Chapter 174: If It Doesn’t Become a Hit, I’ll Refund You

Chapter 174: If It Doesn’t Become a Hit, I’ll Refund You

Bai Ling was not only one of the female bodyguards secretly protecting Song Xuan. She was also one of the people secretly monitoring her. Wu Yurong kept a whole group assigned to the work, rotating shifts.

It was not that Wu Yurong wanted to control her daughter. Quite the reverse. She had given Song Xuan an extremely relaxed environment to grow up in and interfered rarely. Her daughter liked music? Then let her have it, so long as it did not cost her her studies.

But Wu Yurong knew far too well how much unnecessary trouble an exceptionally beautiful girl could attract.

She had learned that lesson herself, the hard way.

She would not let anyone hurt her daughter.

So the moment anyone approached Song Xuan deliberately, with ulterior motives, Wu Yurong knew. And without Song Xuan ever realizing it, that person vanished from her daughter’s life.

Song Xuan finished speaking and held on to Wu Chen’s hand.

She stared at him, agitated.

The atmosphere turned strange at once.

Wu Chen was still smiling. He glanced down at their joined hands.

Song Xuan let go immediately.

“Um… Senior… don’t misunderstand. I got a little carried away…” She looked embarrassed, then braced a hand on the table and leaned closer, explaining in a low voice, “Senior, I really do think this is unfair to you. You have all this talent. Don’t you think it’s a waste? You want money that badly because you want to stand on your own, don’t you? You want to get away from that old woman, don’t you?”

Old woman this, old woman that. Song Xuan’s prejudice against Li Ruobing ran deep.

Wu Chen knew.

Before coming to the café he had spoken with Li Ruobing privately. The main purpose had been to tell her how to play it if Wu Yurong called, and he had also asked what she and Song Xuan had talked about.

So he already knew how Song Xuan would feel after that conversation.

Because he understood her character.

Talking to Li Ruobing, Song Xuan would inevitably be meek. She disliked arguing with people, disliked being a bother, disliked being misread.

But that did not mean she had no views of her own.

It would have been a wonder if Song Xuan had come away with a good impression of Li Ruobing.

Of course, Song Xuan was not the sort of person who spoke ill of people behind their backs or stirred up trouble for its own sake.

She had simply misunderstood.

The last time she met Wu Chen she had barely registered what he was wearing or what watch he had on. None of it mattered. He wanted to sell her a song, she had come to look, and the song was the point.

This time Song Xuan had asked for the meeting, and her attitude had turned completely around.

She thought Wu Chen’s talent was extraordinary. A man who could set the internet alight with a single song in one day might inspire amazement and envy in outsiders, but Song Xuan had spent years making music and chasing success in it, and she knew exactly how impossible that was.

Her shock was something outsiders could not understand.

Song Xuan was precisely the kind of girl who could be drawn to a man’s musical talent.

Of course, she had known Wu Chen for one day. There was no possibility she had fallen in love with him, and she was certainly not the kind of girl who would wreck someone else’s relationship.

Right now she had genuinely only misunderstood.

She loved talent when she saw it.

And she truly did think it was a waste.

The present situation could only be called an accident.

Because Li Ruobing answering Song Xuan’s call had been an accident to begin with.

Wu Chen’s original plan had looked nothing like this. He had meant to use his talent to make Song Xuan fall in love with him. But since the accident had already happened, he simply changed tack and rode the slope down.

Which was why he had made a point of checking his watch earlier, and of keeping the car keys in his hand.

“Senior! Look at how ‘Antidote for the Soul’ is doing now. Senior, you’re famous, do you know that?” Song Xuan pulled out her phone again and showed him the music charts. “A major company will sign you. You could become a star—”

“Let’s not talk about that.” Wu Chen smiled and shook his head. “I’m not going to debut.”

“Why? Senior, you release songs… don’t you want to be a singer? Don’t you want to make money?” she asked at once. She could not follow him.

“A great many things… aren’t the way you imagine.” His voice softened a little. He smiled, and did not explain.

“Senior! Does that old woman have something on you?” Song Xuan’s eyes went wide as the thought struck her.

It was not that her imagination ran wild. There were simply too many strange things she could not account for, and this was the most reasonable explanation she could produce.

First impressions matter enormously. Song Xuan’s first impression of Li Ruobing had been dreadful, and once a person has decided someone is bad, it is easy to imagine them worse.

“Senior, she’s threatening you, isn’t she?” she asked again.

“No. Really, no. Can we stop talking about this?”

“Senior, don’t change the subject! You’re a man! You can make something of yourself!”

“It truly isn’t what you think.”

“Senior, stop forcing that smile! You act as though everything’s fine, you’re always smiling. I understand you!”

As she said it, her own expression changed.

Because she truly did know what it meant to force a smile and pretend everything was easy—to look happy and relaxed every day while the pain inside stayed invisible to everyone.

She was like that herself.

“Let’s talk about songs instead. You came to buy one from me?” Wu Chen let the line pass and hauled the conversation back by force.

“Right, a song! Oh—Senior, about yesterday, I owe you an apology. You weren’t messing with me. I was wrong. That song was worth a hundred thousand. No—a million!” Her attention came back.

For the next ten-odd minutes Song Xuan threw herself into talking music with him, praising him now and then, praising “Antidote for the Soul.” The praise was sincere, but there was calculation in it too.

She wanted Wu Chen to feel good.

She had come as a supplicant, hoping he would sell her a song, and she was afraid he might make it difficult after yesterday.

Song Xuan wanted, truly and desperately, to sing a hit.

It had been her musical dream for years.

Somewhere in the conversation she even poured out her troubles to him—how hard these years had been, how much of it had been uphill, how she had kept going, how she had failed and failed again, how many songs she had released that the public simply never took to.

“…Senior, will you write me a song?” she said at last, looking at him piteously.

It was a devastating expression, because she really was that beautiful.

“One hundred thousand,” Wu Chen quoted, smiling.

“Okay! I’ll pay!” she agreed at once.

“And… I want fifty percent of the song’s net revenue,” he added.

That was not merely opening his mouth like a lion. It was pure fantasy.

The greatest lyricists and composers in the world would not dare ask for terms like that.

“Okay! No problem.” She agreed again without a moment’s hesitation.

She wanted to be a singer, but not for money. She did not care what a song might earn. If she could catch fire once, that was enough.

“Then it’s settled. Paper and pen…” Wu Chen gestured to her.

Song Xuan quickly produced a small notebook and a pen and handed them over, beaming.

Wu Chen turned to a blank page near the back. He was about to write, then paused and looked up at her with a smile.

“What kind of song do you want?”

“Huh?” She blinked those big eyes, then frowned, puzzled. “I get to choose? Senior, how many finished songs have you written?”

“Just choose. I’ll write it for you now. It won’t take long,” Wu Chen said, smiling.

“Write it now?! It won’t take long?!” Song Xuan was stunned.

She was willing to pay a hundred thousand and give up fifty percent of the revenue because she wanted something good, something with real quality. Even if it could not reach the level of “Antidote for the Soul,” she expected at least a modest hit. She had prepared herself for that much.

And Wu Chen was letting her pick the subject and writing it on the spot?

Quickly?

“Senior… don’t fob me off. Are you still angry?” She pursed her lips.

“I’m not fobbing you off. I’m serious. And any song I write will be a hit.” Wu Chen smiled.

Song Xuan’s whole face said she was certain he was humoring her.

“If it doesn’t become a hit, I’ll refund you. How’s that?” he asked, smiling.

Today Wu Chen intended to redefine for Song Xuan what real talent looked like.