Lu Zhixian stared at the long string of zeros on the system interface that was about to overflow the screen and stroked his chin.

This popularity value... he had accumulated more than the taxes he paid in his previous life.

Before, he was poor, and drawing prizes was like scratching lottery tickets—stingy and cautious. Now it was different; he was going to experience the joy of being a tycoon.

He rubbed his hands together, but instead of rushing to click start, he bowed to the air, muttering under his breath.

"Heavenly spirits, earthly spirits, Taishang Laojun, please show your power."

"I'm begging you, give me some heavy-duty stuff that can hold down the fort. Don't give me weird things like 'Square Dance Mastery' or 'Errenzhuan Handkerchief Basics' anymore. My waist isn't great; I can't twist like that."

Having said that, he took a deep breath and clicked [100-Draw].

[Ding! Thank you for your patronage. You have obtained 'A Pack of Toilet Paper'.]

[Ding! Thank you for your patronage. You have obtained 'A Box of Thirteen-Spice Seasoning Packets'.]

[Ding! Thank you for your patronage. You have obtained 'Draw Again'... Oh, sorry, we don't have that.]

[Ding! Congratulations to the host for obtaining 'Intermediate Combat Mastery'. It has been automatically learned.]

"Brother, I'm begging you, what use do I have for Combat Mastery!"

...

The items from the first few dozen draws were a mixed bag, highlighting a strong sense of daily life.

Lu Zhixian looked at the mountain of toilet paper and seasonings in his virtual inventory and fell into deep thought.

Is this system afraid I'll starve to death alone in the studio, or afraid I'll run out of paper in the bathroom?

What do I need this for? When I can't win an argument with someone, do I just start throwing hands?

He got up and went to the bathroom, splashing his face with cold water, deciding to change his metaphysical strategy.

Wash hands. I must wash my hands.

Returning to the sofa, he shook the water droplets off his hands and clicked the draw button again.

This time, the screen didn't pop up with those messy prompts.

The entire system interface was suddenly enveloped in a blinding golden light.

Following that, a series of magnificent and sacred notification sounds that Lu Zhixian had never heard before rang out frantically in his mind, like firecrackers during the New Year.

[Ding! Hidden Luck Mechanism triggered!]

[Ding! Congratulations to the host. By consuming a massive amount of popularity points, you have obtained an Epic Reward—the 'Professional Instrumentalist' Skill Pack!]

[Skill Pack opening...]

The next second, an indescribably vast flood of information surged into Lu Zhixian's mind.

The whole process lasted only a few seconds.

Lu Zhixian blinked, still a bit dazed.

He turned his head to look at the acoustic guitar in the corner of the studio, which Jiang Cheng had left there as a decoration because it took up too much space.

A thin layer of dust had settled on the strings.

He walked over and picked up the guitar casually.

Without even tuning it, his fingers naturally rested on the strings.

Then, he gave them a casual strum.

An incredibly gorgeous, rapid, and powerful Flamenco tremolo poured out from his fingertips like flowing water.

The sound was as passionate as the Andalusian sun, yet carried a hint of nomadic sorrow, instantly filling the entire empty studio.

The music stopped.

Lu Zhixian looked at his fingers, stunned himself.

This... damn, I just played that?

After the surprise came absolute calm.

He put the guitar back where it was, sat down on the sofa again, and reopened the system mall.

That astronomical popularity value had been nearly halved after redeeming 'Professional Instrumentalist,' but the remainder was still a terrifying figure.

This time, he didn't draw again.

He directly typed a few words into the search bar.

Soon, an entry wrapped in golden light appeared on the screen.

[Movie Soundtrack: 'Interstellar' Full Score]

[Note: This score involves a massive orchestral arrangement and pipe organ recordings. The structure is complex and the emotions are grand. Host, please proceed within your capabilities.]

Lu Zhixian looked at the entry and smiled.

"Within my capabilities?"

"Sorry, but right now, the thing I lack least is 'capability'."

He clicked [Redeem] without hesitation.

...

Once the redemption was complete, Lu Zhixian stood up and looked around the studio he had been using as an internet cafe and bedroom.

First, he went to the supermarket downstairs, pushed a shopping cart, and bought a whole box of instant noodles, a whole box of mineral water, and several large bags of compressed biscuits, like a hamster preparing for winter.

Then, he returned to the studio and locked the door completely from the inside.

