27: Chapter 27 An Unnatural Coincidence

Su Wantang.

These three words came out of Jiang Rumu's mouth, not heavy, yet they felt like a red-hot steel ball, piercing through the thin ice of romance woven by the piano, the waves, and the artillery fire filling the sky.

A buzzing sound erupted in Li Li's mind.

"What is going on?"

He hadn't looked at his phone; since he sat on the piano bench, that thing had been lying quietly in his pocket. He had no idea what was happening on the other side of the livestream.

Jiang Rumu turned to the side, the sea breeze mussing her tied-back low ponytail, with a few strands of hair clinging to her shoulder. She was still holding her phone, the white light from the screen illuminating her jawline.

She was waiting for an answer.

Li Li took his hands off the piano keys and rested them on his knees.

"How do you know this name?"

"The comments."

The comments. An intelligence network of tens of millions of people, with an efficiency higher than the CIA.

"Do you know her?" Jiang Rumu asked again.

Li Li didn't intend to beat around the bush.

"Ex-girlfriend. Just broke up."

Five words. No extra explanation, and none of the classic Dating Reality Show lines like 'it's a long story.'

Yes, it's over. It's done.

Jiang Rumu didn't pick up on the 'just broke up' part. Her thumb swiped across the phone screen twice, and her fingertips typed three words into the search bar.

Su Wantang.

Her TikTok profile popped up. The profile picture was a side profile photo, with cold tea-brown wavy hair and a pair of fox-like eyes slightly upturned. Follower count: 2.7 million. The bio read 'Life needs to be sweet,' followed by a bee emoji.

Jiang Rumu's gaze lingered on that profile for three seconds.

She didn't tap to open any videos, didn't look at the comment section, and didn't even look at the livestream replay that might have ignited the comments.

Lock screen.

The phone screen went dark.

"Quite pretty."

Two words, delivered with the same temperature as her assessment of the US military rations: 'It's edible.' Stating a fact, devoid of any emotion.

But this very calmness was more powerful than any interrogation.

The comments were instantly overwhelmed by a different kind of frenzy.

[A 34 million follower star evaluating a 2.7 million follower influencer: "Quite pretty." I declare this the best scene of the night!]

[Mumu's reaction is legendary! The queen simply disdains getting involved in such drama!]

[Please, Mumu, keep asking! Ask him why they broke up! Ask about the lyrics!]

But Jiang Rumu didn't ask another word.

She placed her phone face down on her knees, turned back around, and faced the sea again.

The top-tier female star with 34 million followers, regarding the entanglement between her current partner and his ex-girlfriend, handled the entire process by: searching, taking a glance, making a two-word comment, and moving on.

The 'on-the-spot interrogation,' 'jealous outburst,' and 'storming off' that the whole internet was expecting, none of them happened.

Li Li watched her phone, which she had placed face down.

She wasn't going to ask anymore?

She really wasn't.

Fine.

He stood up from the piano bench, stepped on the sand with his bare feet, walked back to his original spot to sit down, and only then did he take out his own phone.

It was time to see what the comments were making such a fuss about.

He swiped open the livestream.

On the screen, messages were flooding in like a breached dam.

[Su Wantang's exact words from her livestream last August: "He played a song for me on a rainy day, and it had a line, 'It's fine as long as you're still here after the fireworks fade,' and I cried right then."]

[The lyrics Li Li just sang: "It's fine as long as you're still here after the fireworks fade" — word for word!!]

[So this song was written for Su Wantang? And he's singing it now in front of Jiang Rumu? This is more exciting than a missile strike!]

Li Li's thumb pressed hard against the screen.

The tightest string in his mind suddenly let out a shrill, mournful sound.

Something was wrong.

This song is called "Season of Fireworks," by the Taiwanese group 'San Que Yi,' sung by Zhou Zaizai, an old song from 2001.

But in this world, there is no 'San Que Yi,' no 'Meteor Garden,' and certainly no such song. It is a completely unique original.

A unique original—a song that had never been heard by anyone in this world—how could its core lyrics have come out of Su Wantang's mouth a year ago, word for word?

Li Li's back pulled away from the cold piano behind him.

In his past life, while moving bricks at the construction site, the master worker had repeatedly emphasized a common safety rule: when you feel an inexplicable cold wind while on the scaffolding, don't think about where the wind is coming from; grab onto the most stable thing around you immediately.

That was exactly how he felt right now.

The desert night wind was clearly hot, yet a chill crept up his spine, vertebra by vertebra.

He subconsciously turned his left wrist.

No blue text popped up; the system was uncharacteristically silent.

Three seconds.

