Entertainment to the death, make a tokusatsu film that will crush the entire internet.

On the last day of the comic convention, at six in the morning, breakfast stalls around the convention center were already set up.

Anyone who has run a business around large events knows that the crowds on the closing day are not necessarily smaller than those on the opening day, and the emotions are the most special.

Visitors on the opening day are excited and expectant, while those on the closing day cherish the experience and feel reluctant to leave.

They will arrive earlier and stay longer than in the previous days, while the stall owners need to arrive even earlier than the children.

Su Xiaoran stood in the command room of Hall 1 of the convention center. In front of her, the monitoring screen wall was lit up with thirty-six sub-screens, each of which was refreshing the images of different areas in real time.

She has been standing here for four whole days.

"Sister Su, the main stage LED screen group completed its self-check this morning, and all modules are normal, but we still haven't opened the file you sent last night."

The file format indicates it is pending unlocking and requires a password.

"Wait for Director Yang's notification."

Su Xiaoran replied into the walkie-talkie, explaining that she was merely forwarding documents and that it was all Director Yang's arrangement.

"Director Yang, is there anything special that needs to be prepared today?"

Su Xiaoran sent a message.

The reply came very quickly.

It was so fast it felt like the other person was holding their phone, waiting for her message.

"Yes, get ready to enjoy today."

Su Xiaoran stared at the line of text for five seconds.

Anyone who doesn't know Yang Qian would think the boss is slacking off when they see this sentence.

How can employees enjoy their day on the closing day?

Is this human language?

But Su Xiaoran has known Yang Qian for quite some time.

She read another layer of meaning into this seemingly nonsensical statement.

Everything has been arranged, so don't worry.

She turned off her phone screen, turned the walkie-talkie volume up to the maximum, and pushed open the door to enter the already noisy venue.

The comic convention proceeded smoothly from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. on its closing day.

The guest interaction segment on the main stage was extended by twenty minutes due to the audience's enthusiasm, but Su Xiaoran's team had reserved extra time in advance, ensuring a seamless transition to subsequent activities.

The waiting time in the game experience area hit a five-day low.

Because the Land of Light added sixty backup experience seats on the closing day.

The volunteers also used a distributed queuing system to guide the queues, dispersing the waiting crowd that was originally concentrated in one area to multiple corners of the venue.

The queuing app on each person's phone will push the estimated waiting time in real time.

A middle-aged man who had been eagerly anticipating trying out the game since day one but hadn't been able to get in line finally sat down in the experience area on the afternoon of the closing ceremony.

In that instant, it was as if he wasn't someone's husband, someone's child, or someone's father, but simply someone who loved games.

After the game ended, he took off his headphones and said something to the staff member next to him.

"It was worth it; these four days of waiting were worthwhile."

The surrounding sales area started its clearance sale at 4 p.m.

This isn't the kind of fake clearance sale where they pile up slow-moving stock to appease customers; it's a genuine sale with discounts on everything.

When Su Xiaoran was doing inventory planning, she included the discount plan for that day in the overall operating costs.

Her logic is very simple.

Instead of letting the remaining merchandise gather dust in the warehouse, it's better to let it get into the hands of people who truly appreciate it at a lower price.

As a result, the clearance area was packed with people in a very short time.

Everything was perfect, almost too perfect to be real.

It was 5 p.m., one hour before the officially announced closing time.

As is customary at other anime conventions, this time slot should be for the host to come on stage to read a thank-you speech, for guests to take photos together, for the big screen to play a highlight reel, and then for all the lights to come on and staff to stand at the various exits holding signs that say "Please leave in an orderly manner".

Visitors will leave satisfied or reluctant, and the venue will be dismantled into an empty space within a few hours. All the excitement and cheers will be packed into containers and shipped away, waiting for the next comic convention.

Many people thought the Land of Light would be like that too.

After all, that's how it is at other companies.

But that is the Land of Light.

At 5:30 p.m., the LED screens on the main stage suddenly went dark at the same time.

There was no preview, no host introducing the segment, and no countdown animation on the big screen.

