I Became an All-round Artist

Lin Yuan didn’t immediately send the song to the company; he didn’t want to seem too outrageous.

Who writes songs faster than frying a steak?

As for last time, Lin Yuan had rushed to release "The Laugh of the Rivers and Lakes" purely to meet Gu Qiangyun’s expectations for quick results. It was a bit too hasty.

From now on, he decided to be more low-key and not release songs so quickly.

The next day was Saturday.

Lin Yuan arrived at the company as usual.

As he walked in, the employees glanced his way, seemingly hoping to read something from his expression, but they were left disappointed.

He had no expression at all.

Once inside his office, Lin Yuan turned on his computer. Although his official job was composing, since his song "I Like You" was already finished, he didn’t feel like pretending to work. Instead, he figured it would be more productive to use work hours to write.

After all, his novel "Zhu Xian" was still being serialized. Just because he had come to Qizhou for school didn’t mean the serialization would stop. He just had to send his chapters on time to the editor at Silver Blue Publishing.

However...

While writing today, Lin Yuan felt a bit guilty. Not because he was writing a novel during work hours, but because of what was coming next in "Zhu Xian."

In the next volume, Bi Yao was going to die.

Lin Yuan knew how much readers adored Bi Yao, and killing her off would definitely cause an uproar.

Even readers who weren’t that emotionally attached to Bi Yao—those who supported Lu Xueqi—would likely turn against him when Bi Yao’s death came, simply because...

Her death would be so heartbreaking.

She sacrificed herself to save Zhang Xiaofan, falling to the deadly sword of Zhu Xian. Before that, Zhang Xiaofan had never even explicitly expressed his feelings for her.

But that’s how the story went.

Lin Yuan couldn’t change that.

He could only see himself as an emotionless writing machine, his fingers flying across the keyboard as the plot unfolded.

"Director Lin."

A knock on the door interrupted him.

Lin Yuan paused his typing. “Come in.”

Gu Dong entered first, followed by three unfamiliar men.

“What’s up?” Lin Yuan asked.

“Are you already working?” Gu Dong glanced at Lin Yuan’s screen in surprise and then explained, “Thunder Entertainment has requested a song in Qi dialect. Since you’re from Qinzhou and might not be familiar with Qi dialect, they’ve sent three experienced lyricists to help with the lyrics.”

“Hello.”

The three lyricists smiled and nodded at Lin Yuan.

The man in the lead said, “I’m Huang Da. We’ll be staying at your company for a while. If you have any ideas, we can collaborate immediately.”

Lin Yuan replied, “I speak Qi dialect.”

He didn’t need their help with the lyrics.

The lyricists looked at him in surprise. It wasn’t common for someone from Qinzhou to know Qi dialect.

Huang Da began testing Lin Yuan, speaking a few sentences in rapid Qi dialect.

Lin Yuan thought for a moment and roughly understood what was being said. Hesitating for a second, he awkwardly replied, “Uh... Hello there...”

After a few sentences in broken Qi dialect, the lyricists were left bewildered.

He seemed to know a little, but nowhere near enough to write lyrics.

Gu Dong awkwardly rubbed her forehead and said with a forced smile, “Let Director Lin finish the song first. Once it’s done, if there’s anything he doesn’t understand about the lyrics, you can help polish it.”

“Hmph.” Huang Da turned and left without another word.

The other two lyricists followed him out, one saying, “Just let us know when the song’s ready.”

“Alright, alright,” Gu Dong said as she escorted them out.

After a moment, Gu Dong returned, giving Lin Yuan a helpless look. “Director Lin, I know in Qinzhou you’re used to composing and writing your own lyrics, but writing lyrics in Qi dialect is a lot more complicated. You’re not from Qizhou, so it’s really hard to write something that would satisfy Thunder.”

Lin Yuan didn’t respond.

It wasn’t that he was trying to be pretentious; he just had to claim that he knew Qi dialect. Otherwise, how could he explain the lyrics for “I Like You”?

Throwing away perfectly good lyrics to have someone else rewrite them would defeat the purpose.

