Chapter 1000: Setting Off Fireworks (2)

Every platform has high-quality creators, and also has people who cross all lines for popularity.

But Constable’s antics were so extreme that they created a deeply entrenched, hard-to-reverse stereotype.

Without exaggeration, when Old Ba squatted in the toilet, it not only ensured he’d be mocked by netizens for life, but also completely ruined Constable’s image in their eyes.

Of course, similar things happened on other platforms too—for example, Douyu’s live births, and Bilibili’s early days when you could find anything on the site; honestly, they weren’t any better than Constable.

But whitewashing is a technical skill—look, does anyone still bring up those old scandals these days?

But Constable seems to have plunged headlong down the path of crude content with no return.

Moreover, many of these crude videos violate their original intent: they’ve shifted from documenting life in towns and villages to deliberately acting foolish to grab attention.

This fat guy right here is exactly that kind of person—he doesn’t just do bad content, he copies already-bad content.

But if he posted this on Bilibili, it’d probably still get a lot of views.

Luo Quan herself used to enjoy watching these crude videos, but actually witnessing one in person felt completely different—she just felt intensely awkward.

Fortunately, this brother who looked like Tiger Brother finished his act and quickly left—his conduct was decent enough, at least he didn’t disrupt public order.

Shouting something like that here isn’t really a big deal—it’s entertainment, and you can even make money, though the process might be a bit embarrassing.

This small incident at the square’s corner didn’t affect the overall atmosphere of the fireworks show; as food vendors arrived, the air filled with the scent of gunpowder mingling with the aromas of street snacks.

The smells blended together, carried by the chilly wind into people’s nostrils—pungent yet evoking a sense of lively, everyday warmth.

Yet despite the approaching New Year and the presence of this festive scent, the true New Year flavor was gone forever.

As a child, she looked forward to the New Year all year long, because during that time she could eat delicious food almost every day, occasionally visiting relatives meant feasts, and she got red envelopes.

On New Year’s Eve, the sound of elders playing mahjong, mixed with familiar comedy actors on TV and occasional fireworks exploding outside, was all so noisy—yet it felt comforting and secure.

Because the louder the noise, the more the evil “Nian” would dare not appear, ensuring peace for the coming year.

But as she grew older, relatives who used to secretly slip her red envelopes stopped visiting, the familiar faces on TV were replaced by new ones, and the sound of fireworks and firecrackers outside her window vanished entirely.

Now, “Nian” truly doesn’t come anymore—and it leaves a hollow feeling, as if something essential is missing.

Looking back, so many things have changed over the years.

Of course, Luo Quan didn’t feel the melancholy of “things remain, people change, all is lost, words fail before tears flow”—she merely marveled at how powerful time is, capable of transforming everything so profoundly.

Looking around, Luo Quan suddenly noticed a boy leaning against the roadside, playing a wooden guitar with unrefined craftsmanship.

His equipment was basic: just a microphone and a speaker, no bright stage lights, no fancy phone filters, and passersby didn’t stop for his humble performance.

But his face radiated joy, and he played every song with full sincerity.

Luo Quan listened for a while and realized his technique was quite good—his vocal method was textbook academy-style; he was probably a student from an arts school, taking advantage of the holiday to perform as a street musician.

Seeing this boy remain so passionate despite having no audience, Luo Quan remembered her own first street performance.

She recalled it was at a Shibuya intersection, where she gave her very first public performance.

Even in Tokyo’s most bustling district, very few people stopped to listen—until she sang her breakout song, “Lemon.”

A livestreamer discovered her, gave her her first wave of popularity, and she used that opportunity to reach the peak of her career.

Later, she always wanted to find a chance to thank that livestreamer in person, but he went to Europe for travel photography and was never seen again.

Perhaps moved by the scene, Luo Quan decided to do something just like the livestreamer who had once helped her.

