Chapter 12: The Howling Duet
The "Sparkly Anvil" had become more than a meme; it was a declaration of independence. Qu Tang's apartment thrummed with a new energy, a vibrant chaos that was equal parts creative space and joyful rebellion. The ridiculous silicone rolling pin was her scepter, the fan-art covered walls her kingdom's banners. She felt unstoppable, her voice stronger and her laugh more frequent than ever before. The lingering fear from the journal leak had been thoroughly steamrolled by pure, unadulterated silliness.
She was using this newfound boldness in her singing streams, experimenting with vocal runs and playful covers of classic interstellar pop songs, infusing them with the unique, emotive quality that was her signature. Today, she was attempting a notoriously difficult aria from a Zeridian opera, "The Lament of the Star-Weaver," her voice soaring through the complex melody with a focus that left her chat in awe.
As she held the final, crystal-clear high note, a priority notification from the Starfall Arena shimmered on her screen. She finished the note perfectly, took a bow for her cheering chat, and then squinted at the alert.
"Well, well," she said, fanning herself dramatically with a sheet of music. "The Arena bosses have heard my lament and are presumably offering me a record deal. Or maybe they're sending a vocal coach to tell me to stick to cooking."
She opened the message, her eyes scanning the formal proposal for a new series, "Crossed Stars." The concept was simple: pair two seemingly incompatible streamers for a one-of-a-kind collaborative performance. The Arena wanted to create something unique, a fusion of styles that had never been seen before.
"Ooh, a collab!" she said, her interest piqued. "I've always wanted to do a musical duel with someone. Maybe that guy who plays the laser harp? Or the Asorian choir that sings in ultrasonic frequencies?"
The chat exploded with suggestions, a chaotic chorus of names and instruments. Qu Tang laughed, reading them aloud. "Duet with a beatboxing potato? A creative choice!"
She scrolled further down the email to see who the Arena had in mind as her partner. "They say he's a longtime fan of the channel, a very private patron… username is…" She paused, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. "SilentListener?"
A warm smile touched her lips. Her mysterious, steadfast fan. The one who understood the soul of her music, who had sent the image of the lone wolf that had meant so much. The idea of finally collaborating with him, of perhaps hearing the person behind the insightful comments, was incredibly appealing.
Then her eyes dropped to the next line, where his real name was listed for the contractual agreement.
Qu Tang's jaw dropped. The sheet music fluttered from her hand.
"No. Way." she whispered, her brain refusing to compute the words. Then, a sound escaped her—not a gasp of horror, but a snort of disbelieving laughter. It built in her chest, bursting forth in a full-bodied, joyous roar that echoed around the room. She doubled over, clutching her stomach, tears of pure mirth streaming down her face. "NO. WAY! This is the most hilarious thing I have ever read!"
The chat was a chaos of confusion. WHO IS IT?! WHAT'S HAPPENING?!
Wheezing, trying to catch her breath, she finally managed to gasp out the name between fits of laughter. "It's… it's Lang Mo! The White Wolf Patriarch! My ex-husband! The strong, silent, 'I-communicate-in-grunts' Beast Husband! He's SilentListener! He's been my most perceptive music critic this whole time!"
The revelation was so absurd, so perfectly ironic, that she couldn't find a single drop of fear or anxiety in it. It was comedy gold. "He's been in my chat! Did he have an opinion on my Zeridian aria? Does the White Wolf Patriarch have a favorite key signature? Oh, I have so many questions!"
The galactic network, of course, imploded. #WolfInTheChat and #HowlingDuet trended instantly. The story was too bizarre to be a scandal; it was a delightful cosmic joke. The most intimidating of the Beast Husbands was a secret fan of his ex-wife's singing streams.
Bai Youyou's Perspective: A Squeak of Rage
Bai Youyou saw the news alert. She read the headline three times, her mind rejecting the reality of the words. Lang Mo? The reclusive Wolf? The one who valued silence above all else? He wasn't just acknowledging Qu Tang; he was collaborating with her. He was going to share a stage—a virtual one—with that… that chaotic songbird.
This was an affront. A humiliation. It was a validation of Qu Tang that she could not stomach. Her carefully cultivated image of the destined, gentle healer was being overshadowed by this ridiculous, musical farce.
A wave of incandescent rage washed over her, so intense it short-circuited her control. There was a small poof, and a fluffy, white snowhare sat amidst a pile of now-comically oversized pink silk and lace. She was trapped, her tiny paws tangled in ruffles, her long ears twitching in fury. She let out a series of high-pitched, furious squeaks, a stark contrast to the beautiful music she despised. She was utterly, pathetically imprisoned by her own jealousy.
Back in her studio, Qu Tang didn't hesitate for a second. The potential for awkwardness was vastly outweighed by the potential for an amazing story and, she had to admit, a fascinating musical experiment. What did the White Wolf's voice sound like? Did he howl in tune?
With a wide, excited grin, she hit "ACCEPT" on the contract.
"Alright, Mr. Silent Listener," she sang out, her voice trilling with amusement and anticipation. "Let's make some music. I hope you're ready to howl."