Chapter 33: A Song Capable of Changing the History of World Music!

Room 1818.

Zhuo Wei and Feng Ke stared intently at the computer screen. The corridor was dimly lit, and they could only vaguely make out that the person across from Sun Yu was a young man.

“Is that Galen?”

“It should be,” Feng Ke replied. “Who else could be in his room?”

“You never know. Look closer!”

“Mm…” Feng Ke nodded, but at that moment, Sun Yu had already pushed the man opposite her into the room and slammed the door shut.

Inside the opposite room.

Ermao, completely at Sun Yu’s mercy, was shoved inside, shivering awkwardly, “W-what are you doing… I—I don’t want this!”

“Hmph! Who’s asking what you want!”

To his surprise, the sweet, gentle beauty from just moments ago did a complete about-face, pushed him aside, turned, and strode out, closing the door forcefully behind her.

Bang!

Ermao stood there, stunned, mind blank, his excitement instantly deflated. He shook his head, bewildered, muttering to himself, “What the hell just happened?”

In room 1818, watching Sun Yu leave on the screen, Zhuo Wei gave a sly grin, “Perfect! That’s how we’ll do it! Stretch out the middle a bit, but not too long.”

“Got it!” Feng Ke replied, ending the recording and beginning to edit the footage from earlier.

Meanwhile, Galen and his group had already packed up and walked to the entryway, where they found Ermao standing dazed at the door, looking lost and confused.

“Ermao! What are you doing?” his brother, Damao, asked, giving his shoulder a pat—only to startle himself with the reaction.

“Ah! I, uh—” Ermao was about to recount what had happened when he saw Aya and Super4 emerging from inside. He held his tongue, instead saying, “It’s nothing, really!”

“Nothing?” Damao eyed him suspiciously. “Who was knocking just now?”

“Oh! Someone got the wrong room, that’s all,” Ermao replied quickly.

But the more they looked at his expression, the less convincing it seemed. At that moment, Galen emerged, frowning, “Why aren’t we leaving yet? We’re running out of time!”

“Let’s go! Right away!” Akai and the others said, but not without glancing at Ermao, signaling for him to explain everything later.

But suddenly, Ermao spoke up, “Um… Galen, sorry, I’m not feeling well. I don’t think I can go.”

“Not feeling well?” Galen saw the pallor on his face and his entire weary demeanor, so he nodded, “Alright, stay and get some rest then.”

“But… what about the drums?” Akai asked, shooting an annoyed look at Ermao.

Galen thought for a moment. “We’ll use the drum tracks in the studio’s sound library.”

Everyone exchanged a glance—there was no other way.

Once the others had left, Ermao returned to the band’s room, paced the floor a few times, then took out his wallet and counted his money. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself, he picked up the phone and dialed the front desk.

A moment later, the call connected, and A-Mao asked, “Hello, um, do you provide…”

…

By the time Galen and his group hurried into the recording studio, it was five minutes to ten.

Seeing them arrive, Maile called out impatiently, “You’re finally here! The teacher’s been waiting ages!”

“Come on, we’re only fifteen minutes late!” Akai grumbled as he checked his watch.

Maile forced a wry smile, “The arranger arrived at nine-thirty. I had to ply him with several cups of coffee to get him to stay this long.”

“Then let’s not waste any more time,” Galen said. “We’re tight on schedule! Let’s get the demo to the teacher for the accompaniment.”

This time, they didn’t use Galen’s old handheld recording; instead, they’d recorded a much better version using his laptop and everyone’s cooperation.

After handing over the demo, Galen and the band joined the arranger to work on the backing track, while Aya and Super4 went to further familiarize themselves with the song.

Super4’s harmonies would also be recorded during the accompaniment session.

The studio was decent enough, with four rooms and passable equipment. The one Galen booked cost one hundred eighty-one per hour—mid-range among the four. With time so short, there was no point in being picky; they’d make do now and polish things up later at Yida’s studio back in Beijing.

The arranger wasn’t a big-name professional, simply following Galen’s demo, making adjustments as the band requested.

Except for the drum track, which came from the studio’s library, all the guitars, bass, and keyboards were recorded live in multi-track.

Even so, it took nearly three hours to complete the arrangement—a tedious and exhausting process.

Then they recorded Super4’s backing vocals and Akai’s rap. After all the vocals were captured dry, they mixed and produced, spending another two-plus hours. Only then was the final backing track complete.