She turned on her phone’s livestream function, and her fans in the chatroom immediately erupted in excitement:

“Hey, weren’t you saying you wouldn’t livestream tonight?”

“Looks like Luo Bao still thinks of me, can’t bear to let me go. 😳”

“Delusional disorder is a severe mental illness characterized primarily by delusions; early treatment increases the chance of recovery.”

“Luo Bao is my wife… hahaha… let me go… I’m not crazy…”

“This is already terminal.”

“So does Luo Bao really miss us?”

………………

The chat was full of Taobao users—Luo Quan was used to it: “Obviously I miss you, otherwise why would I be livestreaming?”

This instantly sparked a wave of cheers in the chat—“wife,” “my lady,” “darling,” all poured out at once.

Luo Quan laughed: “Haha, actually I was just walking around the street and saw a street performer livestreaming—it reminded me of my own past, so I felt like livestreaming too.”

“I’m going to talk to this performer soon—see if I can borrow his gear to sing a couple songs.”

“Why bother talking? Just take off your mask and everything’s solved.”

“That’d probably cause a riot on the spot.”

“By the way, where are you walking around? Looks super lively.”

“I think I heard firecrackers—is it allowed to set them off in the city now?”

“It’s been allowed since this year—fireworks are permitted in the city.”

“That’s pretty good—good news.”

………………

While fans happily discussed the new fireworks regulations, Luo Quan walked up to the boy after he finished a song and began to approach him.

“Hi, livestreamer—you sing really well. Are you a student at an arts school?”

Luo Quan walked up wearing her mask, first complimented him, then asked where he studied.

“I’m a first-year student at Shanghai University of the Arts,” the boy stood up politely and replied.

Hearing he was from Shangyi, Luo Quan and her fans laughed:

“What a coincidence.”

“So he’s Luo Bao’s junior.”

“Running into a classmate while shopping? Impressive.”

………………

“That’s really a coincidence—I’m from Shangyi too. I studied in the Pop Department for a year and graduated over a year ago,” Luo Quan told the boy.

“So you’re my senior!” the boy beamed with surprise. “I’m in Pop too—my name is Fang Xiang!”

“Fang junior, could I borrow your gear to sing a bit? I’ve been listening, and suddenly I’ve got the urge to perform,” Luo Quan pointed to the microphone.

“Of course!”

Fang Xiang immediately stepped aside and took off his shoulder-mounted guitar: “Senior, do you want the guitar too?”

“Yes, perfect—I’ll play and sing myself,” Luo Quan said, placing her phone on Fang Xiang’s phone stand.

Fang Xiang had been livestreaming for over half an hour, but his viewership was only a few thousand, with fewer than ten comments per minute—extremely bleak.

But once his name was mentioned by Luo Quan’s fans, they immediately searched for him on Bilibili and Douyin.

“Haha, livestreaming on Bilibili—but his follower count is so low, under eight thousand.”

“Since he’s Luo Quan’s junior, let’s help him out—followed.”

“I think just following is enough—don’t flood his livestream with comments like ‘Luo Quan’s fan here!’—that’d be too disruptive.”

“True. We must maintain our standards as Luo Bao’s fans.”

………………

Thanks to the advice from rational fans, Fang Xiang’s livestream had just seen a flood of comments and immediately returned to calm.

This was the result of Luo Quan’s constant teaching to her fans: they could joke with her freely, push boundaries, but they must always show respect to others—after all, not everyone has her resilience.

None of this was known to Fang Xiang—he had no idea his livestream had suddenly attracted tens of thousands of viewers, or that his account had gained hundreds of thousands of new followers, a number still climbing.

Right now, he was adjusting the microphone height, since he wasn’t tall—only about 1.6 meters—and Luo Quan needed it raised significantly.

“How are you going to sing with a mask on?”

“But if you take it off, are you sure it’s safe?”

“If you take it off, you’ll be surrounded in no time.”

“But you can’t sing with a mask on—your voice won’t come out.”

