Ch 20: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

[With skills like that, you’re selling fruit?]

[Yeah, couldn’t you be doing something else?]

[I still think it’s suspicious. If Mu Xing is really this talented, why didn’t anyone discover it during his two years as a celebrity?]

[Agreed, feels like hype.]

[Calling it hype is overthinking. I watched all his streams—no fakery, he’s genuinely impressive. It is unbelievable, though. But rather than hype, I’d rather believe he suddenly got some “academic genius” system, or was possessed by some great power. (dog head emoji)]

This was so unexpected that, when spring came and the snow melted, some reporters went to interview Mu Xing’s alma mater to ask about him.

His teachers proudly said Mu Xing was indeed a very bright child who had always done well in school.

As for the talents shown in the videos, the teacher simply shook their head: “He’s always learned things quickly, but the things in those videos weren’t things we ever did in school, so I can’t say for sure.”

The reporters then went to Xiaoxi Village to try to interview Mu Xing.

When they knocked, Mu Xing was streaming from home.

Since he was at home, he was dressed casually—light yellow loungewear with a little yellow duck on it, and matching fuzzy slippers.

His fans jokingly called it “macho man’s exclusive color.”

Mu Xing didn’t feel embarrassed at all, and righteously countered, “What do you mean macho man’s exclusive color? Isn’t light yellow cute? I like these bright, youthful colors—just like the mountains in spring.”

In the countryside, doors aren’t closed when someone’s home, so the knock was just politeness. Hearing it, Mu Xing went to look.

The reporter saw a cute-looking young man come out, and was momentarily stunned by how striking he looked in person.

Of course, he’d seen Mu Xing’s photos and streams before—already impressive enough—but in person, the impact was even stronger.

“May I ask, you are…?” Mu Xing didn’t know what was going through the man’s head, but seeing the camera-wielding photographer behind him, he could guess what they were there for.

The reporter introduced himself and asked for a short interview.

Mu Xing hesitated. “I’m still streaming.”

Knowing a bit about Mu Xing’s popularity, the reporter quickly said, “That’s fine, I can wait until you finish.”

Mu Xing thought for a moment. “I’ll let my viewers know first.”

He had the reporter sit down, poured tea for him and the crew, and went to his study.

When he came out again, he was dressed a bit more formally.

The reporter, waiting in his chair, blurted out, “Where did you buy this flower tea? It smells amazing.”

Mu Xing’s smile deepened, and he pointed to the backyard. “Didn’t buy it—I grew the flowers myself.”

The reporter looked amazed, but remembered his main task and asked if they could start.

Once Mu Xing agreed, the photographer began filming.

When leaving Xiaoxi Village, the reporter couldn’t help glancing back at the peaceful little village, recalling a recent colleague’s report.

He thought, That veteran from the national station was right—Mu Xing really is the kind of person you like as soon as you meet him.

He needed to hurry back, organize the article and footage, and get it published as soon as possible.

Three days later, an article titled “He Really Is a Genius—Mu Xing” was released online along with a video.

The article described the reporter’s impressions and conversation with Mu Xing; the video included this exchange:

Reporter: “Recently, your fans made a video saying you have a photographic memory and learn things quickly, calling you a ‘cheat-code-level’ genius. What do you think about that?”

Mu Xing: “It’s okay. Since I came back home, my memory does seem a bit better, but calling it ‘cheating’ is too exaggerated.”

Reporter: “So you’re saying your memory improved only after returning to Xiaoxi Village?”

Mu Xing: “Probably because I’m happier at home—eating well, sleeping well, and feeling good every day. My body just stays in its best condition.”

Reporter: “Many netizens say that with such talent, you could be doing much more. Don’t you think it’s a waste to just stay in Xiaoxi Village?”

Mu Xing looked surprised. “Why would that be a waste? I’m happy living here. Is there anything in the world more important than being happy?”

Reporter: “…That… makes sense.”

At the end, the reporter summed up: Mu Xing is a very unique person, but I admit—once you meet him, you’ll like him.

The article closed with a “bonus clip”—the reporter asking if Mu Xing could really remember everything he read. Mu Xing said “pretty much.”

The reporter randomly opened a chapter of a book on his phone and had Mu Xing read it, then recite it.

Mu Xing repeated it word for word, leaving the reporter stunned.

Comments flooded in under the article:

[This conclusion sounds oddly familiar.]
[Isn’t this obvious? If I met him, I’d like him too. With that face, who wouldn’t?]
[Xingxing is right—there’s nothing more important than being happy. I love this straightforwardness.]

[Mu Xing is amazing. Honestly, I used to think that for a kid from the mountains to be noticed by Star Entertainment was his blessing. But now I feel it was actually Star Entertainment who got lucky—look at how they managed to waste such a treasure.]

[Serves that company right for fading into irrelevance.]

When this report came out, where was Mu Xing?

He was moving house.

