Chapter 28: Planting a Seed

“Are you really going to compose the soundtrack for a TV drama? And write both the opening and ending themes? As far as I know, completing a soundtrack is extremely demanding and exhausting. Don’t wear yourself out. You still have an album to release—preparing songs, arranging, writing lyrics, recording... You need to reach over forty million in sales. You can’t afford to be careless.”

The nurse’s sister tightened her hold on Ren Qian’s arm, speaking with concern. She had recently crammed knowledge about album production and the surrounding market, deeply aware of just how difficult it was to sell forty million copies nowadays. Without godlike production, how could one possibly attract the increasingly picky public?

And choosing songs and arranging for the album clashes with composing for a drama. If you pursue perfection, a single piece might take half a year.

How many half-years can Ren Qian afford?

“Don’t worry. I have a plan. I won’t neglect what’s important for the sake of trivialities.”

Ren Qian gently rubbed the soft, smooth, pale back of her hand.

Quality can drive sales, but high quality doesn’t necessarily mean high sales. Those niche ethnic music genres are extraordinarily refined, possessing a soul-cleansing power that can even shock the spirit.

Yet in reality, the Haya Band has had little attention in its ten years since formation. If not for appearing once on ‘I Am a Singer,’ few would even know of this band galloping across the Mongolian grasslands.

Such is the meaning of “lofty melodies find few listeners.”

Quality is a major influence on sales, but for those ordinary people lacking much artistic appreciation, prone to follow the crowd, creating the illusion of “this album is hugely popular and of amazing quality—if I don’t buy it, I’m missing out” is more important than the quality itself.

For instance, there are certain dreadful movies, with plots in shambles and the lead actress’s performance exaggerated, yet with good hype, box office exceeds ten billion.

Comparing the two, the importance of publicity is clear.

Of course, Ren Qian would never sacrifice substance for hype. He would not neglect quality in pursuit of publicity.

What he aims for is raising his fame. A small celebrity’s album release goes unnoticed, and even if sales are high, how high can they really be? When a superstar releases an album, the response is overwhelming—even low sales would be astonishing. If Ren Qian’s album release day is met with the indifference of a minor star, he might as well give up right then.

“All right, I trust you’ll know what to do. Just don’t overwork yourself, and don’t put too much pressure on yourself. You still have options—your sister can support you~”

The nurse’s sister rubbed her head against Ren Qian’s shoulder, caring and comforting.

“Yes, I know. But your man won’t lose on this front.”

Ren Qian smiled proudly. He had exhausted the resources of another world; could he really lose to a mere superstar? What a joke—two worlds against one!

It was still afternoon. Glancing out the car window, Ren Qian noticed a coffee shop and called for the taxi to stop, inviting the nurse’s sister for a drink. He remembered their first date had been at a coffee shop, and meeting again there carried the nostalgic fragrance of their first encounter.

Seated, they were enveloped by the rich aroma of coffee.

“Hey~ my old friend is posting photos of her son on Weibo! So cute! Look at those chubby cheeks, those tiny feet—I just want to pinch them.”

The nurse’s sister suddenly laughed in delight at her phone, the dimples on her cheeks making Ren Qian dizzy with enchantment. Gathering himself, he realized this was a golden opportunity—her lease was about to expire, and he too wanted to move out. If he tempted her now, perhaps she’d agree to live together.

Ren Qian, oh Ren Qian, you are always so clever—how could anyone resist your charm? He secretly rejoiced, his expression remaining composed.

“Would you like a child even cuter than that little one?”

“I would! If it’s a girl, I’d buy her the prettiest princess dresses, dress her beautifully every day, and nurture her goddess aura from childhood, hehe~ If it’s a boy, I’d have him learn music, play all sorts of instruments, teach him composition, and even teach him to dance. In short, I’d raise him to be a polymath, and when he grows up, he’d be chased by all sorts of goddesses, but he’d remain aloof. So those goddesses would try to please me, showering me with gifts, cosmetics, masks—all sorts of things~”

The nurse’s sister was radiant with maternal glow, her eyes shining, her lips curled in a sweet smile, lost in her daydream.

“Ahem, actually, I can help you with that~”

Ren Qian lowered his voice, confident that the allure of his voice was enough to make a girl’s heart race and throw herself into his arms. But the nurse’s sister paused, then asked incredulously, “Don’t scare me—do you want to be my son?!”

Ren Qian: “...”

Damn, she’s not playing by the rules.

...

The next day, Ren Qian set out to visit Director Wang, to compose music for the TV drama ‘Dream of the Red Chamber.’ The reason he dared accept was because he had always loved the soundtrack of the 1987 version, and remembered every note and lyric without missing a single word.

He loved this version because its music reached such artistic heights that it was appreciated only by a few. The flavor of each melody was steeped in ancient elegance, so much so that you felt as if you were truly amidst the red sleeves and blue robes of Grand View Garden.

Yet the famous songs sung day and night in the taverns and theaters of the people could never compete with the straightforward, fast-food appeal of pop music.

People nowadays won’t even listen to an entire album, let alone carefully appreciate the artistic depth within a single song.

Pieces like ‘Wasted Tears,’ ‘Red Bean Song,’ ‘Flower Burial Chant’... each condensed the lifelong dedication of the old artist Wang Zhiping. Yet they were shelved in the libraries of classical culture, left untouched.

But Ren Qian had already decided:

No matter the audience, no matter the reaction in this world—even if the refined artistry is only discovered twenty years later—he has every reason to make the effort, letting these labors quietly bloom in this world!

In just one day, Ren Qian reviewed Director Wang’s painstakingly filmed ‘Dream of the Red Chamber’ and found it worthy of its namesake. Only then did he pick up his pen to write the music and lyrics, personally recording them.

“Wonderful! Wonderful! Wonderful! It fits the original so perfectly, so perfectly—even Cao Xueqin would be moved to tears by these songs.”

Director Wang’s hands trembled, his voice choked. His obsession with ‘Dream of the Red Chamber’ had led him to devote himself without hesitation, sacrificing everything; this drama was like his own child, how could he not care for it meticulously? Encountering such beautiful music was like his beloved son, raised with hardship, finally gifting him a beautiful outfit, making him weep tears of joy—truly, tears flowed down his face.

“When the drama profits, I’ll make sure you’re compensated, Ren Qian. Thank you so much—you’ve elevated this series to a whole new level.”

“Art is all that matters, not money. I even added a completely different Cantonese song, ‘Stone Story.’ It can be used occasionally; see where it fits best. I’m quite satisfied with it.”

Ren Qian waved his hand, a trace of fatigue on his face as he smiled. He pushed open the shabby door of Director Wang’s home and disappeared into the blurred glow of the streetlights.

For the soundtrack, such as ‘Wasted Tears,’ he used the music from the 1987 version, and the lyrics were all in Mandarin, so there was no issue of audience resistance.

At the final farewell, he composed a Cantonese song, ‘Stone Story,’ just as a finishing touch, hoping to draw more attention to this genre. He never expected it to become a sensation across the land.

Although the song was of the highest quality, and possessed an enchanting power at first listen,

Ren Qian still underestimated the musical sophistication of the empire’s audience.