Chapter 23
"I didn't write this."
Chi Ran repeated this sentence for the umpteenth time in the smoke-filled conference room.
But at that time, AI music reading functions were not yet widespread, and he had no evidence, so he could only repeat himself again and again with pale words.
He slumped into the chair, unsure if Zhou Ting was even still there. Zhou Ting might have already impatiently left, leaving him with a room full of acrid smoke.
"Little genius, you should know how to be grateful, right? You only write one lousy song in half a year. The company supports you, you can't repay kindness with enmity."
Zhou Ting didn't leave, and there was no hint of impatience in his tone. His attitude could be described as persuasive, and his tone even revealed a subtle excitement.
He was enjoying the moment.
The once arrogant and disrespectful little genius who always humiliated him is now barely able to make a living as a musician thanks to his charity.
Chi Ran repeated blankly, "You changed my score, you raised the key of the chorus. I didn't write this."
Click.
Zhou Ting lit another cigarette, and the pungent smoke hit Chi Ran's face.
"Cough cough..."
Chi Ran coughed so hard his back trembled, but he stubbornly refused to leave. Once the coughing subsided, he continued, "You changed the score."
Zhou Ting, with a cigarette holder in his mouth, made a wet, sucking sound, his hoarse voice squeezing out an unpleasant laugh.
choke.
Harsh.
Chi Ran slumped back in his chair, shielding his face with his arms as if blocking out a light that did not exist for him.
Suddenly, two footsteps drifted by, one a long stride and the other a short, quick step, approaching from afar and then fading into the distance.
"Why, why, why, why..." Song Yihuan asked as she chased after him, her voice trembling with the sound of running.
Why do you have so many questions?
The man in the baseball cap strode impatiently, staring at the chattering girl in front of him, and frowned, saying, "How would I know why the chorus was changed? The arranger and the management company made the changes, it wasn't me who changed it, how would I know?"
Song Yihuan jogged after him, saying, "The chorus shouldn't be in a higher key; it sounds like a rooster crowing..."
The man in the baseball cap waved his hand and said, "Don't bother me. I can't change it back for you. Forget about it. So many girls can sing it, why are you the only one making a fuss?"
Song Yihuan leaped in front of him: "Brother!"
"Whoa, you scared me half to death!" The brim of her baseball cap nearly flew off as she slammed on the brakes. "Stop acting like that, okay?"
"Brother!" She clenched her fists and placed them over her chest. "Brother! The revised version just isn't as smooth and moving as the original... Brother! Please let me fulfill my dream! My mom just forced me to terminate my contract; this is my first and last time performing as a minor idol..."
“Your mom forced you… I don’t mean any rudeness, but you’ve already terminated your contract? Is this your last time on stage?” The man in the baseball cap finally looked up at her from under the cap.
Song Yihuan nodded vigorously, "Mmm-hmm-hmm-hmm-hmm-hmm-hmm."
Accompanied by a pitiful look in her eyes, begging me to grant her wish.
"Then hurry up and finish your performance and leave. Don't try anything fancy here. Tsk, you've already terminated your contract and you're still causing trouble... chattering like a sparrow..."
He pulled his baseball cap down low, muttered to himself, and walked away.
They're already so busy, and now they're adding to the chaos.
He was busy checking tickets, and before that, he had to check the stage again. The decorative gauze behind the stage kept falling off, and he had to glue it back on three times that afternoon.
After finally enduring until the performance officially began, the person in the baseball cap managed to find a moment to sit down and relax by the stage.
The unemployed sparrow who had been bothering him for so long had finally taken the stage, and he could finally have some peace and quiet.
Before it had even been half a minute since the noise started, arguments erupted from the small, run-down meeting room behind the stage, completely drowned out by the music and singing.
Several audience members in the front row turned to look, and some even took out their phones to record.
The sky has fallen.
Even someone wearing a baseball cap could guess what posts fans would write criticizing the coordinator: "Speechless! The girls are working so hard to sing, and there are people arguing in the background? What is the coordinator doing?"
...to coordinate the eating of grass.
After all, a coordinator is an ox, a horse, or a mule, but not a human being.
The man in the baseball cap quickly pulled out his walkie-talkie: "What's all the commotion backstage? Let them make a racket outside!!"
After a few beeps, a male voice came through the intercom: "I dare not, that's editor Chi Ran."
The man in the baseball cap gripped the walkie-talkie tightly, veins bulging on his hands, and gritted his teeth: "Then turn up the music!!!"
Before I could even put down the walkie-talkie, the sky fell again.
A first-row audience member with her hair in a bun: "Did that girl sing it wrong?"
"Yeah, right?" someone next to me said. "You're not on the same wavelength as everyone else, are you?"