After his livestream sales took off, his life became less peaceful. Then came multiple reports and the “genius” reputation. Even in the quiet, remote Xiaoxi Village, his life was disturbed.

There were media outlets coming to interview him, and even some overzealous fans who traveled thousands of miles just to meet him.

That wasn’t the life he wanted.

Near Xiaoxi Village, he bought a piece of land and hired people to build a house. For the time being, he stayed in an apartment in the county town owned by Uncle Fang’s daughter.

By the time anyone came to Xiaoxi Village looking for him again, they were told Mu Xing no longer lived there.

He stopped streaming for a few days, and when he came back, the background had already changed.

He didn’t tell his fans about the move, but news travels fast—they soon learned the reason.

They cursed the people who had disrupted his life and promised they would never bother him.

Seeing that Mu Xing would rather move house than give interviews or interact more with fans, everyone finally believed he truly would never return to the entertainment industry.

Some still tried to find him or stake out his old place in Xiaoxi Village, since he was still so popular.

But Mu Xing hid well. No one could track his movements.

Over a year later since he officially left the entertainment industry, one day, he quietly moved into his new home.

In the mountains, built to his specifications, it was surrounded by a beautiful picket fence, with an open courtyard planted with flowers, plants, and vegetables. Transparent glass walls sheltered the yard so he could still sit there on rainy or snowy days and enjoy a different kind of view.

He kept his promise to fans, always keeping his livestream open.

There was nothing sensational or gimmicky in his streams—just the plain, everyday life he lived. Only during harvest seasons would he promote local farm products.

Many thought he would slowly lose popularity—after all, years of the same kind of daily life could get boring.

But they were wrong.

This remarkable streamer seemed to have a kind of magic, always bringing surprises.

His stream often featured something new. He seemed to have endless energy, always learning new skills.

Many students, workers, and graduate school hopefuls tuned in just to watch.

They said: If the streamer is always learning and improving, what excuse do I have not to work hard?

There were little surprises too—plants in his care always flourished beautifully, and unusual visitors often wandered into his courtyard.

Little monkeys and squirrels from the mountains, lively and cute birds whose names few could guess…

The most nerve-wracking was the time a lone wolf wandered in.

Viewers were terrified and couldn’t bear to watch what came next.

But the wolf merely walked slowly over, circled Mu Xing twice, sniffed him lightly, and then lay down quietly.

It was both safe and oddly legendary.

One year, two years, three… five… ten…

Viewers grew up, got married, had children. But the man in the camera hardly seemed to change.

His super-topic was still active, though no longer feverish—many had become good friends there.

People shared daily life moments, happy stories… it felt like an oasis of peace on the internet.

When Mu Xing turned forty-six, Liu Xue resigned.

“Sorry, Xingxing.” Liu Xue’s hair was streaked with white, though his health was still good. “My wife just had minor surgery, and I need to take care of her. Thinking about it, I’ve hardly spent time with her over the years. I want to spend the rest of my days with my family.”

Then he looked at Mu Xing with envy. “I’m a grandfather now—how come you still look like a young man?”

Having followed Mu Xing for so many years, he felt the man’s aura had grown purer and more ethereal with age.

Sometimes he even wondered: with Mu Xing’s beauty and slow aging, could he actually be a mountain spirit in disguise?

“What do you mean still looks like a young man?” Mu Xing widened his eyes. “I am young.”

He gave Liu Xue a large sum of money and sincerely thanked him. “Thank you for all these years, Brother Liu.”

Before leaving, Liu Xue asked if he needed a new cameraman—he could help find one.

Mu Xing shook his head. “No need.”

The next day, as usual, he started his livestream and painted a self-portrait.

The figure in the painting was Mu Xing at eighteen—wearing a white T-shirt and straw hat, barefoot in a mountain stream, smiling with a hint of shyness.

The comments exploded:

[That’s exactly how Mu Xing looked when he debuted!]

[No—more precisely, that’s from the candid video before his debut.]

[After all these years, he hasn’t changed at all. No—he’s even more handsome now.]

[Who would’ve thought I’d fall for a forty-six-year-old man?]

[Hey, watch your words up there—our brother isn’t old at all, okay? If he saw that, he’d be upset.]

[The painting is so good. The young Mu Xing was pure and shy, now he’s elegant and ethereal. This man is truly something else.]

Yet none of them expected this to be the last time they would ever see Mu Xing on camera.

Mu Xing put away the portrait, sent out over a hundred of the largest red envelopes in the livestream, then gave a casual wave to the camera—the same gesture he always made when signing off.

But this time, the man said,
“Thank you for all these years of affection. I thought about it, and though I don’t like to admit it, I am indeed not that young anymore. So I’m going to go out, see more of the world. I won’t be streaming anymore. Goodbye, everyone.”

It was the last time he appeared in the public eye.

❣╰(⸝⸝⸝꒳⸝⸝⸝)╯❣

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