A perfect score on the college entrance exam? The Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng has astonis

When Chen Mo sang "We are both wanderers from the ends of the earth, why should we need to have known each other before?"

His voice went slightly hoarse, and that moment made his toes dig into the floor under the table.

That wasn't a technique; it was authenticity. When he sang those lyrics, he remembered someone, something, or a secret he had never told anyone before.

Su Wanci heard it too.

She heard a slight pause at the line "We are all fellow sufferers in this world".

The pause was very short, but she heard it.

Su Wanci only heard that slight pause, and then her tears fell.

Chen Mo sang the last line.

After the last word was sung, the lingering resonance of the strings trembled in the air.

He kept his head down, his fingers still resting on the strings.

The recording studio was silent for several seconds. The control room was also silent for several seconds.

Then Boss Meng pressed the intercom button, and his voice came through the microphone on the control panel into the recording studio, hoarse and nasal.

"Perfect."

He said two words.

He didn't say anything more because his throat was blocked.

Chen Mo looked up at him through the glass and nodded.

He lowered his head, gently leaned the guitar against the corner of the wall, turned around, opened the door of the recording studio, and walked out.

He walked into the control room and saw Su Wanci standing in front of the glass window, her face covered in tears.

"Why are you crying again?" he asked, looking at her.

"You sang so well." Su Wanci wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"It's alright," Chen Mo said.

Su Wanci raised her hand to hit him, but halfway up, she laughed first.

As she laughed, she suddenly stepped forward and hugged him.

It wasn't the kind of hugging and cuddling; it was the kind where she buried her face in his chest, gripped the hem of his shirt with both hands, and trembled slightly.

Chen Mo paused for a moment, then reached out and placed his hand on the back of her head, gently patting it without applying any force.

Boss Meng looked at them, then quietly turned around, pretending to be adjusting the equipment.

He turned several knobs on the control panel that didn't need any adjustments at all, turning them several times, pretending to be very busy.

After a while, Su Wanci loosened her grip, took a step back, lowered her head, and her ear tips turned red.

"Let's go back and wait for the later stages."

She turned and left as quickly as if she were running away. Chen Mo followed behind her, a barely concealed smile playing on his lips.

It was already evening when we got back to the guesthouse.

Su Wanci sat on a stone bench in the courtyard, hugging her knees, watching the sunset on the horizon.

Chen Mo sat next to her, and the two of them did not speak.

The landlady brought out a plate of sliced ​​watermelon from inside the house, placed it on the stone table, and went back inside. Before leaving, she gave Chen Mo a thumbs up.

"Chen Mo."

"Um."

When you sing "The Ballad of the Pipa," does anyone come to mind?

Chen Mo looked at her. "Who is it?"

Su Wanci bit her lip. "It's... someone who makes you feel like you're 'fellow sufferers in this world'."

Chen Mo remained silent for a long time.

The evening breeze carried the sweet scent of watermelon from the stone table to the two people's faces.

Su Wanci didn't urge him; she just looked at him, waiting for his answer. Chen Mo spoke. "Yes."

Su Wanci's heart skipped a beat. "Who?"

Chen Mo looked at her. "You."

Su Wanci's tears fell again.

This time she didn't wipe it off, she just looked at Chen Mo, at his eyes, at her reflection in his eyes.

She suddenly realized that the best song in the world wasn't "Pipa Xing," but the "you" that Chen Mo said to her in person.

A few days later, the audio version of "Pipa Xing" was released online.

It wasn't released on any music platform first; it was posted on Chen Mo's own Douyin account with only two words in the caption: "It's done."

There was no publicity, no preview, and no paid trending topics, but the video still garnered over 100 million views within an hour.

Someone in the comments section said, "I've listened to it on repeat at least a hundred times."

Some people said, "Finally, the audio version is here. I've watched that video by West Lake countless times."

Some people said, "Chen Mo, can you sing a few more songs? If you sing one more, I'll memorize all your articles."

The topic is trending again.

The entry for "Chen Mo's Pipa Xing (audio recording)" is followed by a purple "爆" (explosive) character.

But this time, the second most searched topic was "Chen Mo gazing at Mount Tai". The third most searched topic was "Chen Mo writing poetry on Mount Tai".

The fourth trending topic was "Chen Mo, how much more do you want to write?"

The fifth trending topic was "High school students jointly petition for Chen Mo to stop updating his novels".

Someone posted a picture on Weibo, which was a screenshot of a high school student's memo, with a list neatly arranged on it.

Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng, Ode to the Goddess of the Luo River, Exhortation to Learning, Jiang Chengzi: A Dream, On the Love of Lotus, The Song of the Pipa, and Looking at Mount Tai.

The list is titled "Chen Mo's List of Texts That Need to Be Memorized So Far".

A line of small print read in the remarks column: "He's only eighteen years old, and he hasn't started school yet."

This Weibo post was forwarded millions of times, and the comments section was filled with "Please stop."

Chen Mo saw the Weibo post, and so did Su Wanci.

Su Wanci handed him her phone and laughed so hard she rolled around on the bed in the guesthouse.

"Chen Mo, look, you're now the public enemy of all high school students online."

Chen Mo glanced at the Weibo post, a slight smile playing on his lips, and then handed the phone back to Su Wanci.

"Not a public enemy. They'll be remembered by them later."

Su Wanci was taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"More than a decade later, when they had a class reunion and talked about which articles they had memorized in high school, they would say, 'Back then, we memorized Chen Mo's 'Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng,' 'Ode to the Goddess of the Luo River,' 'Exhortation to Learning,' 'Jiang Cheng Zi,' 'On the Love of Lotus,' 'The Song of the Pipa,' and 'Looking at Mount Tai.'"

"They will remember these articles, and they will also remember that these articles were written by a person named Chen Mo."

Chen Mo leaned against the headboard, watching the sunset outside the window. "That's enough."

Su Wanci looked at him.

His profile was tinged orange-red by the sunset, his features as sharp as if carved by a knife.

She suddenly realized that this was Chen Mo. He didn't write it to make others hate him; he wrote it to make others remember him.

It's not about remembering him, but about remembering those articles, those poems, those words.

He simply wanted the world to have more good articles, more good poems, and more good lyrics.

He's just a porter, moving these things from another world here and then saying "Okay."

He doesn't care if you curse him, he doesn't care if you beg him to stop, he doesn't care if you cry and scream in the comments section.

All he cares about is whether those articles have come alive in your hearts.

If he survives, his mission is complete.

Su Wanci leaned on his shoulder. "Chen Mo."

"Um."

How much more will you write in the future?

Chen Mo looked at the sunset outside the window and said, "I'm writing this so you don't have to read it on your phone."