Why are you so stubborn, you unemployed sparrow?!
How could you change the chorus key and sing the original version without permission?!
The baseball cap user seemed to want to throw the walkie-talkie onto the stage and smash it on the head of an unemployed sparrow, knocking it out.
"...This is so much more lively! Her voice is brighter, and it sounds much better than the previous uniform sounds."
"The girls' stage is finally designed?!" the girl with the bun hair said emotionally. "The organizers are finally paying attention to the girls. Extra chicken leg, extra chicken leg, extra chicken leg!"
...
Good sparrow, good sparrow, Brother Mule shouldn't have been so impatient with you just now.
The man in the baseball cap breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down in his seat on the side of the stage. Someone bumped into him, and when he turned his head, he met a pair of lifeless eyes.
"Teacher Chi?" The man in the baseball cap quickly reached out to steady her. "Where's your assistant?"
Chi Ran frowned as she looked towards the stage, seemingly trying in vain to make out something. "This song..."
I'd heard that Teacher Chi had a lot of unpleasantness with his management company, all because of this song.
Not wanting to offend either side, he cautiously distanced himself, saying, "This was not my intention."
Regardless of which side they're trying to distance themselves from, it has nothing to do with him anyway; he's just a mule.
Just when he thought Chi Ran would get angry and yell at him for the original song being adapted and sung in two different versions, he suddenly said softly:
"Such a clear voice, but...where is he?"
Baseball cap: "Huh?"
Chi Ran asked in a low voice, "The girl who sang the original song, is she also... clear-eyed?"
His voice was soft, and he asked with a sense of melancholy, but it didn't sound like a question. It gave the impression that he wasn't hoping for an answer, nor was he filled with much curiosity. He wasn't asking a question; he was simply venting some long-suppressed emotion, just torturing himself.
What does it mean to have a clear and innocent appearance? That's utter nonsense.
Meaningless questions don't need answers.
Before the man in the baseball cap could answer, Chi Ran chuckled self-deprecatingly and said, "I was just asking a random question. Go about your business."
Having said that, he didn't wait for a reply and slowly turned around.
The man in the baseball cap glanced at the energetic, unemployed sparrow on stage, then at the back of the down-on-his-luck genius, and pulled out his phone to scroll through his notes.
"Teacher Chi!" the man in the baseball cap called out to him.
“That newcomer Mengmeng has big, bright, and clear eyes like a doe’s, and a small, delicate mouth…” He read the live sharing on Weibo without any emotion, and then added with genuine feeling, “Although her mouth is small, it’s noisy, chattering like a sparrow.”
How can a person grow up to be clear-headed?
Yes, it is possible.
Her eyes were clear and bright.
That day, he remembered a pair of eyes he had never seen before.
"No wonder you said my eyes are beautiful..." Song Yihuan twirled the orange headphone cord, "You've seen me before?"
"Objectively speaking, I can't see it, but I can hear it," Chi Ran said. "I remember your voice."
“My voice is indeed very distinctive,” Song Yihuan nodded, “a voice without meal replacements or dream-like features.”
After she finished speaking, she remembered to explain the popular internet term: "Dream core is that kind of dreamlike atmosphere. 'Dream core voice without meal replacement' is what my fans call it. It's basically praising my singing as being like a childhood dream."
"Thank you for your dream voice," Chi Ran said.
Song Yihuan: "You're welcome."
“Seriously, thank you.” He said seriously, “It was on that day that I finally made up my mind to terminate my contract with Agnes Chow and start over.”
He thanked him with utmost sincerity, and even the most unconventional Song Yihuan was momentarily at a loss for words. Any formality would taint the sincerity of that moment.
After a long silence, she sighed, "Two years ago, it felt so strange."
Two years ago...
Two years ago.
At that time, she was underage, hadn't taken the college entrance exam, and hadn't run away from home. She lived like an empty robot, strictly following the program written by Ms. Wang.
The program is simple and brutal, not allowing her to develop her own personality or even a taste of freedom.
Two years ago that day was her first and only time being a child idol.
This was the first time she had ever cried and made a scene with Ms. Wang, all for the sake of freedom. It was also the first time she had ever shamelessly begged someone for help, and the first time she had ever disobeyed orders and acted on her own, all for the sake of freedom.
I only learned today that Chi Ran was also struggling that day, for the sake of dignity.
Her freedom and his dignity briefly intersected on that day.
Two years ago, she had not yet been diagnosed. The word "cancer" was merely a curse from her family, a Damocles' sword hanging over her head.
Ms. Wang was filled with anxiety and confusion.
At that time, the cancer cells had not yet settled in her body, but had become permanent fixtures in her bone marrow, organs, blood, and lymph.
