Chapter 50: He Luoluo’s Biological Younger Sister (Seeking Monthly Votes for the New Book)

Under the bewildered gazes of everyone present, He Xier set down her guitar, her confident smile resurfacing.

"Thank you, everyone. I’ve finished singing," she said nonchalantly.

It was as if, in the midst of a crucial exam while others were still scribbling and racking their brains, she had already stood up and told the proctor, "I’m done."

Completely unburdened.

Deng Qin, the agent with years of experience and exceptional adaptability, quickly strode behind the streaming computer. The soft light played over her ever-changing expression, casting an indescribable feeling.

Deng Qin was on the verge of panic.

She didn’t need to look at the comments to know—fans and netizens were already in an uproar.

Of all things to learn, why follow Jiang Qi’s lead in cutting the performance short... Deng Qin felt like crying.

What kind of artists was she managing?

She shot He Xier frantic looks, signaling her to continue singing.

Right now, the fans were completely hooked by this song. If she kept going, it would undoubtedly draw even more attention.

Such a rare opportunity was not something just anyone could encounter.

It had to be seized.

Deng Qin’s beautiful eyes were blinking so rapidly they almost sparkled like camera flashes, but He Xier showed no reaction at all.

Deng Qin was about to collapse.

This was not the time to cut a performance short.

Regardless of the song’s quality, songs like "Bubbles" and "Dissolving Sorrow" easily resonated emotionally, and releasing a half-finished version could ignite the fanbase, leaving them both frustrated and eagerly anticipating the full version.

But the song He Xier just sang was different.

It was all smoke and chaos, a desolate grave left unvisited in troubled times—who would dare to find emotional resonance in that?

Without emotional connection, it’s hard for listeners to conjure any lasting imagery after hearing it.

Imagery is the best way to store memories.

There are plenty of good songs on the market, but as time passes, those without memorable images are naturally forgotten.

He Xier’s song belonged to this category—astounding and powerful at first listen, memorable in the short term, provoking both complaints and admiration, but after a few days, it would simply fade away.

Cutting it short would not work—she couldn’t pull it off. When the frantic blinking failed, Deng Qin began waving her hands.

Jiang Qi just barely managed to maintain her composure, absentmindedly returning to her seat. According to the stream’s schedule, she should sing another song before ending, but Jiang Qi had no mood for it now; she simply wanted to wrap things up and interrogate her friend about what just happened.

On the surface, He Xier remained calm, but inwardly she was in a panic.

She had seen the barrage of comments, and Deng Qin’s desperate eye signals hadn’t escaped her either.

But... there was nothing she could do.

She didn’t have the rest of the lyrics—Li He hadn’t given them to her... He Xier was on the verge of tears.

She had only wanted to show off a little in front of her best friend, to give Jiang Qi a taste of her own medicine after being shown up so many times herself.

He Xier was certain that if it had been Chen Xueling instead, she would have done the same.

It was like being compared to the perfect child next door, always scoring first in exams, until one day you yourself placed first in Chinese. The first thing you’d do was go flaunt it in front of that other kid.

That childish satisfaction—the urge to say, "I can do it too"—was laughable, but impossible to resist.

He Xier hadn’t expected her little stunt to rile up so many online fans.

Deng Qin, thinking long-term, was worried whether the song would still be remembered by listeners after some time had passed.

But the fans in the livestream didn’t care about any of that. All they knew was—it was another truncated performance.

Damn.

Jiang Qi’s fans were going crazy.

They’d just gotten over the "Bubbles" fiasco, logged in to chat with their idol, and now this happened.

[xiaoqingtian]: "What more can I say? Truly worthy of being Jiang Qi’s best friend."

[Uncle Wang]: "He Xier, listen to your uncle’s advice. Cutting short a song is a deep, dangerous game. You can’t handle it. Just keep singing, we won’t blame you."

[Peashooter]: "Blacklisted for life, blacklisted for life, blacklisted for life—three times for emphasis."

[Kindling]: "If I didn’t have such a good temper, I’d have smashed my computer by now."

[Urbanite]: "He Xier and He Luoluo share the same surname. No way, right? No way..."

[Little Pepper]: "Front row, you’ve spotted a blind spot."

[User51539]: "The more you think about it, the creepier it gets."

[User1234546]: "Damn, I really hadn’t noticed until you said it. Are they siblings?"

[User1345469]: "Definitely. Otherwise, where else would He Xier have learned to cut songs short? Must’ve been taught by that shameless guy."

[User764949]: "He Luoluo is too much—after messing with Jiang Qi, he’s now corrupting his own sister."

[User467646]: "Why couldn’t it have been Jiang Qi who taught her? She knows how too."

[User4673469]: "Are you stupid? The origin of cutting short songs is with that shameless guy. If you can learn from the source, why settle for someone who picked it up later?"

[User464649]: "Makes sense."

Jiang Qi and He Xier looked at each other in front of the computer.

For a moment, there was silence.

Jiang Qi spoke with difficulty, "Is He Luoluo really your brother?"

Was he?

The comments had provided such convincing reasoning it was almost impossible not to suspect it.

"What do you think?" He Xier rolled her eyes. What nonsense was this?

It was one thing for netizens to spout nonsense, but now even her best friend was joining in.

Jiang Qi gave her a suspicious look. Was it really not true?

Doubt lingered.

He Xier grew even more annoyed.

She jutted out her chin in defiance, making it clear that it was absolutely impossible.

Meanwhile.

In a high-end apartment, by the floor-to-ceiling window.

Director Wen Shan, his head full of question marks, held a tablet streaming Jiang Qi’s broadcast. The barrage of comments nearly filled half the screen.

