"I don't know, I might have accidentally lost it?" Xu Xiaoyou scratched her face and said. "If it's lost, I'll buy you another one."

"I see." Tang Xin thought for a moment and nodded again, "Just a few days ago, it broke. I originally planned to keep it as a memento, but since it's lost, there's nothing I can do."

"I just feel a little sad. This alarm clock has been with me for quite a while. I bought it after leaving the foster home, and it's been with me all the way through college."

"Come to think of it, this seems to be the first birthday gift I bought for myself."

The girl spoke with a faint smile, and Xu Xiaoyou saw many emotions in her eyes—nostalgia for the past as well as anticipation for the future.

Tang Xin winked at her from behind the slightly ajar door:

"Let's not talk about it anymore, You. I'm going to bed now. You should sleep early too."

"Mm, you too."

After the door had been closed for a long time, Xu Xiaoyou took out the broken little pig alarm clock from behind her, the adorable little pig nose looked very cute.

Finally, she quietly put away the little pig alarm clock and walked towards her room.

...

Morning, Belvedere Square.

In the center of the square stood a statue draped in a blanket of snow, towering nearly forty meters high. Ever since it was erected, it has been annually maintained by dedicated sculptors. Even with years of ice and snow, its textures were still clear and distinct, the attire intricately exquisite, and the demeanor lifelike. The man's elbow held the Starry Melody, his hand raised high with a sword flowing with the artistic philosophy of the people from the Star of Art who fought in the past.

Beneath the massive gray stone dome were shadows of people coming and going, a pale golden light awakening the entire city. Yesterday's snow slowly melted, with crystal-clear droplets slipping through the gaps in the steel structure, landing between the ground and the moving figures.

In the desolate cold wind, people in the square wore British-style trench coats, drank black coffee, and read the city's morning newspaper.

They were either the elite white-collar workers of some company, reporters from television stations, or investors from all over the world hoping to discover treasures in this land filled with gold.

Everyone knew the early bird catches the worm.

To seize opportunities, become a successful person, marry a rich and beautiful woman, sleep for no more than four hours is the life motto summarized by Ince, the director of the filming crew of 'Black Lake.'

Recently, his career hit a nadir, the ratings of Channel 23 he was in charge of continuously hit record lows, the film he planned couldn't find enough actors, and investments were withdrawn, causing it to die in its infancy.

With debts piling up, if he couldn't find a way to save his on-the-brink-of-disbandment crew, his dream of contributing another glory to the great seventh art would be kicked disgracefully to the Piano Key District, leaving life with only black and white colors, waiting for the lovely jackals of Cosmic Heavy Industries to appear and take apart his body parts like assembling blocks and let them shine inside some rich person.

For this reason, he decided to go all out; reputation and pride are nothing in the face of life and death.

He thought it through, deciding to launch a new TV program with a somewhat artistic name, 'Moment of Disgust,' and the program content is also very simple.

Just push the camera right up into pedestrians' faces and conduct some outrageous, invasive interviews; even the most peaceful and polite people can't help but show expressions of disgust, and all he needs to do is record these moments of disgust and post them online. This novel subject matter will undoubtedly capture people's attention, and the ratings will soar!

He even thought about how to respond to the online backlash, just need to wear a well-fitted suit, with a serious expression, emphasize that he's engaged in 'artistic creation,' and that everything is for the great seventh art, and he can shut everyone up.

According to Article 13 of the Starry Melody artistic creation guidelines, any artistic creation behavior (except for performance art, bloody art, self-mortification art) is sacred, unquestionable by others, and deserves respect.

In this city, where everything appears golden and glamorous, standing in the sun, beautiful things aren't eye-catching enough, he had to seek an alternative way.

It's difficult to be liked by most people, but isn't it easy to make most people hate you?

Although it's very unethical, he has no other choice.

After a brief moment of psychological comfort, Ince wore a 'I'm smiling, and nobody hits a smiling face' expression, adjusted every detail on his face to the right level, and started his first interview.

The first interviewee was a gentleman in a custom-made suit, holding coffee, seemingly in the middle of a call, his brow occasionally furrowing and relaxing.

Seeing the camera almost touching his face, the man's face showed evident displeasure, reaching out to stop it. But thinking of facing the camera and how every action could be uploaded online, he had to force a smile, his voice mellow:

"Is it a street interview? If it's about business, I'd be happy to answer."

Ince slightly raised the corners of his mouth and asked, "Excuse me, Sir, what color are your socks today? Could you lift your trouser leg and let us see?"

The expression on the man's face visibly paused, the displeasure turning into indignation: "What station are you from, I want to file a complaint against you!"

Before the man erupted, Ince quickly snapped several photos, capturing the man's expressions, then carried the camera with him, running fast until the embarrassed man disappeared from sight.

The first task of the day was completed very smoothly.

Thinking this, Ince soon found the second target, a woman with exquisite makeup, dressed luxuriously.

Seeing someone interviewing her, the woman adjusted her glasses, extinguished her lady's cigarette, exhaling tobacco with mixed scents of green mint from her thin red lips.

She didn't mind the camera getting close, displaying herself generously: "Go ahead, shoot from every angle."

"Sorry, any angle only captures my beauty, for I am perfect. My figure, beauty, all are the most perfect, like Heras, the mother of gods in the Divine Hall of Hidon, who enchanted the world with her beauty."

Ince nodded: "Madam, you indeed are very beautiful."

Hearing this, the woman sneered, as if hearing the most boring compliment. Just as she waved goodbye to the camera, Ince's next words caused her beautiful face to crack and twist slightly.

"But, may I ask, what brand is your corset that can shape your waist so trimly."

"My figure is natural, the product of strict self-management! I never use such things!" The woman's voice became sharper.

"Which station are you from, such rudeness, I want to file a complaint against you!"

Ince seized the opportunity again, recording the woman's inelegant side, carrying the camera, and running.

Thus, this morning, people saw a figure running around at the station, raising a commotion wherever he went, clearly conspicuous.

After being reported by enthusiastic citizens, the nearby Tuner came, but was rendered speechless by Ince's comprehensive legal knowledge. Because of the surrounding people's eyes that seemed ready to tear Ince apart, he had to stay and maintain law and order to prevent any irrational actions from occurring.

The Tuner, who came following the report, inadvertently became Ince's shield, emboldening him further to seek his next target.

He then spotted a blonde girl in the crowd, hands in the pockets of a military coat, with a somewhat fish-eyed look due to lack of sleep.

Just as he approached, without having the camera shoved in her face, he heard her mutter:

"Get lost, just looking at you is annoying."

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