Zhong Ziyan felt her life was quite fulfilling.
Every morning, she would wake up and check the logistics information to see whether she’d receive a dozen or dozens of packages that day. Filled with anticipation, she would head downstairs, often running into Wei Hanyun, who was on his way out to make money. After seeing him off, she would have breakfast and then proceed to unpack her deliveries.
After lunch, she would head to the kitchen and attempt to cook under the guidance of a chef who had previously worked at a Michelin-starred restaurant, all while waiting for a call from Fang Nan to confirm whether Wei Hanyun would be coming home for dinner.
If Wei Hanyun returned, she would jot down his feedback on the meal in a little notebook during dinner.
After dinner, she would spend her free time in the basement until bedtime.
Apart from that, she would seize every opportunity to spend money.
During an accidental push notification, Zhong Ziyan clicked on an advertisement for a social media app.
After browsing its content, she decided to register an account herself, choosing a straightforward username: "Still Trying to Spend Money Today."
Once the account was set up, she humbly posted a question using newly acquired internet slang: "Any quick ways to spend money? Urgent, online and waiting."
After sending the post, she switched the app to the background as a call came in—the caller ID read "[Agent]."
Zhong Ziyan pondered for two seconds before slapping her forehead in realization.
The days of spending money had been so intoxicating that she had almost forgotten the world she lived in was the projection of a book, and she was originally meant to be a supporting female character.
As the supporting character, Zhong Ziyan also had a career—she was a third-rate composer. Her compositions never found lyricists, let alone singers willing to perform them. When uploaded online, they would only garner twelve clicks in twenty-four hours. That was how third-rate she was.
In the "plot," after marrying Wei Hanyun, the supporting character quickly quit this job to become a full-time housewife living off his wealth.
Zhong Ziyan shook her head vigorously: quitting was out of the question. In a year, she would still need this job to earn money.
What was an elf? Elves were the most favored creations of the gods—blessed with looks, combat prowess, intelligence, and, most importantly, an innate talent for music.
Without hesitation, Zhong Ziyan answered the call: "Hello."
On the other end, the unnamed agent spoke in a harsh tone: "Your contract is about to expire. Come to the company on Friday—either hand in a score or sign the termination agreement. Understood?"
Zhong Ziyan replied without a shred of pressure: "Understood!"
She hung up first and immediately rushed to the study to fetch paper and pen.
The agent, who had been expecting to hear a plea for "a few more days," was left speechless.
Holding the abruptly ended call, he awkwardly muttered into the dial tone to keep up appearances: "No more extensions. Friday is the deadline. If you don’t deliver the score, it’s termination. Your call."
After this performance, he swiftly pocketed his phone and flashed an ingratiating smile at the two superiors beside him: "She’ll definitely come."
"Mr. Bai?" one of them prompted.
The middle-aged man seated in the boss’s chair nodded. "As long as she shows up. My niece is young and a bit mischievous—keep an eye on her that day."
"Of course, Mr. Bai, rest assured," the agent nodded vigorously. "We’ll make sure Miss Bai is satisfied!"
...
Zhong Ziyan grabbed the paper and pen and dashed straight to the music room.
It was a newly renovated space, converted from one of the basement rooms in just two days.
After seeing the array of instruments delivered from Yansha, the butler had sought Zhong Ziyan’s opinion and arranged for the room’s refurbishment.
For an elf, music was as natural as breathing or drinking water. Even a casual hum from their throat carried an enchanting, soothing quality.
Though Zhong Ziyan had never played the violin before, the moment she tucked it under her chin and tested a few notes, her bloodline guided her effortlessly. A melody flowed seamlessly from the bow and strings.
Zhong Ziyan: No wonder this violin cost eight million outright. This is the power of money... no, the power of music.
Notes strung together and floated into the air as if alive, weaving into a refreshing composition before being transcribed onto paper.
Though she had never lived as an elf, Zhong Ziyan had to admit the elven bloodline was remarkably reliable.
She spent an hour in the music room finishing the score and, still brimming with inspiration, composed a few more pieces.
When Wei Hanyun returned home, Fang Nan was still at his side, quietly reporting updates.
"The anonymous tip I received that day was entirely accurate. The matter has been resolved," Fang Nan paused, frowning slightly. "The confessor has admitted everything but insists he doesn’t remember making that call. I’ll have someone monitor his social interactions later."
Wei Hanyun listened with one ear while reviewing a document on his tablet. After marking two sections, he handed it back to Fang Nan. "Check the call time and location."
"Understood." Fang Nan glanced at the tablet, locked the screen, and bid farewell to the butler waiting at the door before leaving.
Wei Hanyun didn’t see Zhong Ziyan when he entered, but the butler mentioned she had been in the music room all afternoon. After a moment’s thought, he detoured to check on her.
The door to the music room was slightly ajar, and the melodious strains of the violin had already reached Wei Hanyun by the time he descended to the basement.
