Chapter 065: Lighting a Lamp for the Departed

The top video site in Fama—Illusion—had exploded in popularity!

“What’s going on? Where did this video themed ‘Rest in Peace, Departed; Be Strong, Living!’ come from?”

“No idea. It says it was uploaded an hour ago. But eighty million views and nine million comments? Is this some influencer’s side account? Wait, the uploader is Ziyang? Why does that name ring a bell?”

“Stop babbling and just watch the video before you comment.”

“Ugh, Illusion is getting more and more shameless—now you have to pay for a membership to avoid ads. Anyone got a major account I can borrow?”

“Borrow your hat! The site’s still down right now.”

Thousands of comments flickered beneath Lexiao Tian’s video, none pinned. Each comment flashed for less than half a second before being swept away by the flood.

The surge was so rapid that this strobe-like phenomenon occurred; even now, Illusion was still partially paralyzed!

But as the premier video platform in Fama, their maintenance team was formidable. Soon enough, aside from comment issues and some video lag, viewers managed to start the video one after another.

There, in the holographic projection, stood Lexiao Tian. Once people realized it was him, Fama went wild.

“Whoa! It’s Teacher Xiao Tian! It’s been so long—will he release another legendary song?”

“I knew the name Ziyang sounded familiar—it’s Teacher Xiao Tian!”

“Why is this so laggy? My junk phone can’t play the video—this is killing me.”

“Wow, it’s Teacher Xiao Tian. He’s still so handsome—I’d have his babies.”

“A five-square-meter holographic setup—I remember that table! It’s the top honeymoon suite at Blue Moon Hotel!”

“The Blue Moon Hotel’s top honeymoon suite from the promo? Damn, not even in my dreams could I stay there with Teacher Xiao Tian.”

While many fixated on the scene, others noticed the instrument in Lexiao Tian’s hands.

The shakuhachi, named for its length of one shaku and eight sun, was what he now held—a standard five-hole model.

With no need for a membrane, Lexiao Tian pressed his lips directly against the pure white ivory-inlaid crescent mouthpiece. His slender, nimble fingers danced over the holes as he exhaled gently, everything about him exuding ethereal calm.

The shakuhachi, crafted from thousand-year-old purple bamboo, was exquisitely made—its internal curve and resonance nearly perfect. At the first note, everyone instantly experienced its unique and haunting timbre.

Most striking of all, it sounded like a mournful echo from ancient times.

“What? Is that a shakuhachi? I heard it’s notoriously hard to play—most can’t even make a sound on it!”

“Exactly, it’s an instrument even professional musicians fear, but Teacher Xiao Tian excels at everything—he’s almost painfully talented.”

“No kidding, he’s a conducting genius!”

“Why does this simple melody make me want to cry?”

“Spoken like a true layman. The essence of music is in its performance, you know? Music is the art of time—its magic lies beyond any notation, in abstraction. Just look at Teacher Xiao Tian’s eyes, his breath control, hand movement, chest, fingers—each motion so precise, so perfect.”

Though the piece was straightforward and arranged as a shakuhachi solo, after just three notes—less than a second—tens of thousands were completely mesmerized.

As those ancient, unadorned notes drifted out, everyone’s thoughts wandered, as if witnessing tragic yet beautiful love stories unfold.

Lifting and bowing his head in turn, Lexiao Tian immersed himself in the song’s ebb and flow, letting the music’s spirit carry him away.

Unnoticed, across Fama the poignant melody rose and lingered, refusing to fade…

“Look, Lexiao Tian is crying. If a performer weeps while playing, can he really be that skilled?”

“You’re wrong. An artist who can’t control their emotions isn’t yet great, but one who only controls them is also lacking. Only someone like Teacher Xiao Tian—who’s experienced both mastery and vulnerability—can be called truly excellent. This is genuine feeling after both losing and regaining control.”

“Yes, I agree. Besides, aren’t you crying too?”

“Damn, why’d you have to say it out loud? I accidentally sent a voice comment instead of text, okay? It’s been five years since I last cried. After all these years of ruthless competition and scheming, I thought sorrow was dead in me. But now, all I can think of is my departed mother…”

“My poor wife died so tragically. I may have many women now, but I can never forget her—she was the only one who truly loved me for who I am.”

“Teacher Xiao Tian, how could you? After years of dominating the business world, here I am bawling like a child.”

“Why must Teacher Xiao Tian play such heart-wrenching music? What if I can never hear it again? What if I lose all appetite for life?”

“Who is Teacher Xiao Tian mourning for?”

“Hey, are you alright? Don’t die on us.”

“Cough, cough, I’m fine—I just cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. Leave me be, I want to weep in peace.”

“Mother, rest in peace—your child has grown up.”

“Father, rest in peace—your child has made you proud.”

“My wife, rest in peace—the family is well.”

…

The beautiful melody drifted on the wind, bringing tears to all who heard it.

Emotions long buried surged forth with the force of a tsunami, overwhelming all restraint.

The starry sky was dim, the constellations faint—each flickering star seemed to sob quietly.

On the other side of Fama, the sky was pitch black, lashed by storm and rain.

Yet, faced with this most genuine, most beautiful, most heartbreaking sound, the entire nation was plunged into sorrow.

Whimpers rose everywhere; tears flowed down every face. Even the fiercest-looking men wept most bitterly, as if years of hard armor had finally fallen away, leaving only treasured memories.

Meanwhile, as more and more viewers tuned in, the video’s reach spread ever wider, and the vast majority witnessed what happened next.

On screen, Lexiao Tian set down his shakuhachi and poured himself a glass of red wine. After a moment’s contemplation, he lit a cigarette and gazed into the distance, his eyes dark and mournful.

“The cause of the Zhenxing Tower incident, I believe everyone has their own judgment. Whether you love me or not, I hope none of you dwell on it. Though the days have passed, I know you’ve all been following this closely.”

He paused, then continued, “After so much fighting, both sides have lost many. Now, I hope everyone will light a lantern for the fallen—let us honor the dead, no matter who they were, and let go of old grudges. From now on, I will play thirty-two different versions of ‘Remembrance Across Time,’ and offer my blessing to all.”