The three-day deadline was approaching.

Shi Lei seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth—not a single phone call or message.

Jiang Cheng paced back and forth in Lu Zhixian's rented apartment in a panic, making the floorboards creak under his weight.

“Teacher Lu, Brother Lei... he couldn't have run off, right?” Jiang Cheng picked up his phone for the fifth time; the screen still showed a failed call notification.

“Why would he run for a five percent cut?” Lu Zhixian didn't even look up. His eyes were fixed on his laptop, his fingers sliding across the touchpad. He wasn't looking at music software, but at a real estate rental website.

“But it's already the third day! What if he felt that contract was an insult and regretted it once he sobered up?” Jiang Cheng was truly panicking.

Over these three days, the tide of public opinion online had quietly shifted.

The popularity of "bubble" remained high, but discordant voices were beginning to emerge.

Led by several music bloggers, a number of "in-depth music reviews" were posted.

The central theme was consistent: Lu Zhixian's songs were too artificial. Whether it was "dispelling sorrow" or "bubble," they were essentially songs designed to precisely target public emotions, lacking in artistic vision.

[He writes two hits and people treat him like a god? Looks like he's already run out of talent to me.]

[If you're so capable, stop writing pop. Try another style? I bet he can't do it.]

[Just waiting for Lu Zhixian to fall from grace. Those who rise on just one or two songs come fast and go just as fast.]

One could guess with their toes whether someone was behind these smear campaigns.

Jiang Cheng was fuming as he read them, yet Lu Zhixian himself acted as if nothing was wrong.

“What's the rush?” Lu Zhixian finally closed the rental website and stretched. “The emperor isn't worried, but the eunuch is.”

“I...” Jiang Cheng almost choked on his breath. Wasn't he doing this for his own good!

Lu Zhixian smiled, stood up from the sofa, and patted Jiang Cheng on the shoulder. “Come on, I'll show you something good.”

Half an hour later, at the Jingzhou Cultural and Creative Park.

Jiang Cheng stood before a glass door with a sign that read "Xian Moves My Heart Music Studio," his mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg.

The studio wasn't large, about a hundred square meters, but it was newly renovated. It had a recording room, a control room, and a lounge area. It was clear that a lot of money had been spent on it.

“Teacher Lu, you...”

“Earned from those two songs.” Lu Zhixian took out a key and opened the door, greeted by the scent of brand-new equipment. “I can't keep creating in a rented room forever. This is my base of operations.”

Jiang Cheng looked at Lu Zhixian's profile, seeing the light in his eyes as he touched the mixing console. His anxiety suddenly subsided.

Lu Zhixian didn't care about the rumors outside at all.

From the very beginning, this man's goals had been incredibly clear.

Just then, there was a knock on the studio's glass door.

The two turned around to see a figure standing at the entrance.

Jiang Cheng was stunned.

The man was wearing a clean, sharp black jacket, his hair cut into a neat buzz cut, and his beard was cleanly shaven.

His eyes were sharp, making him look like a completely different person from the decadent drunkard of three days ago.

It was Shi Lei.

He was back, carrying a sharp edge about him.

“This song.” Shi Lei walked into the room, his gaze sweeping over the new recording equipment before fixing on Lu Zhixian's face.

“It must be recorded with my band.”

“Your band?” Jiang Cheng was confused. “Didn't Xiangyang Band already...”

“I found them all and brought them back.”

Shi Lei's voice was very calm.

Over the past two days, he hadn't contacted anyone.

With that contract for only five percent in hand, he had run across half of Jingzhou.

He found the bassist, Old Li, who was working as a designated driver at night just to earn a little more formula money for his daughter.

He found the drummer, Qiangzi, who had set up a barbecue stall in the night market, his face flushed red from the smoke.

He found the guitarist, Afei, now a middle school music teacher who taught children how to play "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" in a piano shop, all his sharp edges worn smooth.

He had shoved the demo of "the former you" into each of their ears.

He didn't say much, only asking one question: “Do you want to be badass together with me one more time?”

No one refused.

Two o'clock in the afternoon.

Old Li, Qiangzi, and Afei—three men with an average age of over forty—stood awkwardly in the "Xian Moves My Heart" studio, looking at the room full of new equipment, not knowing where to put their hands.

They had changed, their backs bent by life and their spark worn away by the years.

But when they picked up their respective instruments, even if they were covered in dust or their fingertips were calloused, something etched into their bones seemed to wake up instantly.

“Want to try?” Lu Zhixian sat behind the mixing console and pointed toward the recording room.

Shi Lei nodded and led the way in.

The first rehearsal was terrible.

The drums and bass didn't match, and the guitar chords were off a few times.

It had been ten years; being rusty was inevitable.

Qiangzi irritably put down his drumsticks. “Dammit, my hands are rusty.”

