Chapter Forty-Five: The Emperor of a Million

“My new song is, once again, an inspirational piece,” Su Tong explained. “Because I’m still young and don’t really understand love yet, I don’t think I’ll be writing any love songs for quite some time.”

“This new song, in my eyes, carries a strong sense of social, communal, and humanistic spirit. Like ‘I Believe,’ it’s an inspirational song, but while ‘I Believe’ focuses on youthful motivation, this one has a broader scope. I believe it will be even more widely spread in the future. Haha, it’s honest and suitable for all ages, from children to the elderly.”

“I hope this song can motivate those who face setbacks in their careers and lives, giving them the strength to rise and fight after disappointment.” As Su Tong spoke, he started the backing track.

The music wasn’t as passionate or wild as ‘I Believe,’ but its simple and touching melody slowly captivated everyone.

“The bitter sand
The sting on my face
Like a father’s rebuke
A mother’s tears
Forever unforgettable
When I was young
I liked being alone by the sea
Rolling up my pants, barefoot on the sand
Always imagining another world at the end of the ocean
…”

It was “Sailor” by Zheng Zhihua!

There was no dramatic expression or soaring shouts—just a plain narrative, telling the story of the protagonist’s growth and the feelings in his heart.

As the protagonist matured, his childhood innocence gradually changed and merged into society.

The song carried self-deprecation, complaints about society, but throughout, the central theme remained: “He said, what’s a little pain in the wind and rain? Wipe away your tears, don’t be afraid, at least we still have our dreams.”

This story was truly thought-provoking.

After the song ended, the audience didn’t erupt in cheers or shouts; instead, a heavy silence fell.

The lyrics alone were enough to live up to Su Tong’s earlier praise.

He hadn’t boasted or exaggerated.

“Sailor” didn’t have the hot-blooded energy of “I Believe,” but beneath its calm surface surged an undercurrent, quietly igniting people’s passion.

A long time passed.

“A classic song about growing up and motivation.”
“It expresses the dreams and ambitions of youth.”
“It really touched my heart. Although it didn’t have the immediate shock and explosive power of ‘I Believe,’ it still gave me the confidence and courage to move forward.”
The audience was full of emotion.

Meanwhile, thanks to CoolCool’s accumulated hype and the promotion of the showcase, the number of viewers in Nian Nujiao’s room had already surpassed one million.

All these viewers had the potential to become Nian Nujiao’s fans—drawn in by his voice, his stories, his new song, his singing skills, his charm…

In short, becoming a top star was only a matter of time for him.

Because by now, he already had the foundation to become one.

He was the undisputed leader in the showcase industry, with a massive user base. The threshold for being called a “true superstar” was a million fans.

On the platform, there were only about ten streamers with such a stable, godlike status.

Nian Nujiao reached this position on his very first live stream, giving the higher-ups a sense of relief—signing him to a diamond-level contract hadn’t been a mistake.

Not to mention the number of viewers, the actual tips alone exceeded half a million Daqin coins.

Though some of these tips came from company-operated accounts—so-called “plants”—even they only contributed about fifty thousand Daqin coins.

There was never any shortage of ordinary fans, nor of wealthy patrons.

Some rich fans, regardless of personal preference, would tip whenever they saw a star—just to get their name on the leaderboard, to let more people know they existed.

As a result, every top streamer had their own admirers among the fans, which made them feel very satisfied.

At this moment, the heads of various showcase platforms, seeing Nian Nujiao’s soaring popularity, were full of regret for failing to recruit him.

The most frustrated was CoolCool, because due to a single manager’s personal bias, they had overlooked this talent until the very last day of his contract, when higher management finally noticed.

“What a disaster,” muttered the manager of CoolCool’s business department, nearly spitting blood. But the responsible manager had already resigned, so there was no one left to vent his anger on.

Tang Shan was also secretly annoyed. Why did Nian Nujiao choose as he did? Was there some unspoken rule at play?

Su Tong ended his live stream, having broadcasted continuously for more than three hours.

Before he could even shut off his computer, his phone rang.

It was Zhang Xin.

“Tong Tong, how did it feel to be live today?” Zhang Xin asked with a smile, her voice mature and full of feminine charm.

Su Tong, as carefree as ever, laughed, “The interface is a bit different, but otherwise, it’s the same as always—just live streaming. It doesn’t even feel like I changed jobs. But the audience was really huge; I couldn’t even keep up with all the messages, there were just too many.”

“Of course there were a lot of viewers. This is the leading platform in the industry; registered users have already soared to four hundred million.” Zhang Xin was very pleased with Su Tong’s performance tonight, as well as the numbers, but she reminded him, “Remember to turn off your camera after you finish streaming. Did you see the big news last night?”

Su Tong was puzzled, “What news? I took Xiaoyu and Xiaoxiao to the children’s amusement park today, so I wasn’t online at all.”

Zhang Xin nodded to herself. She’d spent time with Su Tong and his two younger sisters, Xiaoyu and Xiaoxiao, who were both sweet and lovable. But what moved her most was how indulgent and protective Su Tong was as an elder brother—always on edge, afraid the girls would get hurt, caring for them in every detail.

“Last night, a female streamer—whether for hype or not, I don’t know—got intimate with her boyfriend on live stream. Everything was seen by the audience, and now that video is everywhere,” Zhang Xin warned.

Su Tong was shocked. Was that even possible?

He quickly checked his computer—everything was already closed, and the camera was definitely off.

“I don’t even have a girlfriend, so it’s fine,” Su Tong replied carelessly.

Zhang Xin was at a loss for words. Not having a girlfriend didn’t mean he couldn’t do anything inappropriate, but she couldn’t say that, so she just told him to be careful.

They chatted for a few minutes before hanging up. Su Tong had barely put the phone down when another call came in.

“Hello? Are you in a rush to reincarnate or something? You kept calling non-stop while I was on the phone just now,” Su Tong answered, annoyed.

The caller was Li Wen. She’d already called while he was talking to Zhang Xin, and, seeing him not pick up, kept dialing furiously.

“Su Tong, who were you just talking to—was it a man or a woman?” Li Wen interrogated.

“What’s it to you?” Su Tong was about to hang up.

Li Wen immediately got angry. “Su Tong, you jerk! Answer me! I even tipped you ten thousand yuan before. After taking my money, you’re really shameless!”

Su Tong considered himself to have a good temper, with sound values and outlook on life. But facing a girl like this, he really couldn’t keep it up. “Alright, I’ll pay you back tomorrow. Don’t say anything else, I’m going to sleep. Goodbye.”

Without waiting for her to reply, he hung up.

Just as he put his phone down, it rang again.

Su Tong was furious and was about to hang up, but seeing that it wasn’t Li Wen’s number, he answered.

“Haha, Tong Tong, thanks for your support tonight! I’ll treat you to a meal tomorrow…” It was Gao Litong calling. Su Tong genuinely enjoyed talking to her—compared to Li Wen, Gao Litong was like an angel, full of virtues.