78: Chapter 78 The Truth About Radioactivity

"Are you sure you want to release the song now?"

Taylor's question hung in the air before the recording studio console. Outside the window was the Nashville afternoon, sunlight streaming through the soundproof glass and casting light spots on the sheet music in her hands.

Alex sat at the piano, his fingers still resting on the chords he had just played.

He had just performed a full demo of the song titled 《Radioactive》—extracted from memory, reconstructed via the [Creative Master] ability, it now possessed new lyrics, a new arrangement, and an explosive power after being suppressed.

"Not releasing it now," he corrected, "Preparing now, releasing in three days."

All core members of the Safe House team were present: Taylor leaned against the console, Marcus was checking the recording equipment, Rex and Hank stood guard by the door, and Attorney Lawson participated in the meeting via video link.

"The timeline is problematic." Marcus pulled up the schedule. "《The One I Used to Know》 is set for release on the 28th. It's Taylor's lead single and needs a full promotional cycle. If you release 《Radioactive》 on the 31st, the two promotional periods will overlap, and resources will be severely diluted."

Alex nodded: "That's why we need to adjust the plan. Taylor's 《The One I Used to Know》 is a tragic narrative, while my 《Radioactive》 is a battle cry. They aren't in competition; they are complementary."

He pulled up the data projection analyzed by his [Creative Master] ability—this was just to explain it to the team; in reality, the data appeared directly in his consciousness.

"According to style analysis, the core audience for 《The One I Used to Know》 is females aged 18-35, driven by emotional connection. The target for 《Radioactive》 is a broader youth demographic aged 16-30, driven by emotional catharsis. The overlap is only 27%."

Taylor looked closely at the analysis chart: "So you're saying... we can target two markets simultaneously?"

"Launching two campaigns at once." Alex stood up and walked to the whiteboard. "Northrop is currently trying to use legal means to suppress our creativity. Their strategy is clear—slow down our rhythm, drag us into a legal quagmire, and wait for public interest to fade."

He drew a timeline on the whiteboard: "So our counterattack is—to speed up the rhythm. Use continuous, high-quality creations to create sustained public pressure. Keep them scrambling to cope."

Attorney Lawson interjected via video: "But the legal risk is real. Northrop has already filed a motion attempting to ban any artistic works that cite their internal documents on the grounds that they 'might involve state secrets'."

"That's why we need to adjust our creative strategy." Alex turned to Taylor. "Did you notice the lyrics I changed? The original version cited specific data directly, but now I've replaced them all with metaphors."

He played the demo segment he had just recorded. The chorus rang out:

"I can feel the radioactivity of this truth! In my veins, in my breath! This is the beginning of a new era! Starting from the ashes and lies!"

"No specific data, no direct accusations," Alex said, "But anyone who listens to it, combined with recent news, will know what 'radioactivity' refers to, and what 'ashes and lies' mean."

Taylor was silent for a few seconds, then nodded: "This song has power."

He paused and added: "Also, I need to establish my own influence. I can't always rely on your aura and let you stand in front of me to take the pressure."

The meeting room went quiet. Everyone understood what that meant—Alex Su had to transform from "the whistleblower that Taylor supports" into an independent cultural symbol, a pillar.

"I agree," Taylor said suddenly, "But you need a better opportunity. Releasing the song on Halloween is a good idea—the metaphor of 'Radioactive Truth' echoes 'Horror Night'. But in terms of promotion, we can be smarter."

She walked to the console and pulled up a file: "My team has already developed a full promotional plan for 《The One I Used to Know》. Let's adjust it now—release my song on the 28th, and simultaneously tease a 'special surprise' on the 31st. Create suspense, and let the two songs drive traffic to each other."

Marcus's eyes lit up: "Cross-promotion! Taylor's fans will be curious about what that 'special surprise' is, and your song will receive initial traffic the moment it's released."

