Chapter Seven: The Internet Forgets, But I Remember

Overnight, Lin Ze’s “Those Years” soared to the top of the trending topics on Weibo. Suddenly, music critics everywhere began to voice their opinions.

“With ‘Those Years,’ Lin Ze uses his uniquely youthful voice to capture the innocence of adolescence. The moment I heard this song, I was flooded with memories of that summer after the college entrance exams, filled with the regret of never confessing my feelings.”

“It’s time we reassess this singer, Lin Ze. The song, the lyrics, and the performance—these three elements come together as if by fate, making this track, which so far only exists as a live recording, outshine all other youth-themed songs today.”

Even a few singers shared the song, tagging Lin Ze and hinting at collaboration opportunities. Whether they genuinely wanted to work with him or were simply trying to ride the wave of his current popularity was unclear.

Lin Ze responded warmly to each one, addressing everyone as “teacher,” which left them all quite satisfied.

Graduation season was fast approaching, and the popularity of “Those Years” showed no sign of waning; if anything, it would likely double. Besides “Those Years,” his other songs were also being mentioned. Of Lin Ze’s seven tracks, six were love songs, prompting some accounts to dub him the “Prince of Love Songs.”

Lin Ze scrolled for a while, searching for something specific, but didn’t find it, so he went straight to Jiang Dasheng’s Weibo page. As expected, a lengthy post awaited him.

Lin Ze read it carefully; the gist was that while Lin Ze’s other songs were decent, “Later” in particular sounded very familiar.

Opening the comments section, Lin Ze was surprised to find that the top comments were no longer from Zhang Yang’s fans.

“All talk, no action, huh?”

“How dare you speak about my wife’s fiancé?”

“Get lost—how much did Zhang Yang pay you?”

It seemed last night’s livestream had won him quite a few fans. Lin Ze felt a sense of relief, but he quickly noticed some of his fans in the comments were drifting toward Zhang Yang’s camp. Not wanting that, he immediately posted a message on Weibo:

“No need for this, folks. We’ve already proven what needed proving. Relax and enjoy the music—and… don’t forget to watch the variety show!”

Under this post, Lu Lin shared the official announcement image for “Our Love,” which had just been released.

No sooner had Lin Ze posted than comments began flooding in.

“You’re really doing it? Is the director out of his mind?”

Lin Ze replied beneath the comment, “Enough nonsense, are you watching or not?”

“…I’ll watch!”

The car slowed to a halt. Lin Ze looked up and realized they’d arrived at the company’s underground parking lot.

“Are we here, Sister Wang?”

“Yes. The recording teacher is already expecting you—just head up and start recording.”

Wang Xue grabbed her bag and opened the door.

Lin Ze put away his phone, and the two of them got out of the car together.

“It’s strange,” Wang Xue glanced at him, “when did you write those songs? I had no idea. And your singing has improved so much, all of a sudden.”

Lin Ze thought for a moment, then offered some sage advice: “Maybe it’s because… when you’re with the right person, you bring out the best in each other.”

Wang Xue hesitated, as if she wanted to say more but thought better of it.

They entered the elevator, and just as the doors were about to close, a young woman hurried over and frantically pressed the button, causing the doors to open again.

“Sorry, sorry!” she apologized to Lin Ze and Wang Xue, then called out to someone outside, “Brother Lei, hurry up!”

“What’s the rush?” Wang Lei ambled over, taking a good half-minute. He glanced inside the elevator, and as soon as he recognized Lin Ze, his dismissive look vanished. His face lit up. “Oh! Brother Lin! It’s you—sorry about that, sorry.”

Lin Ze eyed Wang Lei’s ingratiating smile with a cold chuckle inwardly.

He remembered this Wang Lei. Not long ago, Lin Ze and Zhang Yang had been on a show together. During Zhang Yang’s self-introduction, he’d called himself a “sexy little wildcat,” even raising his hands and meowing. Lin Ze, sitting beside him, couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

A fan of Zhang Yang had captured the moment and shared it online. Zhang Yang was a top-tier idol with a massive fanbase. Once the clip went viral, his fans attacked Lin Ze relentlessly—digging up his address, photoshopping his obituary, and even harassing his parents.

Whenever Lin Ze came to the company during that time, not a single colleague dared speak to him for fear of being targeted by Zhang Yang’s fans by association.

Lin Ze didn’t blame them; in such circumstances, even a casual connection could be risky.

But Wang Lei was different. He took the opportunity to post sarcastic comments about Lin Ze on Weibo for several days, gaining tens of thousands of followers in the process.

“Brother Lin, I only just realized how talented you are at songwriting. We’re from the same batch—please, you have to write a song for me.”

Lin Ze smiled politely. “Next time, for sure. Next time.”

Wang Lei pressed on, unwilling to let it go. “You’re not just brushing me off, are you…”

“Don’t worry. Next time, definitely.”

The elevator doors opened, and Lin Ze and Wang Xue headed to the recording studio.

Wang Lei and his young assistant exited as well. Still uneasy, Wang Lei opened his Weibo.

“Hope I deleted everything…”

He scrolled through his posts—every single old comment mocking Lin Ze was gone. Just as he finally relaxed, he spotted Lin Ze’s latest post, made only a minute prior.

“Don’t worry. The internet may forget, but I don’t. Next time, for sure.”

Seeing this, Wang Lei’s hand tightened involuntarily around his phone. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground audibly.

“Brother Lei…”

“Stop calling me that!” Wang Lei snapped, glaring at his assistant before turning his gaze to where Lin Ze had disappeared. In a voice only he could hear, he muttered, “Playing games with me, are you…”

The company was unusually lively that day. Colleagues who used to ignore him now greeted him with enthusiasm. Even some female singers found excuses to brush close.

It took some effort for Lin Ze to finally reach the recording studio, where the recording teacher was already waiting.

“Sorry for being late,” Lin Ze said, shaking hands.

“No problem at all.”

“Time is a bit tight today. I brought all the sheet music. Let’s start with recording the accompaniment for ‘Because of Love.’”

The rest of the songs would be handled by the arrangement team. Lin Ze still had to pack in the afternoon, so he needed to finish recording the vocals for all seven songs in the morning.

Inside the studio, Lin Ze quickly completed the guitar accompaniment. After listening to the playback and confirming there were no issues, he started recording vocals.

He was in excellent form and soon finished the first track.

Through the glass, Wang Xue watched Lin Ze, feeling a rush of pride, as if she were his mother.

He’s finally made it!

“Impressive,” the recording teacher remarked. “Very few people in the company get it right in one take—most record line by line and fix it in post.”

“That’s just how the industry is now,” Wang Xue replied with a shake of her head. “In today’s entertainment world, traffic is everything.”

As long as you’re good-looking, your singing can be edited, and your persona can be staged. Even if someone points out the flaws, fans can always retort, ‘You just can’t see how hard he works.’

Yet aside from her pride, Wang Xue also felt a twinge of worry. In this distorted industry, Lin Ze’s sudden display of true talent was bound to threaten many people’s interests.