“Let’s not worry about that for now,” Gu Dong sighed. “Lyrics aren’t the most important thing right now; it’s the melody. Do you have any ideas yet?”

Lin Yuan nodded.

Gu Dong looked thrilled. “No wonder you’re already working so early. You’ve officially started composing, right? Can I...”

Suddenly, Gu Dong froze.

She had unintentionally glanced at Lin Yuan’s laptop.

What was open wasn’t a music composition program—it was a document.

The document read: [Zhang Xiaofan looked to the heavens, laughing bitterly, his voice filled with despair. "What righteousness? What justice? You’ve been lying to me all along. I’ve held on, even willing to die to keep your secret, but in the end, what am I...?"]

Zhang Xiaofan? What was that?

Was Director Lin reading a novel?

Gu Dong had no idea he was actually writing the novel. But whether he was reading or writing, it was completely out of place!

She was on the verge of tears.

How could this be happening?

With only a month left to deliver the song, instead of focusing on music, Director Lin was spending his work hours on something unrelated?

Gu Dong’s mind nearly broke down on the spot. She didn’t dare lash out at Lin Yuan and could only plead, “Director...”

Lin Yuan looked up. “Do we have any tea leaves?”

Gu Dong’s words stuck in her throat. She swallowed them back down, silently turned, and went to the general manager’s office to get some tea leaves, returning to brew a cup for Lin Yuan.

“Thank you,” Lin Yuan said.

Gu Dong numbly nodded and returned to the general manager’s office.

“What’s wrong?” Gu Qiangyun asked, surprised to see her looking so downcast.

Gu Dong forced a smile. “Start preparing the breach of contract fees.”

Gu Qiangyun stood up abruptly. “There’s still a month left! Did Director Lin say he couldn’t finish it? What are we going to do?”

“Director Lin has given up.” Gu Dong’s voice was filled with resignation. “Not only did he send away Thunder’s lyricists, but he’s also sitting in his office... reading a novel.”

“Maybe he’s looking for inspiration?” Gu Qiangyun tried to stay calm. “Every composer has their own way of finding inspiration. Maybe reading novels is how Director Lin does it.”

“Maybe...” Gu Dong forced a weak smile.

In the office next door, Lin Yuan took a sip of his tea and suddenly realized that, indeed, there could be a real difference between different types of tea leaves.

Meanwhile, in a distant café, Luo Qi sat across from one of the lyricists. “What did Xian Yu say?” she asked.

The lyricist shook his head. He was one of the three lyricists who had visited Starmoon Entertainment earlier that day. Luo Qi had tasked him with gathering some information. “Xian Yu is too proud. He flat-out rejected the three of us. He wants to write the lyrics himself.”

“He knows Qi language?” Luo Qi was taken aback.

The lyricist scoffed. “Barely. He speaks it awkwardly. He might manage in daily conversation with a local, but expecting him to write proper lyrics in Qi language? That's a fantasy. Since he turned us away, we’ll just have to wait until he hands in his lyrics and then see if we need to rewrite the whole thing. Huang Da didn’t look too happy about it at the time.”

“Good!” Luo Qi almost clapped in delight but quickly composed herself. “Looks like Fan Longhe’s picked the wrong partner this time. With only a month left, and they’re already refusing to cooperate on the lyrics, how are they going to complete this project?”

The lyricist shrugged.

Elsewhere, Fan Longhe was meeting with Huang Da. Upon hearing Huang Da’s frustrated report about Xian Yu refusing the lyricists’ help, Fan Longhe’s face froze.

“It’s not that we’re unwilling to help,” Huang Da said. “He’s just not cooperating.”

In Huang Da’s eyes, Xian Yu was biting off more than he could chew, like many composers who insist on doing both the music and lyrics themselves. If it were standard Mandarin lyrics, that would be one thing—Xian Yu had proven his ability with Big Fish—but this was Qi language. With only a superficial grasp of it, how was he supposed to write lyrics?

