Chapter Twenty-Seven: I Love to Set Out

Nian Nujiao ended the livestream just like that, leaving everyone a bit stunned by the abruptness. It was over too quickly; both Da Qiao and Xiao Qiao, who rarely stayed awake and didn’t doze off, didn’t even get a proper goodbye before it ended.

Though Nian Nujiao had gone offline, the chatroom remained, with streams of comments flashing by—most of them new viewers asking questions.

“How did the three hosts get their names? Why do they call him ‘Brother’? And why are the other two called ‘Da Qiao’ and ‘Xiao Qiao’?”

“Because he’s the brother, that’s why.”

“Ugh.”

“That explanation isn’t quite right. It’s because he’s Da Qiao and Xiao Qiao’s brother.”

“Don’t mislead the newcomers. He was mostly called ‘Elder’, or ‘King’, before. Only a few days ago did they start calling him ‘Brother’, thanks to a song called ‘Catching Loaches’.”

“Huh? Is ‘Catching Loaches’ a song? I’ve never heard of it.”

“Go ask the search engine, or check the Great Qin Music Library—support the official version, and you’ll know when you hear it.”

“This streamer is so talented. When’s the next livestream?”

“Brother’s been working on his own creations lately, unlike before when he streamed every day. If you want to know next time, just follow Nian Nujiao’s Weibo. Whenever there’s a stream, there’s always at least a day’s notice there.”

Within just one night, Nian Nujiao’s Weibo followers surged to 150,000—all genuine fans, without any padding.

Don’t be fooled by some celebrities boasting tens of millions of followers; in reality, only a few million are actively engaged at best. In the world of streaming, even the top hosts with millions of fans have mostly inactive accounts—just empty numbers with no real interaction.

With so many social platforms, aside from the company behind QQ who can claim that every citizen in the Great Qiao Empire between ages ten and sixty owns an account, what other company dares make such a boast? Of the hundreds of millions of Weibo accounts, maybe one in ten follows those celebrities. The world is vast, full of famous people and countless souls in hardship—who has the energy to care who’s who?

Meanwhile, Su Tong’s final words before logging off left the manager of KuKu’s business department feeling desolate and regretful—too little, too late. It had been years since he felt this frustrated and stifled; it was like a mouthful of blood stuck in his chest, ready to spill yet held back.

Heaven help him—he’d worked hard to lure a mid-tier streamer to their platform, only to lose track of their true star, without even realizing such a talent existed until they watched him walk away.

From his perspective, Su Tong must have already signed with another platform, only refraining from making it public out of professional courtesy and conscience. After all, it wouldn’t look good to feast at someone else’s table and, just before leaving, openly rob them by taking all the fans along.

The next day.

“I’m sorry.” When Su Tong logged into QQ, he saw a message from the supervisor—just three short words.

He glanced at Tong Xin’s signature: “Resigned. Streamers with account ending in 0, please add Shengguang QQ 215.”

“If only life were as it was at first sight.” Su Tong didn’t say much more—he didn’t know if Tong Xin would ever log into this work account again, but he still replied with this line.

“Lost to a handsome guy again.” Tong Xin sat by the river, staring at her phone.

A manager from KuKu personally called Su Tong, offering him a diamond contract. Su Tong replied that he still had the standard contract in hand, not yet mailed out, and needed time to consider. When asked if he had already signed elsewhere, he clearly denied it, but sincerely thanked KuKu for providing the platform over the past year.

The KuKu manager was disappointed. Any streamer with a modicum of popularity would usually renegotiate contracts a month before the old one expired. At that time, it was Su Tong who had to swallow his pride and ask, yet they wouldn’t even give him a silver contract.

Given any other option, who would choose to stay?

Su Tong didn’t feel he owed anything to KuKu; rather, he felt he owed his fans.

The platform did provide a guaranteed minimum of a few hundred yuan each month, but the tips from fans, from which the platform took its share, always amounted to more than that guaranteed base.

These days, Su Tong planned to spend quality time with Xiaoyu and Xiaoxiao, and use the system’s space to improve his talents across the board.

After taking just one night and a day off from streaming, Su Tong found his power of faith had surpassed the hundred thousand mark—not even counting the twenty thousand already deducted for purchasing “The History of the Three Kingdoms.”

Yet none of this made Su Tong happy. He remained uneasy, sensing that the mysteries hidden in “The History of the Three Kingdoms” were truly unsettling.

Ever since he had absorbed the world’s official Three Kingdoms history, visions of that era kept appearing in his mind, as if he were living through those times. What shocked him most was that he had seen the real Da Qiao and Xiao Qiao of the Three Kingdoms.

When he saw them as children in the historical account, he was utterly stunned.

“No matter what monsters or demons lie ahead, I have an entire world behind me.” Su Tong opened Weibo, reading the lively, teasing comments from his fans, and felt grounded and assured.

After a moment’s thought, Su Tong opted for a long-form post, letting the words flow freely.

“I love setting out.

Every place I’ve arrived at belongs to yesterday. No matter how green the mountains, how beautiful the waters, how gentle the winds. Lingering too long becomes a kind of shackle, binding not only the feet, but the future as well.”

The end of a past life, the beginning of this one—Su Tong cherished his present life deeply. So what if his father was both god and demon? Didn’t he also have two little princesses?

“How could I not love to set out? Never having seen the majesty of mountains is a regret; seeing the mountains but never the vastness of the sea is still a regret; seeing the sea but not the immensity of the desert remains a regret; seeing the desert but not the mystery of the forest, it’s still a regret. The world is filled with endless scenery, and I have an undying spirit.

Of course, I know the mountains have their hardships, the sea has its waves, the desert has its sandstorms, the forest has its wild beasts. Even so, I still love them.”

His previous life had been full of hardship—ten, a hundred times more difficult than now. Heaven had already been generous, and Su Tong was not ungrateful.

“Breaking the calm of life brings a new landscape, one that belongs to the young. How fortunate that I am still not old. And even when I do grow old, so what? Isn’t there a saying that one should grow stronger with age?

So, I want to learn depth from the mountains, courage from the sea, composure from the desert, and agility from the forest. I wish to savor a colorful life.”

Youth is invincible, and the future limitless. With a smile on his lips, Su Tong felt the road ahead was long and full of joy.

“How far can one go? The answer lies not in the feet but in ambition. How high can one climb? Not something to ask of the hands, but of the will.

So, I want to set a lofty goal for myself with the passion of my youth. Not just for honor, but in pursuit of a certain state of being. If the goal is reached, that is glory; if not, the journey itself will enrich and fulfill life. To me, this is what makes life worthwhile.

Yes, I love to set out, and I hope you do too.”

Thus was born the famous essay “I Love Setting Out” by Wang Guozhen.

Not long after this Weibo post, Nian Nujiao’s fans were in an uproar.

“My gosh, no wonder he’s ‘Brother’—such depth, such talent… How can you write so well?”

“Brother has matured—not blind optimism, but a wise and radiant positivity. Enough said, sharing and saving this.”

“Haha, when I first saw Brother, I thought he was talented. Now, I’m sure he’s extraordinarily gifted!”

“No wonder you can write such lyrics. Brother, let me bear your children!”

“Whoa, slow down—Brother’s just turned eighteen, I think.”

And so the comments went on.