Chapter 224: This Is A Good Thing
Melancholy Big Spray Mushroom, you’re not even in Ying Huo Hua Wen at all, where did you hide?
Taking advantage of some free time, Awayuki Iroha specially flew domestically, wanting to talk to Yu Wei about his suspense works, but she couldn’t find him at all.
The company only said he was busy with something and didn’t reveal the artist’s exact schedule; in the end, it was Sakuraya Rio who told her that Yu Wei had gone to Beijing.
This is the consequence of not scheduling time in advance when discussing serious matters…
“If he doesn’t come back the day after tomorrow, then we can only wait for next time.”
Awayuki Iroha didn’t even think of going to Beijing to find him; cooperation is all about mutual willingness—being too proactive would just lead to putting a hot face against a cold butt.
“How about waiting two more days? I heard he has a lot on his plate.”
Taking advantage of the holiday, Sakuraya Rio came out to stay with her cousin for two days; she didn’t know Yu Wei’s exact schedule, but he probably wouldn’t be back the day after tomorrow.
“Then next time it is.”
Awayuki Iroha had a tight schedule; staying here for over ten days waiting for someone wasn’t worth it no matter how you thought about it, and if they didn’t reach an agreement, it would be even less worthwhile.
She helplessly sighed, but when she turned around, she saw her cousin staring at her mobile phone in landscape mode in a daze; only when she leaned over did she discover the other was watching a variety show.
She didn’t remember Rio having this hobby…
But what Awayuki Iroha didn’t expect was that Sakuraya Rio soon appeared in a camera shot on the program, and the legendary Yu Wei was sitting right next to her.
“What is this?”
Sakuraya Rio seemed a bit embarrassed but still simply introduced the program process; hearing that there was a singing segment later in the program, Awayuki Iroha immediately became a bit interested.
Her impression of Yu Wei was still of a star who was very good at writing books; she really hadn’t looked into his main job.
“Rio singing Chinese songs should be quite challenging, tough work.”
“Not at all, I sang a Japanese song.”
It wasn’t until Sakuraya Rio took the stage and sang the first line of “To the Future” that Awayuki Iroha realized the severity of the problem.
This guy could actually write Japanese songs; listening to foreign songs while looking at translations really diminishes the effect greatly—only she realized the terror of this song.
Not only was the melody beautiful, the lyrics were also excellently written; at least it absolutely wasn’t some casual product from an outsider, but something with real substance.
Even if you said it was created by a famous Sakura singer, she would believe it; she didn’t expect it to be the work of a Chinese singer.
Awayuki Iroha came back to her senses and accepted it frankly; Yu Wei’s two suspense novels both unfolded with Sakura as the background, clearly showing he had some research into Sakura culture.
“Looks like his musical talent can’t be ignored either…”
Seeing that her cousin seemed very interested in this, Sakuraya Rio simply pulled up Yu Wei’s piano piece for her to listen to.
As a result, Awayuki Iroha grew more and more silent the more she listened, and she had no choice but to make a bold decision.
“Then let’s wait a few more days.”
…
“The arrangement is completely different.”
The melody was still that melody, but the musical style of “Later” was clearly completely different from the Japanese song just now; the addition of strings gave a sense of layered progression.
They didn’t have much resonance with this song either and could only analyze it from a pure music angle.
Among them, the one most suited to “back in the day” was Qi Yunming, but with his personality, he had probably forgotten most of those past events by now.
For the singing of this song, Yu Wei’s voice control and emotional investment were just right; he didn’t overdo the sadness but instead used a restrained approach to enhance the song’s infectiousness.
“This song is going to be big.”
The “big” in Chen Jinyi’s mouth naturally wasn’t the ordinary kind of popularity, but truly huge; even among Yu Wei’s works, it would rank at the top.
Very simple reason: this song achieved a perfect balance of high quality, artistry, and mass appeal—not blowing up would be hard.
Just as she predicted, after the program aired, discussion of this song was quite high; even quick-handed internet celebrities and bloggers had already started covers.
However, compared to Yu Wei, their versions were at best just for the sound.
“Little Yu, do you think Aunt can sing it?”
Chen Jinyi was just asking casually; she felt the atmosphere of this song seemed more suited to a female voice, especially someone older, to sing out that wistful looking back.
“Of course, Aunt, what can’t you sing?”
With Chen Jinyi’s standard, singing this song was no problem at all; at her age, it was actually the prime time for many female singers.
Besides, at this point, he definitely had to say she could; how could he embarrass an elder? The answer is she can—even “Good Man Song”!
Seeing his performance coming to an end, Yu Wei immediately stood up to express his intent to leave; time was up, staying longer would mean overnighting, which was too much hassle.
“Be careful on the road.”
Qi Yunming was too lazy for pleasantries; though he should try to keep him at a time like this, his home had no empty rooms anyway, no need to force it.
Salty fish understands salty fish best; with so many people in his home, Yu Wei definitely wouldn’t feel settled—better for him to go back and rest early.
“Goodbye, Uncle and Aunt.”
Before leaving, Yu Wei glanced at Qi Luo An, as if using his gaze to express thanks: I had a great time today, thanks for the hospitality.
This was exactly the result Qi Luo An wanted most; she was just afraid Yu Wei wouldn’t be happy—as long as he was happy, nothing else mattered.
Seeing Yu Wei get in the car and leave, Qi Yuan’s smile gradually faded, turning into a sly grin, “Mom, I have something to tell you.”
