48: Chapter 48 Echoes Rise

Twenty-four hours after the release of "Neon Pulse," the data curve drew a beautiful upward line.

Alex sat at the workbench in the safe house, looking at the backend data from various platforms:

· Spotify: 37,215 streams, 42% save rate, 8,721 playlist adds

· Apple Music: 21,587 streams, 38% favorite rate

· YouTube Music: 16,332 streams, 71% completion rate

· Main Channel MV: 890,000 views, 94% like ratio

For an independent debut single from a newcomer, these results exceeded expectations—it wasn't explosive viral growth, but rather solid word-of-mouth accumulation. The sentiment in the comments section was consistent: catchy melodies, exquisite production, and that "urban loneliness but keeping hope" emotion precisely hit a certain state of mind of young people in the summer of 2010.

Marcus's voice on the phone carried a suppressed excitement: "The data is 30% better than expected. The key is the retention rate—the percentage of listeners returning the next day is as high as 28%, which means listeners aren't just clicking in out of curiosity; they truly like it."

"What about the radio response?" Alex asked.

"Tentative airplay," Marcus said. "Three college radio stations have added it to their playlists, and two commercial stations played it once during the late-night slot. It's not enough, but it's a good start."

Alex was satisfied with this pace. Overnight fame was a myth; steady growth was reality. And reality was often more lasting.

He pulled up the system interface. The popularity figure had experienced its first surge after the release of "Neon Pulse," now sitting at 680,000—an increase of nearly 200,000 compared to before the release.

It was enough to exchange for a new ability.

He browsed the list, his gaze landing on the option he had eyed before:

[Threat Priority Assessment (Primary)]: When multiple threats appear, it allows for quick judgment of which is the most dangerous and which needs to be handled first. Exchange requires 650,000 popularity points.

Click exchange.

The moment the ability was infused, he felt a subtle change in his brain's decision-making circuits. He subconsciously scanned the room—windows, door, vents, the space under the workbench—his brain automatically labeled each potential entry point with a "threat priority": the window was highest (direct observation of the street), the door was next (monitored but breakable), and the vent was lowest (limited by size).

This wasn't predicting the future, but rather a more efficient survival instinct.

Just as he finished exchanging the ability, Hank knocked and entered, his expression more serious than usual.

"There's a new development." Hank placed a tablet on the table. "At 3:00 AM last night, someone tried to hack into Taylor's studio network. It wasn't a common hacker; the methods were very professional—they used three proxy servers, and the IP was eventually traced back to Washington."

Alex looked at the intrusion logs: "What were they looking for?"

"Not sure. But the focus of the attack was your work folders and communication records," Hank said. "Fortunately, we were prepared; all sensitive data is on physically isolated servers. They only got some insignificant source files."

"Winston is looking for dirt," Alex said. "Or... creating it."

"What do you mean?"

"If they can't find real dirt, they might forge it," Alex analyzed. "For example, tampering with the timestamps of my project files to create evidence of 'plagiarism.' Or forging email records to imply I used improper means."

Hank frowned deeply: "Do we need to strengthen network security?"

"It's already strong enough," Alex said. "But we need a countermeasure. What does Attorney Li suggest?"

"He suggests we file a formal report." Hank pulled up a legal document. "Cyber intrusion is a federal felony; the FBI can get involved. But the problem is... the chain of evidence isn't complete enough, and involving a cross-state political figure means the investigation will be very slow."

Alex thought for a moment: "File the report first, but don't expect immediate results. Meanwhile... let's proactively release something."

"Release what?"

"The raw files of the creative process." Alex opened a folder. "All the project files, drafts, and revision records for 'Neon Pulse'—from the first note to the final master, all with complete timestamps. I'll proactively make them public, so everyone can see how this song was made step by step."

Hank understood: "That way, if the other side wants to forge evidence, it will conflict with your public timeline."

"Exactly," Alex said. "And it's also great promotion in itself—'transparent creation process' is very popular right now."