In other words, Chi Ran had already met the still healthy Song Yihuan before she met the sick Song Yihuan.
She knew Chi Ran before those damned cancer cells did.
This absurd idea actually made her jump for joy. The reason for her joy was probably... that it freed her from futilely feeling regret for the perfect version of herself.
The elation didn't last long, quickly swallowed up by an indescribable bitterness.
The orange headphone cord held their hands together, swinging back and forth like a loose electrocardiogram.
A certain repressed emotion overrides all reason and feeling, forcing people to say things they don't mean. It's as if they have to hurt someone, fight against something, or refute something in order to live a brief period of balance and self-consistency.
"To repay a debt of gratitude?" Song Yihuan suddenly pulled the thread, the orange thread becoming taut and thinner. "To repay a debt of gratitude, we'll make an appointment and get tested for the four infectious diseases."
Chi Ran turned his head in surprise.
"Shall we go?" Song Yihuan tugged at his hand.
A sigh escaped from Chi Ran's throat, whether from helplessness or disappointment was unclear.
“Song Yihuan, I’ve sent everyone away so I can talk to you alone for so long,” Chi Ran frowned and asked, “Why is that?”
Song Yihuan refused to cooperate: "Just stall for time."
Chi Ran's brows furrowed deeper and deeper. She thought he was about to get angry, but he just patiently reasoned with her: "I'm telling you, to me, you're not the overly familiar neighbor next door, not a potential object for satisfying my physical needs, and certainly not some ignorant child who needs guidance..."
"Song Yihuan, I'm telling you that you mean something to me."
significance.
It's not attraction, not fondness, not liking, and certainly not love; it's a word that's much deeper than all of these.
significance.
What a terrible word.
You see, beneath his sharp thorns lies a hidden tenderness. But tenderness is more piercing than thorns, drawing blood from her.
Despite the pain, she did what she did best.
Saying things against one's true feelings, using harsh words.
"Your purpose is just to get the four infectious disease tests done," Song Yihuan said. "Or was your agreement just a delaying tactic from the beginning, and you never really intended to sleep with me?"
Chi Ran gritted his teeth and remained silent, his shoulders trembling from his heavy breathing.
Song Yihuan couldn't sit face to face with him. She suddenly stood up and said coldly and sharply, "Get out of my way, let me out, or don't waste my time..."
Suddenly, Chi Ran stood up and blocked the doorway. The orange headphone cable, which had been tormented for so long, was abruptly pulled out with his movement, and the speaker exploded with a cracking sound the moment the connection was severed.
Bang!
The two chairs were knocked over, but they didn't fall completely. They leaned against the table or wall, sweeping the items on the table and the audio cable onto the floor.
Several devices were emitting a buzzing electrical sound due to poor contact.
The recording studio was extremely small. When Chi Ran stood up, he almost filled the entire space. Even in such a cramped situation, Chi Ran still took steps toward her.
The moment Chi Ran's chest pressed down on her, she abruptly took half a step back, her back sinking into the soft, soundproof wall.
When he finally stopped, his right knee was already pressed against the wall behind her, trapping her in a corner. His eyes, dull and indifferent, stared at her, making it hard for her to breathe.
But she dared not breathe heavily; the distance was too close. She tried her best to control the rise and fall of her chest in order to maintain that tiny distance.
It felt completely different from when we impulsively bumped into each other and kissed on her birthday. The moment Chi Ran's body enveloped her, her mind went blank, and his warm body heat radiated through her thin T-shirt onto her face.
"You..." Song Yihuan began, feigning bravado, "What do you want?"
Chi Ran remained silent, her right hand slowly moving from her shoulder, then back to her cheek, her thumb gently stroking her chin and moving up to her nose.
Then, he touched the tip of her nose with the tip of his nose through his fingers.
Song Yihuan didn't say anything more, and desperately held her breath.
Chi Ran slowly removed the finger he was using for positioning, and his nose precisely touched hers.
One, two...
Song Yihuan sank into the soft soundproof cotton, unable to avoid his ambiguous actions.
"Oh."
His hand slowly slid down her cheek, landing precisely on her neck, a mocking chuckle escaping his nose.
He reached back and stroked her neck, his thumb and the other four fingers harmlessly separated, but she inexplicably had the feeling that he was being choked.
It's very tight.
It tightened around her neck, one squeeze after another.
The next second she realized a certain incurable truth—
His hand wasn't strong; it was her restless pulse that stretched the skin of her neck, her heartbeats hitting the back of his hand again and again, betraying her rapid heart rate.
The moment she realized it, she couldn't hold her breath and began to breathe heavily.
In a moment when his heavy breathing couldn't conceal it, Chi Ran mocked her without reservation:
"You're just bluffing."
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