Chapter 54: Chapter Fifty-Four: First Love

P.S. Thank you to the book friend Moonlight’s Gentle Smoke for the book coins!

“Only four days to finish? Never seen an album done this fast.”

“It’s about making money—no need to be so meticulous. Just get it past the inspection.”

“I think ‘Lemon’ is already the pinnacle of Japanese songs in recent years; no matter how you write, you can’t surpass it.”

“It’s probably the pinnacle of Asian pop music in recent years. Too bad—this lifetime will never top it.”

You could have lived off this one song forever, but you rushed to cut the green onions. I’m just waiting to laugh at eight o’clock.

“What if Luo Quan actually writes a good song?”

“If she really writes one, I’ll livestream myself fanning myself with five electric fans!”

“For some reason, I’m oddly looking forward to this livestream—but I know it’s impossible.”

……………………

Weibo was still flooded with skepticism, but it was far better than the earlier boycott—though perhaps it was just the calm before the storm. Everyone waited for her to embarrass herself, then to kick her when she was down.

On Japanese Twitter, however, it was peaceful—fans eagerly anticipated the lead single.

At this moment, Director Ishimura and his entire team stood before computer screens, nervously waiting for real-time data from all music platforms after the song’s release.

Time ticked away second by second; fans frantically refreshed their screens, hoping the song would release early.

The onlookers waiting for a spectacle also occasionally checked Weibo—the announcement that the preview of ‘Firstlove’ was about to drop still hung on the trending list, but few paid attention anymore. Most had gathered under Luo Quan’s Weibo account, her only channel for releasing music in Huaxia.

At the exact moment the digital clock hit 20:00:00, ‘Firstlove’ went live simultaneously on Weibo, Twitter, and all Japanese music platforms.

In that instant, everyone using these apps felt their phones lag—too many users refreshed and flooded in at once, overwhelming the servers.

“Luo Quan’s debut album ‘Coming of Age’ lead single ‘Firstlove’ launches globally!”

Everyone who saw this message clicked curiously. The debates around her had been deafening—push notifications about her appeared everywhere.

No matter whether the song was terrible or brilliant, you had to hear it all before passing judgment.

After clicking in, the video showed the same signature Luo Quan aesthetic: a quiet portrait photo.

This look had been crafted for her originally by Raphael: in the video, Luo Quan wore a black dress, her hair curled into a tight bud, no makeup except a touch of lipstick.

Yet she was still breathtakingly beautiful—the kind of beauty that made even Tdler’s editor, accustomed to the world’s most stunning faces, fall silent, and the kind Hollywood director Claire Ford called “a walking dream.”

Countless fans thought: if she looked like this, even without hearing the song, they’d already be satisfied.

After a brief silence, a soft piano melody began, followed by Luo Quan’s voice—warm as spring sunlight, languid as summer breeze.

That voice carried an inexplicable, magical power—it captured listeners instantly, pulling them helplessly into the song.

‘Firstlove (First Love)’

The final kiss

Carrying a faint scent of tobacco

Bitter and heartrending

At this time tomorrow

Where will you be?

Who will you be thinking of?

You are always gonna be my love

(You will always be my beloved)

Even if one day

You fall in love with someone else

I’ll remember how to love

What you taught me

You are always goheone

(You are forever the one in my heart)

Now I sing only this sad love song

Until I sing a new one again…

The entire video contained only this one verse and chorus—this brief hundred seconds left everyone wanting more.

Too short!

One hundred was normally a perfect number—but now it felt like a cruel tragedy, because the time spent savoring this beauty lasted only these insignificant hundred seconds.

Luo Quan’s elegant, soothing voice painted the image of a girl experiencing first love—her heart full of dependence on her beloved and longing for the future.

This love was fierce and unwavering, carrying the absolute conviction that nothing else existed in her heart but him—love powerful enough to transcend pain, echoing endlessly to the deepest depths of emotion.

This was a love song that could make anyone who had ever felt first love—or anyone who had endured heartbreak—cry. The melody was beautiful and moving, the lyrics sincere and touching, the performance flawless—even the harshest critics could find no fault.

In terms of quality alone, this song belonged to the absolute top tier of Japanese pop music!

“Was it good?” Luo Quan turned and smiled.

“So good! Waaahhh~~~” Wen Xia kept wiping her tears.

It wasn’t that Luo Quan had singing talent capable of making people cry—she simply reminded Wen Xia of the boy who sat behind her in middle school.

That was her first love. Now, looking back, it felt like lemon-flavored candy—sour yet tinged with sweetness.

Juniko was much the same, even weeping more dramatically than Wen Xia.

Everyone has a first love. Though most such romances never last, they are always the most unforgettable, the most hauntingly sweet.

You say it’s insignificant? Yet it hides in the softest corner of your heart—just a breath of spring wind, and it clears the fog, revealing light again. You say it’s important? Yet you still walk lightly forward on the path of growing up, never looking back.

It flickers faintly in the world of teenagers—beautiful, dreamlike, preserved in memory as they were at sixteen or seventeen.

“Director Ishimura—it’s… it’s… exploding!” Miki stared dumbfounded at the skyrocketing data on screen, leaping up and screaming in excitement, waving his arms wildly.

Ten minutes.

‘Firstlove’ preview’s play count across all platforms surpassed ten million!

Pre-orders for ‘Coming of Age’ surpassed three hundred thousand!

Combined likes, comments, and shares of related posts reached a staggering million!

This momentum was even fiercer than when ‘Quan’ was first released!

This was only a preview—and it had been live for just ten minutes!

“We made it!” After four full days of suppressed tension, Director Ishimura finally roared in triumph, raising his arms like a child and laughing heartily.

“Banzai!”

“Banzai!”

Cheers erupted throughout the meeting room—everyone knew they had succeeded.

Meanwhile, on Weibo, a completely different scene unfolded.