Chapter 114: A Multitude of Emotions

Compared to Sun Yanzhen, Zhao Yan’s gentle and virtuous nature was clearly more suited to living together.

Both girls had their tender sides.

Sun Yanzhen could be considerate and caring when she chose to be, but Zhao Yan was noticeably more mature and steady, better suited for the simple, quiet life Huang Guolun sought.

Although Zhao Yan once had the pitfalls of being overly artistic and idealistic, running her own café and engaging more with society had helped her shed much of that pretentiousness.

She had become much more grounded than before, no longer the pampered princess her parents had raised, who relied on others for everything while only seeking enjoyment.

Now, Zhao Yan took matters into her own hands—she’d grown thick-skinned enough to bargain with her landlord over rent; as the heating season approached, she knew to ask the landlord for subsidies; she shopped smartly at markets and supermarkets, choosing the best deals; and she handled troublesome customers with tact.

She had her own principles and boundaries. With a relatively light workload, she had plenty of time to spend with family. After many failed matchmaking attempts, Huang Guolun considered her the most reliable girl he’d met.

Though there wasn’t an instant spark between them, Huang Guolun was willing to take things seriously with Zhao Yan.

This wasn’t about dating or having a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship. It was about spending more time communicating, getting to know each other better, and seeing if the relationship might evolve into something more.

If it did, they would pursue marriage seriously; if not, they could remain friends openly and without any burden.

Huang Guolun sensed that Zhao Yan wanted to leave her past behind and start anew. This purposeful way of relating might truly help her move on.

For himself, too, this chance to build a family and engage earnestly could mean a genuine farewell to the past. Just as Chen Jia hoped, he could move forward and find happiness once more.

In short, Huang Guolun had made up his mind. Tomorrow, when he met Zhao Yan for dinner, he would have a proper conversation about all this.

Fatigue crept over him.

He decided not to think too much tonight, emptied his mind, and soon fell asleep.

It was already past eleven o’clock.

Meanwhile, in another room, Bai Yao was still awake.

Lying in bed, she scrolled through Three Kingdoms jokes on her phone, looking for something amusing, but most were dull.

Finally, she found one that was somewhat funny—

The joke was about the battle between Cao’s army and Shu’s forces.

After another fierce general of Cao’s army was slain, Cao Cao anxiously stood before his tent and called out, “Who else dares to fight?”

The generals knew Zhang Fei’s ferocity and dared not respond.

Then Cao Cao shouted, “Xiahou Dun! Xiahou Dun!”

From a corner came Xiahou Dun’s faint voice: “Xiahou squatted, then the Chancellor squatted…”

Bai Yao smiled softly, saved the joke in her mind, and decided to tell it during tomorrow’s livestream, adding a squatting gesture. It should be quite funny—or at least entertaining. She knew how to make the most of her strengths.

At the same moment—

Outside the East Second Ring Road, in a high-end apartment next to the Capital Broadcasting Station.

Shen Yumeng and Nan Fang had just finished an intense round of “racing.”

Perhaps inspired by Huang Guolun’s music, Nan Fang’s vigor in bed that night was overwhelming, powerful as an ox!

He hadn’t given Shen Yumeng such passionate “tribute” in a long time.

Exhausted, Shen Yumeng collapsed onto the bed, barely able to regain her senses.

Nan Fang lit a post-coital cigarette and took Shen Yumeng’s phone to watch a video.

Shen Yumeng thought he was about to watch the steamy recording they had just made.

Instead, the phone played Huang Guolun’s timeless song:

“Spring flowers bloom, autumn winds blow, and winter sunsets fade…

Melancholy youth, naive me once thought so…”

A warm glow spread through her delicate body. Shen Yumeng snuggled into Nan Fang’s chest, watching the video of Huang Guolun singing.

With a soft voice, she sighed, “Teacher Huang’s singing is really beautiful, I never tire of listening.”

Nan Fang was silent, smoking, but his heart was full of admiration and wonder.

Tonight’s encounter with Huang Guolun had almost overturned his entire view of music. He could hardly believe such a musical genius existed among ordinary people!

This man’s music seemed to carve the golden years into sound, stirring deep emotions.

