Chapter Thirteen: Are You in Pain?
That evening, Wang Mo and Yuan Xiong drank themselves into a stupor. Yuan Xiong got drunk because, upon seeing that Wang Mo hadn’t been crushed by the recent scandal, the weight finally lifted from his heart. As for Wang Mo, he simply couldn’t hold his liquor.
The next morning at eight o’clock—
“Brrring brrring brrring~~~”
An alarm—no, rather, the system’s voice—rang out, echoing in his mind: [Host, it’s time to wake up.]
Wang Mo roused himself groggily, reaching out to silence the alarm, only to realize he hadn’t set one. Yuan Xiong, at some unknown point, had already slipped away.
He patted his backside.
No pain.
Only then did he rub his eyes and get out of bed. “System, you’ve done a great job as my alarm clock. Keep up the good work.”
[Please maintain some dignity, host. I am not an alarm clock. I only reminded you because you hadn’t set an alarm yourself.]
“Well, thank you anyway!”
Washing his face and brushing his teeth, Wang Mo asked inwardly, “System, I’ve finished the last task. Why hasn’t a new one appeared?”
[Assigning you tasks is meant to keep you motivated, not to overwhelm you with endless objectives or turn you into a slave. Your current progress is steady and organized; there’s no need for further prompts. Please continue your efforts—new tasks will naturally arise when the time is right.]
Wang Mo understood.
Such a measured approach was indeed preferable. In his past life, he’d read many stories about system hosts becoming slaves to their tasks, which was something he never wanted. Only by maintaining control over his own life, with the system as an assistant, could he unlock the true potential of having a system.
…
Wang Mo savored his days at a leisurely pace.
But the Internet was anything but calm.
After Yunhai Media launched their promotional campaign, it took only a single day for “Whatever” to complete its meteoric rise, shooting from tenth place to third on the rookie chart. The ranking mechanism on CloudNet was clear: play count, download count, and the number of users who added the song to their collections. These three figures were plugged into a fixed formula to calculate a total score, which determined the song’s position.
Currently, “Whatever” boasted:
Plays: 257,000
Downloads: 29,000
Collections: 156,000
For both regular users and subscribers, most simply listened to music. Only die-hard fans bothered to download tracks, especially since each download cost two yuan. Generally, the ratio of plays to downloads exceeded 100:1—sometimes even 1,000:1 for certain songs. Thus, 39,000 downloads was already a remarkably high figure.
Many online were caught off guard by the success of “Whatever.” As for the other rookies who released songs in August, they were left utterly dejected.
Especially Zheng Xiao, whose song “I Love Studying” had held third place securely, or so he thought. Who could have predicted that before he even had time to settle comfortably into his spot, he’d be bumped down to fourth?
The difference between third and fourth was immense.
His heart shattered.
He was heartbroken.
Watching the gap between “Whatever” and his own song widen, Zheng Xiao could only swallow his sorrows in silence.
His precious third place was gone.
At present, two songs still stood ahead of “Whatever.”
First place: “My Song Is Really Good”—Zhang Mao.
Zhang Mao, an actor who’d played the second male lead in a film, had been pushed by his company to break into the music scene thanks to his handsome looks and passable voice. With a large fanbase and strong promotional backing, Zhang Mao quickly secured the top spot.
Current stats:
Plays: 813,000
Downloads: 32,000
Collections: 331,000
Second place: “Come On, Baby!”—Li Zhiling.
Li Zhiling, another newcomer groomed by a top entertainment company, had just finished participating in a popular music show. Riding the wave of that program’s exposure, she easily gained traction.
Current stats:
Plays: 478,000
Downloads: 11,000
Collections: 182,000
The data for these top three songs showed a steep drop-off; the gaps were substantial. Everyone agreed the top three positions were essentially locked in, unlikely to change.
But gradually, people noticed something odd.
From the third day onward, every song—including the first and second—saw their numbers decline across the board. After all, no song could remain at peak popularity forever.
For example, “My Song Is Really Good” saw its play count drop from 250,000 on the third day to 170,000 on the fourth, and just 110,000 on the fifth. “Come On, Baby!” declined even more sharply, falling from 150,000 to 80,000 to a mere 50,000 over the same period.
Yet, to everyone’s astonishment, “Whatever” defied the trend—it didn’t just hold steady, its numbers actually climbed.
Third day: 100,000 plays.
Fourth day: 110,000.
Fifth day: 130,000.
What kind of sorcery was this?
What kind of song had such staying power?
Even with this explosive momentum, “Whatever” still lagged behind second place. But its lead over fourth was widening, securing its hold on third.
“My precious third place is really gone,” Zheng Xiao wailed inwardly.
He’d considered asking his company to step up promotions or even investing his own money for one last push, but seeing “Whatever” only grow stronger, his heart turned cold.
Just as Zheng Xiao was drowning in despair—
A notification chimed.
He opened QQ to see a message: “Are you in pain?”
It was from Zhao Long. Zheng Xiao knew Zhao Long—only a few days ago, he’d been third on the rookie chart, while Zhao Long was fourth. Zhao Long, accepting he’d never overtake Zheng Xiao, had added him on QQ as a friendly gesture.
Who would have expected such an out-of-the-blue message?
“Of course I’m in pain, what do you think?” Zheng Xiao replied, frustrated.
Zhao Long: “I know a way to ease your pain. Want to hear it?”
A few minutes later, Zheng Xiao posted on Weibo: “Congratulations to ‘Whatever’ for taking third on the rookie chart. I’m truly impressed. I hope all my fans will support @Hao Mingxing’s song. It’s really good! I admit defeat.”
The post ignited a flurry of responses.
“Brother Xiao, you’re so generous!”
“He’s right, we can accept losing with grace.”
“Wow, Zheng Xiao lost, but he’s praising his competitor? That’s real character.”
“Such a broad-minded guy—impressive. I used to resent ‘Whatever’ for stealing his thunder, but since he said so, I’ll support it.”
“I have to admit, ‘Whatever’ is a great song.”
“Listening to Brother Xiao—I’m off to support ‘Whatever’!”
“Support ‘Whatever’!”
“Let’s go!”
And so, without anyone expecting it, Zheng Xiao’s fanbase surged like a tide onto the “Whatever” page.
Plays! Downloads! Collections!
As a result, “Whatever,” already on the rise, saw another explosive spike across all metrics.
Li Zhiling, holding second place, was left in a daze.
What was happening?
Her song had been comfortably ahead, but in the blink of an eye, the gap vanished.
Quick! Increase promotions!
But even before her company could launch a new campaign, she saw “Come On, Baby!” drop to third.
Her precious second place—gone!
She’d only just secured it for a few days, and now it was snatched away. Who could stand that?
At the same time, seeing Li Zhiling fall to third, Zheng Xiao, whose face had been ashen moments before, felt all his pent-up frustration dissipate. Reclining in his chair with a satisfied smile, he thought, “As expected, I feel much better now.”
He ate a few pieces of fruit.
Zheng Xiao blinked.
He felt much better, indeed.
But what about Li Zhiling?
Oh well.
He decided to play the good guy.
After some thought, he picked up his phone and sent her a message: “Sister, are you in pain?”