I know how to solve this problem.

In the hospital, Liu Ting, who was still sobbing in pain, paused when she heard the voice coming from her phone.

“Invisible Wings?” Was this written for Yangyang?

On the rooftop, Zhang Shuyi looked down at the ground. From the 48th floor, the streetlights below seemed as faint as fireflies.

Her trembling hands gripped the railing tightly.

“Invisible Wings?” Could they carry me away?

Inside the various streaming rooms of Flying Fish, hosts tore off their masks and mocked disdainfully:

“Ha, ‘Invisible Wings’?! Isn’t that just the emperor’s new clothes?!”

“Heh, ‘and I’ll give it to everyone,’ she’s not afraid her boasting will burst. If I were Ji Fanxing, I’d just write a children’s song—after all, it’s for kids. This woman isn’t smart enough!”

“Come on, folks! Gifts, send them! If Ji Fanxing sings well, I’ll send ten times back!”

In the practice room at Jiangshan Entertainment, Lu Tianyu’s phone was snatched away.

“Lu Tianyu! Your concert is about to start, and you’re still playing with your phone!”

Shen Zhiyao’s forehead veins bulged as she spoke, ready to switch off the phone and drag this unruly idol to training.

“Hey, wait! Let me finish this song!”

Lu Tianyu grabbed his phone back, cradling it like a treasure. “I’ve already over-completed my training tasks for this livestream. Check the records if you don't believe me!”

Hearing this, Shen Zhiyao, stern-faced, picked up the electronic monitor to check, asking as she scrolled, “Which account did you use to watch the livestream?”

“A side account! Definitely a side account, don’t worry.”

“Mm.” Seeing nothing amiss, Shen Zhiyao’s expression softened. She sat beside Lu Tianyu and saw Ji Fanxing, guitar in arms, on screen, looking enlightened.

But when she realized it was a livestream, her brows furrowed. “Why is she streaming?”

“It’s an event organized by ‘The King of Song’,” Lu Tianyu replied, his tone tinged with dissatisfaction toward the organizers.

He thought of something else and boasted to Shen Zhiyao, “But Ji Fanxing is incredible—she’s composing live! That’s never been done before!”

Shen Zhiyao, who had been weighing whether to end the collaboration with Ji Fanxing due to possible backlash if an idol of Lu Tianyu’s stature performed a streamer’s song, now sat down to watch with him.

Live composition was no easy feat—she’d see for herself if Ji Fanxing’s talent was worth the risk.

By now, nearly a hundred thousand viewers were tuned in across the internet, awaiting Ji Fanxing’s song.

Under the spotlight, Ji Fanxing sat before the camera, her fingers dancing lightly across the guitar strings.

Her voice was clear and transparent, pure as mountain stream water, effortlessly penetrating listeners’ hearts.

“Every time, I grow stronger amidst loneliness—
Every time, though deeply hurt, I shed no tears—
I know, I’ve always had invisible wings—
Carrying me, flying across despair—”

In the vast land of China, many songs inspire, but none seemed more fitting at this moment.

The “Angel Mother” perhaps had been frightened by the atmosphere in the comments and hadn’t appeared again.

From the comments, Ji Fanxing learned that little Yangyang, afflicted with a rare terminal disease, was only eight years old.

For five years, her family had fought bravely against the illness, yet Yangyang’s condition continued to worsen irreversibly.

Buddhism speaks of “Eight Sufferings of Life: birth, aging, illness, death, separation from loved ones, unfulfilled desires, meeting with those one hates, and the burning of the five aggregates.”

The first seven describe the myriad states of human existence, while “the burning of the five aggregates” refers to the torment of the soul caused by attachment and affliction—the most harrowing suffering of all.

In these five years, the “Angel Mother” not only cared for her daughter, but also documented the treatment journey online, refusing any societal aid, simply to educate the public about the rare disease.

She hoped to raise awareness of “Type I Destruction Syndrome” and save more children like Yangyang.

Yet exposing her daughter’s frail condition online was another form of pain for her.

All these years, her soul had endured no shortage of torment.

Ji Fanxing sincerely hoped the “Angel Mother” had not left the livestream, that she could hear this song.

She wanted to give this song to the mother, to tell her: keep going—you will see the dawn.

“Don’t think about how they have the beautiful sun—
I see, every sunset changes day by day—
I know, I’ve always had invisible wings—
Carrying me, giving me hope—”

In the hospital, Liu Ting, who could no longer cry, felt her heart tremble at these lyrics.

Whenever she saw healthy, lively children, she thought of her own daughter, too weak to walk, and would always try to encourage herself.

But now, her husband told her their daughter had no hope. Her Yangyang wouldn’t have many sunsets left...

Her husband, Fang Cheng, held her close, sinking deep into self-blame. He hated that after ten years of practicing medicine, he couldn’t even save his own daughter.

Once a meticulous attending physician, he had become utterly despondent.

Neither noticed that behind them, Yangyang, who had been asleep, was now perched at the window, secretly watching her parents, her innocent eyes filled with reluctance and guilt.

Growing up in the hospital, she had learned much. Two months ago, the boy next door was wheeled out covered in a white sheet and never returned.

She was scared—she wasn’t as strong as the boy; would the same happen to her?

But she didn’t want to leave beneath a white sheet. She wanted, just as in the song, to carry her wings and become an angel, guarding her parents.

“I finally see all dreams blossom—
Chasing youth, how bright the singing—
I finally soar, gazing with my heart, unafraid—
Wherever there is wind, I’ll fly as far as I can—”

The song’s climax was clear and resonant, Ji Fanxing’s voice more powerful and uplifting than ever, as if invisible wings truly beat behind her, eager to take flight.

The melody drifted through the window to Yangyang’s ears, and her grip on the window frame loosened.

Such a magical song—Yangyang felt no fear anymore.

No wonder she couldn’t see her wings—they were invisible all along. Her wings were the ones that could carry her across despair, to see hope!

But... could these wings help her stay with her parents forever?

Thinking this, Yangyang felt a pang of disappointment.

During the instrumental break, Ji Fanxing played the guitar, her mind racing.

She tried hard to recall all the information about “Type I Destruction Syndrome” in this world.

The disease was so rare—there wasn’t much useful information. She filtered everything, comparing it to her own memories of the illness.

Finally, she found the answer.

Just as Peking Opera is called “Jingju” in the Dragon Nation, this same disease is known by another name in China.

Coincidentally, it was one of her tasks.

To complete it, she’d endured many hardships.

It was all because, before her rebirth, she was just an ordinary person, unfamiliar with all the details of this rare disease, so when she was doing tasks on Earth, she never made the connection.

Ji Fanxing even thought her original world didn’t have this disease—turns out it was called “Type I Destruction Syndrome”?

Very well.

Difficult to diagnose, was it?

Incurable, was it?

Sorry, but I know this answer.

Children of Planet W, wait for your sister to bring you the solution!