Fan Longhe sighed. “Even so, when he sends the composition over, if the lyrics are really unusable, I’ll have to ask you to help revise them. I’ll try to persuade him.”

“I’ll do my best,” Huang Da said as he stood up. Before leaving, he added, “But if he hands in the lyrics too late, there won’t be enough time for me to write something decent, even if I wanted to. I hope you can understand that.”

“I understand,” Fan Longhe forced a smile.

After Huang Da left, Fan Longhe’s expression grew even more despondent. Though he didn’t want to admit it, he could already sense that the scales of victory were tipping towards Luo Qi. His only remaining hope was that Xian Yu’s composition would be so good that even subpar lyrics wouldn’t matter.

After all, there was so little time left.

The pressure was intense for both Fan Longhe and Starmoon Music. The sense of urgency was palpable everywhere—except in Lin Yuan’s world, where everything seemed as calm as ever. Whether at school or work, his routine was unchanged.

Gu Dong had all but given up hope. Especially after witnessing Lin Yuan casually doing other things at work multiple times, she kept her doubts to herself, only confiding in Gu Qiangyun. She didn’t want to shake anyone else’s confidence.

Gu Qiangyun, however, remained optimistic, clinging to the idea that Lin Yuan was simply “looking for inspiration.” Whether he truly believed this, even he wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was just his experience managing the branch for so many years, knowing that it’s better to stay optimistic in the face of potential disaster.

But as the end of the month approached and the deadline loomed, even Gu Qiangyun couldn’t maintain his ostrich-like mentality any longer. He knew the inevitable was coming.

He finally gathered the courage and, together with Gu Dong, knocked on Lin Yuan’s office door.

“Come in,” Lin Yuan’s voice was as calm as ever, as if he were entirely detached from the fact that a three-million-dollar contract was on the line. It was as if he’d completely forgotten there was still a song to be written.

At that moment, Gu Qiangyun couldn’t help but admire him. Such composure under pressure—this was the demeanor of a true leader. If Lin Yuan had lived in ancient times, he might have gone to his execution without so much as a frown.

Gu Qiangyun, in a mixture of respect and desperation, prepared a cup of tea for Lin Yuan. Then, with a pained expression, he finally said, “Mr. Lin, we’re running out of time…”

“What’s today’s date?” Lin Yuan had been so focused on writing his novel that he’d lost track of time. Every day, he went straight to his office, and after a while, Gu Dong had given up reminding him about the song.

Gu Dong gave Gu Qiangyun a sympathetic glance.

Gu Qiangyun almost couldn’t process what he’d heard. Lin Yuan didn’t even remember the date? It took him a moment to respond, “It’s September 26th.”

Lin Yuan blinked. “Right, the time’s about right.”

Gu Qiangyun was practically pleading. “Mr. Lin, we haven’t asked about your progress because we didn’t want to disturb your process. But we’re really short on time now. Even if the song isn’t perfect, we at least need to show Thunder Entertainment that we’re making an effort. Please, don’t take offense at my nagging…”

He rambled on for a few minutes, not realizing that Lin Yuan’s expression—despite its usual calm—clearly said, You’re so annoying.

Of course, Gu Qiangyun misunderstood. Lin Yuan didn’t find him annoying; in fact, he was grateful for the reminder. It made him realize something important:

“It’s time to accept new projects.”

Gu Qiangyun’s face froze. He stammered, “Not even a rough draft?”

Surely, they needed to at least have something to show for their efforts, right?

Lin Yuan glanced at him. “It’s finished.”

Gu Qiangyun’s thoughts were instantly cut off. He blinked in disbelief and asked instinctively, “What?”

Gu Dong was equally stunned, suddenly questioning her own reality. Had she traveled back in time to Lin Yuan’s first day at the company? It almost felt like déjà vu.

But no, this wasn’t a dream. Lin Yuan had said the exact same words as before, only this time, in person. And last time, when he’d said them…

Gu Dong’s heart started racing, and Gu Qiangyun’s eyes widened as he slowly began to realize what was happening. His face, as though in slow-motion, stretched into a look of pure astonishment.

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