Chapter Three: I Do

Chapter Three: I’m Willing

When Xin’er Yang first entered the industry, Sister Wen was already her agent. After four years together, Sister Wen understood Xin’er Yang better than the singer knew herself. Now, Xin’er’s tone and demeanor made Sister Wen alert. Coupled with Xin’er’s recent odd behavior, Sister Wen instantly sensed something.

“This voice sounds a bit familiar. Who’s singing?” Sister Wen asked with a smile.

“Zhang Le,” Xin’er answered.

“Zhang Le? That young director?” Sister Wen was surprised, then looked at Xin’er and asked, “Who wrote the song?”

“It should be Zhang Le as well,” Xin’er replied, though she was actually certain.

“I didn’t expect him to have such talent,” Sister Wen nodded, then asked casually, “Was this song written for you?”

Xin’er nodded shyly, then immediately shook her head, correcting herself, “No, it’s not for me.”

Sister Wen glanced at Xin’er, a sense of foreboding rising within her.

“Xin’er, if anything’s going on, you should tell me. You know I’m only looking out for you,” she said meaningfully.

Xin’er was silent for a long moment, then looked at her and said, “Sister Wen, can I have a few days to think? I really don’t know how to say it right now.”

“Alright,” Sister Wen didn’t press her, simply nodded.

“How Much Do I Like You?” “The Moon Represents My Heart.” After these two songs, there was no further response, as if they’d sunk into the sea. Zhang Le was not discouraged, however. On the contrary, he was more motivated than ever. He refused to believe that singing one classic love song a day from his past life wouldn’t move any woman’s heart.

Singing a well-known love song might not have much impact. But hearing a classic for the first time—if it doesn’t touch you, it’s not a classic. Otherwise, why call it a classic?

Xin’er Yang wasn’t unmoved; she was simply conflicted. While she struggled with her feelings, another day passed, and the next morning her inbox contained a new message.

It was from Zhang Le, no words, just a song.

Longing is a mysterious thing, shadowing me always,
Silent and unseen, it surfaces in my heart,
In a blink, it engulfs me in solitude,
I can’t resist, especially at night.

Missing you until I can hardly breathe,
Wishing I could run to you at once,
And tell you loudly:
I’m willing for you, I’m willing for you,
I’m willing to forget my own name for you,
Even if I could just stay in your arms for another second,
Losing the world would not matter.

I’m willing for you, I’m willing for you,
I’m willing to be banished to the ends of the earth for you,
As long as you truly return my love,
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do, nothing I wouldn’t do for you.

“I’m Willing” was one of Faye Wong’s early signature songs, an unforgettable love ballad. The lyrics were simple, but paired with the melody and Zhang Le’s soulful performance, the effect was nothing short of magical.

Willing to do anything, for you—such is the devotion of love.

The first song expressed affection, feelings left unspoken for various reasons. The second was a bare confession: how much I like and love you. The third was even more direct—because I love you, I’m willing to do anything for you.

Xin’er Yang was a singer herself, her appreciation for music sharper than most. She could feel the emotion within the song clearly. And she was an emotional woman, easily moved.

After listening to the song several times, not only was her heart stirred, but her emotions began to sway. Yet, as a superstar at the peak of her career, one decision could destroy years of hard work and shatter her dreams.

She wavered, torn between love and ambition.

Receiving no reply from her, not even a single word, Zhang Le threw himself into composing more love songs he thought suitable, pondering which one to record and send next. It was then that someone came to see him—unexpected, yet in a way, inevitable.

“You’re pursuing Xin’er, aren’t you?” Sister Wen got straight to the point. Her tone was not a question, but a statement.

“That’s right,” Zhang Le replied without hesitation.

“You’re clever. I heard the song—it’s very good. In fact, I can sense Xin’er’s heart has been moved,” Sister Wen went on.

“Oh? May I ask which song you heard?” Zhang Le responded coolly.

She chuckled. “So, there’s more than one song.” She looked over at him and said, “But that’s not important. You’re smart—you must have guessed why I’m here today?”

“To advise me? To warn me? Or perhaps to threaten me?” Zhang Le glanced at her, then smiled.

“A person should be down-to-earth. There are no shortcuts to success,” Sister Wen replied, sidestepping his question, her words loaded with meaning.

Zhang Le smiled. “It seems there are some things you don’t know. Otherwise, you wouldn’t think I’m trying to use this to stir up hype or climb the ladder.”

Sister Wen frowned, looked at him, and said, “I don’t know what you’re implying, but I hope you understand—Xin’er has sacrificed so much to get here. I don’t want years of hard work ruined overnight. Whether you two end up together or not, it’s not good for her career.”

“With me, she’ll go even further,” Zhang Le said, confidence radiating from every word. He was unaffected by Sister Wen’s dismissive tone.

“Try getting closer to her first before talking about how far you can take her,” Sister Wen replied, a hint of disdain in her voice.

She was a seasoned veteran of the industry, having seen all kinds of people. Zhang Le’s talent was evident, but talent alone wasn’t enough to make it in this world. One needed opportunity, connections, background—so many factors influenced success.

Talent alone—unless it was extraordinary—would never be enough. For someone like Zhang Le, who hadn’t even signed with a company, making it would be extremely difficult.

He was talented, yes, but not to a miraculous degree; otherwise, he wouldn’t still be obscure. Yet now, with two lives’ memories, and all the classics from his previous world at his fingertips, coupled with his present abilities, nothing could stand in his way.

“Wait,” Zhang Le called out as Sister Wen turned to leave. “Since you’re here, could you please deliver a gift to Xin’er for me?”

Sister Wen frowned, wanting to refuse. Before she came, her intentions had been as Zhang Le guessed. But now, she realized persuasion wouldn’t work, nor would warnings or threats. So, after a few words, she rose to leave.

There was nothing more to be done here; she would have to try with Xin’er directly.

Watching Zhang Le quickly pull out several sheets of manuscript paper and hand them over, curiosity compelled her to accept. A glance left her surprised. A closer look, and her face turned to astonishment.

Four sheets, four love songs. She couldn’t yet be sure about their quality, but she had some idea of their merit.

As she pondered, something felt off. Suddenly, she realized—her instincts told her she shouldn’t give these four songs to Xin’er, or things might develop in a way she didn’t want to see.

But every one of these four songs could be a classic. She was already reluctant to part with them. As a seasoned agent, she couldn’t allow herself to miss out. She knew that if Xin’er performed them, her place in the music world would be unshakable, and many doubters would be silenced.

She was torn.