"You bastard!!"
He blinked, the stifling evening breeze causing his clothes to flutter slightly before he silently shifted his gaze away.
Bastard, huh?
As a collaborator, it wasn't too much to say. It was just normal cooperation. Excellent lyricists and composers were priceless, and their work was all very mysterious.
But if it was in another capacity, then that really was quite bastard-like.
The relationship was already somewhat delicate, separated by a thin wall. After falling ill once before, the foundation of that wall seemed a bit unstable, and now it was as thin as paper.
The office was enveloped in silence, with both of their gazes somewhat unnaturally averted.
The tender shoots had broken through the soil only to discover it was winter outside, so they carefully retreated back. They would sprout again next spring, when it was warmer.
The glaring white light from above cast upon Pei Muchan's unnaturally flushed cheeks. She had been drinking medicine all day but not only did she not see any improvement, it seemed to be getting worse.
"Feeling any better?" he asked out of the blue.
"All better." Her gaze lowered, not bringing up the previous topic as if it never existed. Then she added, "Really better, no more injections needed."
The last sentence was somewhat superfluous; he certainly wouldn't drag Pei Muchan to get an injection over a minor cold.
But with that, the subject shifted, and the atmosphere relaxed abruptly.
"The medicine you had in the afternoon, want some more?"
"I haven't eaten yet." Pei Muchan said.
Xu Qingyan clicked his tongue, took out his phone intending to order takeout, but after scrolling through, he found nothing appetizing. Looking up at Pei Muchan, he asked.
"You can only eat porridge."
"Why's that?"
"It's just a suggestion, it'll help you recover faster." While scrolling down, he found a porridge that looked quite expensive and ordered it for Pei Muchan—it was vegetable and lean meat porridge.
"Besides, your hands are cold, and you've caught a cold. In a few days when you get your period, won't that be even tougher?"
"How do you know when my period is?" She suddenly startled, recently feeling a drag in her lower abdomen, always praying not to get sick during that time.
"By looking at your face. Can't you see the bilirubin?"
"Is my face really that yellow?" She struggled to pull out her phone, turned on the front camera, and looked back and forth, "No, I can't see anything."
"Look carefully." He was embarrassed to say that last time he saw her express delivery note, with "Day Use, Night Use" written on it.
Pei Muchan didn't speak anymore and lay on the desk, pretending to be dead.
He scrolled on his phone selecting his own takeout, generally dismissing any delivery fee over two yuan. Yet, most nearby recommended eats were basically swill.
Having money to earn gave them a goal, and at least things were looking up—it was somewhat consoling.
Lin Wanzhou said that in a little while she'd be able to pay off her debts, and incidentally corrected the mistakes in Xu Qingyan's transcriptions, resembling a teacher marking homework with a red pen.
He had become numb to it, standing at attention ready to be reprimanded. All in all, he learned and asked questions, hoping to graduate sooner.
Sitting on a wooden bench on the shaded path next to the recording studio, the two of them chatted, with a bit of distance between them.
"I've been a bit busy these days, Sister Yun said I might go on a competition show in half a month," Lin Wanzhou said in a restrained, soft voice, "She told me... told me to ask you for a song."
"I don't have any songs at the moment, my songwriting (transcribing) speed is very slow, but there might be one in half a month," he curiously asked, "What competition show is it?"
"I'm not sure, it seems like it's 'I Am the Song King,' lots of powerful singers will be there." She seemed worried, "Sister Yun told me to challenge others with 'The One I Miss,' saying even staying for one round would be a win."
"Sister Yun has such strong resources?" Xu Qingyan was surprised, "Is she really just an agent? How come her resources seem to have increased after she left the company?"
"Sister Yun is almost out of favors trying to push me," Lin Wanzhou said, her ears turning red, "You can't always stay at someone else's place, you have to get a small studio eventually."
"True."
Upon hearing this, Lin Wanzhou was even more hesitant to speak; Sister Yun had asked her to inquire if Xu Qingyan had any unreleased songs. To purchase one or two high-quality ones for the competition.
If there weren't any, then never mind, but if there were, Sister Yun would negotiate the terms with Xu Qingyan. The money would likely have to be owed first, and then they would discuss conditions like profit sharing.
This made Lin Wanzhou quite uneasy about broaching the subject. She hadn't even paid for the last song yet; how could she have the nerve to ask about another one?
In truth, Xu Qingyan didn't care about the money at all, as long as it was eventually paid. He didn't want the sale of his songs to end up in vain.
Other lyricists and composers operate on a buy-out basis, fearing that they won't get paid. After all, inspiration isn't plentiful for songwriters, and good songs are limited. Some people might only have one great song in their entire life.
Xu Qingyan was different; his only fear was that the two little divas wouldn't soar high enough.
Selling songs wasn't a sustainable strategy; even a slightly better song had a price tag of 200,000 yuan, naturally creating a barrier.
For an average singer, hearing such a price would likely result in them turning on their heel and walking away without a backward glance.
200,000 yuan, are you out of your mind?
There aren't many who can actually bring out the true value of a good song and cash in on it immediately.
Only Pei Muchan and Lin Wanzhou can afford it, and they've even been continually asking if there are any unreleased songs.
He wished he had some in reserve, but he really didn't have a single one left.
End of August.
Xu Qingyan unexpectedly received a call from a Cloud Wing Entertainment agent, who wanted to meet with him. They wanted to talk about a private song commission and repeatedly emphasized it was a private request.
He paused for a few seconds, not immediately accepting the offer.
After hanging up, he sent a WeChat message to Lin Wanzhou, asking if she knew an agent named Li Hongzhen.