. “Open your mouth and say ‘ah.’ I want to see what’s different about your mouth. Not only can you speak with a female voice, you can even hit those soul-stirring high notes.”

“If you don’t show a little respect, I’m not going to your place,” Su Tong threatened. After leaving the hall, he’d actually wanted to return to his dorm rather than accompany Yang Feifei, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Feifei, girls should be a bit more reserved. Don’t bully Little Tong all the time,” Yaya said from the backseat, sitting beside them. Dalong was driving alone up front; the passenger seat was empty.

“Hehe, Su Tong, I spent most of this year studying, and also released an album—eight songs in total. The one you gave me is included, and you already did the arrangement for me. It’s wonderful,” Yang Feifei’s tone suddenly turned gentle.

Su Tong tensed up, uncomfortable with this side of her. Out in public, she was always the picture of elegance and composure, but that wasn’t her true self. At home, he was used to her willful and unruly ways.

“If you have something to say, just say it. Don’t torment me like this—I’m getting goosebumps all over.” Su Tong shifted in his seat, but the back of the car wasn’t that spacious; pressed against the door, he looked at Yang Feifei in the middle with clear annoyance.

Yang Feifei almost kicked him but managed to hold back. Looking at him with a pleading gaze, she said, “Little Tong, you’re the best. Write me one more song, just one, please?”

Su Tong let out a breath. “Fine, just one. But don’t use this trick on me again—my heart can’t take it.”

“Really?” Yang Feifei hadn’t expected to get a song so easily and for free. Su Tong’s songs never disappointed, and there were countless people who wanted to commission him, but no one could find him.

Industry insiders said that a song by Nian Nujiao could sell for more than a hundred thousand, but money couldn’t buy them—he was simply untraceable.

Some people could track down Zhang Xin, but she knew Su Tong was lying low with great ambition. He said he was focusing on scriptwriting and didn’t have the energy to write songs for others just for a few thousand.

But upon knowing Su Tong and Yang Feifei were close, Zhang Xin advised him to maintain that relationship—it would be helpful for his future in the entertainment industry.

“Would I lie to you about a song?” Su Tong said generously, but then lowered his voice, “How much can you pay, though?”

Yang Feifei was delighted, but hearing this, she stomped on his foot and huffed, “Talking about money ruins friendships. You’re the only one who would be so tacky.”

“Sigh, I have elders and youngsters to provide for. Not talking about money is ruining my whole family. Three to one, I’d rather ruin just you,” Su Tong quipped.

“Not giving you a cent,” Yang Feifei retorted, seeing through his nonsense but giving him no leeway.

“Alright then.” Su Tong didn’t push it. He asked seriously, “Feifei, you haven’t had a concert yet, have you? Will you hold one before you graduate next year? If you do, invite me as a guest, okay?”

Yang Feifei hadn’t produced many good songs before, but this year she’d focused on singing, and with the two anchor songs Su Tong gave her and her own popularity as a film queen, her concert would be a huge success.

With the internet, lossless audio could be downloaded anywhere, so even top divas had to be prepared to lose money on albums. Releasing an album was mainly about building popularity for future concerts and commercial performances.

Su Tong had no agency, no massive fan base; the idea of him holding a concert was pure fantasy. First, there was the need for investment, stage setup, equipment rental, promotional channels—especially advertising, which could swallow most of the funds. Even if all that was covered, then came the question of fans.

Su Tong’s follower count barely scraped past a million, scattered across the country. If he held a concert, he’d lose his shirt—how many could actually attend?

“Of course! Do well, and I’ll take you to shine with me,” Feifei said boldly, only to receive a smack on the back of her head.

“No coarse language,” Yaya said with a slight frown.

Pouting, Yang Feifei shook her little braids and stomped on Su Tong’s foot.

“Ow!” Su Tong grumbled. Why take it out on me just because you don’t dare be mad at Yaya?

Before long, they arrived home. Su Tong dove straight into his livestream studio.

“The internet at home is so fast,” Su Tong said as he logged into DianDian.

Today was the 25th—five days left in the month.

The monthly ticket battle between “Coiling Dragon” and “God of the Greats” was fierce, with the lead seesawing back and forth. The vote counts were always close.

At the moment, “Coiling Dragon” was ahead with 16,182 votes, topping the charts, while “God of the Greats” trailed by 151, with 16,031 votes.

“Our Dragon Alliance is never weaker than others. Those who block us perish—no mercy! Brothers, let’s keep up the momentum today and crush them!” Shenlong was posting another single-chapter plea for votes, brimming with aggression. Su Tong couldn’t help but laugh.

This month, the Hero League had charged forward on the first day, but soon lost steam. In the web fiction world, Su Tong was a newcomer; how could his fanbase compare to Shenlong’s, who’d been around for years?

However, many fans of top authors disliked Shenlong’s ways and spontaneously banded together to support Nian Nujiao. Their favorite authors weren’t competing for monthly votes this time, and when Shenlong released a new book, it was a nightmare for other top authors: they couldn’t win the vote, and the competition drained their fans’ energy. Who would dare compete? Only Su Tong, the fearless newcomer, and his somewhat naïve Hero League, jumped into the fray.

Whenever “Coiling Dragon” fell behind, fans of other top authors would rush to its aid.

“Haha, our Dong-ge isn’t fighting for monthly votes, so I’m supporting ‘Coiling Dragon’ with my votes.”

“Heh, our Windbell isn’t competing either, so I’m supporting ‘Coiling Dragon’ too. The Dragon Alliance has gone too far—Nian Nujiao hasn’t posted a single vote-begging chapter in half a month, just keeps updating with at least five chapters a day. I can’t help but admire that.”

“Yeah, Nian Nujiao is really dedicated—maybe has some chapters saved up. Otherwise, how could he consistently update five chapters daily?”

“Mm, ‘Coiling Dragon’ is not just updating rapidly, but the writing quality is getting even higher.”

“Wow, a newcomer showing up and slaying the gods—no, the supreme god at that—has never happened before. I really want to witness this piece of history.”

“If you want to witness it, just go support him.”

“…"

Su Tong saw countless posts and comments from fans of various top authors on the DianDian forums.

Public opinion was almost entirely on his side. Shenlong’s fans had come to fight at the beginning and middle of the month, but dared not return—Dragon Alliance had become the site’s public enemy, beset by many users in disguise.

Su Tong felt a little embarrassed—he had no backlog at all. He simply exchanged the completed novel from the system and uploaded five chapters a day with ease, without even needing to write.

Shenlong competing with him in explosive updates was like searching for death with a lantern in the restroom.