Chapter Seventy-One: He Didn’t Go to Take His Own Life!

Hearing that voice, Wang Mo’s mind went blank, a surge of blood rushing to his head, his ears ringing. Something had gone wrong.

Jumping off a building? Suicide?

A torrent of similar thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant. It was hard not to—young people’s online aliases, their words and actions, and the faint background noise coming through the phone all made him connect the dots in the worst possible way.

Damn it.

If this was really happening, it would be a catastrophe. Never mind anything else—he, as the streamer, would almost certainly be implicated.

A suicide in his livestream room, and in front of tens of thousands of viewers no less—the social repercussions were unimaginable. His streaming account might not get banned, but his stream would definitely be shut down. And once that happened, everything the company had been planning for, and his own hopes of breaking new ground through streaming, would all be for nothing.

At that moment, the staff at the scene were already in a state of panic. Especially Yuan Xiong—his face turned ashen in an instant. Inwardly, he cursed furiously: “Damn you and eighteen generations of your ancestors—who was the idiot who picked this ‘lucky’ day?!”

Meanwhile, in the livestream chat, viewers were finally realizing something was terribly wrong.

“What’s going on?”

“This doesn’t feel right.”

“Why does that voice sound so chilling?”

“Shit, is he about to commit suicide?”

As soon as someone typed the word “suicide,” everyone in the chat became acutely aware of the possibility.

The barrage of messages exploded.

“It’s definitely suicide.”

“I thought there was something off about him just now.”

“Call the police, quick!”

“Someone call the authorities!”

Actually, there was no need for the viewers to remind them. Yuan Xiong had already signaled the staff to call the police at the first moment, and then, through his earpiece, urged Wang Mo, “At all costs, keep him calm. Don’t let anything happen. With an alias like his and those words, odds are he’s depressed and can’t see a way out. Try to talk him down. Just stall until emergency services arrive.”

Wang Mo gestured to show he understood.

But the next second, a chill ran through him.

Depression? The other party wanted to commit suicide because of depression?

To most people, Yuan Xiong’s judgment seemed reasonable. Even the viewers were increasingly certain that the young man was suicidal because of depression.

But—was Wang Mo an ordinary person?

He was not!

“No, something’s wrong!” Wang Mo screamed inwardly.

This wasn’t depression at all!

Why was he so certain?

Because in his previous life, Wang Mo had ended his own life because of depression.

He was the authority on this subject.

True depression is a long-term, overwhelming despair—anguish, inferiority, pain, pessimism, and a constant urge to escape oneself. Severe depression does indeed carry a risk of suicide, but when the time comes, the sufferer is almost entirely submerged in their own darkness.

They don’t want any contact with the outside world.

They don’t want anyone to know their situation.

They just want to quietly leave this world, unnoticed.

That’s the typical pattern for a depressed person’s suicide.

But this netizen, calling himself “This World Has No Color,” had the presence of mind to connect to a livestream, and even managed to snag the chance out of millions.

That was highly abnormal.

And then, there was that icy, apathetic laugh.

Cold. Indifferent. Completely devoid of emotion.

Most people with depression, despite their own despair, still try to show their best side to others. They don’t want anyone to know their pain, so they force themselves to smile, to shine, even though their illness makes life unbearable.

But this young man before him was entirely different.

Wang Mo sensed his nihilism, but it was a hatred of everyone, a desire to push the whole world away.

A person with depression turns their suffering inward.

But this young man—Wang Mo felt—wanted to drag everyone into the abyss with him.

Therefore.

Wang Mo was now absolutely certain.

This was not a suicide.

Absolutely not.

“Something’s wrong!”

The realization sent a chill down his spine, filling him with dread.

If it wasn’t suicide, then what was the man planning?

Why had he joined the stream?

What was his goal?

Wang Mo forced himself to remain calm and, in a voice as steady as before, said, “Hello? Are you still there? Have you run into some kind of trouble? Could you tell me about it? Maybe I can help, or even if I can’t, the tens of thousands of people here might have some ideas…”

As he spoke, out of sight of the camera, Wang Mo pointed at Yuan Xiong and made a strange hand gesture.

Yuan Xiong, his attention fully on Wang Mo, noticed it immediately.

The next second, his already grim face contorted further, and he shouted into the earpiece, “I don’t understand what you mean!”

Damn it. Where had all their usual rapport gone?

Fortunately, the young man in the video still hadn’t responded.

So Wang Mo continued asking questions while hastily scribbling a note: “Not suicide. Criminal police! Urgent!”

Calling the police for a suicide and reporting a criminal case are two entirely different things. If it’s reported as a suicide, usually the fire brigade is dispatched to rescue, with maybe a couple of community officers to handle the scene.

But report it as a criminal case, and the level of danger escalates immediately.

While everyone else was still stunned, a tacit understanding finally clicked into place between Yuan Xiong and Wang Mo.

“Holy—”

Yuan Xiong gaped at Wang Mo’s note for a split second, then, cursing under his breath, bolted out of the room.

…

In the livestream.

Ever since someone raised the possibility of suicide, the viewership had skyrocketed.

Forty thousand. Fifty thousand. Sixty thousand.

In just a few minutes, tens of thousands had flooded in.

The news was spreading across all the major streaming platforms.

“Hurry to the West Tower’s stream—someone’s about to commit suicide.”

“Oh my god, something’s happening in the West Tower’s room.”

“Quick, before the stream gets shut down!”

“What’s with the youth these days? Throwing their lives away at the drop of a hat. Their parents obviously didn’t discipline them enough.”

“Yeah, young people are too fragile these days.”

If there’s one thing internet users excel at, it’s spectating—a skill they surpass even the nosiest aunties in real life.

At the same time, Wang Mo’s follower count was soaring.

Watching the numbers climb, he felt a surge of excitement. “If my guess is right, this wave of attention might not be a burden at all—instead, it could become the springboard to my meteoric rise!”

Fortune favors the bold.

Now, all that remained was to wait for confirmation from the authorities.