Chapter 89: Only My Railgun

(BGM for this chapter: “un”, fripside)

On the 29th in the afternoon, Luo Quan sent the recorded Vlog and song to Cheng Rui’s email as agreed, even a bit early.

Cheng Rui had already finished editing the video; following Luo Quan’s request, he only needed to replace the original anime OP with her song and play it as the new OP—no technical skill required.

Cheng Rui, however, doubted the quality of Luo Quan’s song—after all, with only one day to prepare, if it turned out subpar, it would be a laughingstock.

For safety’s sake, Cheng Rui played the song the moment he received Luo Quan’s email.

Having worked in the ACG industry for so many years, Cheng Rui was no longer as passionate about watching anime or immersed in otaku culture as he had been in his youth.

Now he wanted only to grow Bilibili into a powerful platform, China’s YouTube; the otaku and ACG elements were merely the platform’s original identity, and now, to meet market demands, appropriate changes were necessary.

As the CEO of a listed company, Cheng Rui’s heart was no longer as pure as in his youth; endless work pressure had worn away almost all the passion for anime he once held as a boy.

Yet at this moment, he suddenly felt reborn—all his youthful fantasies, passion, and emotions surged forth with the arrival of this song.

Only then did he realize he hadn’t lost his love for otaku culture—he simply lacked a trigger, a spark capable of igniting his soul in an instant!

Cheng Rui’s eyes grew slightly red. He opened Bilibili’s promotional page for Luo Quan and saw the excitement and anticipation in the comments from young users—he suddenly felt a pang of envy.

“I’d buy osmanthus and carry wine, yet never again like the joys of youth…”

Time passed quickly; by eight p.m., both videos were edited, and countless Bilibili users waited with bated breath.

Here it comes!

The moment the time in the top-right corner of their phones ticked to 8:00, everyone rushed to Luo Quan’s homepage.

Her homepage featured two videos, one long and one short; most users opened the shorter one first.

This video was Luo Quan’s Vlog, recorded on the ginkgo avenue of the University of Tokyo, where she wore a white strapless long dress, smiling like a blooming flower:

“Hello, Bilibili friends! I’m singer Luo Quan, thrilled to join Bilibili as part of this family. I’ll regularly share fun stories from my life studying at the University of Tokyo, and update new works here first—please follow me closely.”

“Also, I’ve specially written a song as a gift for joining Bilibili—for all who love Bilibili!”

In thirty seconds: fifty thousand favorites, over a thousand danmaku!

“Luo Quan is so beautiful—she looks exactly like my ideal girlfriend!”

“The moment I saw her smile, I already thought of my child’s name.”

“Go ahead and have the baby—I’ll take the child’s surname.”

“I want to study at the University of Tokyo too—I’m working hard on Japanese right now!”

“Keep going! See you in Tokyo!”

“Luo Quan truly put in effort—among all these stars, only she prepared a welcome gift.”

“Other stars come to Bilibili just to promote their new dramas—who actually loves our otaku culture?”

“Only Luo Quan! Luo Quan is the best!”

“Came from P2—Luo Quan’s welcome gift made me lose my mind!”

“Everyone, go to P2 right now—this song is the most insane I’ve ever heard!”

Under the strong recommendation of early viewers, those who had just watched P1 quickly opened P2.

P2 was longer—over four minutes. The video opened in total darkness, then a stream of colorful premium danmaku flooded the screen, scrolling rapidly.

“The electricity dancing at your fingertips is my eternal faith—only my Railgun shall endure forever!”

Then came the title and credits:

“Un (Only My Railgun)”

Composer: Luo Quan

Lyricist: Luo Quan

Arranger: Luo Quan

As usual, she handled everything herself—the entire song was her own creation.

Suddenly, the dark screen burst into brilliant light like thunderclap—energetic choral vocals and rhythmic drumbeats slammed into every listener’s ears, and the Railgun OP animation began playing.

The danmaku exploded with excitement:

“Just the intro felt explosive!”

“This intro felt like an electric shock—I was twitching all over!”

“It’s Railgun footage—my favorite anime!”

“Is this a tribute to Railgun?”

“I’m so excited!”

The intro lasted only about ten seconds, then the song hit its first climax—yes, this song started with a climax!

