The tram has run out of power; could you give me a lift?

The eighteenth day of the first month, an auspicious day according to the yellow calendar, the sorghum rises~
Dressed in red, each inch brings sorrow, hurriedly cut~
Cut away the beloved, how can he not return, forced to smile~
Three lines, sung in a theatrical dialect with a distinct regional accent, struck Xi Yuyang with freshness.
It was his first time hearing this style of theatrical singing in a single day—not only was it not unpleasant, it was remarkably captivating.
The lyrics, as he expected, told a tale of a traditional wedding, but wasn’t this supposed to be a heartwarming song?
Why did it sound somewhat eerie…
He hadn’t had time to savor it when a burst of rap interrupted his thoughts.

The game “Ghost Bride” is set a hundred and fifty years ago, in a village somewhere in the south.
A farmer’s daughter named Aman, famed for her beauty, is forced into marriage by a tyrant, and unable to bear the humiliation, she takes her own life.
Aman’s lover returns to the village, discovers her death, and against his family’s wishes insists on holding a ghost wedding with her.
Yet, due to a series of misunderstandings, the ceremony fails.
He even marries another woman.
This causes Aman, now a vengeful spirit, to gather her resentment and become a fierce ghost.
A hundred and fifty years later, the game’s protagonist and classmates explore the now-abandoned village. The classmates are attacked, their fate unknown, and the protagonist embarks on a rescue mission, traveling back to the village’s past.
He encounters a descendant of Aman’s lover, who is fulfilling his grandfather’s wish to return the ashes to the village.
Together, after a series of adventures, they finally succeed in dispelling Aman’s resentment and return to reality.

This rap describes the tyrant’s wedding procession, its eerie depictions intensifying Xi Yuyang’s sense of unease.
A sudden, jarring monologue made him feel that something was terribly wrong!

“That gentleman pondered joyfully for a long while, only to hum a sorrowful tune for the departed.”
The woman’s strange intonation sent a shiver through his body.

“She laughs as she cries, can you guess how she laughs while crying?
Crying, do you see how she cries while laughing?”

“First, bow to heaven and earth~!”

The suona blared, its high-pitched sound piercing his skull, and Xi Yuyang’s goosebumps erupted instantly.

“Bow between husband and wife~”

“Damn!” Xi Yuyang felt a chill crawl down his back, reflexively tore off his headphones, and couldn’t help but curse out loud.

“Are they holding a ghost wedding?!”

As the saying goes in Dragon Country, one hears the suona only twice in life: once when dressed in red for marriage, and once when dressed in white for the funeral.
This song goes straight to the funeral in red!

Xi Yuyang was riding in a luxury business coach, exquisitely finished, yet not spacious.
His muttered curse was strikingly out of place in the quiet cabin.

Everyone turned to look at him, and Shen Zhiyao opened her eyes to ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…nothing,” Xi Yuyang replied, embarrassed.

Seeing he was unharmed, the others returned to their own affairs.

Xi Yuyang exhaled deeply, holding his phone. The image of Aman, dressed in bridal robes and lying with closed eyes in a coffin, was haunting and bizarre.
The combination of suona and theatrical singing echoed in his ears, stimulating his mind. For the first time, a song both frightened and intrigued him, making him want to keep listening…

After a brief hesitation, he put the headphones back on, unconsciously swallowing, thinking:

“I’m a grown man, what is there to fear?! Based on his experience listening to music, the suona segment was likely the song’s climax.
The rest would probably just repeat what came before.”

With that thought, he mustered his courage and pressed play again.

“Before the hall~ he poured out heartfelt words
Without fulfilling his promise, how could he be carefree~”

The blend of theatrical singing and spoken monologue was exquisitely crafted—almost perfect.

Xi Yuyang listened closely. Could it be that Ji Fanxing really was a genius songwriter, and he had misjudged her?
Unfortunately, the song was too niche; those who love opera are mostly older, unlikely to accept such a style.
As for the younger generation, Xi Yuyang still doubted it—no young person in Dragon Country liked opera.

“She laughs as she cries, can you guess how she laughs while crying?
Crying, do you see how she cries while laughing?”

Here it came—the suona blared again. Xi Yuyang sat up straight, trying to shield himself with his own righteousness. This time, he was ready, determined not to be startled again.

At that moment, the coach entered a tunnel; the light suddenly dimmed, and a damp chill enveloped him.
In his headphones, Ji Fanxing’s chanting blended with the mournful suona, sounding as if weeping, yet forced to smile.

As the coach drove through the tunnel’s center, the lights vanished, leaving only a patch of brightness from the headlights visible through the windshield.
Ahead lay endless darkness.
The singing continued in his headphones.

