She’s already reached 10,000 followers—faster than she’d expected!

She pulled up the comment keywords in the backend: “essential need,” “can be used every day,” “please release a series,” “a godsend for clumsy people.” Each one was highlighted in red and bold, then saved into a document—these would be her most concrete bargaining chips when negotiating collaborations down the line, the very confidence that would help her break free from her past and establish herself firmly.

At ten o’clock in the morning, the video metrics exploded, soaring straight up: views shot to 50,000, likes reached 4,700, and saves skyrocketed to 12,000—more than twice the number of likes!

Su Wan scrolled through the comment section, tapping the screen with her fingertips, her smile impossible to hide. One commenter wrote: “I followed the video on my way to work and even did my eyebrows! My coworker asked if I’d changed my foundation, saying I looked amazing today!” Another said: “My husband complimented me for the first time, saying ‘You look great today’—help! This makeup is so natural!”

One pinned comment was liked by so many users it rose to the top: “I suggest renaming it ‘Makeup to Save You at Work’—otherwise it wouldn’t do justice to how practical this is!”

After reading it, Su Wan quickly typed a reply: “Next episode will feature a product review of ‘mascara you can apply on the subway’—a must-watch for all the clumsy folks!” Once she sent it, she immediately turned off the comment notifications—she couldn’t let these messages distract her; there was still so much more to do, so many goals to achieve.

With a loud clatter, the lunchbox hit the corner of Su Wan’s bedroom desk, shattering the quiet. She looked up to see her mother, Lin Shengnan, holding a steaming bowl of scallion-oil noodles, with a glass of ice-cold plum juice bubbling over the rim. The fragrant aroma wafted straight to her nose.

“Your brother told me this morning that you stayed up until two o’clock last night again?” Lin Shengnan stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, her tone a mix of exasperation and concern. “Why are you working yourself to death like this?”

Su Wan lowered her head and took a big slurp of noodles. The rich, savory scent of scallion oil mingled with the chewy noodles as they slid down her throat, instantly warming her body and chasing away the exhaustion of staying up late. She mumbled, but her voice was firm: “Mom, this isn’t just any ordinary video.”

“Not ordinary? Could it be made of gold bricks or something?” Lin Shengnan rolled her eyes openly, turned to leave, then stopped at the threshold, her tone growing more serious. “Remember, don’t stare at the computer screen all day. You’ve got to go to the property management office this afternoon to pick up the relocation documents—this can’t be delayed!”

“Got it, Mom!” Su Wan replied with a smile, but her ears were still tuned to the sound of footsteps outside. Only when the footsteps had completely faded did she put down her chopsticks and quickly turn on her computer.

Two pages were laid out side by side on the screen: on the left was Jianying’s densely packed timeline, with the video she’d edited until two o’clock last night still frozen on its final frame; on the right was the account’s backend data graph, where the line representing views and follower count was shooting straight up like a rocket, making your heart race and itch at the same time.

It’s one thing for commuter content to catch fire once, but to really establish a foothold, you’ve got to create a series, set a steady rhythm, and keep your fans locked in!

She swiftly created a new document, the keyboard clicking crisply and rapidly, and typed the title directly: “Commuter Content Database v2.” As the cursor blinked, topic ideas began popping up one after another:

Quick skincare in a ten-minute lunch break—no more sleepless nights for office workers!

Three must-have beauty items for your commute bag—your emergency lifesavers!

Five-minute emergency makeup before meeting clients—turning sloppiness into polish!

Emergency remedy for chapped lips—no more awkwardly pursing your mouth!

Lipstick smudged on your jacket? Fix it in three seconds without ruining the look!

Once she finished writing, she opened her calendar and drew a bold, eye-catching red box around an important entry, the font extra thick and glaring: [Every Wednesday, the “Commute Survival Skills” series will be updated regularly—no skipping a week!]

End of Chapter 19: Predicting the Next Big Hit