Outside the recording room, Jiang Cheng's heart was in his throat again.

“Don't rush.” Lu Zhixian's voice came through the monitors.

“Old Li, your bass is the foundation of the whole band. Don't just follow the drums; you need to lead them. Qiangzi, relax. You're not grilling skewers, you're playing drums. Keep the rhythm steadier.”

He then looked at Afei. “Teacher Afei, that string bend could be a bit more soulful. Yes, that's the vibe.”

Lu Zhixian didn't use any complex music theory. Every piece of guidance was as straightforward as a casual conversation, yet precisely hit the mark.

This was the power of [Intermediate Music Direction].

He could instantly hear the issues of each musician and use the simplest way to make them understand what to do.

The four band members looked at each other, all seeing the surprise in one another's eyes.

This young man really knew his stuff.

“Again.” Shi Lei took a deep breath and plucked the strings.

This time, when the intro to "the former you" rang out, a chemical reaction occurred.

Old Li's bass was as steady as a rock, Qiangzi's drumming was precise and powerful, Afei's guitar solo sliced through the air like a blade, and Shi Lei's vocals were the fire that ignited it all.

That chemistry, buried for ten years, returned completely at this moment!

Listening from outside, Jiang Cheng's scalp tingled. He felt as if he were seeing the Xiangyang Band that had shone so brightly on stage ten years ago.

No, they were even stronger than back then.

Because their music now held ten more years of stories, ten years of accumulation, and ten years of unwilling resignation.

...

At the same time, at Shengyue Culture, in the top-floor conference room.

The team of the young pop queen Lin Shiya was holding a planning meeting for her new album.

“Recently, that Lu Zhixian and his song 'bubble' have been gaining a lot of momentum. The data is terrifying.” Manager Sister Chen, a capable woman in her early thirties, pointed at the data analysis on the PPT.

“I suggest that for our new album's promotion, we temporarily avoid his momentum.”

In the conference room, everyone nodded in agreement.

Going head-to-head with a phenomenal hit was not a wise move.

Only Lin Shiya, the girl sitting in the main seat who had been silent, gently shook her head.

She wore a simple white shirt, her brown hair draped casually over her shoulders. The tear mole under the corner of her left eye added a sense of story to her cool temperament.

“Sister Chen, but I think he's very interesting.”

Lin Shiya's voice was pleasant, like a clear mountain spring.

“To be able to write lyrics like 'dispelling sorrow' that see through the world, and then write a love song with such an extreme sense of brokenness like 'bubble'—this is definitely not just luck.”

She paused and looked out the window.

“A man who can make someone like Chen Mo break down on the spot and make a veteran like Old Cannon willing to eat a microphone for him... his weapons are definitely more than just his works.”

Sister Chen was stunned.

The corners of Lin Shiya's mouth curled into a slight arc. “Alright, Sister Chen, help me keep an eye on him. Who knows, maybe we can collaborate in the future.”

Lin Shiya shook Sister Chen's hand playfully.

Sister Chen couldn't resist Lin Shiya's acting cute and finally agreed.

“Fine.”

...

Inside the recording studio.

The final take.

As the last note fell, Shi Lei roared out the final lyric and, using all his strength, slammed the guitar pick in his hand onto the floor.

There was a sharp "snap."

Four men in their forties hugged each other like children in the recording room, their eyes filled with tears.

In the control room, Lu Zhixian calmly pressed the save button.

“It's done.”

Jiang Cheng was already too excited to speak. He rushed over and gave Lu Zhixian a bear hug.

“Teacher Lu! This song... this song is fucking amazing! How are we releasing it? Upload it directly to Penguin Music?”

“No.” Lu Zhixian pushed him away, a meaningful smile appearing on his face.

“The best promotion is to throw it right into the crowd.”

He opened his computer and found an email address—the contact for the organizers of "Blooming Summer," the largest rock music festival in the country.

He created a new email and typed only one line in the body.

“Xiangyang Band, regrouping for a comeback, performing a new song produced by me.”

Jiang Cheng's breath hitched as he saw that line.

Lu Zhixian moved his finger to the end of the email and typed the sender's signature.

—Lu Zhixian.

Click, send.

At that moment, in the office of the "Blooming Summer" music festival organizers, the staff member responsible for receiving emails was yawning, getting ready to leave work.

He habitually refreshed the inbox, and a new email jumped out.

“Which overconfident student band is it this time...” he muttered as he clicked it open.

When he saw the words "Xiangyang Band," he froze for a moment, then let out a scoff, thinking someone was playing a prank.

But when his gaze fell upon the signature at the end of the email, the smile on his face instantly froze.

The next second, his earth-shattering roar echoed through the entire office.

“Holy shit! Boss! Come quick! Look! Lu Zhixian! It's an email from that Lu Zhixian!”