---

That afternoon, Alex posted a special video on his main YouTube channel: "Neon Pulse - Full Creative Process."

The video was forty-seven minutes long, detailing everything from the initial synthesizer tone tests, melody drafts, lyric revisions, to the recording and mixing process of every track. Key points had screen recordings and timestamps.

It wasn't a highly entertaining video, but after its release, it sparked heated discussions in the music creation community. In the comments section, more and more professional musicians left messages:

"The choice of chord progression in that chorus is very clever..."

"What plugin was used for the vocal processing?"

"Seeing the revision process for the third version of the lyrics is so real!"

More importantly, several influential music producers shared the video, praising that "this kind of transparency is rare in the industry."

Marcus called: "Clever. Now even if someone wants to smear you for plagiarism, your creative process is right there, with a timeline so complete it's irrefutable."

"Any reaction from Winston's side?" Alex asked.

"Quiet for now," Marcus said. "But Taylor heard some news; a few 'old friends' in the industry suddenly started asking about your background. Not bad people, but... they were guided there from a certain direction."

"He's applying pressure through intermediaries," Alex said. "No rush, we'll go at our own pace."

---

On the third day after the release of "Neon Pulse," the data continued to rise steadily.

Spotify streams broke 80,000, and it entered the platform's "New Music Friday" recommendation list—though not in a top position, the traffic was considerable. Apple Music gave it the "New Artist of the Week" tag. The MV on the main YouTube channel reached 1.4 million views.

More importantly, the song began to self-propagate within small communities. Alex saw users spontaneously sharing it on several music forums, mostly with titles like "Found a good synth-pop track" or "A song perfect for late-night listening."

This kind of organic growth was healthier and more lasting than throwing money at promotion.

In the evening, Taylor invited Alex to a video call.

On the screen, she looked a bit tired, but her eyes were bright: "I've been listening to 'Neon Pulse' for three days, and the more I listen, the more I feel... we underestimated this song."

"How so?"

"It's not a simple pop song," Taylor analyzed seriously. "The structure is experimental—suddenly dropping the drum beat in the second verse and using only synth arpeggios for the backing; that vocal slicing in the bridge... these choices were risky, but you made them feel natural. Listeners might not realize why they like it, but they can feel it's 'different'."

Alex nodded. This was exactly why he had chosen this song—in the original timeline, the success of this song was no accident; it was a perfect balance of exquisite production and moderate innovation.

"So I want to speed up the progress of the genesis project," Taylor continued. "Marcus suggested we push your second single first, but I think... we can run two lines in parallel. You continue making your personal music, and meanwhile, we start the experimental phase of the genesis project."

"How specifically?"

"One day a week, a pure creation day," Taylor said. "No goals, no restrictions on form, just playing with sounds and visuals. We'll extract fragments from these spontaneous collisions and slowly assemble them into materials for the genesis project."

Alex agreed. This rhythm was good—it provided steady personal output while allowing space for artistic exploration.

"Starting next week?" he asked.

"Next week," Taylor smiled. "By the way... my father also saw the data for 'Neon Pulse'."

Alex was taken aback. Taylor rarely mentioned her family, let alone her father.

"He's a hedge fund manager on Wall Street; he doesn't understand music, but he understands data," Taylor explained. "He said the growth curve of this song is 'abnormally healthy' and suggested I increase investment. So... don't worry about resource issues, just focus on creating."

This was Taylor-style support—not mentioning pressure, only providing security.

---

That night, Alex began planning his second single.

He now had 680,000 popularity points; after deducting the exchanged ability, 30,000 remained. Exchanging for "We Are Young" required 1.1 million, which was still a long way off.

But he could start preparing.

He opened his music production software and created a new project file. Instead of immediately exchanging for the full work package, he first tried to build the framework of an "anthem-style pop rock" song based on his own understanding and the subtle feeling of creative energy resonance.

He chose the classic I-V-vi-IV chord progression but made changes to the rhythm—using dense snare rolls instead of the steady beat of traditional rock. He wrote several versions of the melody line but wasn't quite satisfied.