The comments flew by too quickly for him to catch more than a few high-frequency messages.

"Are you kidding me? How’s anyone supposed to sleep with this going on? It’s disgusting."

Wen Shan’s eyebrows lifted.

"If she doesn’t keep singing, she’s blacklisted for life. Absolutely blacklisted."

His brow furrowed.

"What kind of garbage is this? Unless she keeps singing, it’s just a throwaway song."

His frown deepened.

"Shengshi Entertainment is already like this. I wouldn’t dare be a fan of their artists anymore."

Wen Shan’s face darkened.

Though he wasn’t close to Jiang Qi, they were at least in the same company. Seeing her get flamed—especially with Shengshi Entertainment being dragged into it—made him uncomfortable.

He sent Tian Sisi a message: "You invited me just to watch netizens roast Shengshi’s singers?"

Did she have nothing better to do?

In Wen Shan’s impression, Tian Sisi wasn’t that kind of person—she’d never do something so petty.

Tian Sisi was following the drama with fiery eyes when Wen Shan’s message popped up.

One glance at her phone and she immediately realized Wen Shan had tuned in late and missed He Xier’s song.

While watching the barrage of comments, Tian Sisi explained the situation to him.

Once Wen Shan understood the backstory, he became serious. If things were as Tian Sisi said, that would be fantastic.

"Are you serious? Don’t lie to me," Wen Shan double-checked. He’d auditioned too many songs for the film’s ending credits—at this point, he was almost ready to settle for anything.

"Of course I’m serious. Why would I lie to you?" Tian Sisi replied, "The one who sang is He Xier, a signed but yet-to-debut rookie at Shengshi Entertainment. Once the stream ends, just ask Jiang Qi and you’ll see if I’m lying."

Wen Shan grew excited. Since Tian Sisi put it that way, it was almost certainly true.

He hoped the song would suit "Guardian"... but he dared not be too optimistic—high hopes often led to deep disappointment.

He’d been through that emotional rollercoaster too many times.

Soon after.

Eight-thirty arrived.

The livestream ended under the fiery scrutiny of the fans.

With the cameras turned off, before Jiang Qi and He Xier could even stand, agent Deng Qin strode over in her black high heels.

She wore a look of anger as she reproached He Xier, "Didn’t you see my signals?"

"I did," He Xier replied meekly.

"Qin, Xier must’ve been too nervous—it’s her first time performing for an audience," Jiang Qi tried to help, knowing Qin was genuinely upset.

"You hush." Deng Qin wasn’t buying it, snapping, "You’re professionally trained—surely you can tell whether a song is suitable for being cut short. Tell me the real reason. Why didn’t you keep singing?"

"I wanted to," He Xier said, aggrieved. "But I don’t have the rest of the lyrics or the music."

Li He only gave me this much—I’m suffering too!

"What?" Jiang Qi blurted out first.

This was all too familiar.

"What do you mean, you don’t have the rest of the lyrics or music?" Deng Qin pressed, tense.

"Just what I said," He Xier explained. "Li... Teacher Jiabei only gave me a small section—the rest, he said, isn’t finished yet. I didn’t dare push him."

The more she spoke, the more wronged He Xier felt.

She’d been tormented for days, wanting to ask Li He but not daring to. It was agonizing.

Jiang Qi felt as if she’d been struck by lightning, her brain buzzing.

It really was Teacher Jiabei.

Hadn’t he said that after "Bubbles" he wouldn’t write another song... Jiang Qi was heartbroken.

She shot a wary glance at her friend, instantly on alert—a devotee’s guarded jealousy.

Teacher Jiabei, you’ve betrayed me.

Yet another high-quality song from Jiabei… Deng Qin’s mind was reeling as well.

Even the most productive of draft animals couldn’t keep up this pace—and every song was of the highest caliber.

But Deng Qin, seasoned and sharp-eyed, quickly regained her composure. She asked He Xier, "Can you get in touch with Teacher Jiabei?"

"Qin, have I fallen out of favor?" Jiang Qi pouted. "Have you forgotten why we’re here?"

I can contact Teacher Jiabei too.

And besides.

I’ve already arranged to meet with Teacher Jiabei.

He Xier opened her mouth, but said nothing.

After five seconds, she hesitated, "Qin, I can reach Teacher Jiabei. Jiang Qi knows this too—but Teacher Jiabei doesn’t want his identity revealed to the public."

"That’s right, I can vouch for that," Jiang Qi affirmed. "Teacher Jiabei doesn’t want to be disturbed by outsiders—it would affect his creative inspiration."

Able to write such excellent songs, yet still keep a low profile and focus on school—Teacher Jiabei was truly a hidden master.

"I understand," Deng Qin rolled her eyes inwardly, thinking, whose side are you two on? Jiabei isn’t even signed to Shengshi yet.

She explained, "The company is interested in signing Teacher Jiabei. You two should see if you can arrange a meeting."

"You both know how well the company treats you—our terms and conditions are the best in the industry. Make sure to mention that to Teacher Jiabei."

He Xier and Jiang Qi exchanged glances, seeing the same resolve in each other’s eyes.

Teacher Jiabei absolutely could not be signed by another company.

"I’ll do my best," He Xier said, clenching her fists.

"I will too," Jiang Qi echoed.

Deng Qin, relieved, continued, "If—just if—Teacher Jiabei isn’t interested in signing, then ask if he’s willing to sell the song Xier sang. The price is negotiable."

Just then,

Deng Qin’s phone rang.

—

I’ve successfully evolved from over 2,000 words per chapter to over 3,000...

Please vote and support the novel—maybe soon I’ll break through to 4,000 per chapter.