My Girlfriend Is a Cello Player-Chapter 79: The Internet Buzzes

Chapter 79: The Internet Buzzes
In just a few short days, the numbers had skyrocketed—2.03 million likes and an astonishing 80 million views. Lin Tian was genuinely stunned.
A casual behind-the-scenes clip, tossed up without much thought, had somehow outperformed even their polished music video in terms of engagement. Of course, part of that buzz could be attributed to the viral success of Can-Can Dance, which had inspired countless covers across the web. When a song blows up like that, people naturally crave more from its creators—even if it's just scraps of footage.
But still… who would've guessed this "scrap" would hit so hard?
"Somebody, please put me out of my misery and let Moonlight and Cat keep blessing us with content."
"I'm begging you two—get married already."
"Help, I'm lying here at midnight laughing like a lunatic because of you."
"Oh my god, this is too sweet—I might actually die…"
"From now on, you're officially the only couple I'll follow on TikTok."
And so it went. Comment after comment flooded in, filling both the live chat and comment sections with uncontainable enthusiasm.
On the surface, the video seemed utterly absurd—a man teaching a woman how to sing along to a rhythm while she awkwardly fumbled through playing the cello. Together, they made what could only be described as joyful noise: chaotic, messy, and completely nonsensical.
Yet somehow, it struck a nerve. Only those fluent in the language of romantic subtext understood the true gold hidden within.
"I always imagined Moonlight as this aloof, mysterious genius type—but turns out he's secretly such a softie."
"Ha! And I thought Cat-chan was supposed to be some untouchable ice queen. Turns out she's adorably clumsy!"
"The cello is such an elegant instrument—it should belong in the hands of a graceful older sister figure, right?"
"Well, why can't cute work too? This girl melted my heart into sugar."
"Please, just post something—anything! Even footage of you two sitting around eating dinner together. We're dying for more interaction."
Lin Tian sighed, rubbing his temples. He'd started this account aiming for something sophisticated—an aspirational persona that commanded admiration from thousands. Now? Well, he'd gotten his wish—and then some. Except instead of worshipful followers, he found himself bombarded by fans demanding wedding bells.
Ironically, the unexpected virality of this single clip also sent views soaring for their earlier upload of Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 6: Pathétique. With the BTS teaser setting the stage, viewers revisited the main performance with fresh eyes, particularly the hauntingly beautiful moment when Gan Yanyu let her hair down mid-performance, bow gliding over strings like poetry in motion. It wasn't just music anymore; it was drama. Suspense. Romance.
And just like that, Lin Tian realized his mission objective had been completed—not through grand design but sheer accident.
Talk about efficiency.
He couldn't help but marvel at the irony. Someone out there had redefined Mozart's Symphony No. 40 as an anthem for resisting adulthood. Why shouldn't Lin Tian redefine artistry itself? After all, pairing classical symphonies with themes of love and passion? That was undeniably cool.
As he scrolled idly through comments sprawled across his screen, Lin Tian glanced absently at the stamina-recovery capsule sitting unused in his inventory. What exactly was he supposed to do with that thing? Sure, he'd toyed with ideas—maybe using it for some intimate activities—but ultimately decided against it. Without the ability to reload ammunition, cooling down gun barrels seemed pointless. For now, it would stay shelved.
Stretching out lazily on the couch, Lin Tian resumed scrolling. Since releasing the Can-Can Dance bloopers, Moonlight and Cat—the once enigmatic duo known solely for their highbrow musical uploads—had come alive in ways no one anticipated. Their newfound relatability sparked endless speculation among fans about their appearances.
"When are you guys going to show your faces? How can we stan a ship this perfect without knowing what you look like?"
"Moonlight must be insanely handsome if he can create music that gorgeous."
"Eh, not necessarily. You know how these TikTok influencers are—there's usually a reason they hide their faces. Probably not pretty enough for public consumption."
"It doesn't matter what they look like! Talent trumps everything."
"Yeah, come on, give us a peek next time. Everyone wants to see!"
"Honestly, even if Cat-chan looks like a potato sack, I'll still adore her forever."
"Inner beauty is what counts."
…
Lin Tian groaned inwardly. Leave it to the internet to spiral from gushing praise straight into pity-party territory. It reminded him of those backhanded compliments where someone describes your project as "hard work" rather than "successful." Subtle digs masquerading as encouragement weren't fooling anyone.
Still, Lin Tian knew better than to take fan reassurances at face value. Sure, they claimed things like, "We don't care about your looks—we're here for the music!" But history proved otherwise. Countless creators had seen their careers crumble overnight after revealing themselves to fall short of audience expectations. In niche circles like cosplay, there was even a saying: "‘Don't judge cosplayers by appearance'—yeah, right. Tell that to everyone who got roasted online."
For influencers, mystery often worked best. Lin Tian trusted Gan Yanyu's looks—he was confident she'd hold up under scrutiny—but respected her decision to remain anonymous for now. If she didn't feel ready, neither did he.
Lost in thought, Lin Tian suddenly remembered their upcoming concert. A duet featuring piano and cello, performing none other than Moonlight and Cat's signature pieces… Could this outing blow their cover?
Glancing at the recently published program lineup, Lin Tian quickly opened TikTok to search for related discussions. Concerts held at venues like Qingtian Hall were obscure enough that most posts garnered mere dozens—or low hundreds—of likes. Most promotional clips barely registered.
But one video caught his eye.
The title read: "What's the Real Skill Level of ‘Moonlight and Cat'? A Professional Musician Weighs In."
Curious, Lin Tian clicked play. Usually focused on his own comment sections, he hadn't ventured far into broader conversations about himself online until now.
The creator, "Fat Guy A," boasted 23,000 followers and claimed to be a former music industry executive. Onscreen, a slightly overweight man sat stern-faced at a desk, fanning himself dramatically with a folded paper fan.
"This video might step on some toes," he began gravely. "Recommend saving it before it gets taken down. Now, many of you have asked me to weigh in on this ‘Moonlight and Cat' phenomenon. Who are these people? What level of musicianship are we dealing with?"
He paused for effect, leaning forward. "I've watched all four videos. Gaining millions of followers in record time? That's unheard-of, even on TikTok."
Then came the verdict: "Let me make one thing crystal clear: Moonlight and Cat are NOT amateurs. There's no way. Behind them lies a highly professional team orchestrating every move."
Leaning back, Fat Guy A smirked knowingly. "Now, let me explain why…"