I stare at the comment section, scrolling through dozens of similar requests. "Get Brett Yang to do the Ling Ling Workout!" The petition has over a thousand likes. My heart races at the thought. Brett Yang - the classical violin prodigy, the soloist whose Tchaikovsky interpretation left me breathless when I saw him perform last year. We went to the same school briefly, years ago. Just one year apart, but in completely different worlds.

I bite my lip, hesitating. My channel's subscriber count has plateaued during quarantine, and I'm running out of pre-filmed content. This could be exactly what I need. But approaching someone of Brett's caliber for something as silly as the Ling Ling Workout seems audacious, even ridiculous.

What if he says no? What if he thinks I'm mocking classical music? What if... he actually agrees?

I open a new email draft, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Mr. Yang? Brett? Hey? The cursor blinks accusingly at me. Then I remember the comments - hundreds of them, demanding this collaboration. With a deep breath, I begin typing, my heart pounding in my chest.