A few more days passed.
In a private practice room at Star River Academy, Su Qianqian and Qin Yuwei sat on the carpet, several sheets of manuscript paper filled with musical notes and lyrics scattered between them.
A professional microphone and some simple recording equipment stood nearby.
"Here, try to keep your breath steadier here, let's give it a shot..."
Qin Yuwei sat cross-legged, her finger pointing to a bar on the score as she hummed the tune:
"'Moonlight flows over my hometown.' This line needs to be more ethereal, like real moonlight, you know?"
Su Qianqian nodded, took a deep breath, stood up, and softly sang into the microphone: "Moonlight flows over my hometown..."
Her voice was clear, sweet, and ethereal, like a mountain spring, flowing out gently.
"Yes, yes, yes! That's exactly the feeling!"
Qin Yuwei excitedly slapped her thigh, "Honey, your voice is truly a gift from heaven!"
"Once more, and then we'll move to the next line."
This was a freshly completed original demo by Qin Yuwei. The melody was soothing and quiet, carrying a faint sense of melancholy and healing.
The lyrics depicted the tranquility and longing beneath the night sky.
The two practiced repeatedly, recording several takes.
Su Qianqian was very serious. Occasionally, if she sang a wrong note or her breath wavered, she would smile sheepishly and start over.
Qin Yuwei was a strict teacher, but more than that, she was filled with excitement and encouragement.
"Perfect! Absolutely stunning!"
After listening to the final recorded demo, Qin Yuwei excitedly hugged Su Qianqian, "Qianqian, you sang even better than I imagined. This ethereal feeling is truly incredible!"
Su Qianqian's face flushed slightly from the praise, "Really? I think some parts could still be better..."
"It's already fantastic!" Qin Yuwei picked up her phone and waved it, "Hey, Qianqian, I want to upload this song to Yinyuan. Is that okay?"
Yinyuan was a popular platform for sharing independent music creations, where many indie musicians released their work.
"Ah? Upload it?" Su Qianqian hesitated a little, "Is my singing okay? Wouldn't it be..."
"Of course it is! Absolutely!" Qin Yuwei put an arm around her shoulder.
"Trust me, with a voice like yours, it would be a crime not to share it and let more people hear it."
"Just help me fulfill a wish, okay? I want my song to be sung by the right person and then shared for everyone to enjoy together."
Su Qianqian nodded, not thinking too much of it. After all, she wanted to be an actress, and vocal music was just a minor subject for her.
"Alright then. But Yuwei, please don't reveal any of my personal information."
Qin Yuwei immediately got to work, typing away while muttering, "No problem. Let's call the song 'Moonlight'."
...
The night was deep. Inside a secluded villa in the suburbs, all was silent except for a light still on in the master bedroom on the second floor.
Zhou Yu'an stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, dressed in dark gray pajamas, a half-smoked cigarette held between his fingers.
His brow was tightly furrowed, his eyes carrying weariness and irritation—a stark contrast to his usual image of refined elegance.
It had been three consecutive days now.
Those long-sealed childhood memories kept surfacing to disturb him from time to time.
He was no longer the powerless boy, nor was there anything left for him to fear. Yet, every time this season of continuous autumn rains arrived, he simply couldn't sleep.
This feeling of being out of control made him deeply uncomfortable.
Zhou Yu'an, a genius surgeon recognized by the medical community, had made a name for himself internationally at a young age and was also proficient in psychology.
He could calmly analyze the most complex medical cases and effortlessly manage his family's affairs.
But now, he was utterly helpless against his most basic physiological needs.
He didn't smoke it, just expressionlessly stubbed the cigarette out.
Then he walked to the bedside table where a medicine bottle sat.
He shook out two white pills and swallowed them with cold water.
Under the drug's influence, his heart seemed to beat a little slower, but that deep-seated fatigue and the clarity of his mind still stubbornly resisted each other.
He had already developed a tolerance to these sedative medications.
The standard dose had minimal effect, while increasing the dosage would leave his mind foggy the next day, affecting his ability to hold a scalpel.
He rubbed his throbbing temples, lay down on the bed, picked up his tablet, and swiped it open, tapping on the Yinyuan app.
He occasionally listened to some instrumental music here to help him sleep, but the results had always been mediocre.
The recommendation page automatically pushed some new works.
His gaze swept over them without much interest, until a notification popped up: [Your followed friend "Weiwei is not Weiwei" has released a new work.]
Qin Yuwei?
Zhou Yu'an had some impression of her—the young lady from the Qin family who was always immersed in music. She was somewhat talented; the few instrumental pieces she had posted had been moderately effective at other times.
But it was late autumn now...
Zhou Yu'an casually tapped the notification.
A soft, soothing prelude flowed out, consisting of simple piano chords.
Then, a female voice gently began to sing.
The voice was clear, sweet, and clean, yet ethereal, slowly singing lyrics about moonlight and an old window.
There weren't many vocal techniques, and even a hint of rawness could be heard, but that very purity somehow captivated the ear.
Zhou Yu'an leaned against the headboard and closed his eyes.
This voice was... somewhat special.
The medicine seemed to be slowly taking effect, and coupled with this ethereal singing, the churning thoughts deep in his mind were gently smoothed over, gradually settling into silence.
He didn't recognize this as Su Qianqian's voice.
First, his impression of her was merely that of an excessively beautiful canary, meticulously pampered by Cheng Yu.
Second, singing and everyday speech naturally sound somewhat different, and after being transmitted through recording equipment, it becomes even harder to recognize.
As for the third reason, it was a minor flaw no one had ever discovered—he was slightly tone-deaf.
The song was set on repeat, that spring-water-clear female voice singing over and over.
Zhou Yu'an slowly relaxed, settled under the covers, and his breathing gradually grew long and even.
