Chapter Seventy: An Unexpected Incident

Beneath the mask of the Faceless Man, Wang Mo revealed a smile full of hidden meaning.

Of course, he didn’t actually have He Zhixing’s contact information at the moment.

But when he left the capital, He Zhixing had personally invited him to visit his home.

Not long ago, Wang Mo had still been pondering what excuse he could use to pay Professor He a visit, hoping to deepen their connection.

After all, relationships fade without contact.

He hadn’t expected that the opportunity would simply come knocking on his door.

With this in mind, Wang Mo turned to the young man on the call and spoke, “Classmate, I can pass your message to Professor He. But you’d best include proof of your studies, your academic records, your strengths and weaknesses, and your reasons for wanting to become his disciple… things like that. I’ll present everything to Professor He. As for whether you can move him, or win a chance for a phone call, that will depend on your own ability.”

On screen, the young man seemed completely caught off guard that Xilou had actually agreed to his request.

He had only spoken on a whim, never expecting any success.

But hearing Xilou’s words now, he was stunned for several seconds.

Wang Mo smiled. “Did you hear that, ‘Sound of Stones Falling’?”

The young man snapped back to himself, his face lit with joy. “Yes, yes, I’ll get everything ready right away. Thank you, Mr. Xilou.”

While Wang Mo was speaking, the live comment feed had already exploded.

“Is this for real?”

“No way! Xilou can really get in touch with Professor He?”

“Damn, who are you anyway? In the entertainment world, you can get a limited-edition signed photo from the queen herself, Xu Mengqi. In the literary world, you can personally connect with the great He Zhixing.”

“This has to be scripted! No way this is real!”

“I don’t believe it!”

A user named “Gentle Whisper” even commented, “Xilou may be cultured, but any random student from the literature department at Tsinghua or Peking University wouldn’t lose to him, let alone Professor He’s disciples. And as a current literature student myself, I’ve heard all about Professor He—he hates people pulling strings. Even if Xilou knows him, I don’t think he can actually speak for him. Otherwise, this would be absurd.”

Many agreed with this comment.

After all, most viewers of Xilou’s stream were cultured themselves, unlike some other streamers’ audiences.

Meanwhile, “Sound of Stones Falling” saw his followers and private messages soar.

Countless people reached out to him:

“Bro, let us know if you succeed!”

“Dude, you’re not just a plant, are you?”

“Man, if Xilou really gets you in touch with He Zhixing, please tell everyone about it.”

“…”

Wang Mo only smiled at the comments and didn’t bother to explain.

Given the recent string of successful call-ins, the viewers’ excitement was now thoroughly ignited. They clamored for a chance to get through themselves.

The number of people in the stream shot up from over twenty thousand to more than forty thousand.

His follower count soared by tens of thousands in just a short time.

Seeing this, Yuan Xiong, who was standing by watching the stream, clenched his fist. “I knew it—this is the right path.”

Aside from the He Zhixing connection, a few autographed photos from celebrities, some signed posters—such gifts meant little to Yunhai Media’s resources.

But the long-term benefits Wang Mo was accruing were immeasurable.

In the time that followed, several more viewers managed to get through.

Someone asked for concert tickets to a certain star’s show.

Someone wanted to take their parents on a trip.

Someone asked Xilou to call him “husband” in Wang Mo’s voice—never mind that the caller was a man.

Except for a few inappropriate requests, Wang Mo granted almost every wish.

By around ten o’clock, Wang Mo connected with another viewer.

This user’s name was “There Is No Color in This World.”

After the connection went through, the other party didn’t appear on camera; the stream showed only darkness.

Wang Mo thought nothing of it—there are all kinds of people online, and some simply don’t like to show their faces.

He asked as usual, “Friend, do you have a wish?”

“There Is No Color in This World” replied, “Any wish at all?”

The voice sounded hollow.

Wang Mo still paid it no mind and smiled, “Go ahead, tell me your wish. As long as it’s reasonable, and I can help within my abilities, I’ll do my best for you.”

“Then let me ask: Can you bring color back to my world?”

Hmm?

What kind of question was that?

A thousand thoughts flashed through Wang Mo’s mind.

Was the person completely colorblind?

Or blind altogether?

Or something else?

He hurriedly asked, “Are you suffering from an illness that needs treatment?”

“There Is No Color in This World” replied, “It can’t be cured. If it could, I wouldn’t be making a wish.”

Wang Mo was at a loss.

If it can’t be cured, then why say anything at all?

He could only respond, “I’m sorry, friend. I can only help with ordinary wishes. If you’re feeling unwell or troubled, I’d recommend seeking help from a professional as soon as possible. Of course, if you have an ordinary request—say, a celebrity greeting, a photo, a signed poster—I’ll do whatever I can.”

“No need.”

The voice from “There Is No Color in This World” grew even more hollow. “Just as I thought—I was hoping for too much. No matter how hard I try, this world will never have color again. What’s the point of staying here?”

Then, faintly, Wang Mo heard footsteps.

His heart inexplicably skipped a beat. “Friend? Are you still there?”

No matter how he called out, there was no reply.

The viewers in the stream grew impatient.

“Who the heck is this? What kind of nonsense wish was that?”

“Finally got through, and he asks something so weird. Must be something wrong with him.”

“Just from his voice, you can tell he’s got issues!”

“Host, hang up and move on! Stop wasting time!”

“Yeah, hurry up! Next one!”

“Next!”

“Next!”

Even a few staffers nearby signaled for him to end the call.

But Wang Mo did not hang up. Whether it was his imagination or not, after the barrage of comments, he distinctly heard the user “There Is No Color in This World” make a sound—a cold, indifferent, almost emotionless “heh.”

Wang Mo could hardly believe such a voice belonged to a young person.

In an instant, goosebumps rose all over his skin as he prepared to say something to the camera.

Vaguely, he heard agitation through the phone—muffled voices:

“Where is he? Where did he go?”

“He was just here a moment ago.”

“Hey, why’s this door open?”

Then, a scream: “No! He’s headed for the roof!”