Chapter 37: The Last Rain of Spring (New Book Seeks Monthly Votes)

Relationships between people require constant nurturing.

Jiang Qi posted a status on her social media, inviting her friends to check out her latest short video on DouShow the next day. Since everyone saw it, they would, of course, go. They’d leave a comment—a simple proof that they had visited—not necessarily watch the whole video.

But not everyone is like Chen Xueling. The first thing she did upon opening Jiang Qi’s DouShow was to pause the playback.

Some friends were preparing for variety shows, others were on set; just finding a moment to comment was already a gesture of goodwill.

Yet, as they typed their remarks, Jiang Qi’s scratchy voice echoed beyond the clouds, haunting like a spell, compelling everyone to listen in spite of themselves.

The heart-wrenching lyrics and melody, combined with Jiang Qi’s empathetic singing, brought tears to the eyes of many artists, forcing them to redo their makeup.

A veteran singer sighed in relief, “Jiang Qi’s new song is excellent. The emotions are spot on—it surpasses her performance on the night she won the championship.”

A seasoned music critic commented, “The lyrics pierce straight into the heart—I’ve already cried. This Gabe is incredible. After the sensation that was ‘Melancholy’ from the north and south banks of the fiery river, now comes another sure-fire hit, ‘Foam’.”

A gold-certified composer marveled, “Jiang Qi’s singing is flawless, but I’m even more curious about Gabe—he’s worthy of a gold medal.”

A rising young singer, envious and jealous, lamented, “Where’s my gold medal lyricist-composer?”

At first, the feedback was unanimously glowing.

They were all a bit puzzled as to why the song launched straight into the climax.

But soon enough—

Everyone was in tears.

This was too much.

A veteran singer, lost in the moment, almost couldn’t recover, and spent the night feverishly searching for Jiang Qi's number, determined to hear the full version.

The seasoned critic withdrew his prepared review, quietly switched to a burner account, ready to vent his frustration.

The gold-certified composer felt aggrieved; as a fellow composer, he knew how high the level of ‘Foam’ was.

Just as he was studying and marveling, the video ended, the song faded.

He vowed he’d never write a song for Jiang Qi again—unless she sent him the full version immediately.

The young singers grew even more envious; so this is what it’s like to have a gold medal lyricist-composer at your back.

They demanded the same for themselves.

Jiang Qi’s friends in the industry couldn’t stand it; this was just cruel.

Thirty minutes after Jiang Qi updated her DouShow, her chat exploded.

[Host Taotao]: “Jiang Qi, you’ve accompanied my tears.”

[Singer Wang Lei]: “My family recently sent some local specialties. Are you home? I’ll drop some off. Doesn’t matter if it’s late—I just know you must really want to eat them.”

[Actor Shuai Leilei]: “Let me tell you, Jiang Qi, you’ve broken my heart. I trusted you, watched your DouShow the moment you posted, and this is how you treat me.”

[Singer Chang Xingxing]: “The boat of friendship capsizes in an instant.”

[Singer Sister Ying]: “Little Qi, do you remember how I helped you during the competition? How can you bear to see me listening to the halved version of ‘Foam’? I certainly can’t.”

[Actor Zhang Yang]: “Jiang Qi, listen to your uncle’s advice. Short videos are treacherous waters—you can’t handle it. Just upload the full version of ‘Foam’ to the platform, and I’ll promote it for you, free of charge.”

Her phone rang non-stop, so much that Jiang Qi didn’t dare approach her cracked device.

It was terrifying.

“Was He Luoluo treated like this too?” Jiang Qi wondered, then realized, “No one knows his true identity—what a mistake.”

He Luoluo was deeply hidden. ‘Melancholy’ had already taken China by storm, but he never revealed himself in public.

Not only that, he didn’t use Weibo at all—only a DouShow account, drifting through storms.

This left He Luoluo’s fans with no opportunity to send him trending hate; since he didn’t use Weibo, trending topics were useless, only ensnaring more innocent bystanders.

He Luoluo’s fans were organized and disciplined, all venting exclusively on DouShow, visiting daily, never repeating themselves.

Now, Jiang Qi was experiencing the same treatment—even worse than He Luoluo, since she already had a fan base, and with the grand promotion from Shengshi, her starting point was much higher.

In a small apartment complex in Spring City—

A down-and-out man trudged through sparse drizzle, entering a decrepit residential building.

Returning home, beneath the dim yellow light, his face was weary and lost, clutching an empty can of beer.

His faded white shirt was soaked with rain, his tousled black hair limp, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, lips trembling.

He wanted to cry, but didn’t dare.

He picked up his phone and tapped the pinned chat of a friend—a completely unfamiliar avatar.

Inside, the light was dim and amber; outside, the rain intensified, drops beating against the leaves, splashing endless scattered droplets.

After a long silence,

The man tapped out a message to the unfamiliar avatar: “Are you home yet?”

No sooner had he sent it,

A reply appeared in the chat: “Moju has enabled friend verification. You are not yet her chat friend.”

The deep red exclamation mark utterly crushed him.

With a sharp clang, the crushed can flew to the distant corner, leaving a dent in the peeling wall.

“Why? Just because I have no money, five years of feelings vanish in an instant?” he howled into the rainy night, his voice hoarse and desperate.

Then fell into even deeper silence.

Outside, raindrops as big as beans beat against the clean glass, tracing streaks like tears.

Thunder and lightning intertwined, heralding the arrival of the rain-soaked night.

Heavy spring rain had come to Spring City.

Liu Quan lay motionless on the old sofa, as if lifeless.

He had thought he and his girlfriend would journey from school uniforms to wedding gowns, but after three years since graduation, their five-year marathon of love ended on this rainy night.

Abrupt, yet inevitable.

His girlfriend heeded her parents’ advice, accepted an arranged blind date—the other party a bank executive, with a car and house, from a comfortable family.

Liu Quan was merely an insignificant employee at a small company, without a car, a house, or savings, his family from out of town.

He had always believed love could conquer all, but reality taught him otherwise: love is fireworks, beautiful for but a fleeting moment.

At that moment, his phone screen lit up.

Liu Quan instinctively grabbed his phone, unlocked it, only to find it wasn’t his girlfriend replying—it was an update from Jiang Qi, a female singer he admired, on DouShow.

He recalled Jiang Qi had mentioned on Weibo yesterday that she’d update DouShow at six this afternoon, promising a surprise gift.

But now, with his girlfriend gone, who cared about surprise gifts? How could he still be a fan?

Yet, compelled by some inexplicable force, he tapped the notification.

His phone, five years old and sluggish, paused for seven or eight seconds before loading Jiang Qi’s newly released DouShow short video.

In the dim light, Jiang Qi’s voice, accompanied by the melody, filled the entire room. The old phone’s sound quality was poor, but Liu Quan was already used to it.

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