Chapter 374: The Recording-Studio Tyrant

Chapter 374: The Recording-Studio Tyrant

Peng Wei hadn’t actually worked out his next move. He had plenty of ideas, but above all, he felt he ought to go find Li Ruobing and show her the photos of Wu Chen with An Menglan.

A little over twenty minutes later, Peng Wei went downstairs.

In those twenty-odd minutes, he had called in five of his core people. Anyone already on a job was told to drop it for now.

They assembled in the underground garage.

Three cars.

Six people.

They set off.

Straight for Donghai.

…

Meanwhile, in the Tianheng Manor villa community in Donghai’s Central District.

Song Xuan’s home was here, in Villa No. 31.

The basement.

The recording studio.

One enormous open-plan space had been divided into several sections. The inner room was a glass booth, completely soundproof. Outside it, facing the window, stood the console, surrounded by mixing equipment, computers, and other gear.

One in the afternoon.

An Menglan stood inside the booth, eyes closed, singing into the microphone. The outer room was silent. Wu Chen, Song Xuan, and Liu Jing all wore headphones; only through them could anyone hear the music and An Menglan’s voice.

Since they were only recording demos, every instrument in the accompaniment was simulated electronically. It still sounded quite good.

The real purpose of a demo was to find the right feel, spot problems, and make adjustments. The aim was to find the best possible style, the best possible way to sing each song.

The song ended.

Wu Chen pulled off his headphones, picked up a thick sheaf of papers, and pushed open the door to the booth.

An Menglan switched off the mic for the moment.

The two of them started discussing the song again.

The papers in Wu Chen’s hands held the lyrics and scores for the seven songs. Sound the Bell wasn’t among them. They still hadn’t decided when to release it, so there was no hurry to work on it.

Outside, Song Xuan took off her headphones too. Through the glass, she could see that Wu Chen and An Menglan seemed to be at it again.

The glass was soundproof. She couldn’t hear a word.

But their expressions and body language told her they were having another “argument.”

It really was an argument.

About how the song should be sung.

An Menglan had tremendous respect for Wu Chen’s gifts as a songwriter.

But writing was writing.

Singing was singing.

They weren’t the same thing.

Plenty of world-famous producers had extraordinary creative talent and couldn’t sing a note. It took nothing away from them.

An Menglan certainly didn’t believe Wu Chen could outdo her as a singer too.

It was the one advantage she still held over him, musically speaking.

They had been at it for several hours now.

At first, Wu Chen had merely offered suggestions about her singing. Some she accepted humbly; others she talked through with him. The mood had been pleasant enough.

But little by little, that changed.

An Menglan discovered that when it came to music, Wu Chen had a deeply arrogant, deeply stubborn streak.

And the way that arrogance and stubbornness showed itself was very simple:

Everyone did what he said.

She had to sing it exactly the way he told her. The style, the vocal approach, when to shift between chest voice and falsetto, everything.

Wu Chen was a “recording-studio tyrant.”

It grated on An Menglan badly.

She had her own understanding of music. She knew which styles suited her best. Yet Wu Chen never once accepted what she thought was a “better way to sing” a passage.

He fixated on details.

They had clashed over nearly every song.

“…This part here. Don’t push the emotion so hard. I know high notes are one of your strengths, Miss An, but… rein it in here. You see what I mean?” Wu Chen said, jabbing a finger at the score in his hand.

“Queen is meant to be restrained where it should be restrained and soaring where it should soar. This section’s right before the chorus…” An Menglan argued her case.

“The instrumental passage before the chorus lifts the emotion of the song. Before that, you don’t need to do anything special. The whole point is to hold back first, then let go.” Wu Chen looked her straight in the eye.

An Menglan pressed her lips together.

He had written the song, which put her at a natural disadvantage. She couldn’t quite out-argue him.

“Mr. Wu, you may have written this song, but when it comes to the singing… I stand by my own interpretation,” An Menglan said, meeting his gaze.

Snap.

Wu Chen flicked the pages with one finger, and they gave a crisp crack.

“Sing it the way I told you, all right?” His tone was firm. “Miss An, I know you understand music deeply. But nobody understands my songs better than I do.”

