The Vanishing Audience

Old Wang was holding a bowl of instant noodles, his eyes glued to the screen. The Spring Festival Gala was in the middle of a skit, Shen Teng's familiar face contorted as he tried to elicit laughter from the audience. But Old Wang thought this year's skit seemed a bit weak, the jokes were awkward, even forced. He put down his chopsticks, picked up the remote, and habitually opened the bullet comments.

"Hahaha, Brother Teng is still so funny!"

"Sister Ma Li's acting is amazing!"

"I could watch this skit ten times!"

The bullet comments were as lively as ever, as if everyone was in stitches. Old Wang's lips twitched slightly; he didn't laugh along. He felt like he was the only one who didn't find it funny.

He randomly clicked on the audience online count, wanting to see if anyone else felt the same way.

Strangely, the number was fluctuating, but it wasn't increasing, it was decreasing.

"32894523"

"32894487"

"32894412"

Old Wang rubbed his eyes, thinking he was seeing things. He exited and re-entered, but the number was still constantly decreasing. It was as if the world was deleting online viewers.

He tried sending a bullet comment: "Is anyone else finding this not funny?"

Send!

But his comment didn't appear on the screen; it was like throwing a stone into the ocean. And the number of online viewers was still decreasing.

He put down the remote and walked to the window. Outside, a myriad of lights twinkled, bustling and vibrant. He took out his phone and opened his WeChat group.

"Is everyone watching the Spring Festival Gala?"

There was no response in the group.

He sent another message: "What do you think of this year's Gala?"

Still no response.

Old Wang felt a sense of unease. He returned to the television, where Shen Teng and Ma Li were still performing energetically. But the bullet comments had already decreased by more than half, and the audience count was down to just a few million.

"What's going on?" he muttered to himself.

He picked up his phone and called his son. The phone rang for a long time until it automatically hung up. He called his wife; the result was the same, no one answered.

He started trying to call relatives and friends, but it was the same everywhere. It was as if he was the only one left in the world.

The Spring Festival Gala on TV continued, one performance after another, with singing and dancing, bustling and lively. But the bullet comments were becoming fewer and fewer, and the online audience count had already dropped below a million.

Old Wang felt a surge of panic. He got up and paced around the room, trying to calm himself down. He opened his computer and searched for news, but found that all the news websites were inaccessible.

He went back to the television, where a skit was being performed. Shen Teng and Ma Li's expressions were a bit stiff; it seemed like they had also noticed that something was wrong.

Old Wang looked at the online viewer count in the bottom left of the screen; the number was down to three digits.

"987"

"743"

"521"

"328"

"109"

Old Wang's heart was racing, he felt like he was about to disappear too.

Trembling, he picked up his phone and called his son again.

This time, the call went through.

"Hello, Dad, what's wrong?" his son's voice was calm, as if nothing had happened.

Old Wang was stunned for a moment, and quickly asked, "Are you still watching the Spring Festival Gala?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Have you noticed the viewer count is decreasing?"

"Oh, you mean that? I knew about that a long time ago."

"You knew about it a long time ago? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Dad, haven't you seen the announcement? The new rules for the Spring Festival Gala are, to increase viewership ratings, they'll automatically filter the audience, only those who genuinely enjoy watching can continue to watch. Those who don't find it funny or change the channel halfway will be directly eliminated."

Old Wang's mind went blank.

"Then how many people are watching now?"

"Now? Counting you, there are only two people left."

Listening to his son's calm tone, Old Wang felt a chill run down his spine. He looked at the television screen again. Shen Teng and Ma Li were still performing energetically, but the bullet comments had completely disappeared, and the audience count was only "2".

At this moment, Old Wang finally understood, he had not been forgotten by the world, he had just been filtered out.

On the screen, the Spring Festival Gala continued, as if nothing had happened.