A strange silence filled the air as no one could imagine that this song would appear under such circumstances.
Outside, on the broken streets of the slums, reckless youths on motorcycles cursed at each other through clouds of smoke and noise.
A drunk man stumbled to the wrong doorway, shouting obscenities into the night until two neighboring families erupted into a furious argument.
Chaos lived everywhere.
Yet inside a small, dilapidated room, peace remained while Yu Ye gently guided his daughter. "Work harder. Control your voice. Feel the resonance."
Patiently. Carefully. Again and again.
And the young Shuying slowly opened the door to talent. The melody of the prelude drifted from her childish voice, carrying both sadness and happiness together, creating a dreamlike beauty that felt unreal, yet impossible to resist. It intoxicated everyone.
At that time, Yu Ye no longer looked like the handsome young man he once was. Time and illness had carved scars onto him. Because of his worsening condition, he swallowed cheap medicine every day, forcing himself to endure the pain burning inside his brain. His face carried an unhealthy paleness, and he coughed often, sometimes violently. But whenever he heard young Shuying sing Flying Insects, warmth would appear in his tired eyes.
He encouraged her sincerely. "The lyrics she wrote are wonderful. I knew my daughter was the best. If your mother heard this... She would be very happy. You have to finish this song properly. One day, many people will sing it, and then your mother will hear it too."
Night after lonely night, Yu Ye smiled and repeated those words beside his daughter. Every sentence slowly engraved itself into the heart of the little Shuying, who was still less than four years old.
Without realizing it, she gradually believed this song belonged to her and that she had created it. Every lyric, every melody, and every paragraph is her own creation.
She looked at the night sky and imagined the opening line. She noticed that stars disappeared above the great city but could still be seen over the slums, so she created the second line. She imagined her mother becoming a tiny insect flying into the sky, and that became the third line. Then the fourth...
Because she wanted more people to remember her mother, she wrote the next line. Within little Shuying's memories, the creation of this song became logical. Complete and organized, as though she truly built it piece by piece herself.
And throughout everything, her father quietly stood in the shadows and watched silently. Especially during the brightest moment of this song, he simply watched without saying a single word.
"Why... Why?!" Under the brilliant stage lights, Yu Shuying stood frozen, and her voice trembled. Then burst louder than ever before. "WHY?!"
Her emotions surged wildly. Now, she understood, and yet at the same time, she couldn't understand at all. She finally realized why she had always believed she created this song herself. Her father had quietly guided her into believing it from childhood, step by step, without her noticing.
But why? Why did he never sing it himself? With his appearance back then and with his ability, he could have become famous too.
The male host, Hai Tao, suddenly narrowed his eyes, and his voice became sharp.
"First, your father's illness was already severe, so he didn't have enough time or energy to pursue fame."
"Second, your image was more fitting. He probably wanted to make you famous instead by developing a genius daughter."
"But he never expected that you would become a true genius and ultimately surpass his expectations."
The moment Hai Tao finished speaking, many audience members nodded immediately.
The female host followed with a cold analysis. "Your father planned everything very carefully, but he never expected you to possess real talent. And the reason he never sang himself... was because perhaps this was the only song he had. This song was probably left behind by your mother. Your father may not have possessed any musical talent at all, so he was afraid. Afraid people would eventually expose him."
After both hosts delivered their so-called rational conclusions, the audience slowly accepted it. Because, according to Yu Shuying, after she turned four years old, her father had changed. He became harsh, strict, and demanding. And afterward, he never displayed any extraordinary talent again.
Everything seemed to support the hosts' conclusion. The true genius was Yu Shuying's mother, the woman who left.
At that moment, countless comments blasted across the stream.
"The real genius is Liu Shi!"
"She left behind talent and an envelope!"
"That envelope probably contained methods for raising a genius child!"
"Little Shuying awakened because of her mother!"
"No wonder she left!"
"A brilliant woman like that would never stay beside a dying man!"
"Poor Little Shuying..."
"If she had grown up beside her mother..."
"She might have become even greater."
Comments flooded endlessly. The popularity count surged and is still climbing.
Meanwhile, at the very back of the venue.
In the cheapest seats, Yu Ye quietly coughed. "Cough... cough..."
He pulled out an old handkerchief and covered his mouth. A dark-red clot stained the worn fabric. Blood.
He simply wiped it away as though he had long grown accustomed to it. Time had taken much from him. The clear eyes he once possessed had become clouded by years of hardship, wrinkles marked the corners of his eyes, and his youth had faded.
Yet, the warmth inside those eyes remained unchanged. Gentle and kind. So gentle that people could almost imagine the extraordinary young man he once had been.
He looked tired. Very tired. His gaze quietly settled on the screen, watching little Shuying humming the song. At some point, tears slowly rolled down his face, but he smiled faintly.
Thinking of Liu Shi, when she left, she took the money, left behind debt, and a tiny daughter. Nothing else. That period of life was bitter beyond words and so painful that he buried it deep within his memories. Locked away, never to be touched again.
But reopening those memories now felt like reliving that suffering all over again. Yet the moment he looked toward the stage, everything changed. His exhausted body straightened, and the darkness faded with only warmth remaining.
His eyes shone softly, like light, as he stared deeply at his daughter. As though trying to carve her current appearance forever into the final warmth left in his life.
The mocking whispers around him no longer mattered. Life slipping away no longer mattered. He was only a drifter, a lonely traveler walking toward the end. And now, he wanted only one thing: to reconcile with his daughter before time finally ran out. That alone was enough.
It felt like returning to that old broken house. Back to those difficult years, a father and a daughter depending only on each other.