Release the dream etched in my heart

Release the dream etched in my heart

Leaving even the future behind

Even abandon the future

Limits have no meaning whatsoever

Not knowing what limits mean is meaningless

This ability scatters light

Let this power scatter light

Beyond lies a distant longing

Illuminate the distant hope ahead

In just a few lines, the danmaku was utterly ignited—this fast-paced song embodied every hallmark of a Japanese Rexue anime OP: fiery, dynamic, chuunibyou!

“My blood is boiling!”

“I’ve never heard a Japanese song this explosive!”

“So fiery! So fiery!”

“This is the Railgun I’ve always imagined!”

“I declare—from today, this is Bilibili’s official anthem!”

“I couldn’t agree more—after this song, who else could it be?”

“I’d call it the crown jewel of the platform!”

“No wonder she’s called the accompanist of the age—only Luo Quan could write a song like this.”

“Truly a genius—every single song is a masterpiece!”

This song ignited the chuunibyou souls hidden deep within countless youths—no words could describe how moved the Railgun fans were; tears, prostration—still inadequate!

With Bilibili’s deliberate promotion, the song rose to #1 on Bilibili’s trending list within three minutes of release; more and more people watched it, and every viewer without exception rewatched it twice, thrice.

One hundred thousand… two hundred thousand… five hundred thousand…

The video’s views skyrocketed like a rocket; likes, coins, and favorites reached an astonishing 1:2:1 ratio!

Everyone clicked the one-tap triple-link—this had never happened in Bilibili’s entire history!

Soon, “Bilibili’s Official Anthem” trended on Weibo and Zhihu.

Clicking the trending topic, users saw Bilibili’s official account recommending the song:

“Singer Luo Quan has joined Bilibili and specially composed a song for its users—in under half an hour, views surpassed two million, and her personal followers neared 700,000!”

Below the recommendation was a link to the video; many curious users clicked through.

But their reactions afterward were mixed.

“It’s just okay—definitely a god song for kids, though.”

“Am I the only one who thinks it’s too loud? My head hurts…”

“The lyrics are too chuunibyou—how childish must you be to write such lyrics?”

“I think it’s pretty good. Compared to Luo Quan’s earlier works, it’s a bit weaker, but still above average—and by anime OP standards, it’s one of the best in years.”

“People always demand more from others but less from themselves. This song is clearly good, yet it’s being unfairly trashed.”

“Honestly, no matter how much you hate Luo Quan, she won’t see it—she’ll only post songs on Bilibili now, while you’re stuck on Weibo comments, pontificating from afar—pathetic and laughable.”

“Talented people are welcomed wherever they go. It’s laughable that some still think they drove Luo Quan to despair.”

“She hasn’t even applied for Weibo verification—if Weibo invites her back in a few days, these keyboard warriors will probably die of rage.”

“Luo Quan won’t come back—she posted on Twitter, and if she uses Weibo again, she’s a dog.”

“Perfect—those Weibo users have always hated her. Uninstalling is best—we won’t put up with this crap!”

Luo Quan’s long-suffering fans finally found an outlet and flooded the comment section with rebuttals.

The keyboard warriors, having suffered two consecutive defeats, were utterly demoralized—few dared to respond.

Compared to Weibo’s mixed reception, Zhihu leaned heavily toward praise for the song.

The most upvoted reply came from Cheng Rui’s personal Zhihu account:

“I knew Luo Quan’s songs were popular in Japan and on Bilibili, but today I finally understood what a genius singer truly is!”

“Last night, when I contacted her, she thought I was a scammer and said she didn’t need a loan. After I explained my purpose, she immediately agreed to join Bilibili—and even offered to write an official anthem as a welcome gift.”

“I didn’t believe any singer could compose a good song in such a short time—but Luo Quan did. She wrote a fiery anthem that made every Bilibili user cheer. Inviting her to Bilibili was undoubtedly the best decision I’ve made this year.”

Compared to Cheng Rui’s effusive praise, other Zhihu users were far more measured. User “Listen to the Wind Sing,” the same person who previously doubted Luo Quan before switching to fanatical praise, shared his thoughts:

“This song has a brisk rhythm, with clear peaks and explosive moments—it’s an exceptional track within otaku culture.”

“But many think it’s just average—the melody is good, but lacks substance.”

“I’d say not everyone dares to write and sing a song like this themselves.”

“The vocal demands of this song are extremely high—Luo Quan sings the high-pitched climax lines with perfect diction and zero audible breath, a vocal skill that outshines ninety percent of young singers.”

“Many are dazzled by Luo Quan’s unmatched creativity but overlook her terrifyingly stable vocal ability!”