At this point, Galen suggested the Jiazi Band and Super4 head back to sleep—their work was done, no point in staying.

But neither group would leave; they insisted on waiting to hear the final product, so they simply dozed off on the chairs outside, ignoring Galen’s protests.

With no other choice, Galen and Aya hurried through the last round of recording.

By now, it was past four in the morning.

But in the city’s sleepless night, outside looked no different from seven or eight in the evening.

As the first rays of dawn broke over the earth, Galen and Aya staggered out of the studio, both hoarse from endless retakes.

“Akai! Damao… wake up!”

Galen roused the Jiazi Band, while Aya woke Super4.

“Yawn—what time is it?” Everyone stretched, glanced at the clock, and looked eagerly to Galen and Aya. “Is it done?”

“It’s done!”

“Hurry, let’s hear it!”

They crowded around the engineer, waiting for him to play the final mix.

As the music filled the speakers, everyone’s eyes brimmed with tears.

A whole night’s hard work.

A song that might change the history of music.

While everyone listened in awe, Galen found Maile and took the backpack he handed over. Inside was one hundred thirty thousand yuan, drawn from the studio’s POS system—since the banks weren’t open this early, cash was hard to come by.

Leaving the studio, the group hurried to a nearby breakfast shop serving authentic local fare.

“After a night like that, it’s only fair to let Galen treat us properly!” Aya declared as soon as she sat.

Galen grinned, “Of course! Order whatever you like, eat all you want!”

Sticky rice cakes, sesame balls, wontons, pan-fried buns, baked flatbreads—everything on the menu found its way to their table, each person with a bowl of sweet tofu pudding as well.

After eating their fill, drowsiness immediately set in.

“I’m done for—got to get some real sleep!” Everyone waved their hands, stifling burps.

At that moment, Galen pulled out stacks of cash, one by one, and laid them in front of everyone—ten thousand each, no more, no less.

Stunned, they stared at him. Yiyi was the first to react, pushing the money back, shaking her head like a rattle-drum, “No, no! We can’t take this. We already agreed before—just being part of this is exciting enough!”

“She’s right! We can’t take it!” One by one, everyone else did the same, tossing their share back onto the table in front of Galen.

He smiled, “Take it, all of you! The money’s not even from me—it’s from All Cola. I get my own share. If you don’t take it, I’ll have a hard time explaining to the higher-ups.”

“What? All Cola gave it?” Aya blinked, catching on quickly. “Then this song…”

“Oh! I remember!” Xiao Zhi, the rhythm guitarist, suddenly exclaimed. “Yesterday, Galen told us this song was commissioned by All Cola!”

“That’s right, he did!” Damao nodded.

Galen smiled again, “I told you all, this is technically part of the commercial gig—so you should take your share!”

Everyone exchanged awkward glances—should they accept or not?

Seeing their hesitation, Galen simply handed the cash back out. “Enough, just take it. It’s not easy for any of us—earn what you can!”

But Yiyi protested, “That’s too much! The four of us usually get just over ten thousand combined for a show. This is way over! If you must, just pay us our usual rate.”

Jiazi Band chimed in, “An entire show for us is only eight thousand. This is too much!”

“Exactly!” Damao said. “And Ermao didn’t even make it tonight. You can’t give him a share. I’m his brother—I’ll decide for him!”

Galen laughed, “Enough, stop arguing. If you really want to return it, don’t give it to me—go talk to All Cola’s manager. And don’t mention this to Cai Yuehua.”

Everyone blinked in surprise. “Why not?”

Galen let out a cold chuckle and briefly recounted the previous night. He didn’t mention the exact amount, only that the money All Cola provided had been pocketed—sixty percent of it—by Cai Yuehua, and he’d only managed to recover it by confronting her directly.

At once, everyone seethed with anger, each sharing their own stories of being shortchanged by Cai Yuehua. Only after some discussion did they realize they’d all suffered at her hands.

Especially Aya, who had always handled her gigs personally, only to have both the company and Cai Yuehua take their cut, leaving her with a pittance after each performance.

Seeing everyone so riled up, Galen offered words of comfort, “Don’t worry—Cai Yuehua won’t last much longer in this circle.”

Everyone looked at Galen with sudden resolve. If Galen ever needed them, they would have his unwavering support.