"More than that." Taylor typed rapidly. "We can do a small online livestream—on the night of the 28th, I'll perform a special version of 《The One I Used to Know》, and then at the end of the stream, I'll say: 'Three days from now, my collaborator has a new song coming out, a... more direct piece of work.'"

Alex looked at Taylor. There was a spark of a creator in her eyes—not competition, but collaboration.

"So what do you need?" he asked.

Taylor smiled: "For that song 《Safe & Sound》, I want you to participate in the singing. Not a feature, a real duet. It's a song about protection; two voices are more appropriate than one."

The deal was struck. The tacit understanding between creators.

"Alright, technical issues." Rex spoke up from the door. "What if Northrop takes action after the song is released? For example, applying for an emergency injunction?"

"Then let them apply." Attorney Lawson replied. "The probability of the court approving an emergency injunction before the Halloween holiday is very low. And—every time they try to ban a song, it gives that song ten times the exposure. Alex is right; sometimes legal action is the best promotion."

Alex pulled up the system interface. Current popularity: 7,488,000 points. He needed to redeem an ability to ensure the success of this dual release.

"Need one more ability." He continued in his consciousness, "[Legal Boundary Insight (Beginner)]."

[Required: 550,000 points]

[Confirm?]

"Confirm."

[Redemption Successful! Consumed 550,000 points]

[Remaining Popularity: 6,938,000 points]

[Obtained Ability: [Legal Boundary Insight (Beginner)]]

The information flow this time was more specific. Alex "saw" a few subtle minefields in the lyrics of 《Radioactive》—some word combinations, while not directly illegal, could provide Northrop with an excuse for a lawsuit. He knew almost instinctively how to adjust them.

"Need to change a few more words in the lyrics." He picked up a pen and marked the printout quickly. "Here, 'Steel wings bending under the weight of promises'—it's safer and more poetic than the original 'Steel wings bending under 37% defects'. And here..."

The team gathered around to watch him edit. Every adjustment weakened the direct accusations while strengthening the emotional impact.

"You're playing word games." Marcus muttered.

"Using poetry to counter legal clauses." Alex put down the pen. "They can sue over statements of fact, but they can't sue over the emotional expression of a song."

---

October 28th, 8:00 PM

Taylor's online livestream started on time. It wasn't a large concert, just a simple livestream room—she sat at the piano, with the soft lights of the recording studio in the background.

"Good evening." She smiled at the camera, without makeup, wearing a simple white T-shirt. "Tonight I want to sing a new song. This song is called 《The One I Used to Know》."

She began to play. Under the re-arrangement of [Creative Master], the melody retained the catchiness of the original, but added more complex harmonic layers. When she sang, "And the one I used to know... the one who believed in justice... where did he go?", the comments in the livestream began to flood the screen.

Many people understood the subtext.

After the performance, Taylor didn't end the stream immediately. She looked into the camera, her expression becoming serious.

"Many people ask me why I insist on standing on the side of the truth." She said softly. "The answer is simple: because if we don't stand up for something today, tomorrow there might be no one to stand up for us."

She paused, letting the words sink in.

"Three days from now, on Halloween night, my collaborator Alex Su will release a new song. I've heard the demo, it's a... more direct, sharper piece of work. I want to ask everyone to listen to it when it comes out."

"Because some truths need to be told with a different voice."

The livestream ended. Duration: 22 minutes, peak concurrent viewers: 2.8 million.

Marcus stared at the data panel in the Safe House: "The topic #TheOneIUsedToKnow has already reached third on Twitter trends. Your teaser also brought #RadioactiveSurprise to twenty-seventh."

"Just a warm-up." Alex was mixing the final version of 《Radioactive》. "The real explosion is in three days."

---

October 30th, Northrop Legal Department

"They adjusted the lyrics." Legal consultant Vivian placed the printed lyric analysis report in front of Montero. "All places that directly cited data have been changed to metaphors. 'Radioactivity' refers to the NT-7 issue, 'New Era' refers to public awakening... very smart."

Montero looked at the report, her face gloomy. Since being suspended for investigation, she could only obtain information through informal channels.

