Standing before her father’s door, Ma Fangfang took a deep breath. Through her earbuds, Yan Qi had already confirmed he was still awake. She raised her hand and knocked.
“Who is it?” came the voice from inside.
“It’s me, Dad,” she replied, trying to steady her nerves.
Upon recognizing his daughter’s voice, Ma Hongxin responded with the same detached tone he’d used all month. “Fangfang? Why are you knocking on my door so late?”
Following Yan Qi’s instructions, Ma Fangfang pressed on. “I need to talk to you, Dad. Open the door, please.”
Under the supernatural influence controlling him, Ma Hongxin didn’t question further. He rose from his bed and opened the door, his expression blank. “Well? What is it?”
The moment he stepped into view, Yan Qi’s voice whispered through the earbuds:
“Take out your phone. Get it as close to him as possible.”
Without hesitation, Ma Fangfang pulled out her phone and held it up toward her father.
Puzzled, Ma Hongxin opened his mouth to ask what she was doing—but before he could speak, Yan Qi’s voice erupted from the phone’s speakers in a sudden, crystalline song.
The effect was immediate.
The hollow-eyed stiffness melted from Ma Hongxin’s face, replaced by dazed wonder. Even Ma Fangfang, despite expecting this, found herself spellbound. Neither had ever heard anything so alive—notes shimmering like liquid starlight, weaving through the air with impossible clarity.
Then, as abruptly as it began, the song ended.
Silence reclaimed the hallway.
Blinking as if waking from a dream, Ma Hongxin was the first to recover. His brow furrowed—not in cold detachment, but genuine curiosity. “Fangfang… who composed that piece?”
The question made Ma Fangfang freeze. That tone—warm, engaged—was her real father’s voice. Tears welled in her eyes. “D-Dad… you’re back to normal?”
Ma Hongxin paused, then looked down at his hands, flexing them experimentally. Shock flashed across his face. “I… I can control myself again? But that bastard’s power had me locked down for weeks—how?!”
Overcome, Ma Fangfang lunged forward, burying her face in his chest. “It worked! The electronic songstress actually freed you!”
The moment his arms closed around her, the full weight of the past month seemed to crash over Ma Hongxin. Memories surfaced: skipped dinners, harsh words, the way he’d coldly dismissed her tears. His embrace tightened. “God, Fangfang, I’m so sorry. All those times I… I swear I’ll make it up to you. Every second.”
His fingers brushed her hair with the practiced ease of a father who’d comforted scraped knees and nightmare fears for years. Slowly, Ma Fangfang’s sobs subsided.
Pulling back, she wiped her eyes and managed a wobbly smile. “I don’t blame you, Dad. I knew it wasn’t you saying those things. It was that monster controlling you.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You knew I was being manipulated?”
Ma Fangfang held up her phone, where Yan Qi’s pixelated avatar waved cheerfully. “The electronic songstress told me. She’s the one who broke you free.”
“Greetings, Mr. Ma!” Yan Qi chirped through the speaker.
Ma Hongxin stared. His brain visibly short-circuited. “…What in the world is happening?”
“It’s like this, Dad…”
——
By the time Ma Fangfang finished explaining, Ma Hongxin had gone through stages of bewilderment, awe, and finally, profound gratitude. He bowed deeply toward the phone.
“Miss Electronic Songstress, I can’t thank you enough. Without you, I’d still be that thing’s puppet.”
Onscreen, Yan Qi’s avatar shook its head. “No need for formalities. This was just a transaction with your daughter.”
“Maybe so,” Ma Hongxin insisted, “but you still saved me. That deserves more than thanks—it deserves a reward.”