[part:gemini-3.1-flash-lite]

"Missing a hook." He muttered to himself, facing the screen.

This was the value of system redemptions—the core of those works that had been market-tested in the original world line was that "one-hit" hook. Relying on trial and error by himself might require dozens of attempts to find it.

But he wasn't in a hurry. The second single was planned for release in November, leaving nearly three months. He could polish it slowly, and if that didn't work, he would use the system's reserves.

More importantly, he needed to start laying the groundwork for his "novelist" path.

Opening the system's novel redemption list, he looked at that option again:

【《Before I Fall》 Complete Framework Package】 - 750,000 Popularity

Still 120,000 short. Based on the current growth rate of 《Neon Pulse》, it would take about two more weeks.

He created a new document titled "Novel Project - Tentative". He wouldn't redeem it yet, but he could start doing market research.

Searching the current 2010 bestseller list, under the Young Adult category, fantasy and supernatural themes were hot—the lingering heat of 《Twilight》 was still there, and 《Harry Potter》 was nearing its end. Realistic themes were relatively scarce, which was exactly the opportunity.

"Time loop + adolescent growth + death theme." He wrote the keywords in the document, "Unique enough, and has commercial potential."

He planned to redeem the framework first, then spend two months "writing," finish the first draft by the end of the year, and publish next spring. This way, his music and novel paths could run in parallel.

On the fifth day of 《Neon Pulse》's release, the first negative voice appeared.

A blog claiming to be a "Music Industry Observer" published a long article with an eye-catching title: 《Creation in the Age of Algorithms: Talent or Precise Calculation?》

The article didn't name anyone directly, but the content clearly pointed to Alex: "Some emerging creators are well-versed in the traffic code; their works are less of an artistic expression and more of a precise delivery after data analysis. From chord progressions to lyrical themes, everything has undergone rigorous market testing..."

The article listed several "features" of 《Neon Pulse》: catchy but simple melodies, clear but not excessive emotions, and segment lengths suitable for short video dissemination. The conclusion was: "This might be the first song designed entirely for the algorithm age."

Marcus was furious after seeing the article: "This is stigmatization! Attributing creative success to calculation, not talent!"

Alex, however, was relatively calm: "He's partially right."

"What?"

"This song did indeed consider virality." Alex said, "But all commercial art must consider the audience. When Beethoven wrote symphonies, he also considered the preferences of aristocratic listeners; that doesn't mean the works weren't good."

"But he's implying you are 'algorithm-created,' not true talent!"

"Then I'll prove it with more works." Alex said, "One blog post can't change anything."

That said, he still had Hank check the blog's background. As expected, the registration information was vague, the source of funding was unknown, but there were access records from a Washington IP before the article was published.

"Winston has started using public opinion as a weapon." Hank said, "This kind of article won't be fatal, but it will slowly sow doubt."

"Then I'll respond directly." Alex said.

He posted a message on Twitter: "All creation is a balance between calculation and inspiration. Calculation is technique; inspiration is magic. Magic without technique is chaos; technique without magic is hollow. 《Neon Pulse》 is my balance point. For the next song, I will seek a new balance. Thanks for all the discussion, including the skepticism."

This message was retweeted over three thousand times. Supporters praised his "rational response," and even some originally neutral industry insiders thought his "attitude was mature."

The first round of the public opinion war was a draw.

On the seventh day of release, 《Neon Pulse》 reached its first milestone: entering the top 200 of the Spotify US Daily Top Songs chart, ranking 187th.

Marcus called excitedly: "For an independent release, this is almost impossible! Usually, the top 200 are monopolized by major labels!"

Alex looked at the chart data. 187th place, with streams just over 200,000—in 2010, when streaming hadn't fully exploded yet, this was already a decent number.

More importantly, the song began appearing in users' "self-curated playlists." These weren't official recommendations; they were lists users created after genuinely liking the song, which had a higher conversion rate.