An Menglan pressed her lips together and said nothing. Her gaze slid away, and she looked thoroughly exasperated.

In all the years since her debut, no one had dared speak to her like that.

Not that she actually minded his attitude. There was nothing wrong with being serious when it came to music.

It was just that his arrogance and stubbornness were genuinely maddening.

And she couldn’t even win the argument…

“Okay, how about this. Sing it both ways,” Wu Chen said. “We’ll record two demos, then give them a proper listen.”

“Fine. No problem.” An Menglan agreed without hesitating.

Wu Chen left the booth, returned to the other side of the glass, put his headphones back on, adjusted the equipment, and signaled that she could begin.

An Menglan signaled back that she was ready.

They started again.

Bzzz, bzzz…

A faint vibration came from Song Xuan.

With everyone in headphones, no one else heard it, but she felt it.

She took out her phone.

Caller ID: Mom.

It was Wu Yurong.

Song Xuan took off her headphones and slipped out of the studio to answer.

A few minutes later, she came back.

It was nothing important. Wu Yurong had only called about having dinner that evening. It was the weekend, and Song Xuan usually ate with her mother on weekends.

Over half an hour later.

The studio door suddenly opened.

It was A-Li, the bodyguard.

Liu Jing noticed and turned her head. A-Li gave her a nod.

Two minutes later, An Menglan finished another take.

Wu Chen took off his headphones and was about to go in.

“Mr. Wu, the food’s here,” Liu Jing said. “Nobody’s had lunch. Let’s eat first.”

None of them had eaten. Liu Jing had asked A-Li to order something only a short while earlier.

Wu Chen glanced at her, nodded, then leaned toward the microphone.

“Let’s eat first.”

It really was time for a break. More importantly, An Menglan needed to rest. If she kept singing nonstop, her voice wouldn’t hold up.

An Menglan came out of the booth.

They left the studio for the time being and went upstairs.

In the first-floor living room, the coffee table was crowded with takeout containers. Takeout or not, it was a lavish spread. An Menglan was used to eating very well, and A-Li naturally knew it.

They all began to eat.

Ten-odd minutes later, before they’d finished, the villa’s front door suddenly opened.

A bodyguard held it, and in walked Wu Yurong, wearing a qipao with a silk scarf draped over her shoulders.

Her arrival was rather unexpected.

“Mom, what are you doing here? Isn’t the company busy?” Song Xuan got up at once to greet her.

“It’s the weekend. How busy could it be?” Wu Yurong said with a gentle smile. “I came to see you all. Xuanxuan told me Miss An was recording here…” As she spoke, she turned toward An Menglan.

She really had just come to see. When they’d spoken earlier, Song Xuan had mentioned what they were up to at home. Wu Yurong genuinely had nothing pressing today. She’d been putting in extra hours at the office, but leaving early was no trouble.

And the wager between An Menglan and Li Ruobing was very much on her mind.

An Menglan rose to greet her, as did Wu Chen, who in front of Song Xuan still had to play the part of “Student Wu.”

After a few pleasantries, everyone sat back down.

“Have you settled into Donghai these past few days, Miss An?”

“Is it convenient recording here? If not, I can put you in touch with the best studio in Donghai…”

Once she arrived, Wu Yurong talked almost exclusively with An Menglan.

An Menglan was a guest, and an important one.

As for Wu Chen… with her daughter present, Wu Yurong couldn’t afford much unnecessary interaction with him. She was afraid Song Xuan might notice something.

They chatted for a while. Then An Menglan said suddenly, “Oh, Ms. Wu, your timing is perfect. There’s something I’d like to ask of you…”

“Hm? What is it?” A hint of surprise crept into Wu Yurong’s sweet smile.

“It’s like this. Mr. Wu and I have… some differences of opinion about the music.” An Menglan glanced at Wu Chen, then back at Wu Yurong. “There’s one song we’ve now recorded two versions of. Ms. Wu, you studied music yourself, so… if you have the time, would you listen to them and judge for us? Tell us… which version you think is better?”

An Menglan genuinely refused to concede.

She wanted Wu Yurong to be the judge.