Chapter 5

“!!!” Yu Congyan felt a deep sense of foreboding.

Could it be that this time he would have to face the accident scene directly?

Without hesitation, Yu Congyan dashed to the bedroom, pulling aside the panicked servants who were trying to rush upstairs.

Xia Wansheng had recently been living far too comfortably. The original owner apparently was a somewhat renowned singer, yet there hadn’t been a single public appearance for such a long time.

Xia Wansheng tried to search for his own presence on social media but found that all the entries related to him were flooded with negative comments, with only a handful of loyal fans still fighting on his behalf.

On the “Big Eye” platform, related topics had essentially been overtaken:

“Why did the singer-songwriter persona suddenly drop? Did the ghostwriter raise their price? #XiaWanshengPersonaCollapse”

“Remember when he claimed to be a second-generation rich kid? Turns out all the photos were stolen from the internet, and the so-called villa belongs to Yu Congyan, the richest CEO in A City. Since when did he move into the Yu family’s precious land? #XiaWanshengFizzlingOut”

Xia Wansheng skimmed through many of the original owner’s past daily posts. In interactions with fans, he would pretend to casually flaunt his rich kid image—luxurious dinners, high-end restaurants, and expensive accessories from brands he barely knew.

It seemed the original owner’s attempts to please Yu Congyan were partly motivated by this. To maintain the persona, periodic proof in cold hard cash was necessary. But as the lies prolonged, they only became harder to sustain.

Amid the overwhelming negative reviews, there were a few fan comments sprinkled in:

“There’s no evidence at all; haters, please stop spreading rumors!”

“The innocent will be proven innocent in time.”

“If you care so much about my idol, don’t you have your own?”

Seeing these, Xia Wansheng felt a touch of sympathy.

Since the in-game currency could only be exchanged at a minuscule rate of one ten-thousandth, it was better to use the money to give back to the fans.

Consider it a cash equivalent for their devotion.

Xia Wansheng decided to hold a lottery, giving away his entire savings—five million in real money.

He opened Big Eye, filled in the lottery details, and when the prompt asked, “Are you sure you want to set the lottery amount at 5,000,000?” he carefully counted the zeros before confirming.

With a calm tap, he hit “Publish.”

After setting up the lottery, he continued organizing the scattered drafts piled in the corner, hoping to understand the original owner’s creative journey, perhaps uncovering character details not mentioned in the book.

Before finding the right opportunity, he needed to engage more deeply with the main storyline. Since the original ending involved being dragged underwater, the timing of distributing the five million wasn’t crucial.

After searching for a while, Xia Wansheng couldn’t find a single complete manuscript—most were fragmented notes and fleeting inspirations, hardly coherent.

“Wasn’t the original owner a songwriter? How come there isn’t even a draft?” he wondered.

Meanwhile, netizens who had been bickering under various drama posts suddenly noticed the enormous lottery prize.

The first reaction was naturally, “It must be fake,” but since it was free to share, they might as well enjoy the spectacle.

With a “since I’m here” attitude, the lottery reposts quickly surpassed 100,000.

“Hey folks, I stumbled on this lottery—five million? Is it some kind of joke currency?”

“No way. The organizer’s at least a minor celebrity in the entertainment world. Five million shouldn’t be out of reach.”

Many onlookers stirred up excitement, assuming it was another stunt for attention.

Soon, bloggers began reposting and exposing Xia Wansheng’s previous background and the真假真假 (true and false) personas.

“An ‘artist’ who can’t even play basic chords, a rich kid who never takes tags off clothes—where’s this ‘ordinary person’ act coming from?”

“Always a mess. This lottery’s probably just a rash move—won’t be honored.”

A single stone stirred countless ripples. The controversial figure combined with such a shocking act instantly ignited the previously quiet entertainment industry.

One sharp-tongued blogger commented, “Is this just a fake hype to gain attention, followed by a live stream claiming the account was hacked to garner sympathy?”

“Definitely a publicity stunt. If they really announce the winner a week from now, I’ll eat my keyboard.”

Everyone waited to see how Xia Wansheng would resolve this.

Xia Wansheng was sorting through dusty drafts when his phone chimed with a special alert from “Penguin.”

He recognized the sender’s avatar—it was one of the fans who had just defended him.

Xia Yue was an ordinary office worker whose greatest hobby after work was listening to music. She had been stunned by the original owner’s live broadcast and later, upon learning he was a songwriter, admired his talent, becoming his most devoted fan. She was always trusted to handle fan-related matters.

Her first thought was that his account had been hacked.

“Wanwán, check your Weibo! Did the staff mess up? Why start a lottery, and with such a huge amount?”

Xia Yue didn’t expect a reply; the previous Xia Wansheng was always busy and only begrudgingly replied “Mm” after important updates, which was disheartening. But…

Suddenly, a flood of green text bubbles appeared, followed by a white bubble: “It’s a lottery to thank the fans. Thank you for your support and care.”

The person on the other end must have switched.