Nan Fang watched Huang Guolun’s new song video repeatedly, finishing one cigarette after another, never bored.

It was as if he wanted to plagiarize Huang Guolun’s new songs.

But plagiarism was a technical matter, and Nan Fang didn’t yet have the skills to pull it off, no matter how much he wanted to.

According to international copyright law, music creations need not be registered. In disputes, the original creator can prove ownership by presenting evidence of the work’s creation date.

Thoughtful artists often mail their works to themselves, using the postmark as proof.

Nowadays, emails make it even easier—just send yourself an email with the work attached to prove the date.

Videos of performances, like those Nan Fang had recorded of Huang Guolun, also served as proof of original creation date.

Even public performances of new songs are protected, as long as witnesses can verify the time of premiere.

Nan Fang had no intention of stealing Huang Guolun’s work—he wasn’t that shameless.

He just couldn’t help being captivated by Huang Guolun’s new songs.

To him, they were hundreds of times better than the so-called hit songs flooding the music scene.

Huang Guolun’s compositions were truly profound musical works, unlike the cheap, fleeting productions commonly found nowadays.

The Chinese music scene was starved for such deeply moving masterpieces.

And Huang Guolun’s originals were exactly those rare gems—it was astonishing!

Nan Fang could barely imagine the vast and splendid musical treasure Huang Guolun represented.

Just mining a little gold from this treasure could catapult third- or fourth-tier singers like themselves into fame.

Watching Huang Guolun’s videos, Nan Fang considered asking him for a couple of songs.

He had thought about this once before, at the duck restaurant.

At that time, he even dreamed of bringing Huang Guolun, this musical treasure, to their company as a songwriter and artist, making it easy to request songs.

But after learning that Huang Guolun was a low-key second-generation rich kid from Beijing who made music just for pleasure and taught to contribute to society, with no intention of entering the professional music world, Nan Fang felt discouraged.

Besides, even if Huang Guolun wanted to enter show business, his older brother already ran an entertainment company producing films. He wouldn’t need Nan Fang’s help to join a record label.

Nan Fang felt powerless but truly wanted to ask Huang Guolun for songs.

Their company was focused on fresh-faced twenty-something talents with promising futures. At twenty-eight, Nan Fang knew if he didn’t break through soon, his music career would stall.

He didn’t want his decade-long music journey to end like this. If there was a chance to rise, he would seize it with all his might.

Right now, asking the musical master Huang Guolun for songs seemed the clearest path to fame.

Watching the videos, Nan Fang resolved that he must swallow his pride and, through Shen Yumeng and Zhao Jing’s friendship, try to secure a few good songs from Huang Guolun.

Having been with Nan Fang for nearly five years, Shen Yumeng noticed his repeated viewings of Huang Guolun’s videos and sensed his thoughts.

Leaning against him, she softly brought up the topic: “Darling, how do professional singers see Teacher Huang’s skill? Is he a genius?”

Nan Fang replied with admiration, “You’d have to put ‘super’ before ‘genius.’”

“That impressive?!”

“Although I haven’t heard many of his songs, I can’t make a final judgment yet. But among all the musicians I know, he’s probably the most talented. Just listen to his ‘Story of Time.’ What kind of genius was needed to write that? As far as I’m concerned, no one in the Chinese music scene today can write songs like that anymore. Even the masters have been corrupted by the industry’s restless environment; they probably can’t produce such pure, beautiful songs.”

“No wonder Teacher Huang doesn’t want to join your circle. If he entered that big cesspool, he probably wouldn’t be able to create such pure works anymore.”

“Exactly. Now I finally understand what ‘true talent lies among the people’ really means.”

Nan Fang’s words were full of praise as he explained: “The key to that saying isn’t ‘talent,’ but ‘among the people.’ Only in the fertile soil of everyday life can musical geniuses like Teacher Huang be nurtured. If someone like him joined the pop music world, it would be a huge loss. But if he did, it might be an even bigger loss.”

He continued, full of feeling, “Many talented people get ruined by this industry. Take Chen Xiaobao at our company, for instance. When he first joined, his songs were full of spirit. Now? They’re like mass-produced products—same old, same old—bland and boring.”

The conversation trailed off there.