Qi Luo An immediately had a bad premonition—this kid was probably about to tattle!
Good news: she guessed right; Qi Yuan came back tonight full of resentment, determined to let his little sister know what respecting elders means.
“Yuan Yuan, you want to look at the script? I’ll go get it for you.”
Before she could finish, Qi Yunming casually interrupted, directly diverting Qi Yuan’s attention; screwing over his sister could wait, but the script couldn’t be delayed.
He was still too short on opportunities; even if he didn’t want to take it, he needed to reply early, or it might cause issues—whatever, he’d spare her for today.
Watching Qi Yuan follow Old Qi into the room, Qi Luo An finally breathed a sigh of relief; at the critical moment, Old Qi was reliable.
But this wasn’t a long-term solution; handling this kind of thing herself was better than letting others tattle—Qi Luo An steeled herself and decided to proactively tell her mom about writing the novel.
She thought Chen Jinyi would lose her temper a bit upon hearing it, but unexpectedly, she just frowned and didn’t say much.
She wasn’t dissatisfied; it just felt strangely absurd—ultimately, she had been infected by Yu Wei’s virus too…
“Won’t you think I’m not focusing on my proper work?”
Qi Luo An often heard her mom sharply critique Yu Wei for writing novels; unexpectedly, she was surprisingly tolerant of her doing it.
“Do you have proper work?”
“…”
Chen Jinyi said that about Yu Wei because being a star was his main job; with such great talent, yet he spent most of his time writing novels.
He was meant to be a superstar—how could he waste time on these useless things?
Her daughter was different: disobedient and unmanageable; having something to do might keep her out of trouble—whether it could make a living didn’t matter, as long as it settled her down a bit.
This was a good thing!
“What if someone in their star career hits a major setback, obsesses over writing novels but can’t even pass the draft…”
“Does the entertainment industry have people that clueless?”
Qi Luo An smiled knowingly; now the offense and defense had switched.
Qi Yuan, flipping through the script, sneezed; Yu Wei’s script opening was extremely engaging, and before he knew it, he was hooked.
The few skits were integrated just right, without that forced tickling-for-laughs feeling—this suited his taste perfectly.
“A real rebirth?”
Seeing Xia Luo reborn after the wedding, Qi Yuan’s interest in the movie grew even higher; rebirth was a popular theme, but mostly short dramas or novels—few seemed set as movies.
The teacher-beating segment was very interesting, but up to now, Qi Yuan still hadn’t found a role suitable for himself.
Didn’t Yu Wei say there was a role very suitable for him? Where was it?
As he saw Xia Luo start playing music and Yuan Hua’s role begin to shine, Qi Yuan just glanced at it and felt an inexplicable sense of empathy.
A mediocre classmate suddenly takes off, not only becoming popular but also stealing the school belle—pain, too much pain…
Though their experiences differed and his jealousy wasn’t that strong, he could still feel this emotion.
The more he watched, the more he felt this movie had blockbuster potential; beyond the little guy’s rise, its thick nostalgia and era features were also intriguing.
Such a good film—how did it end up in Dad’s hands?
Qi Yuan sighed and ultimately decided to gamble with Yu Wei, just to see if his strength or the “King of Bad Movies” prevailed.
“Old Director Qi’s films, even dogs wouldn’t…”
“I’ll act! Acting in Old Director Qi’s film.”
Yu Wei was very satisfied seeing Qi Yuan’s message; great, the key role was locked in—over the next couple days, he could unify auditions and have him advise.
Having mastered all the roles’ acting skills, he naturally knew how to play each one; even if Old Qi messed up, he alone would suffice.
“By the way, what are you planning for those songs in the movie?”
Qi Yuan had hit the nail on the head; there were plenty of old songs in “Charlotte Troubles,” carrying some laughs and nostalgia.
Yu Wei planned to swap some unimportant ones, like street-and-alley era-reflecting tunes, more suited to Blue Star audience tastes.
But a few key works he wouldn’t change, like “Once You” in the campus broadcast and “Yi Jian Mei” in the famous scene—these were the movie’s soul, untouchable.
“Of course, free of charge.”
The swapped-out songs didn’t need to be wasted; they could be stuffed as Easter eggs in the movie soundtrack.
There were still too many songs appearing in “Charlotte Troubles”; with the movie’s release, these songs would also be issued individually.
Yu Wei didn’t plan to sing them all himself either—that would be too repetitive and the effect mediocre.
The group he got free of charge had plenty who could sing; then it would be about who had the chops.
Of course, Yu Wei would definitely have Shen Yutong sing; she was quite pure, interested only in music and nothing else, not even filming movies.
Following the principle of not leaving empty-handed, Yu Wei planned to get her to sing free of charge—not acting? No acting and you won’t get to slack off!
This collaboration was outside the competition, so no restrictions—just compensation for Shen Yutong’s “lost love.”
A true music lover shouldn’t treat music as some prize; from the start, his expectations for Shen Yutong were beyond the competition stage.
“Do you think I can do it?”
Hearing Yu Wei’s tone, there were plenty of good songs in this movie—Qi Yuan suddenly felt his competition win wasn’t so appealing anymore.
The good works in the song library all suited female singers; even winning, he had little to choose from—if he’d known about this movie, no need to team with the bad drama.
“Talk after a successful audition.”
Yu Wei recalled Yuan Hua’s famous scene in the movie and suddenly had an amusing idea.
Should he make him sing his own execution song?