…………

Fans chattered—knowing Luo Quan had excellent vocals, but no one thought she could sing well through a mask.

Sure, singers on “The Masked Singer” wear big, thick masks—but those masks don’t affect their singing.

But those masks are made of extremely thin material, like gauze, barely impeding sound transmission.

But masks are different—especially this cotton mask Luo Quan wore; even speaking made her voice muffled, let alone singing.

But then Luo Quan showed her fans an absurd move: she tore the mask along its center seam, revealing her upper and lower lips.

“Holy shit, this thing can open?”

“Then what’s the point of this mask?”

“Luo Quan doesn’t wear masks for medical reasons—she just wants to hide her face that drives everyone crazy.”

“All I can think of right now is: taking off your pants to fart.”

“Seeing this design, I can’t help but think of something inappropriate.”

“Wait, is this a kindergarten bus? Something feels off.”

“You guys always come up with new tricks for me.”

“To be fair, this is Luo Bao’s new trick—but I wonder if adding a nylon snap in the middle of the mask is original. Suggest applying for a patent.”

………………

Luo Quan’s bizarre mask design sparked heated discussion among fans—she knew it was hilarious, but she’d specifically bought it on Taobao.

When going out, to avoid drawing attention and causing traffic jams, mask and sunglasses were her essentials.

But wearing it constantly created a dilemma when eating: she couldn’t eat with the mask on, yet removing it risked exposing her identity.

Wearing a mask prevents eating; removing it risks exposing her identity.

So Luo Quan suddenly had the idea to buy a mask with nylon straps that could be freely opened and closed.

Although its protective effect was nearly zero, it could conceal her face and be unfastened for eating, perfectly meeting her needs.

Since finding this product, Luo Quan has worn only this type of mask.

Previously, she rarely ate outside, so her fans hadn’t noticed; today, because she needed to sing, she unfastened it, prompting fans to exclaim it was brilliant and suggest Chanel design a strengthened version—with patterns or cutouts—sure to lead next year’s trend.

Seeing these humorous comments, Luo Quan couldn’t help but laugh.

But she quickly suppressed her smile, gripped the microphone in one hand and the guitar in the other, and said clearly: “The fireworks will start soon—I’ll sing ‘Da Shang Huahuo’ for you.”

This was her second released song after debut, filled with cherished memories.

Unfortunately, compared to ‘Lemon’ and ‘I Once Thought of Ending It All,’ ‘Da Shang Huahuo’ had the lowest popularity on her debut mini-album.

It wasn’t because it was bad—it was just that the other two were too outstanding.

But Luo Quan felt the melody of ‘Da Shang Huahuo’ was unparalleled, with a faint melancholy that curled delicately, leaving an indelible imprint after just one listen.

Lately, she felt her fans’ imprint had faded, so she planned a nostalgic return, letting everyone relive this song.

Clearing her throat, Luo Quan plucked the guitar strings and began to sing softly:

“That day, I secretly gazed at the shore

Suddenly it surfaced before my eyes

The words etched in scattered grains of sand

Pieced together a blurred silhouette

………………”

Her clear, luminous voice made passersby instinctively turn their heads, wondering who could sing so beautifully.

The once noisy surroundings fell into a magical, brief silence because of Luo Quan’s voice.

The live comments thinned as fans gently closed their eyes, listening to the music Luo Quan offered them.

Just as everyone’s attention was fully drawn to Luo Quan, a glowing sphere shot upward, piercing the night sky and connecting heaven and earth.

At the very moment it reached its peak, Luo Quan’s singing reached its climax:

“With a sudden pop, it burst open

Between those oval beams of light

Even after falling, it lingers at the end of summer

A pulse of longing

…………”

Brilliant, dazzling fireworks exploded across the black night sky, nearly synchronized with the climax of Luo Quan’s song.

Everyone widened their eyes, marveling at this mesmerizing spectacle.