Chapter 55: "Fireworks Fade Too Soon"

The post from Zhou Ran Studio instantly stunned many people—Zhou Ran’s move was simply ruthless.

Industry professionals had previously predicted the results of Zhou Ran’s upcoming album. Based on the size of Zhou Ran’s fanbase and data such as the number of streams on his previous songs, experts estimated that initial album sales would fall between seven hundred thousand and one million copies, translating to a starting revenue in the tens of millions. Moreover, the income generated by music is slow and steady, accumulating over time.

In his previous life, there was a lyricist who, by virtue of a single smash hit, earned millions each year. That’s one of the main reasons so many people aspire to create a hit song—write one and you can coast through life, as long as you don’t gamble or take reckless risks. If you avoid those pitfalls, you’re set for life.

Zhou Ran, however, had seven or eight such hit songs, each capable of bringing in a million annually, and he planned to include several of them in his debut album, “Setting Out.” This meant Zhou Ran was committing to donating nearly ten million every year, not just as a one-time gesture, but as an annual commitment.

His actions galvanized his fans. Before this, critics had often accused Zhou Ran of not donating, of not giving back to society. Now, Zhou Ran’s decision was a resounding slap in the face to his detractors, and his fans felt a surge of pride—this is my idol, and I am proud!

In a certain government compound in the capital city, a middle-aged man was lecturing his daughter in the living room.

“You know, you’re always chasing after celebrities, one today, another tomorrow. I’m not saying you can’t be a fan, but can’t you pick someone a bit more positive?”

“These so-called pretty boys you idolize—do you have any idea what they’re really like behind the scenes? You don’t, but I do! The things they get up to, you’d be shocked if I told you!”

The father’s words were stern, but his daughter, sitting quietly in the corner of the sofa, just kept scrolling through her phone. She knew all the arguments he made, but her pride wouldn’t let her admit defeat so easily. She hoped to get through the lecture by feigning distraction—a tactic she had clearly used more than once.

As she scrolled, though, a certain piece of news caught her eye and she stopped, her fingers frozen mid-scroll.

“Dad, look—this is the idol I like. Starting this year, he’s donating ten million every year. What do you say? Isn’t he a positive role model?” She showed her father the post about Zhou Ran’s donations.

“Uh... Zhou Ran, you say?” The man was visibly taken aback. He remembered hearing Zhou Ran’s name in a meeting with Xi Hanwei from Huayu Entertainment, but he’d never paid much attention and had long since forgotten. Now, hearing his daughter mention Zhou Ran, his curiosity was piqued. If Zhou Ran truly was as his daughter described, then he was someone worthy of admiration—a true model.

Many in the entertainment industry made donations, but their motives were usually transparent—buying themselves a shield, so to speak.

It was now six in the evening, eight hours before Zhou Ran’s new song would be released.

Countless people were already camped out on Weibo, refreshing their feeds, waiting for the second teaser from Zhou Ran Studio.

Among them was Ear King, who had become a devoted fan of Zhou Ran ever since hearing him sing “A Thousand Degrees.” Zhou Ran was simply irresistible.

Ear King refreshed Weibo over and over, and finally, the second teaser from Zhou Ran Studio appeared. It was a long post titled “Fleeting Fireworks.”

Legend has it that long ago, a great general was ordered by the emperor to guard the city of Luoyang. The story begins in this ancient city. While stationed there, the general met a local woman. They fell in love at first sight and soon pledged themselves to one another. But just as happiness blossomed, enemy forces invaded, and as the city’s defender, the general was duty-bound to go to war.

On the eve of battle, the general held the woman’s hand, tears in his eyes, and promised, “Wait for me. When I return victorious, I will marry you with all the ceremony you deserve.” And then he left—for months on end, the general was away at war. During this time, his side suffered defeat after defeat, and eventually the enemy launched an all-out attack, crossing the Yellow River. The emperor stubbornly refused his ministers’ counsel and ordered a desperate assault. Unable to withstand the enemy, Luoyang finally fell.

Wounded, the general found himself adrift in a foreign land. He was unafraid of death or capture, but he could not forget the promise he had made to his beloved. For her sake, he clung to life, hoping one day to return and fulfill his vow.

Unbeknownst to him, the woman waited day after day at the city gate where they had parted, sitting quietly on a stone slab beneath an ancient, withered tree. Each time survivors returned from the battlefield, she would ask after the general, only to be met with disappointment. Still, she never gave up hope nor believed the rumors of his death. Decades passed; she waited in vain and finally, heartbroken, took the vows of a nun.

Her story spread far and wide, eventually reaching the exiled general. By then, the Northern Wei dynasty had moved its capital to Luoyang, and the general could not return to be reunited with her. Alone in a foreign land, he wept in silence.

Who knows how many more years passed before the wars finally ended. The now aged general returned at last to the city gate where he and his beloved had once parted. In plain clothes, he stood before the weathered gate, walked to the spot by the ancient tree, and touched the stone where she had waited year after year, imagining her lonely vigil. After much searching, he found the monastery where she had become a nun, but by then, everything had changed—nothing remained but memories, and all ties to the mortal world had long since been severed.