"Beautiful?"
Naturally, it was exceptionally beautiful. But if it were merely beautiful, Song Jianpeng wouldn't have stammered out "Holy shit!" He could have simply said, "It's amazing, damn amazing!"
Moreover, mere beauty couldn't have brought a grown man like him to tears. Beyond the music itself, Song Jianpeng felt an emotional resonance with the song, a deep connection with the singer's heart.
He struggled to describe the feeling:
It was like returning home exhausted after a long day to find his wife serving him a steaming bowl of chicken soup, saying softly, "You must be tired from work."
Though Song Jianpeng didn't actually have a wife.
It was like returning home after years of studying abroad, having achieved academic success. His parents rushed over, embracing him tightly and praising, "You've done something truly remarkable."
Though Song Jianpeng's disastrous grades would never have qualified him for overseas study—he couldn't even manage a coherent "Hello" or "Goodbye."
But none of that mattered. What mattered was that while listening to the song, he had experienced something similar—an indescribable sense of warmth and tenderness that filled his heart.
It's often said that a truly great song allows listeners to feel the singer's emotions. Song Jianpeng used to scoff at this idea, dismissing it entirely. "A song is just a song," he thought. "If it sounds good, it sounds good. If it doesn't, it doesn't. Why overcomplicate things with all this metaphysical nonsense?"
But now, his perspective had completely changed. After listening to this particular song—or rather, this cover version—Song Jianpeng felt his overtime fatigue vanish entirely, replaced by an overwhelming surge of courage and strength.
In that moment, even his greatest fear—a cockroach—could scuttle before him, and he'd have the audacity to charge into battle!
Without hesitation, Song Jianpeng pulled out his phone, opened Kuaishou, and searched for the video he had just approved for upload. Due to network lag, it didn't appear right away, so he relentlessly refreshed the page. After about ten seconds, the video finally popped up.
Without hesitation, he clicked the "Like," "Share," and "Follow" buttons in one motion, subscribed to the streamer, and left a comment:
[Claiming first fan! I'm number one!!! And from now on, I'm Miss Robin's loyal dog!]
Song Jianpeng had always been indifferent to celebrities and virtual streamers. He couldn't understand why anyone would spend tens of thousands of yuan on a ticket to travel across the country just to hear a single song. Nor could he fathom the appeal of virtual streamers. "They just chat and sing while wearing a digital avatar," he'd thought. "What's so special about that?"
But now, he realized he'd been wrong—completely wrong.
After finishing everything, he took a deep breath, abandoned his work, and listened to the song again and again.
"This is truly... truly..." Song Jianpeng quickly opened his contacts. He had a sacred mission now: to evangelize! To spread this indescribable feeling and let others experience it too.
Naturally, his first call was to Brother Du, a close colleague who was also working overtime. When Brother Du answered, his voice was utterly exhausted: "Hello~..."
Song Jianpeng's voice, however, was bursting with energy. "Quick, Brother Du! I just sent you a video. Watch it now—immediately!"
Brother Du retorted irritably, "You called me just for this? What about work? I'll watch it later."
Everyone knows that "later" doesn't mean a few minutes, but hours or even days. There's a good chance your friend will never even watch the video you shared and will completely forget about it.
Then, a few days later, they might stumble upon it themselves, find it hilarious, and even share it back with you.
Song Jianpeng was well aware of this. If it were any other video, he'd let it slide. But this one was different. He blurted out, "Don't wait! Watch it right now! Seriously, you won't regret it!"
Brother Du retorted, "What the hell? Have you even finished your quota for today? I'm working here! Are you crazy?"
Seeing his friend's stubborn resistance, Song Jianpeng unleashed his ultimate weapon. He yelled, "Godfather! Dad! You have to watch this now!!!"
Brother Du fell silent, completely caught off guard by Song Jianpeng's outburst. After a long pause, he finally conceded, "Fine, you win. I'll watch it right now."
A few minutes later, Song Jianpeng spotted a second comment under the video:
[Miss Robin! Aaaaaaah!!! uoooooh! Shah! Shah! Shah!~~~~]
The next morning, a ray of sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating Robin's delicate cheek and causing her long eyelashes to flutter slightly.
"Ugh..." Robin rubbed the corner of her eye, opened her eyes, and gazed vaguely out the window. Then, she turned her head slightly and uttered the classic line: "Ah—an unfamiliar ceiling."
"So, it wasn't a dream after all," she sighed softly, then... rolled over and picked up her phone.
She didn't have anything urgent to do, so why rush to get out of bed the moment she woke up? Naturally, she'd lie in a little longer.
With a hint of curiosity, she opened Kuaishou and accessed her Content Creator dashboard. To her surprise, the only video she'd posted the previous night had already racked up an astonishing 70,000 views, and her account's follower count had skyrocketed to 12,000.
Keep in mind that she was a complete newcomer who had casually uploaded a recording of her a cappella performance late at night. For an unknown artist to achieve such metrics in such a short time with a single video, anyone who saw it would have to exclaim, "This has to be rigged!"
It's no exaggeration to say that nearly everyone who watched Robin's video clicked the follow button, and on average, each person watched it at least seven times.
With such impressive metrics, Kuaishou would undoubtedly promote the video, further boosting its performance.
In reality, every time Robin refreshed her dashboard, the video's data was climbing at a visibly rapid pace. Her private messages had long since exceeded the "99+" limit. After a quick glance, she found most messages were either nonsensical ramblings or impatient demands for updates, utterly devoid of substance.
Pulling her attention from her phone, Robin murmured, "System?"
A semi-transparent interface materialized before her. The original "Songstress (0.00%)" had now changed to "Songstress (0.01%)".
Though the increase was modest, it confirmed that Robin's approach was working. By periodically singing and posting her songs, she was on the right track to achieving her goal!