Chapter Forty-Nine: Online Reactions

At the end of the year, Jinling revealed a style entirely different from its summer visage. This ancient capital of six dynasties, where tigers crouch and dragons coil, has witnessed centuries flowing alongside the river; only this "Stone City," weathered by time, continues to display its endless charm and poignant sorrow.

Jinling’s allure is steeped in antiquity, a result of the Republic’s fervent preservation efforts. Wise figures at the top believe cities should not emerge from the same mold; they must possess their own distinct character. Thus, Jinling, the classical capital of six dynasties, naturally became the nation’s flagship “classical city,” receiving ardent support.

Despite its ancient charm, Jinling’s winters are hard to endure. Straddling the Yangtze, the biting wind blowing from the north mixes with the river’s damp chill. In an environment lacking proper heating, Jinling’s winter feels like an ice cellar.

The home stadium of the Yangtze Volleyball Team in Jinling is uniquely designed. Named “The Orient,” its architecture eschews the common domed roof in favor of upturned eaves reminiscent of ancient palaces, harmonizing perfectly with the city’s style and scenery. It stands as one of Jinling’s famed landmarks, drawing Western architectural experts every year.

However, the stadium wasn’t named “The Orient” simply for its stylistic homage. It commemorates General Ren Dongfang, a renowned Republic leader who resolutely defended Jinling during the Sino-Japanese War.

In this world, the Republic came to power earlier than in the history of Earth. Though its early rule faced invasion from Asia’s strongest nation, the Republic united as one, not only expelling the invaders but eventually striking deep into their homeland.

During the war’s onset, the Republic’s military produced many fearless and valiant generals; among them, Ren Dongfang was exemplary. In the Defense of Jinling, Ren Dongfang, commanding the city’s garrison, held the enemy at Yanzi Cliff, delaying their main force under relentless bombardment from artillery, aircraft, and naval guns. He and his men fought to the death, refusing to retreat, earning crucial time for reinforcements to encircle the enemy.

The Defense of Jinling greatly altered the Republic’s fortunes in the early war, laying a solid foundation for the annihilation of the invading forces. Jinling’s million citizens and the ancient capital were preserved, yet Ren Dongfang ultimately succumbed to his wounds; fewer than a thousand of his nearly ten thousand soldiers survived. Yanzi Cliff was devastated by enemy fire. Many martyrs’ bodies were never recovered, their remains carried away by the earth and river.

Today, Yanzi Cliff has become the Republic’s largest martyrs’ cemetery and memorial park. Most old Jinling residents and their descendants still abstain from eating river fish, believing every fish is nourished by the martyrs’ blood and bones.

Across the river from Yanzi Cliff lies the famed Wu Ma Crossing, with its own legend. After the “Eight Princes’ Rebellion” at the end of the Western Jin, five princes of the Sima clan led the people south. It’s said that the Prince of Langya, Sima Rui, rode a steed that transformed into a dragon and soared away, later founding the Eastern Jin dynasty in Jiankang—now Jinling.

Five kilometers south of Wu Ma Crossing is Jinling’s renowned “University District,” home to several prestigious institutions serving students. Jinling University of Technology isn’t the top school here, but certain specialized fields rank among the nation’s best and are celebrated worldwide.

In Dormitory Fifteen of the University of Technology, Li Pengfei, wrapped in his blanket, sat behind his roommate, watching him play. Once again, he was cast aside by his roommate; those with clumsy hands are often scorned, especially when they’re verbally sharp as well.

After another bout of criticism over his roommate’s skills, Li Pengfei was banished—he couldn’t even spectate and had to return to his bed in boredom, scrolling through his phone.

Compared to six months earlier, Li Pengfei’s opinion of Wang Lei had improved somewhat. Though in his eyes Wang Lei was still living off others, at least he no longer cohabited with his goddess Ma Dongmei. That alone was good news.

Once again, he entered his goddess’s QuickCast page and saw she had posted a new message—a song link entitled, “Lei-ge’s new work. Could this be the theme song for the National Games?”

Perhaps curious to hear this “freeloader’s” music, ready with words to ridicule it, Li Pengfei clicked the link.

The singer wasn’t Wang Lei; Li Pengfei had heard Wang Lei sing “Charlotte’s Troubles” before, and this was a different voice, yet it was superb—absolutely a top-tier vocalist.

The passionate song sent goosebumps across Li Pengfei’s picky skin; it was perhaps the most exhilarating song he’d ever heard.

He set aside his phone, opened his computer, logged into the music site, and felt compelled to express his thoughts about such a “different” song.

On the comments page, he saw over ten pages of replies.

“Damn, it’s the Gun God! After all these years, he’s released another song. Truly awesome, gave me chills all over.”

“Rock never dies; the Gun God is the Gun God.”

“The lyrics are so stirring, the melody so energetic—I feel like getting up and running laps.”

“Who is the Gun God? I’m a girl, don’t flame me, sincerely asking.”

“Girl, check your idol’s lead singles’ producer—it’ll definitely be Zhang Old Gun’s name. That’s the Gun God, an ancient legend, number one in the rock world. Also, are you really a girl? Mind leaving your QuickCast ID?”

“Wait, the lyrics and composition aren’t the Gun God’s. Who is Wang Lei? Never heard of him!”

“Insider info: this song was submitted for the Jinghai National Games theme, but was shelved—deemed too vulgar.”

“Vulgar my ass! A bunch of old farts; this is the real theme song worth listening to!”

Li Pengfei had only wanted to express his own excitement, but was surprised to learn the song he enjoyed so much had faced such setbacks, and the singer was a legend.

Now, Li Pengfei grew curious about Wang Lei—what kind of person was he, who could win his goddess’s heart and write songs for legends?

Online, more attention was drawn to the song written by Wang Lei and performed by Zhang Old Gun; many famous singers promoted “Believe in Yourself” on their QuickCast pages. Fans, seeing their idols recommend it, flocked to listen.

Indeed, Zhang Old Gun was influential in the industry, having produced albums for many famous singers—a matter of personal connections.

Feeling wronged, Zhang Old Gun even contacted several friends to help promote his song.