Chapter Forty-Two: Opening the Silver Treasure Chest

A heart brimming with literature and humility; a spirit adorned with the radiance of poetry and books.

After ending the livestream, Wang Mo changed his Douyin profile signature to these two lines. They carried an air of sophistication.

He still remembered Silver Moon’s expression in the livestream just moments ago, when he recited, “A spirit adorned with the radiance of poetry and books.” The look on his face was as though he’d seen a ghost.

Well, to be fair, Wang Mo was wearing a No-Face mask, which did look rather ghostly.

In that instant, a shiver ran through Silver Moon’s entire body. He had been selected to probe Wang Mo’s depth for two reasons: first, because he had hundreds of thousands of followers on Douyin, making him well-known enough but not too prominent; second, because he had a decent scholarly background, being a graduate of a 211 liberal arts university, which put him ahead of ninety-nine percent of streamers in terms of literary knowledge.

Because of this, Silver Moon could feel how profoundly the phrase “a spirit adorned with the radiance of poetry and books” struck his soul.

With just these seven words, he knew he could never compose something so elegant—not in his entire life. Not just him, but even his college literature professors would likely struggle.

Damn you all! Silver Moon cursed inwardly. To think they’d send someone capable of uttering such a line for him to test their cultural literacy? They weren’t sending “West Tower” to his doom; they were sending him—Silver Moon—to his end!

Most of the viewers, however, felt nothing from Wang Mo’s poetic line.

“What? What did he say?”

“Didn’t catch that.”

“Something about wealth? What about gas?”

“He probably said that wealthy people drive Mazdas, right?”

…

Wang Mo didn’t bother to explain. He glanced at the time—he’d come to a natural stopping point for the night, and his fan count and reputation had reached a plateau. Continuing would be pointless, so he simply ended the stream.

Ironically, Wang Mo didn’t know this line because he was particularly well-versed in ancient poetry, but because in his previous life he’d seen it repeatedly on Douyin.

Back then, whenever a talented man or beautiful woman appeared on Douyin, this line would invariably pop up in the comments. Over time, Wang Mo memorized it, even recalling the full couplet: “A heart brimming with literature and humility; a spirit adorned with the radiance of poetry and books.”

What he didn’t realize was that “a spirit adorned with the radiance of poetry and books” was actually from a poem by Su Shi, titled “Farewell to Dong Chuan.” The first line, however—“a heart brimming with literature and humility”—was not from the poem; it was a later addition, paired with Su Shi’s original for stylistic balance. In the actual poem, the preceding line was “A rough cloth and coarse meal is my lot,” but as many readers came from well-off backgrounds, unfamiliar with hardship, it was replaced by the more refined line we know today.

…

After ending the stream and updating his signature, Wang Mo looked up to see Liu Zhengwen glaring murderously at Yuan Xiong several times before leaving.

The look in Liu Zhengwen’s eyes was positively lethal.

Curious, Wang Mo asked, “Brother Xiong, why is Mr. Liu suddenly so angry with you?”

Yuan Xiong sighed, “Love turned to hate.”

Wang Mo’s pupils widened in shock. “Mr. Liu… he’s in love with you?”

Yuan Xiong snapped impatiently, “Nonsense! He loves you, that’s why he hates me.”

Wang Mo nearly fried his mental circuits trying to process this. He couldn’t make sense of it at all.

Mr. Liu loves him? That couldn’t be right. Even if it were true, why would Mr. Liu hate Yuan Xiong? Did Brother Xiong have feelings too? No, that couldn’t be… No, the real question was, when did Mr. Liu suddenly develop a taste for men?

Damn!

Wang Mo looked down at his petite frame and shuddered uncontrollably. He couldn’t handle this. What was he supposed to do?

Yuan Xiong waved it off. “Forget it. Not worth discussing. Let me ask you: with all your knowledge, how did you mistake Yue Meng for Yue Fei back then?”

While Wang Mo was streaming earlier, Yuan Xiong had smoked half a pack of cigarettes trying—and failing—to understand why Wang Mo had suddenly become so talented.

Had he really been so blind before?

He wanted to smoke a gas canister; he’d heard it helped clear the mind, but didn’t dare try.

Wang Mo shook his head. “Maybe my memory’s just muddled. I remember it as Yue Fei.”

“Oh?” Yuan Xiong didn’t press further, merely sighing in disappointment.

After all, in life, people’s memories often get muddled.

For example:

Is it “two orioles sing in the green willows” or “two yellow orioles sing in the green willows”?

Is it “Heaven is about to entrust this person with great responsibilities” or “Heaven is about to entrust these responsibilities to this person”?

Is it “fifty-six ethnic groups, fifty-six flowers,” or “fifty-six constellations, fifty-six flowers”?

In Journey to the West, did the Ram Immortal ever get thrown into the oil cauldron?

Questions like these can start endless debates online, with no real consensus in sight.

All of these can be explained by the Mandela Effect.

So Yuan Xiong thought it normal for Wang Mo to have a memory lapse. He never imagined that Wang Mo’s memory was, in fact, perfectly accurate.

Regaining his composure, Yuan Xiong studied Wang Mo anew, his expression complex. “With talent like yours, I really did overlook you before. That was a major failing on my part. But it’s fine—gold will always shine. Now, you’ll be even more prepared to re-enter the entertainment industry. I’ll need to report this to the company and adjust our plans accordingly, to make your livestreams even more valuable.”

With that, he hurried off.

…

Wang Mo also quickly left the studio and returned to his apartment.

He didn’t even bother to shower.

Instead, he lay down on his bed and silently called out, “System!”

System: “At your service.”

Wang Mo: “Open the Bronze Chest!”

During the livestream, the system had notified him that he’d completed his task. Now, he was dying to know what reward he’d receive.

The system’s voice rang out:

“The Bronze Chest has been opened.”

“Congratulations, Host. You have obtained the song ‘Desolate City.’”

Wang Mo paused at the song title. What song was this? It didn’t ring any bells.

Really? Had the system let him down this time, giving him a mediocre song?

Then the melody played in his mind:

“Perhaps it’s loneliness; the air is thin, neon fills the city like a desert bloom.”

“Still waiting for you; my heart is dying. Something must stir my soul.”

The distinctive voice and melody made Wang Mo’s eyes light up instantly.

It was that song!

He had nearly misjudged the system.

As soon as the song appeared in his mind, he knew exactly who he’d give it to.

Having recalled “Desolate City” just once in his mind, Wang Mo set it aside for the moment.

His attention was now fully on his second treasure chest: the Silver Chest.

His very first Silver Chest—what kind of treasure would it yield?

After some thought, he resisted the urge to open it immediately, opting instead to take a shower. He scrubbed himself thoroughly with a bar of Safeguard soap, and only after confirming that he smelled fresh and clean did he nod with satisfaction.

Taking a deep breath, he lay down and called out, “System, open the Silver Chest.”

“The Silver Chest has been opened.”

“Congratulations, Host. You have obtained a special item: Temperament Transformation (Primary).”

What was this?

Wang Mo was stunned. Then, he saw a beam of golden light shoot from the chest, burrowing into the depths of his mind.

And then—

He was utterly dumbfounded.