In the same split second, all the screens went from playing highlight reels to pure black.

The noise from the tourists gradually subsided into silence.

Anyone who's been to the Land of Light Comic Con knows that if the screen suddenly goes black, it means something big is about to happen.

A voice that was all too familiar came from the sound system.

"Hello, everyone, good afternoon. Um, this is A-Guang."

The entire audience screamed.

The name itself has a distorted sound effect.

Sounds surged toward the stage from all directions.

Many people instinctively took out their phones and turned on the recording mode.

The name A-Guang has been mentioned, speculated about, and searched for countless times at the comic convention over the past few days.

Someone posted a nine-grid photo on Xiaohongshu.

"Today I ran into a guy wearing a baseball cap in Hall B who looked a lot like A-Guang, but I didn't dare to recognize him."

Someone took a blurry photo of a figure from behind at the fan art booth, and the comment section was flooded with nearly a hundred replies asking "Is that Hikaru?"

And now, he has spoken for himself.

"I know some of you are looking for me."

Yang Qian's voice contained a barely perceptible hint of amusement, "No need to look anymore, I'm not pretending today."

A burst of laughter followed.

"Today is the last day of the comic convention. I had prepared a thank-you speech, which took me a few minutes to write."

He paused for a moment, then switched to a very relaxed tone.

"I found that I couldn't write, not because I had nothing to say, but because I had too much to say, and no matter how I wrote it, it felt wrong."

"Asking everyone to buy more merchandise seems too commercial, asking everyone to continue supporting the Land of Light seems too bureaucratic, and asking everyone to go back to work or school—I can't even do that myself."

The audience laughed again, even louder than before.

"So I cut out those few minutes of thank-you remarks."

Yang Qian paused for a moment and cleared his throat slightly.

"I'll tell you something very small."

"When I was five or six years old, I planted a bean in the yard. I forgot what kind of bean it was, maybe a soybean or a mung bean."

"After planting, dig it up three times a day to check if it has sprouted. If it hasn't sprouted..."

"After digging for a few days, my mom told me that if I kept digging, it really wouldn't sprout. I've forgotten whether the beans sprouted or not, but I always remember squatting on the muddy ground in the yard, putting my nose close to the soil to smell the sprouting smell."

"I remember the smell of that summer very clearly; it was mud, well water, and something else that I can't quite describe myself."

The whole place fell silent.

No one can name that scent, but everyone has that summer in their childhood.

"Later, when I grew up, I did a lot of things, including the animations I made for you to watch."

"Every film is like digging in the soil in that yard for me. I don't know if it will sprout, but I just want to dig and squat down to smell the scent."

"And you, every single one of you, everyone who queues up to enter, everyone who watches the live stream on their screens, everyone who stops in front of the fan art booths, everyone who waves in the game demo area."

"You are the sun in that courtyard."

His voice softened here, "So, I don't want to end today with just the words 'thank you for your support.'"

"What I want to tell you is that you yourselves are light."

A few seconds of silence followed, then thunderous applause erupted.

Those standing in the front row could see Su Xiaoran clapping enthusiastically from the side of the stage curtain.

A photographer next to her, carrying a video camera, nudged his glasses with his elbow and found that the lenses were completely fogged up.

Yang Qian's voice did not rise during the most enthusiastic applause.

Instead of raising it, he lowered it.

"So today, we won't have thank-you speeches, tear-jerking videos, or group photos with leaders. The last hour of today belongs to you."

He paused for a moment, as if he were smiling.

"We previously gave each visitor a blank postcard, the kind that costs 50 cents each, printed with a commemorative photo taken when you entered the park."

"Now, please use the last bit of time today to write a letter to your future self or to someone you care about."

"No mandatory check-in, no receipts required."

"After you finish writing, you can put it in the green mailbox at the exit of the exhibition hall, or you can take it home and put it in a book, or fold it into a paper airplane and throw it out of your window, either way is fine."

"If you don't know who to write to, that's okay. The sky is clear today, so consider it as a message to it."