"Can we still sue?"

"We can, but the chances of winning are very low." Vivian shook her head. "The court won't issue an injunction just because a song uses metaphorical protest language. The First Amendment's scope of protection is very broad."

"Then find other angles." Montero gritted her teeth. "Copyright issues? Sampling permissions? There's always a loophole."

"We checked. The song is completely original, no sampling. Although the arrangement borrows from certain electronic rock styles, it's well within the scope of fair use." Vivian paused. "To be honest, Alisa, this battle is already very hard for us to fight on a legal level. Their team... is too professional."

Montero stared at a line in the lyrics: "'Steel wings bending under the weight of promises'... they are mocking us."

"And mocking us very artistically." Vivian put away the documents. "I suggest we back off for now. Wait for public opinion to cool down, wait for them to make a mistake."

But Montero knew Alex Su wouldn't make a mistake. At least so far, every step he had taken was terrifyingly precise.

---

October 31st, Halloween, 11:00 PM

The release of 《Radioactive》 had no livestream, no teasers, just one hour before midnight, Alex's YouTube channel suddenly updated with a video.

The cover was simple: a glowing radioactive symbol in the darkness, with the song title and "Alex Su" underneath.

When Marcus pressed the publish button, his hand was shaking.

"Done."

In the first hour, data grew steadily—mostly clicks from Alex's existing subscribers. But after midnight, when Taylor retweeted the link again, adding, "This is the 'more direct piece of work' I mentioned. Take a listen," traffic began to skyrocket.

Organization D's precision delivery system started simultaneously. Based on preliminary data analysis, they pushed the video to three key groups: college students concerned about social issues, military technology enthusiasts, and youth who like hardcore rock.

At 2:00 AM, 《Radioactive》 surged to ninth on the US YouTube trending list.

At 4:00 AM, the play count on Spotify surpassed 500,000.

Alex didn't sleep. He sat in the Safe House data center, watching the real-time feedback. The [Cross-border Communicator] ability allowed him to intuitively see the transmission path—spreading from Taylor's fan circles to political discussion forums, then to music forums, and finally starting to appear on the Twitter accounts of mainstream media figures.

A music critic wrote: "《Radioactive》 might not be the most technically perfect song, but it captures a certain anger of the era. When Alex sings 'This is the beginning of a new era', you feel like he isn't using a metaphor, but stating a fact."

Another military blogger analyzed: "Note the lyrics in the second verse—'They built machines that don't breathe'. Combined with recent news, this is clearly alluding to the defects in NT-7 materials. But by saying it in poetic language, Northrop can't even find an entry point to refute it."

At 7:00 AM, the data summary was delivered to Alex.

"Seven-hour post-release data." Marcus's voice was hoarse but excited. "YouTube views 2.8 million, Spotify streams 900,000, iTunes download chart hit twenty-fourth. Twitter topic #RadioactiveTruth reached fifth on the trends."

"How about popularity?"

Alex had already seen the system interface jumping: [Single release popularity acquisition: +412,000 points (real-time)]. Total popularity now reached 7,350,000 points.

There were still 2.65 million left to reach ten million. But this number was continuously shrinking.

More importantly, he had established a pattern—collaborating with Taylor but not relying on her, continuously producing high-quality work, and walking precisely on the edge of the law.

Northrop's legal team could sue, could threaten, could create obstacles.

But they couldn't stop a good song from spreading.

Couldn't stop a truth from being heard.

Couldn't stop a creator from saying what an entire era wanted to say, in the way he knew best.

Alex closed the data panel and looked out the window. The Nashville morning was quiet, but in the digital world, a storm made of melodies and truth was taking shape.

And he now knew how to walk the last stretch of the road to the ten-million threshold:

Not one big event, but a series of precise, high-quality creations.

The next release would be in two weeks.

He wanted to make Northrop understand—every time you suppress me, I will create a sharper song.

Until you realize that the cost of silencing me is already higher than the price of letting me speak.