He didn't do what the big shots in the industry speculated—he didn't go around the world assembling a symphony orchestra, nor did he look for top-tier domestic recording studios.

He stayed in this small recording room that belonged only to him.

He turned on all the equipment, pushed up the faders on the mixing console one by one, checked every cable, and adjusted the angle of every microphone.

Synthesizers, samplers, MIDI keyboards, effect processors...

He brought in the dusty acoustic guitar, dug out Su Qing's bass from the storage room, and the drum kit Jiang Cheng used to use.

What he was about to do was something that, to outsiders, would seem incredibly crazy, even absurd.

One person, one recording studio.

Replicating an entire symphony orchestra, replicating that vast and lonely pipe organ sound from the depths of the universe.

Days passed by.

Lu Zhixian completely cut off all contact with the outside world.

The jokes about him in the industry had spread from forums to various drinking parties, becoming a source of unspoken amusement for everyone.

Everyone was waiting for half a month to pass to see how that arrogant kid who wrote pop songs would pay the three million yuan in liquidated damages.

The tenth day.

Because of a problem with the touring equipment, Jiang Cheng needed to go back to the studio to pick up a spare effect pedal.

He drove to the building and looked up; the studio was pitch black, without a single light.

"Where did Teacher Lu go off to play this time?"

He muttered as he used the spare key to open the studio door.

A smell of instant noodles mixed with sweat hit him, so pungent he almost passed away on the spot.

"Holy crap, what is this smell!"

Holding his nose, he was about to open a window for ventilation when suddenly, a sound faintly drifted from the innermost recording room.

Through the thick soundproof door, the sound was muffled, yet it still carried an indescribable texture.

It wasn't pop music, nor was it rock.

It was a burst of pipe organ music so sonorous it made his scalp tingle.

The sound didn't seem to come from any instrument; it felt more like it was coming from a distant, dark, and cold depth of the universe, carrying the weight of the stars, the loneliness of time, and a divinity that made one want to kneel and worship.

After listening for less than three seconds, Jiang Cheng felt goosebumps explode all over his body, one by one.

He stood rooted to the spot, not daring to move, his expression shifting from confusion to shock, and finally to a ghost-stricken terror.

"A... a pipe organ?"

He took out his phone, his hands shaking so much he almost couldn't hold it, and dialed Su Qing, who was far away at a southern music festival.

As soon as the call connected, his voice cracked.

"Qing'er! When... when the hell did our studio buy a pipe organ?!"

"What pipe organ?" Su Qing's side was very noisy, with the clamor of the music festival in the background.

"The kind in churches, the kind that can send a person straight to the afterlife!" Jiang Cheng lowered his voice, creeping up to the recording room door like a thief.

"Teacher Lu is inside... I feel like I'm going to expire! This sound makes my legs go weak!"

...

The last day of the half-month period.

Assistant Xiao Wang from Zhang Ji's studio arrived at the entrance of Xian Dong Wo Xin Studio at the appointed time.

He rang the doorbell for a long time, but no one answered.

Just as he thought he had been stood up and was about to call to question them, the door opened with a 'click' from the inside.

Lu Zhixian emerged with two massive dark circles under his eyes, hair as messy as a bird's nest, unshaven, wearing a crumpled T-shirt, and yawning.

He glanced at the suited-and-booted Assistant Xiao Wang at the door, his gaze still a bit glazed.

"Oh, it's you."

He turned back into the studio, picked up a USB flash drive from the table, walked back, and shoved it into Assistant Xiao Wang's hand.

His movements were lazy, carrying the perfunctoriness of someone who had just woken up.

"Here, the heartbeat of the universe. Remember to check it."

Having said that, he seemed to remember something and added another sentence.

"By the way, I've included a free Easter egg as a surprise for your director."

Assistant Xiao Wang gripped the small, slightly warm USB drive in his hand, completely stunned.

That's... it?

Half a month, five million yuan, Director Zhang Ji's requirements, a score that countless international masters couldn't handle.

All packed into this crappy USB drive?

He watched Lu Zhixian wave his hand and close the door again, feeling like he hadn't come to collect a manuscript, but rather like he'd just picked up a USB drive with a freshly copied movie from a computer assembly shop in Zhongguancun.

The assistant looked down at the USB drive in his hand, his heart full of suspicion.

Does this tiny thing really contain the audible universe that Director Zhang Ji wanted?