With a discerning ear for music and the arts, Wei Hanyun raised an eyebrow before knocking politely.
Zhong Ziyan, thoroughly absorbed in her performance, seized the chance to show off her skills from start to finish.
"I’ve never heard this piece before," Wei Hanyun mused. "Is it a recent composition?"
Zhong Ziyan: "..." What, have you heard every piece that exists?
"I have some familiarity with classical music," Wei Hanyun read her thoughts and smiled. "My grandmother was a pianist."
Zhong Ziyan wasn’t the least bit surprised that the Wei family had both wealth and cultural heritage, but that didn’t stop her from boasting to her boss: "I wrote this."
Wei Hanyun was genuinely taken aback.
Zhong Ziyan’s technique was slightly unpolished, but her playing brimmed with emotion—already enough to surprise him. However, being able to perform an instrument and composing awe-inspiring music were two entirely different realms, rarely mastered by the same person.
With Wei Hanyun’s discerning taste, he had instinctively assumed the piece was a new work by an established maestro.
"Beautiful, isn’t it?" Zhong Ziyan grinned. "That’s just the first movement. There’s more."
Rarely seeing her boss look astonished, she grew even more enthusiastic and played all the pieces she had composed that afternoon in succession for him.
Wei Hanyun, who could earn hundreds of thousands in an hour, sat attentively and listened for half an hour before offering his fair assessment: "Exquisite compositions."
"Too kind, too kind," Zhong Ziyan replied modestly, though her face openly radiated pride.
Wei Hanyun’s lips curved slightly as he stood. "But it’s time for dinner now. Aren’t you hungry?"
Zhong Ziyan gasped and jumped up. "I forgot to cook!"
"You must be busy with work too, but today is an exception," Wei Hanyun had always been a very considerate boss. "Your musical score—I can show it to my grandmother if you'd like. Would that help?"
Zhong Ziyan tilted her head slightly.
Though she didn’t particularly need it, when the boss offered, it was only right to oblige.
She neatly gathered the handwritten sheet music and handed it to Wei Hanyun. "Sure, it’d be great to get some advice from a senior. Thank you, bos— um, thank you."
Wei Hanyun took the manuscript and chuckled at her mid-sentence correction. "You're welcome, Mrs. Wei."
With the original draft taken away by Wei Hanyun, Zhong Ziyan grew lazy after dinner and only rewrote the first chapter to submit later.
Once she finished rewriting, she called her agent, who took a while to answer, sounding impatient. "You can’t push Friday back. It’s company policy—I can’t help you."
Zhong Ziyan, absorbed in unpacking the afternoon’s unopened deliveries, left her phone on speaker. "No, I was just wondering—does it have to be Friday? Can I turn it in tomorrow?"
"...?!" The agent jolted awake and immediately refused. "No!"
Miss Bai was bringing her friends to the company’s recording studio on Friday specifically to humiliate Zhong Ziyan. There was no way the young socialite would change her schedule just because Zhong Ziyan wanted to submit early.
"Why not?" Zhong Ziyan was puzzled. She’d heard of deadlines, but never restrictions on early submissions.
The agent stammered, "I—I’m out of town! I won’t be back until Friday!"
Zhong Ziyan, ever accommodating, suggested, "Then I’ll leave it with the front desk for your office."
"The original draft is too important—what if it gets stolen?" The agent broke into a cold sweat, his voice strained. "Friday it is! Besides, I have something to discuss with you in person."
"Alright." Zhong Ziyan reluctantly placed the score back in the drawer.
The agent cleared his throat nervously, probing carefully, "You’ve already finished writing it?"
"Done!" Zhong Ziyan declared proudly.
Wiping his brow, the agent hung up and immediately reported to his superior.
Frowning, the superior then called Bai Ling.
Bai Ling listened without a hint of panic, even sounding dismissive. "She only started after being notified—whatever she wrote in half a day must be trash. Probably bought online or plagiarized. Just make sure she shows up at the company on Friday."
...
On Friday morning, Zhong Ziyan woke up, opened a few more packages, and around ten, grabbed the folder containing her score, ready to head to the company.
Just as she was about to leave, the butler asked, "Where is Madam heading this morning?"
Zhong Ziyan paused, then called her agent. "Where’s your company again? What’s its name?"
The agent, who had assumed Zhong Ziyan would arrive early in anxious anticipation and had been waiting fretfully at the office for an hour: "…………"
After getting the company name from the agent, Zhong Ziyan hung up. "Houtu Entertainment."
The butler nodded knowingly. "Safe travels."
Zhong Ziyan felt that knowing look carried far too much meaning.
She couldn’t resist asking, "You’ve heard of it?"
The butler chose his words carefully. "The Wei family has acquired and invested in quite a few companies since expanding into the entertainment industry."
Two things dawned on Zhong Ziyan: First, Wei Hanyun was the owner of Houtu Entertainment. Second, it turned out both her main and side jobs were just working for the same boss.