He forcibly suppressed that chill, revealing nothing on his face.

The comments were still scrolling frantically, with tens of millions of people waiting to see his reaction; no one knew about the mental storm he had just experienced in those three seconds.

They thought this was just some melodramatic gossip about an ex-girlfriend.

But Li Li knew it wasn't.

This was a knife, handed over from an angle that shouldn't exist at all.

However, now was not the time to dismantle this bizarre event. The livestream was on, the camera was pointing at him, and tens of millions of people were watching.

He had to deal with the matters on the surface first.

Li Li opened his mouth to the camera.

"I've seen the comments, let me say a few words."

His voice wasn't loud, but the speed of the scrolling comments slowed down noticeably.

"First, Su Wantang is my ex-girlfriend. We broke up, there's nothing I can't admit."

"Second, this song is mine. As for what she said in her livestream last August, I don't know. Last August, I was rushing a project at the construction site and didn't have time to watch livestreams."

He paused for a moment.

"The person she was talking about is not me."

Three sentences, concise and to the point.

No pleas of 'please don't misunderstand,' and no nonsense about 'relationship matters are complicated.'

I don't know. It's not me. Believe it or not, that's up to you.

The comments went quiet for 0.5 seconds.

Immediately, the first gift effect smashed down from the top of the screen.

It was green.

A fluorescent glowing hat, labeled with the four large characters 'Deep Affection'—a Green Hat.

Worth 52 TikTok Coins.

Immediately following, the second one, the third one, the tenth one, the fiftieth one...

Dense green effects surged in from all directions, covering the entire screen into a vibrant prairie.

The comments frantically squeezed out from the gaps in the green.

[The person Su Wantang was crying about last August wasn't Li Li... then who was it???]

[Holy crap, I get it! When Su Wantang was dating Li Li, she still had someone else in her heart! And she used someone else's love words to scam tips in her livestream!]

[So... Brother Li got cucked???]

[Guys, who gets it? I just topped up 200 yuan and sent 50 Green Hats in one go, a small token of my respect!]

Li Li watched the fluttering Green Hats on the screen, expressionless.

The whole internet was convinced he had been cucked.

But in reality, the owner of the lyrics wasn't the 'other man' in Su Wantang's mouth, but Zhou Zaizai from another timeline.

He had been cucked from across space and time by a member of an idol group that didn't exist on this Earth.

This cucking had even transcended dimensions.

"...Fine."

He muttered to himself, locked the screen, and placed the phone face down on the sand.

He leaned back, propped his hands behind him, and looked up at the sky.

Above the Persian Gulf, another white contrail rose, piercing into the night sky, and exploding into a ball of orange-red light.

Real fireworks.

Beside him, Jiang Rumu's phone also lit up.

She lowered her head to glance at it, seeing the screen full of Green Hats and the keyword 'cucked.'

She also locked her screen.

Then she turned her head to look at Li Li.

He was looking up at the interceptor missile in the sky, the collar of his old shirt open, his Adam's apple casting a small shadow under the floodlights of the Burj Al Arab.

"You're not going to respond?"

"Respond to what?"

"The Green Hats."

"I'm not the one who sent them," Li Li replied.

Jiang Rumu didn't speak, but Li Li saw the corner of her mouth twitch very quickly, then immediately return to normal.

She dug both hands into the sand, the warm sand grains slowly leaking through her fingers.

"That song—"

"Hmm?"

"It's actually not bad."

Li Li withdrew his gaze from the sky and turned his head to look at her.

"It's just that the way you sang it had a bit of... a 'knocking off work at the construction site' vibe."

"..."

The musical appreciation of a star with 34 million followers was breathtakingly precise.

On the horizon, another interceptor missile rose into the sky, exploding into shattered gold.

Before the fragments had even finished falling, the comment "It's fine as long as you're still here after the fireworks fade" in Li Li's mind just wouldn't go away.

Word for word.

This was not a coincidence.

Coincidences don't get this precise.

Su Wantang, she had a secret.

The moment this thought landed.

His phone, which he had placed face down on the sand, suddenly buzzed and vibrated.

It wasn't a system notification, nor was it a comment message.

It was a private message.

Li Li picked it up and swiped open the screen.

The sender's profile picture was exactly that side profile photo he had just seen on Jiang Rumu's phone.

Su Wantang.

The message was simple, only four words.

"Li Li, can we talk?"

The white light from the phone screen hit his face, and he didn't reply immediately.

The waves surged up, washing over their feet, and then slowly receded, the cold sensation passing in a flash.

His thumb hovered over the screen, neither tapping to open it nor swiping it away.