Chen Mo worked quickly. By Wednesday evening, Ji Nian had already received the file he sent.
Originally drowsy while accompanying Ji Tingzhou and the system in watching a TV drama, she suddenly perked up, asking a servant to fetch her headphones before clicking the triangular play button.
A deep, soothing male voice began singing tender lyrics.
Chen Mo’s voice was captivating, and paired with Lu Jinghuai’s lyrics, it effortlessly drew listeners into the emotions of the song.
Ji Nian finally got to hear the lyrics Lu Jinghuai had written.
‘Embed the secretly kept night’s emerald’
‘Into the heart’
‘Carve every tremor into memory’
‘Compose a serenade of longing’
Ji Nian’s ears tingled. For some reason, she couldn’t help imagining Lu Jinghuai singing these words directly into her ear.
Goosebumps instantly rose on her skin.
The system remarked: "Carve, longing—put them together, and isn’t that ‘Ji Nian’?"
Ji Nian: "...Do you have delusional disorder or something?"
Thanks to the system, Ji Nian was completely snapped out of her emotional trance—just as the song was ending.
She then clicked on her own track, taking a deep breath before playing it.
It began with a light, upbeat mix of rhythms.
As she listened, Ji Nian even caught the pattern and started humming along to the lyrics she already knew by heart.
The song ended with the fading of the drumbeats.
Ji Nian removed her headphones and suddenly sensed something—turning her head, she met her father’s gaze, which had shifted from the TV screen to her at some point.
"You sang well."
Receiving his praise, Ji Nian grinned.
"Uncle’s composition is amazing. The lyrics alone only had a thirty-percent impact, but with the music, it feels like a complete song now."
The things they had created had truly become a full-fledged song.
It gave Ji Nian a surreal feeling.
In her past life, she had buried herself in studies during high school and only made many friends in university.
But everyone was busy with their own lives—most of their conversations revolved around complaining about professors and eccentric colleagues, and their occasional outings were just casual gatherings over skewers.
Her current life made Ji Nian realize, in a daze, that life could actually be this vibrant.
Though she spent less time in the lab now, it felt like she had gained so much more.
"Dad, you have to come watch our performance when the time comes," Ji Nian said, sending the audio to the group chat before turning to Ji Tingzhou.
Ji Tingzhou glanced at her, his expression seeming to reply, "Did you really need to remind me?"
On the surface, he appeared indifferent to their progress beyond the artwork, but in private, he had nearly bought out every camera model in existence.
Of course, Ji Tingzhou would never tell Ji Nian the purpose of that warehouse full of cameras.
...
"It sounds so good—I’ve been singing it in my dreams at night!"
In the practice room, Yang Xinyu excitedly tapped out the drumbeat.
Even Lu Jinghuai smiled in agreement. "Yeah, Uncle really outdid himself."
Shen Qingtang shot him a glance.
Huh? Since when did he know?
What a shame.
Now he wouldn’t get to see the little prince’s jealous antics anymore.
"Glad everyone likes it."
Holding the microphone, Ji Nian stood at the center position and looked at her bandmates. "From this moment on, our rookie band officially begins practice!"
In response, a harmonious blend of instruments filled the room.
Outside the practice room.
"Wow, sounds pretty intense in there."
A guy with green-dyed hair slung a guitar bag over his shoulder and whistled. "Ah, youth."
Wei Junze lazily glanced in the direction of the sound, listening to the faint, still-inexperienced voices inside before remarking indifferently, "The pianist’s not bad."
Then he looked away.
Under his bandmates’ puzzled gazes, he walked to the front desk, leaning his elbows on the counter and tilting forward slightly, his dark red bangs falling over his forehead.
"Hey, sis—has that girl I mentioned still not shown up?"
The receptionist, caught off guard by his sudden approach, blushed and averted her eyes. "...Really, she hasn’t."
"Wei Junze, you still haven’t given up?"
