Chapter Forty-Five: Times Have Changed

When Liao Yuan woke up, the first thing he did was log into Jili Gulu on his phone.

Seeing that his video had reached sixteen thousand views, he felt somewhat disappointed.

“This isn’t quite what I expected. Looks like I was overthinking things. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. I’ll just have to take it slow…”

After glancing through the comments, Liao Yuan closed the page. In his eyes, whether it was seven thousand coins, sixteen thousand views, or fifteen thousand tangerine tips, all of it seemed far too meager.

It certainly didn’t match his hopes of instantly soaring into the top three on the charts.

What he didn’t know, however, was that “The Truth of Your Departure” had already caught the attention of the site’s officials; in fact, the decision-makers had resolved to promote the video.

The editors in the original music section naturally had a certain discerning ability.

Their evaluation of “The Truth of Your Departure,” this original piano piece, was nothing short of astounding, and the market feedback was ablaze—it already showed all the signs of becoming a hit.

As for the creator behind this piece, the editors praised him while also drooling over the gleaming piano in the video.

S-277!

A Steinway grand piano worth 1.43 million yuan had actually appeared in a Jili Gulu video!

Meanwhile, Liao Yuan also arrived at the company.

As usual, the receptionist and the busy staff passing by greeted him with sincere smiles.

Some of the more outgoing employees hurried over to shake his hand, hoping to bask in a bit of his brilliance.

Since “Ghost Blows Out the Light” had aired, the work had quickly gained fame on the radio stations of Jiangsu, Zhejiang, and Shanghai. By now, it had become the flagship program of Donghai Radio.

Riding this wave of popularity, Liao Yuan had also become the station’s star host, and his reputation spread far and wide in the entire radio community.

The idle gossip that used to circulate around the station had been swept away by this surge of attention.

Even some of the station leaders, when passing by Liao Yuan, would smile kindly at him.

A word or two of praise was inevitable, and one particularly lively deputy director would even gleefully pull Liao Yuan into his office for tea and reminiscences.

No one pities the weak, but the strong are always respected.

The colleagues in Program Department Two also changed their usual condescending attitudes; now, when they ran into Liao Yuan, they would warmly inquire after him, reminiscing about the days they’d worked together.

Even Xu Jingkai, the head of the program planning and publicity group who had always opposed Liao Yuan, now greeted him with a broad smile.

If there was even a fleeting chance for small talk, he would not let it slip by—clutching Liao Yuan’s hand and shaking it vigorously, he would earnestly ask about the plot of the next episode of “Ghost Blows Out the Light.”

Even the director of Program Department Two, Jiang Heshun, though he had often been contradicted by Liao Yuan in both word and deed, seemed to have forgotten all past grievances. In management meetings, he praised Liao Yuan and “Ghost Blows Out the Light” repeatedly, enthusiastically championing him.

For a time, rumors about Liao Yuan spread throughout Donghai Radio, and A Yuan of the Network Department became a legend in the company overnight.

Such was the power of knowledge.

A third-rate host, once scorned by all, would, once labeled a creator and having produced outstanding work, find the world cheering for him, no matter how miserable his past.

Of course, Liao Yuan was well aware how much of this was mere lip service.

But he didn’t care.

To him, the radio station was just a waystation, not the destination.

His true career was only just beginning. The road ahead would be traveled in the light of time.

Perhaps the future would not be dazzling, but he was certain he would achieve something of his own.

Naturally, where there is joy, there is also sorrow.

Mi Maodian, the host who had transferred from a regional station with “Late Night Tales” to succeed “Strange Stories of the Human World,” originally seemed destined for a bright future. But this unexpected turn of events had sent him plummeting from the heights of success.

With no extra programs for him to take over, Mi Maodian had become what Liao Yuan once was—each day, he numbly rebroadcast the Network Department’s “Ghost Blows Out the Light.” With so little content of his own, he had become a textbook example of frustrated depression.

But it was, after all, the path he had chosen. Even if he had to crawl, he ought to see it through.

After arriving at the office area, Liao Yuan, as usual, took a moment to compose himself, then called Xiao Peng to join him in the studio to begin recording “Ghost Blows Out the Light.”

But just then, Zhu Jiayin, the female anchor of “Idol Express,” came trotting over with a group of her female colleagues. “Wait a second, Mr. Liao!”

Both Liao Yuan and Xiao Peng stopped and turned around.

At the head of the group, Zhu Jiayin, cheeks as rosy as a ripe apple, stepped forward, her voice sweet as honey: “Mr. Liao, do you have time this evening?”

Xiao Peng’s eyes lit up as he looked at the bashful Zhu Jiayin. “Sister Jiayin, what is it?”

Zhu Jiayin ignored him and looked straight at Liao Yuan, her gaze tender. “Mr. Liao, the girls and I are having a get-together with the colleagues from Program Department One tonight. They especially asked that you come. We couldn’t refuse, so we came to let you know. If you’re free tonight, we’ll be waiting for you.”

A get-together with Program Department One?

For some reason, the image of Xi Yun flashed through his mind, and Liao Yuan’s mood soured. He shook his head. “Sorry, I have some work to take care of tonight.”

“Sister Jiayin, I’m free!”

Xiao Peng jumped out, grinning. “Brother Yuan is a busy man. You’ll never snag him, but I’m different—they call me the Prince of Icebreakers. Hey, don’t leave! If you don’t say anything, I’ll take it as a yes! I’ll remember, see you after work tonight!”

Xiao Peng was like a dog in heat, dashing after the girls as they quickly dispersed.

Liao Yuan reacted swiftly, grabbing Xiao Peng by the arm. “It’s office hours. Save your side projects for after work!”

Xiao Peng instantly wilted, his expression falling. “Brother Yuan, please say yes. My lifelong happiness is in your hands…”

Liao Yuan said, “You’re a good-looking guy, why can’t you control yourself? Remember, even as a man, you should maintain some reserve. Being too forward can scare people off!”

As a novice in matters of the heart, Xiao Peng looked at Liao Yuan doubtfully. “Really?”

“Of course it’s true.” Speaking from experience, Liao Yuan continued, “Being reserved doesn’t mean being unapproachable. It means knowing your boundaries when you take the initiative. When two people are falling for each other but haven’t yet defined their relationship, a sense of measure is crucial. The right amount of initiative makes a girl’s heart race, but too much or too little can ruin the romance you hope for. In short, your initiative should carry a hint of restraint.”

Goodness!

Could Brother Yuan be a love guru?

Xiao Peng stared, awe welling up inside him.

But then he scratched his head, embarrassed. “Brother Yuan, you’ve misunderstood me. I just wanted to ask if you really meant it when you said I was ‘good-looking and talented’…”

Liao Yuan: “…”

The workday flew by.

At noon, Liao Yuan received a salary notification: “Your account ending with 1213 received 657,121.7 yuan (salary) at 11:36 on June 8, 2021. Balance: 660,045.7. [Huaxia Bank]”

With money in hand, there’s no need to panic.

Receiving 650,000 yuan in an instant eased the pressure of Liao Yuan’s busy schedule.

Even under Xiao Peng’s relentless pleading, he began to consider joining the evening’s get-together.

But in the afternoon, a single phone call tightened his nerves again in an instant.

“Brother, I’m so tired…”