Like longing, like lament, like sobs and complaints, the lingering notes wrapped around him, unbroken and delicate.

Cold sweat dripped unconsciously; at this moment, Xi Yuyang felt as if he was not riding a coach to the city, but a hearse to the underworld.

……

The coach finally reached its destination and stopped.
Everyone switched to their own cars to go home.
Only Xi Yuyang sat pale and motionless.

Shen Zhiyao, by the window, was blocked by him and impatiently pushed, “Move aside, I need to get off.”

Xi Yuyang was startled by Shen Zhiyao’s push, mechanically making way. As Shen Zhiyao was about to step out, he was suddenly called.

“Um… Shen Zhiyao, could you give me a ride?”

Shen Zhiyao was puzzled, “Didn’t you drive here?”

“My car’s out of gas… haha.”

Aren’t you driving an electric car, Shen Zhiyao thought sarcastically, wanting to refuse, but seeing the utterly helpless look in Xi Yuyang’s eyes, as if he was genuinely scared, found it hard to say no.

“Alright, come along.”

Xi Yuyang followed Shen Zhiyao, trembling as he switched cars. Only when the car entered the city, seeing the lights in the tall buildings and the bright street lamps, did he breathe a long sigh of relief.

Thankfully, he was still in the world of the living.

He glanced at Shen Zhiyao, who was driving, and suddenly felt a twinge of jealousy.

Although Shen Zhiyao hadn’t managed to sign Ji Fanxing, she had gotten the chance for Ji Fanxing to write songs for her artists.
With Ji Fanxing’s genius, she was sure to compose even better works.
He only hoped it wasn’t the popular idol Lu Tianyu asking Shen Zhiyao to buy a song, or else his own artists would face even more pressure in this year’s music charts.

Xi Yuyang regretted not following Shen Zhiyao earlier to seek collaboration, simply because he’d been unwilling to part with two million. He hadn’t even exchanged contact information.

Ji Fanxing was notoriously hard to reach; if he missed this opportunity, he would have to wait until “King of Songs” ended to find her.

Annoyed, Xi Yuyang tapped his phone, found the comment that had become the top-rated, and vented by frantically liking it.

[No, you all have to listen! All I can say is Ji Fanxing never disappoints! This song is so warm and touching, but tonight it scared… no, moved me to tears!]

Such a beautiful night deserved to let more people hear such a brilliant song.

Genesis Fantasy Studio.

Liu Fang looked anxiously at the pitiful download numbers in the backend. He glanced worriedly at Li Ming.

“Did we push too far…”

Li Ming was also downcast; his inbox was full of insults.
Curses for him, curses for their studio, even curses for the game itself.

Their whole team had spent three years developing “Ghost Bride”—it was like a child to him, now so misunderstood.

Li Ming clenched his fists, remembering he once was one of those online trolls.
He’d believed, on pure conjecture, that Ji Fanxing couldn’t write good songs…

“No, once they hear this song, they’ll know we’re not lying.
Just wait a little longer…”

He hadn’t finished speaking when Liu Fang’s excited voice rang out: “Downloads are skyrocketing!”

Li Ming rushed over; the screen, which had shown single-digit downloads, was now climbing as if on steroids.

500!
1000!
8000!

The numbers jumped by hundreds at a time.

In less than two minutes, it had surpassed ten thousand!

Liu Fang was trembling with excitement. For their horror game—a niche, distinctly Chinese horror title—this was beyond expectation.
They’d planned a slow build, focusing on word-of-mouth.
Five thousand downloads on launch day would have been a lucky break.

Now it had exceeded ten thousand!
And the pace wasn’t slowing—it kept rising.

Now it had broken fifty thousand! Ten times their estimate!

Li Ming opened his own backend, and sure enough, as more people finished watching the video, attitudes shifted.
On the official Genesis Fantasy Studio social page, where there had once been a flood of angry comments, almost none remained.

All were buried beneath new comments.

[I apologize for my ignorance before—this suona and theatrical singing in the song are truly extraordinary!]
[Sorry, I was too loud earlier; now I know, Chinese-style horror is real horror. This song is amazing!]
[Came here following the trending topic—Ji God never disappoints! This song has completely changed my perception.]
[First time seeing this style of horror game—admire the developers’ creativity. Our homegrown horror games are finally on the rise!]
[If this song hadn’t trended, I wouldn’t have known how much my Fanxing suffered online tonight!]
……

Li Ming followed the comments, clicked into the trending list.

#Ji Fanxing’s new song “Double Happiness”#
#Rise of Chinese-style horror, “Ghost Bride”#
#Who says traditional elements can’t be used in pop music? Don’t judge Ji Fanxing with narrow minds#

A handful of tags had already dominated the charts.