This Song Hits Just Right

The song recording was completed.

The portly manager was an old fox.

Knowing Xu Mo had brought someone along, he quickly offered whatever freebies he could.

If Xu Mo didn’t mind,

the manager would have gladly given even more.

None of them had any idea

that the woman standing before them wearing a mask

was none other than Queen Lin—Goddess Lin herself!!!

Had they known it was her,

they would have absolutely lost their minds with excitement,

then used Queen Lin’s visit to their recording studio as a selling point for business!!!

Competition was fierce.

They weren’t afraid of offending Lin An’an either.

Judging by how she treated Xu Mo,

it was clear she was close friends with their boss.

So, using her name to make a little extra money wasn’t too much to ask, right?

But alas, they didn’t know.

Arriving at the parking lot,

they got into the sports car.

Xu Mo sent the song to Lin An’an.

"Just create a new account and upload the song for me," he said.

"If you find it troublesome, you can have someone else handle it."

It wasn’t that Xu Mo didn’t have his own account.

Aside from not wanting to use his old one to release the song,

he could have created a new one himself—

but that was too much effort.

Of course, he could have delegated the task to someone else,

but if he won later,

Lin An’an might accuse him of buying streams and refuse to admit defeat.

If he was going to win, he had to win decisively—

make Lin An’an lose so thoroughly she couldn’t argue.

"Alright," Lin An’an agreed with a smile.

Then, glancing at the darkening sky outside the window,

she said, "Let’s grab dinner together again."

This time, Xu Mo shook his head and declined. "No, I need to go home for dinner."

There was still someone waiting for him.

Lin An’an froze for a moment, as if suddenly realizing something, then chuckled awkwardly.

"Ah, right, you’ve got someone at home. My bad."

Xu Mo waved it off, unfazed.

With a press of the accelerator,

the sports car roared to life

and sped off toward the French-style hotel from earlier.

On the way,

Lin An’an had already instructed her assistant to create the account and sent the details over.

Let someone else handle the upload?

No way.

Lin An’an didn’t trust anyone else with this.

She wanted to oversee it personally.

The assistant simply followed orders without questioning.

After all, if Lin An’an were releasing a song herself,

there would be a whole promotional process—

hype-building, pre-release buzz, all that.

It maximized exposure

and ensured the song blew up fast.

Perfect, right?!

What, you think it’s all hype?

No, no—Lin An’an had real talent.

Otherwise, she wouldn’t have earned the title of "Queen."

"Then I’ll head back now."

After dropping Lin An’an off at her car,

Xu Mo waved goodbye.

Queen Lin nodded. "Go on, go on."

With a growl,

the sports car vanished into the distance.

Meanwhile, Lin An’an slipped into her own vehicle

and began uploading the song across various music platforms.

All the accounts were ready.

Lin An’an set the artist name as "Anmo"—a play on "An’an" and "Xu Mo."

Xu Mo was a taken man now.

Lin An’an couldn’t be too obvious about things.

But subtle tricks?

Those were fair game.

Soon, the song was live everywhere.

Lin An’an checked the backend stats.

Well… zero listeners.

Not surprising.

In this digital age,

tens of thousands—even hundreds of thousands—of songs were uploaded daily.

Without any promotional push,

even a masterpiece could sink without a trace.

Even someone like Lin An’an,

if she released a song under a new alias,

with zero promotion,

would flop spectacularly.

Nobody would recognize her.

People were already drowning in information overload.

How would they stumble upon Queen Lin’s new alias?

Even if they did,

they’d have no idea who she was.

The song would just get lost in the noise.

"These conditions are too harsh. This isn’t good."

After some thought, Lin An’an decided to lend a small hand.

She called her assistant.

"An’an, what do you need? Mhm, mhm—help a friend buy some promo for a new song? Got it…"

"Wait, not too much? How much exactly, then?"

"Right, right—no more than 1,000 per platform? Understood."

Hanging up,

Lin An’an exhaled.

She turned off the tablet in front of her.

A thousand bucks for promo?

That was peanuts.

Money really could move mountains.

Some songs were absolute garbage—

not even worthy of being called "bubblegum pop."

But with enough cash thrown at them,

they blew up anyway.

Millions—even tens of millions—in promotion.

Look at this big round noodle—what the hell is this?!

An absolute disgrace!!!

It took a special kind of brain damage to write lyrics like that.

Yet, they went viral.

Money really could buy anything.

That said,

1,000 yuan in promo was practically nothing these days.

Content creators regularly dropped tens of thousands

just to boost their videos.

With a measly thousand,

you were basically leaving it up to fate.

Even Lin An’an herself had to spend on promo sometimes.

But she recouped the costs quickly—

thanks to her loyal fanbase.

"Hehe (^▽^) Xu Mo, you’re so losing this."

Lin An’an grinned, thoroughly pleased.

The sweet taste of victory was already on her tongue.

This bet was too good to waste.

She’d have to think carefully about how to cash in.

To ensure absolute success,

fifteen minutes later,

Lin An’an reopened her tablet to check the stats.

Good—still single-digit plays.

This was in the bag.

Satisfied, she closed the app,

tossed the tablet onto the passenger seat,

and drove off.

What Lin An’an didn’t know was that

her assistant had only just placed the promo order—

less than three minutes ago.

These things took time to process.

Meanwhile, somewhere else on the internet,

a small-time livestreamer frying noodles for an audience of a thousand

had just shuffled his playlist and stumbled upon a song.

"Ten years adrift in Guangzhou’s streets,

sometimes I miss the way we used to be.

Time has changed us,

but let this sky tie you to me~~~~~"

The lyrics struck a chord—

raw, relatable, paired with a deep, smoky voice.

Guangzhou Love Story captured the struggles of the working class perfectly.

The noodle vendor, mid-livestream with a forced smile,

paused, spatula in hand.

His body shuddered slightly.

A sudden sting hit his nose.

What… what was this song?

This shit hit hard.

And it wasn’t just him.

The livestream audience froze too,

swept up in the music,

unable to snap out of it.

In any world, the wealth gap existed.

The rich were few; the struggling, countless.

This song spoke to their souls.

It got them.

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