The popularity number on the system interface surpassed 750,000.

Enough.

Alex didn't hesitate to redeem the 【《Before I Fall》 Complete Framework Package】.

A massive stream of information flooded his brain: story outline, character settings, key scenes, emotional threads, and even some iconic dialogue snippets. This wasn't a complete verbatim manuscript, but the "skeleton and soul" of the work—he needed to fill in the flesh and blood himself.

He immediately opened the document and began organizing this information.

Story core: A high school girl loops through her death day seven times, each loop bringing her closer to the truth and helping her better understand the meaning of life. The themes involve growth, redemption, and "the profoundness hidden in a seemingly ordinary day."

He decided to make two key adjustments:

1. Change the setting from the original's US East Coast town to the suburbs of Los Angeles—an environment he was more familiar with.

2. Strengthen the suspense of the "time loop" so that new clues are discovered in each loop.

He planned to finish the first draft in three months, submit it by the end of December, and strive to publish it next spring.

Just as he was immersed in world-building, his phone rang. It was Sarah, calling from Los Angeles.

"Alex, you have to see this." Sarah's voice was urgent, "Derek is back at school."

"What? Wasn't he suspended?"

"His father fixed it." Sarah said, "And... he's now going around saying your song 'plagiarized an unpublished work by his friend.' Although no one is taking it seriously, he keeps spreading rumors."

Alex frowned. Derek himself wasn't much of a threat, but this meant Winston had started using all his resources—even pushing out his good-for-nothing son.

"What else did he say?"

"He said..." Sarah hesitated for a moment, "'My father will let that Asian kid know that Nashville isn't his turf.' Alex, you need to be careful. They might be planning something big."

Hanging up the phone, Alex's Crisis Prediction sent a clear stinging sensation.

Threat priority assessment automatically activated, evaluating all current risks:

1. Public opinion attack (Medium Priority)

2. Network intrusion (High Priority)

3. Offline surveillance (High Priority)

4. Industry pressure (Medium Priority)

5. Campus rumors (Low Priority)

Comprehensive judgment: The opponent is applying pressure across multiple dimensions, attempting to create an "all-around encirclement" effect.

Alex walked to the window, watching the Nashville night.

Winston's strategy was clear—not to act directly, but to use various means to drain his energy, destroy his reputation, and create continuous pressure until he collapsed or made a mistake.

Then let's see who runs out first.

He returned to his workbench and did three things:

First, email Attorney Li Zhiming, requesting to formally issue a lawyer's letter regarding Derek's defamatory remarks.

Second, contact Marcus to start preparing the trailer for the second single—he needed to accelerate content output and let his work speak for itself.

Third, open the 《Before I Fall》 document and write the first line:

"The day I died was an ordinary Tuesday."

Creation is the best counterattack. Fight rumors with stories, fight malice with melodies, and use continuous, high-quality output to make all attacks seem pale and powerless.

The night was deep.

Alex finished the outline for the first chapter and looked up at the time—2:00 AM.

On the system interface, the popularity number was still slowly growing: 《Neon Pulse》 had decent streams in the late night.

He turned off the computer but didn't rest immediately. Instead, he walked to the wall and checked all the surveillance screens. The street was quiet, everything was normal.

But the stinging sensation of Crisis Prediction didn't disappear.

He opened the fingerprint safe on the nightstand, took out the Glock 19, and did one last check. Then he put it back and locked it.

When he lay in bed, he thought of his past life. That body that needed The caregiver's help even to turn over, that world confined to a hospital bed.

Now, he could create, he could fight, he could determine his own destiny.

That was enough.

Before closing his eyes, he silently calculated: The pulse of 《Neon Pulse》 had been sent out, and the Echo was returning.

And his next song, his next book, his next creation, were already on the way.

Winston wanted to play a war of attrition?

Then let's see whether a political figure has more resources, or a creator with a system, memories of two lives, and a determination to survive can continue producing longer.

The game had just begun.