Chapter 247: Chapter 241 At the same time! They received an invitation to the New Year's Eve party, regarding the choice of songs..._4

“I’ll contribute… I’ll contribute by finding someone,” Xu Qingyan said. “I’ll ask around for a connection when I get back to Xinghai tomorrow.”

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow. It’s late; get some rest early.”

Pei Muchan hummed in acknowledgment, realizing that he no longer needed to rely on her. The thought that he could now talk about finding people was beyond her expectations; he was growing faster than she had anticipated.

The music industry is full of legends that draw countless youths to chase their dreams. But in reality, it’s a very traditional field where connections and resources are often key to getting started.

She had cleared a path for him, delivered him to the door. She wanted to say something more but forgot it the next second.

“Good night.”

“Hmm, it’s already half past twelve, get a good rest.” Xu Qingyan said with his luggage in hand, pointing to the next room, “I’m right next door, call me if you need anything.”

They had been running around all day and filming for a show, leaving both of them exhausted. Neither was in the mood for a chat, let alone anything else.

A night passed without words, and the next day came.

When they woke up, it was already noon and they had slept deeply. They bought plane tickets and flew back to Xinghai. By the time they arrived, it was the afternoon, so they went home to rest.

Back and forth, the day had slipped away.

“I Am the Song King” is a weekly show, with the next broadcast scheduled for Friday. If they wanted to capitalize on the broadcast’s popularity, they had roughly five and a half days left.

From planning to securing a venue, in reality, they had at most four days to shoot the MV.

News came from Lin Wanzhou that Wen Yun had still decided to let her continue competing in Jiangye’s “I Am the Song King,” aiming for the Top 4 live recording—she had to attend even if there was no chance of advancing.

Just now, Lin Wanzhou had called him with a voice message.

Xu Qingyan answered the call by the second-floor window of the studio, where the sunlight stretched long. With one hand on the hot windowsill, he squinted as he looked at the lush trees in the distance.

“What did Sister Yun say?”

“She said to seize every opportunity for more exposure, the appearance fee being a secondary concern,” Lin Wanzhou’s voice had a tinge of grievance. “I mentioned dropping out and she gave me an earful.”

“Haha, you dared to say that?” Xu Qingyan laughed.

“Yes, I don’t really want to go,” she said with a bit of coyness. “I won’t win the championship anyway. It’s useless no matter how well I sing; I’ll get eliminated after one performance.”

“Don’t they still pay an appearance fee?” he chuckled.

“It’s not a lot of money, and the production team also gives scripts. Last time they insisted I recite them on stage,” Lin Wanzhou’s voice faintly fluctuated, apparently a bit angered.

“What kind of script?”

“About how I fell out with my previous company, and then how I took to the stage… Of course, I refused. They’ll definitely remember me, and I won’t win if I go.”

“If Sister Yun tells you to go, just go. She won’t harm you.”

“Are you going?” Lin Wanzhou suppressed her excited tone, seeming as if she was tiptoeing and holding her breath on the other end, waiting for his answer.

“I probably can’t make it, as I need to get the MV done and time is tight,” Xu Qingyan offered no excuses. “I really can’t spare the time; otherwise, I’d indeed go.”

“I’ll send you the scores for the new song now, and next time I’ll take you out for fun.”

“Ah, when will next time be?”

The midday sun cast its light on the windowsill and on the white wall. His eyes dazzled, so he stretched out his hand to block it, squinting as his gaze narrowed into a slit.

“Next time is next time. You’ll compete, then get decisively eliminated. After that, you’ll need to prepare to release an album, because Sister Yun won’t keep you on variety shows forever.”

“Writing an album is so painful; I’ll be locked away,” she said. “And no matter how much I write, it’s never as good as yours. Thinking about the new album, I have no confidence at all.”

“Even if it’s painful, you have to write because you’re a singer-songwriter,” he reminded her. “If you really can’t think of anything, just come to me; maybe I can help.”

“What if I come to you from the start?” Lin Wanzhou began to play smart.

“Then you’ll never be able to write songs again. If someone brings you up, they’ll criticize you for lacking creative ability. It’ll be hard to become a diva,” Xu Qingyan patiently advised her.

“I’ll just say you wrote them for me; there’s no difference anyway.”

That was just a jest; if Lin Wanzhou truly lacked that spark for creation, she wouldn’t be able to become the rising diva. She was simply venting to Xu Qingyan.

After a while, he hung up and went into the arrangement studio.

He had contacted Lin Chuan yesterday, asking about some things needed for the MV shoot. Lin Chuan recommended someone who guaranteed professional quality.

The labor and post-production costs quoted were not high, but the exact amount wasn’t certain yet; after all, when it comes to MV production, there is a lower limit to the cost, but no upper limit.

The simplest MV starts at a cost of 200,000 yuan.

Originally, they needed to arrange for a director, producer, cinematographer, and art director, but Xu Qingyan decided to handle the roles of director, producer, and art himself.

The money saved was all spent on location and post-production; labor and technology are expensive. If they wasted money at every step, there was a chance they would exceed the budget, leading to delays.

Time was tight. Pei Muchan had already gone to talk to actors about cooperation. He needed to finish Lin Wanzhou’s score today, so he would be rushed to start filming tomorrow.

That afternoon, Xu Qingyan focused entirely on arranging a song called “Fragrant Rice.”

Since everyone held no expectations for the semi-finals of “I Am the Song King,” Xu Qingyan’s song selection became much simpler. He didn’t pick songs that were meant to compete strongly, only the ones that were suitable.

