Lu Zhixian plugged the USB drive into his computer.

Inside the folder were only three things: a complete demo audio file, a set of multi-track arrangement project files, and a scanned copy of the handwritten lyrics.

He clicked on the demo.

The moment the prelude started playing, Lu Zhixian leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

In his past life, he had listened to this song no less than five hundred times.

The demo finished playing—three minutes and fifty-eight seconds.

Lu Zhixian opened his eyes, dragged the progress bar back to the beginning, and listened to it again.

The quality of the things provided by the system had never disappointed him.

But this time was different.

He could use the previous songs directly once he got them. Not this one.

Exporting it directly using MIDI would make it lose too much of its flavor.

Lu Zhixian looked at the densely packed audio tracks on the screen, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the desk a few times.

For this song, he wanted to record it himself.

Every instrument, all recorded live.

He picked up his phone and sent a message to Lao Zhao.

"Brother Zhao, get ready for a new single."

At 3:12 AM, Lao Zhao replied instantly.

"Why the fuck are you still awake???"

"Aren't you awake too?"

"I'm keeping an eye on the data! Your trending search is still up! Wait, a new single? What new single?"

"A song."

"No shit, I know it's a song! What song? Who wrote it? What style?"

"You'll know when you hear it."

Lao Zhao sent a string of question marks.

Lu Zhixian ignored him and sent another message: "This time, I want to do the full production—the entire process of arrangement, recording, and mixing."

Lao Zhao's reply came after half a minute.

"You're doing everything yourself?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure."

"Alright. What do you need me to do?"

"Help me find a recording studio. Professional grade, minimum one-week lease."

"And fully equipped."

Lao Zhao was silent for ten seconds.

"Did you forget about the Huawen Literary Award?"

"I didn't forget. But I don't need to do anything for that, whereas I do for this."

"...Fine, I'll find one for you tomorrow."

"Today."

"It's three in the morning right now!"

"Just find it by tomorrow morning. Good night."

Lu Zhixian locked his screen and lay down.

His mind was still running through the arrangement structure of 'nocturne'.

As he thought about it, he fell asleep.

At noon the next day, Lao Zhao sent over the recording studio's information.

An independent music studio in the east of the city.

A week's rent wasn't cheap, but Lu Zhixian didn't ask about the price and simply replied, "Booked."

At two in the afternoon, with a guitar bag on his back and a backpack full of USB drives and hard drives in hand, he took a taxi to the recording studio.

Lu Zhixian put down his backpack and looked around.

The control room wasn't large, but it had everything it needed.

He walked in, sat on the piano bench, and casually pressed a few keys.

The pitch was excellent.

The keys felt a bit stiff, but he liked it.

Lu Zhixian plugged the USB drive into the control room's computer, imported the project files, put on his headphones, and began comparing track by track.

First, record the piano.

On the first take, he went through the entire piano part of the song. Three minutes and fifty-eight seconds, done in one go without a single break.

He went back to the control room to listen to the playback and frowned.

Delete, re-record.

Second take.

This time he was satisfied.

Next was the guitar.

Three guitars, four audio tracks, all done in two hours.

Then the bass.

By the end of the first day, it was already one in the morning.

Piano, guitar, bass, and drums were all completed.

Lu Zhixian took off his headphones, his neck cracking twice.

He stood up to stretch, went to a convenience store to buy two rice balls and a bottle of water, and ate them while sitting on the steps outside the recording studio.

The night wind was cold, and there were barely any people on the street.

As he chewed on his rice ball, he was thinking about the string arrangement.

The strings in the original demo were simulated by synthesizers, which already sounded great, but if he could find real strings to record...

Forget it, one person couldn't record a string quartet.

Synthesizers it is then; he could just spend more effort on tone processing.

On the second day, he programmed the string synthesizers.

On the third day, vocal harmony pre-recording and synthesizer pads. On the fourth day, mixing began.

By the fifth day, Lao Zhao arrived.

When he pushed open the door of the recording studio, Lu Zhixian was wearing headphones, adjusting the EQ in front of the console, with densely packed audio track waveforms scrolling across the screen.

Lao Zhao stood at the door and watched for a while without making a sound.

Sensing someone's presence, Lu Zhixian took off one side of his headphones and turned around.

"You're here?"

"Have you been living here these past few days?" Lao Zhao glanced at the folding camp cot in the corner and the scattered takeout boxes.

"Pretty much."

"Are you trying to kill yourself?"

"It's not that dramatic. I sleep five or six hours a day."

Lao Zhao walked over and stood behind him, looking at the screen. "Is this the new song you talked about?"

"Yeah. It's not fully mixed yet, but the rough layout is there. Do you want to listen?"

"Of course."

Lu Zhixian unplugged his headphones, switched the output to the studio monitors, and dragged the progress bar to the beginning.

"It's a rough mix, some details haven't been processed yet."

He pressed play.

The piano prelude flowed out of the speakers.

Carrying a hint of loneliness.

Lao Zhao stood there, motionless.

The drums and bass entered simultaneously at the ninth bar, the tempo steady and unhurried.

The guitar lightly layered over the right channel.

Then, the vocals came in.

Lu Zhixian's voice.

Lao Zhao's expression changed.

He had heard Lu Zhixian sing many times.

The voice in this song was different—it was an expression of extremely restrained emotion.

When the chorus swelled, the strings provided the foundation, the piano thickened, and the emotion in the vocals was finally released.

The entire song finished playing.

The recording studio fell silent for a few seconds.

Lao Zhao turned to look at Lu Zhixian.

Lu Zhixian leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head, his expression very relaxed. "How is it?"

Lao Zhao opened his mouth.

"Don't exaggerate too much," Lu Zhixian smiled. "It's still just a rough mix."

"I mean it literally," Lao Zhao's voice was a bit dry. "This song is going to blow up."

"In what way?"

"In every sense of the word."

Lu Zhixian didn't reply, turning back to continue adjusting the parameters.

Lao Zhao stood nearby for a moment, wanting to say something, but in the end, he just patted him on the shoulder and said, "I'm leaving first. Don't stay up too late."

After the door closed, Lu Zhixian was left alone in the recording studio once again.

He continued mixing, shortening the vocal reverb tail by 0.3 seconds and slightly increasing the compression ratio of the chorus to make the dynamics tighter.

On the sixth night, the mixing was complete.

On the morning of the seventh day, mastering.

At three in the afternoon, Lu Zhixian exported the final version, put on his headphones, and listened to it one last time from beginning to end.

He took off his headphones and let out a long breath.

It was done.

He backed up the files to three different hard drives, packed up his things, returned the recording studio keys to Uncle Ma, and took a taxi home.

The first thing he did upon arriving home was take a shower.

He hadn't replied to Lao Zhao's messages on his phone yet, and there were hundreds of notifications piled up on Weibo, all discussions about 'to live' and the Huawen Literary Award.

He didn't click on a single one.

His malatang arrived. As he ate and scrolled through his phone, he saw a new message.

Lin Shiya.

"The last stop of the tour is over, and I'm returning to the country the day after tomorrow. I want to come hang out with you."

Lu Zhixian looked at the message, chewing on the lotus root slice in his mouth, dazed for a couple of seconds.