In the Humanities Education Selected Course, Professor Chen watched the broadcast. Every student in the classroom watched attentively, completely absorbed by what unfolded on the screen.
Professor Chen, however, couldn't hide her disappointment. Looking at Yu Ye in the footage, disdain filled her eyes.
"He is completely incompetent as a father," she said coldly. "Judging from Yu Shuying's words, I can already guess the reason. Yu Shuying probably became successful and famous, and her father couldn't accept it. He felt inferior, felt abandoned, and turned that frustration into anger. It's common among people trapped at the bottom of society. They fail to achieve anything themselves, so they resent those standing ahead of them."
Professor Chen was a realist, and more importantly, she trusted her own judgment completely.
At this moment, Yu Shuying was four years and five months old. Her father had gone out to work a temporary job.
Left alone, she quietly opened the door. She didn't realize she had accidentally triggered the alarm, nor did she realize the danger. All she knew was that she wanted to see the scenery. Her father had brought her here before.
But children are children. Curiosity eventually overcame restraint. Today, she had secretly come by herself. On the rooftop, her long hair fluttered freely in the wind. Even at only four years old, her delicate features already carried extraordinary beauty, and her naturally cold, quiet temperament seemed to drift through the screen itself.
Then, bathed beneath golden sunlight, she softly hummed a song alone. Behind her stood rows of unfinished buildings. Gray concrete and broken walls. A dim yellow haze lingered over everything, carrying the heavy feeling of decay and forgotten years.
She sat on the worn rooftop floor, and her two short legs swung gently with the rhythm. In this broken, crumbling world, she looked like a little angel walking toward the sun.
Then, from another unfinished building less than thirty meters away, cameraman Chen Cheng suddenly froze and his eyes lit up. He had originally come here simply to document local scenery and everyday life. He never expected to discover a child untouched by the dust of reality, especially her singing.
The melody drifted through the wind. In an environment filled with damp concrete, rust, and stale air, that voice felt impossibly sweet. Pure and clean, like sunlight piercing through dark clouds.
Unable to stop himself, Chen Cheng called out, "Little girl, you're so beautiful. Where did you learn that song?"
Little Shuying looked at him. Her innocent eyes carried complete certainty, and firmly, she said, "This song is called Insect Flying. I wrote it myself. My mother died, and my father said my mother became a worm. But one day... she will break out of her cocoon, and she will become a butterfly. She'll fly high into the sky and cross many obstacles to come see me."
At that moment, little Shuying looked extraordinarily beautiful. Not merely because of appearance but because of that confidence. That sincerity and that unwavering belief.
What she didn't know was that Chen Cheng had already subconsciously pressed record. Excitement flooded through him. From the moment she began singing to the moment she proudly declared the song her own creation, everything had been captured clearly by the camera. Every word. Every expression. Every trace of innocence. Nothing was missed.
Only after saying goodbye and waving farewell did Chen Cheng finally lower the camera. He couldn't help marveling. What kind of parents could give birth to such an intelligent, talented, and extraordinary child?
Without thinking much further, he casually uploaded the footage onto the web.
Caption:
[Insect Flying - An Original Song Written by a Four-Year-Old Child]
At that time, he had no idea. No idea at all what kind of storm this casual upload would create. One fan saw it and forwarded it. Then another. Then ten. Then a hundred. A thousand. Ten thousand. The spread became unstoppable, like wildfire or an avalanche.
It wasn't until Cheng realized his phone had practically frozen, and the web itself was struggling under overwhelming traffic, that he finally understood. From one upload, one accidental moment, and one little girl, the internet had exploded.
At the same moment, on the other side, inside a Private Camera Studio, located atop a riverside skyscraper overlooking the River, another scene unfolded.
Cheng was now in his forties, and time had left marks on him. But money and careful maintenance had preserved his appearance remarkably well. He still carried the image of a successful, handsome man. Confident and sharp. The kind of person who rarely showed weakness.
Yet today, everyone inside the studio was stunned. Because their boss, the man known for his directness and iron personality, was crying. Not silent tears. Not hidden tears. He was openly sobbing. Holding a tablet tightly in both hands, his shoulders trembled. His eyes were completely red.
"I understand now... I finally understand... I know why you refused to scout her... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." At last, Cheng completely broke down.
The employees froze, and no one dared approach. No one even knew how to comfort him. They could only secretly glance toward the tablet screen, trying to understand what had shattered their boss emotionally.
Someone recognized it immediately, and it was the program from a Gymnasium. The studio assistant couldn't hide her confusion. Wasn't that the song that had once helped launch the boss's success?
Then why was he crying? Who was he apologizing to? The other assistants became equally curious. The cameramen quietly opened livestream broadcasts and media feeds.
Because everyone suddenly realized something they didn't know was about to be revealed.