"If you’re so hung up on her, why didn’t you ask for her number back then?"
The green-haired guy slung an arm over Wei Junze’s shoulder, grinning.
Wei Junze shoved him off with a look that said "Get lost."
Seeing the receptionist genuinely had no information, he instantly lost interest, his expression turning cold—enough to make onlookers wince.
"What does she even look like, to make you turn down the school belle? She’s really not from our school?"
Wei Junze was firm. "No."
Another bandmate chimed in, "Then maybe from another university?"
Wei Junze fell into thought.
The others chattered behind him:
"Hey, next month is S High’s arts festival. Alumni can attend—you guys going?"
"Ah, our alma mater. Haven’t been back in ages."
"I heard Ji Tingzhou’s daughter goes there. Wonder if we’ll get to see her in person."
Hearing this, the green-haired guy—the only one close to Wei Junze—leaned in and muttered, "Didn’t your family want you to marry into the Ji family?"
"Seen a photo yet? Is she pretty?"
Wei Junze pushed him away irritably. "How should I know?"
He wasn’t interested in high schoolers.
The green-haired guy kept rambling:
"Word is she looks just like Ji Tingzhou. Remember that viral video from a few years ago? The one his daughter posted?"
Wei Junze tuned him out like a buzzing fly.
As he reached the door, someone pulled it open from the outside before he could.
A tall teenager walked in—black hair, dark eyes, still in his school uniform, carrying a bag. Without sparing them a glance, he brushed past.
"An S High kid? Since when are juniors this cocky?"
"Dude’s tall as hell. Old Wei, you’ve got competition."
...
"Hey, Haki Xiang’s here."
After practicing all morning, Shen Qingtang heard a knock during their break. Wiping sweat from his forehead with a towel, he went to open the door.
Hearing the nickname "Haki Xiang," Xiang Wan had expected a cute animal or a little kid.
But when she looked up, she saw the nearly 1.9-meter-tall, broad-shouldered teenager.
Xiang Wan: "......"
Oh. It’s that cool guy from the cafeteria.
"The court has sent disaster relief rations."
He Xiang brought a pile of supplies.
Though frugal with his own spending, he never hesitated to splurge on Ji Nian and the others.
Sometimes Ji Nian even felt bad for his wallet and discreetly reimbursed him as his "sponsor."
But He Xiang was proud—he insisted his sponsor had already given him enough and refused any extra.
"Here, ‘Meow Meow’ shrimp crackers."
Lu Jinghuai bent down and spotted the bright orange snack pack—no need to guess who it was for.
"And what’s in this bag?"
Xiang Wan, who had also received snacks, thanked him before eyeing the other items in He Xiang’s hands.
Over time, she’d grown from a quiet newcomer (persuaded by the student council president to join) into an active participant, speaking up more often now.
Ji Nian and Shen Qingtang exchanged a knowing smile.
Nearby, Lu Jinghuai seemed to catch on, chuckling. "You actually made it?"
Ji Nian gave him a look—as if they’d just been joking around.
Noticing Ji Nian's expectant gaze, He Xiang bent down to open the bag and pulled out a T-shirt.
"Is this for the performance?" Yang Xinyu asked, peeking over while chewing on a Pocky stick.
Ji Nian waved her hand excitedly. "Haki Xiang, show them!"
For once, a hint of resignation flickered in He Xiang's usually unreadable eyes—so faint that Yang Xinyu wondered if he’d imagined it.
Then He Xiang unfolded the plain white tee.
Printed vividly across the loose-fitting fabric was the stern face of Gu Xiuyuan, their esteemed student council president. Below the neckline, a row of stylized text completed the design:
‘Raging Calf Fire!’
Yang Xinyu and Xiang Wan gaped in unison.
"Uh… wouldn’t wearing this shorten our lifespans?"
No one answered.
Ji Nian and Shen Qingtang were already collapsed in a heap, laughing uncontrollably.