Xia Yue was puzzled but was about to confirm when Xia Wansheng sent a photo. Judging by the background, he was in a room; a slender hand held a torn piece of sheet music.

“Do you remember which song this melody is from?”

Xia Yue recognized it immediately: “The chorus of the debut single.”

“And this one?”

“The fifth track of the 2022 Winter album.”

After several exchanges, Xia Wansheng finally pieced together which years these fragments belonged to.

But something felt off: he only found finished works, and the handwriting didn’t match the original owner’s, suggesting possible ghostwriting.

Xia Wansheng pressed further, “I’ve forgotten a lot lately. What about those rumors online…”

Whether about being blacklisted or kept by someone, the guesses seemed plausible. Had he unknowingly been surrounded by obsessed fans?

Xia Yue quickly reassured him, “Don’t worry, Wanwan. Those rumors are false. We’ve warned everyone in the fan group not to believe them. We’ll always stand behind you!”

Xia Wansheng said, “Actually…”

“I’m going to notify the others. Since it’s your idea, we can’t let the money go to waste. We must capitalize on this buzz!”

Feeling like the most sensible person in the whole fan club, Xia Wansheng sent a message to the number saved as “Manager,” signaling that he was still alive.

Seeing the red exclamation mark on the screen, it finally dawned on him why he’d felt so relaxed these past few days.

He sighed and returned to organizing the original owner’s manuscripts. At first glance, they appeared impressive, but to an expert, they were too crude, as if hastily produced just to build a persona.

He pulled out the latest piece from the bottom, grabbed the guitar decorating the bedroom corner, tuned it, and plucked a string.

“Snap.”

The sound of a long-unused string breaking.

At that moment, Yu Congyan pushed open the bedroom door.

Xia Wansheng sat dazed on the windowsill, a shallow cut on his cheek from the broken string. A breeze stirred the white curtains. The young man’s slender back leaned against the white wall, scattered black and white sheet music littered the floor.

Yu Congyan was momentarily speechless.

“What’s wrong?” Xia Wansheng seemed oblivious to the pain, only reacting when his fingertips touched the wound, a sharp hiss escaping. “Sorry, the string was too loose. I didn’t control the strength.”

Could that string be rare? He had just put five million into the lottery; it couldn’t be something he could afford to lose.

Feeling regretful, Xia Wansheng’s restless right hand was already reaching to open the window.

If it was unaffordable, then that would justify...

“This is yours. No need to apologize,” Yu Congyan said stiffly. Seeing Xia Wansheng’s awkward movements irritated him. Noticing the medicine kit left open yesterday further riled him: “Don’t move. I’ll dress your wound.”

Echoing in his mind was Shen Xinghe’s advice: “If you really don’t like him, just part ways peacefully. Don’t let it end in tragedy.”

Xia Wansheng was clearly a danger now—one wrong move could cause an accident. Yet the young man seemed used to it, making Yu Congyan feel he was overreacting.

He couldn’t figure it out.

Yu Congyan dipped a cotton swab in iodine. The slight sting made Xia Wansheng instinctively recoil.

“Don’t move.” Yu Congyan used his free left hand to grip Xia Wansheng’s neck.

The closeness was overwhelmingly intimate; their eyes almost met, palms warm with each other’s heat, heartbeats quickening in the quiet.

When the dressing was finally done, both sighed in relief.

Suddenly, Xia Wansheng remembered and picked up some scattered drafts. “Did I use to write songs?”

Yu Congyan hesitated, then replied calmly, “You should have.”

If pounding away all day was considered “writing,” then yes.

“Then am I interested in art history? There are many rare books in the bedroom,” Xia Wansheng gestured toward the nearly wall-length bookshelf.

This time Yu Congyan hesitated noticeably, replying only after cleaning up the first aid kit, “Perhaps.”

Was Xia Wansheng planning to return to the entertainment industry? He had previously burned bridges with many business tycoons, claiming he could make it on his own. Was this his way of finally getting smart?

“Hmm…” Xia Wansheng didn’t think much of it; after all, a busy CEO wouldn’t concern himself with such trivial matters.

Yu Congyan sat in his study chair, increasingly uneasy, and messaged his assistant: “Any recent moves from Xia Wansheng?”

No sooner had he sent the message than a flood of replies came in: “Boss Yu, Xia just posted a lottery on Big Eye with a five million prize. It’s gone viral.”

The assistant had assumed Yu Congyan was behind this, but his boss’s message clearly distanced himself, prompting the assistant to await further instructions and prepare for an emergency meeting.

A lottery?

Yu Congyan’s social media was usually handled by his assistant. Rarely checking himself, he found the post already pinned to the homepage.

He skimmed the content: a fan appreciation event with a generous prize, nothing extraordinary otherwise.

The assistant waited for further orders, then asked, “Boss Yu, should we take down the trending topic?”

“No need,” Yu Congyan replied calmly.

He was curious to see what Xia Wansheng intended to do next.