He still remembered his first trip to Jiangye, taking Lin Wanzhou to enjoy a second feast of duck blood and vermicelli soup. They had eaten too much and had to walk it off, strolling along the path by the river.

Underneath a lamp post—he couldn’t remember which one—she struggled to hold back tears, like a lake full of pent-up emotions. She hadn’t had an easy time over the years.

Too much tragedy in childhood required a lot of time to heal.

She would hide in her memories when she was sad, and Wen Yun told her not to daydream all the time. After that, she stopped thinking about it. What could there be in her memories, anyway? Nothing more than that little village by Qing River.

In her childhood home, the summers had no air conditioning. She’d sit at the alley entrance, enjoying the cool, natural breeze. Eating watermelon chilled in well water, watching the mountains in the distance, basking in the sun on a rock.

Catching fish in the creek, hunting frogs in the rice fields.

Watching the dusk slowly settling, lying in a rocking chair at night, eating watermelon, and staring at the stars. A sky full of stars hung above, and every inch of land was pure after leaving home.

Often, a random pat in an ordinary afternoon would lay the groundwork for a moment of distraction years later, recalling a breeze once blown.

So, “Fragrance of Rice,” just as the lyrics say.

Go home, back to the original beauty.

If life gets too tiring, take the length of a song to hide in your memories. Remember the silk trees, the locusts, the endless ice cream, and mother’s floral sundress.

The wooden whistle hanging on the pole would squeak, swaying in the wind.

The scorching sun’s rays pierced through the classroom windows, hitting the uneven mahogany desks. The gleaming water bottle gently swayed, and the young girl rested her head, dreaming of the future.

The reason for picking this song is to comfort each person, so they don’t have to be too panicked or anxious. Even if years later, you haven’t achieved fame or success, you are still the same adolescent you once were.

Take a break and breathe, working hard every day is already admirable. Don’t put all the responsibility on yourself; merely growing up is an achievement.

Busy all afternoon, until the twilight’s dimming glow, Pei Muchan had come back. Only then did Xu Qingyan finish the score and promptly sent it to Lin Wanzhou.

He didn’t send it to their studio’s email, but directly to her.

In the composing room.

He had just picked up his teacup to drink when a message from Lin Wanzhou popped up.

“So quick?”

“Of course, put some time into practicing it. It’s good as long you enjoyed the trip.”

Lin Wanzhou: “Sister Yun says that, and so do you!”

“By the way, I told Ting Ting to note down the expenses for you, lest she forgets.”

“It’s unnecessary, I’m not selling the song, it’s a gift for you.” Xu Qingyan typed in reply, wrote a few words, then edited and sent them, “This song belongs only to you.”

“What song? I haven’t looked yet.” Lin Wanzhou sent a shy emoji, “Wouldn’t you be at a loss then? I have money; how about I transfer it to you?”

“You’ll understand once you see it, no need.” Xu Qingyan sent the message, “I’ll talk to you later, I have to get busy now.”

On the other side, Lin Wanzhou was actually not in the studio.

Wen Yun was busy. After receiving permission from the almighty Boss Wen, she had given them both a short break. She and Qi Ting had returned to their place in the afternoon and played games for a while.

At this moment, Qi Ting was lying on the couch, sound asleep.

Lin Wanzhou stood alone in the living room. The dim glow of the twilight seeped in from the balcony and landed right at her feet. Glancing at the message on the screen, she couldn’t help but wonder.

“What does ’you’ll understand once you see it’ mean? Can it really be that there’s no loss?”

She glanced at Qi Ting, then turned back to her room and opened her computer. After retrieving the file from her email, indeed, the song’s score popped up on the computer screen.

“Fragrance of Rice?”

She silently read through the prelude once, checking the familiarity of it both ways, and suddenly her mind went blank. Her eyes moved too swiftly, as if missing something.

The lyrics, they seemed…

Mu Chan Studio.

The sky had completely darkened. Xu Qingyan had just come out of the composing room, and he had to hurry to his next job. A music video was missing a director, producer, and an art director, so he stepped in.

“Aren’t you wearing yourself out, trying to save money like this?” Pei Muchan sat at her office desk, with a large expanse of dim, yellow sunset streaming in from the window.@@novelbin@@

She rested her forehead on her hand, “Taking on three roles by yourself, aren’t you afraid of collapsing?”

“Anyway, I’m doing the art direction; the director will follow my vision, and so will the producer,” he replied indifferently, continuing to edit the shooting script on his computer.

“Might as well do it all by myself; it’s only about being quick and simple, and involves less hassle.”

“Is it really to save money?” she asked.

“That’s one reason, the budget isn’t big, money needs to be spent where it’s most needed.” Xu Qingyan’s gaze didn’t move from the screen; the shooting plan was ready early on.

Your journey continues on empire

“Did you hire actors?”

“Yes, found them according to your requirements,” Pei Muchan said, looking slightly exhausted, “The contracts are signed, and the locations are secured. And I heard you’ll be doing post-production effects?”

“Yes, a bit expensive, but manageable,” Xu Qingyan stated his budget, “I estimate that the final product’s completion will cost about three hundred thousand.”

Pei Muchan coughed softly, speaking quietly.

“Hmm, that should be fine.”

“Three hundred thousand is already pretty cheap; megastar Zhao Gu spends ten million on a music video. Those top international boy bands making music videos, they spare no cost at all.”

“Can you even compare? The most a domestic singer would spend on a music video is one million, right?” he asked, “The frugal ones just stroll around a park, and it’s done once the filters are adjusted.”

“Or simply sing a few lines in front of the camera while showering.”

“That can happen too,” she said, “But can you really make anything good with only three hundred thousand?”