Two days' time is neither long nor short.

Lu Zhixian didn't go anywhere; he stayed in the studio, going through the songs on his album from beginning to end.

He wasn't practicing; he was selecting.

For a two-and-a-half-hour concert, following a normal rhythm, he would need to prepare about eighteen to twenty songs.

His album had twelve songs in total, so the remaining gap would have to be filled with new songs or covers.

But that was a matter for later.

Going to the rehearsal room to meet Zhou Yang the day after tomorrow was an "interview."

There was no need to show his entire hand during an interview; picking three songs that best demonstrated his level was enough.

Lu Zhixian flipped through the song list and typed three names into his memo pad.

After choosing the songs, Lu Zhixian locked his phone, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes for a while.

He wasn't nervous.

But he was a little expectant.

...

The day after tomorrow, 1:30 PM.

Lu Zhixian arrived at Gulou early.

The address Zhou Yang sent was deep within an old hutong.

Lu Zhixian stood at the door and looked at the sticker for two seconds.

The rehearsal room door had a sign saying "Please do not make loud noises."

Quite humorous.

He pushed the door open, finding a narrow staircase leading underground.

The further down he went, the stronger the smell of acoustic foam became.

Upon reaching the first basement level, the space suddenly opened up before his eyes.

The rehearsal room was much larger than he had imagined, at least a hundred and fifty square meters.

All four walls were covered with professional sound-absorbing materials, and the lights overhead were a bit dazzlingly bright.

A drum kit sat right in the middle, with two sets of speakers and a row of microphone stands standing beside it.

Zhou Yang was already there, sitting on the drum stool with an unlit cigarette between his fingers, chatting with two other people.

Seeing Lu Zhixian come down, he immediately stood up.

"You're here! Over here."

Zhou Yang walked over in a few quick strides, casually stuffing the cigarette back into its pack.

"Let me introduce you."

He stepped aside to reveal the two people behind him.

"This is Chenzi, the bassist. He's been playing with me for eight years. Among bassists in the country, if he says he's second, no one dares claim to be first."

The one called Chenzi was tall and thin.

He gave Lu Zhixian a nod as a greeting.

The man of few words type.

"This is Lao Duan, the guitarist. Also very talented."

Lao Duan was a size larger than Chenzi, with a buzz cut and a plectrum hanging around his neck; his smile was very honest and simple.

"Hello, Teacher Lu. I've heard much about you."

"Don't call me Teacher; just use my name." Lu Zhixian reached out and shook hands with both of them.

Zhou Yang clapped his hands, beckoning everyone to the center.

"Alright, enough with the pleasantries."

"Lu Zhixian, I briefed Chenzi and Lao Duan yesterday. Today is just an informal rehearsal. Pick a few songs from your album at random, and the three of us will provide a simple accompaniment framework for you to sing over."

He paused and added, "Relax, just treat it like a few friends playing music together. No pressure."

"I'm not under pressure." Lu Zhixian took off his coat, draped it over the back of a chair, and walked to the microphone.

"As for you three, just make sure you can keep up with me later."

Zhou Yang was stunned for a moment, then he chuckled.

"Quite the confident tone."

Chenzi pushed up his glasses and said nothing, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

Lao Duan laughed out loud directly. "Alright then, I'd like to see that."

Lu Zhixian adjusted the microphone height and looked back at the three of them.

"First song, 'airport 10:30'. Are you guys familiar with it?"

Zhou Yang sat back on the drum stool and twirled the drumsticks in the air twice.

"Nonsense, I've listened to that album of yours no less than twenty times. I can memorize the structure of every song."

"I'll start the intro, and you guys follow in."

"One, two, three, four—"

The drumsticks fell, and the intro's beat spread out steadily.

The bass cut in immediately after; the low-frequency vibrations traveled up from the floor, making the soles of his feet tremble.

The guitar's arpeggios joined in two beats later, clean and crisp.

The chemistry between the three of them was visibly seamless; with just the intro, the quality was no different from a finished studio product.

Lu Zhixian stood before the microphone and closed his eyes for a second.

Then he opened his mouth.

The moment the first note came out, the air in the rehearsal room changed.

How should one put it?

Later, when Zhou Yang described that day's scene to friends in the industry, he used a very cliché but accurate word—'explosive'.

The first two lines of the verse were fairly normal; Chenzi and Lao Duan occasionally looked up at him while playing, their expressions relatively calm.

Then came the chorus.

Lu Zhixian's vocal line suddenly soared into that sequence of continuous high-note transitions.

Lao Duan's fingers paused on the strings for a split second.

It wasn't a wrong note.

He had gotten distracted.

The connection between those high notes was simply too smooth.

And there was no pitch correction to assist, no reverb effects to mask anything.

The song ended.

The rehearsal room was silent for about three seconds.

Zhou Yang's drumsticks were frozen in mid-air, not put down.

"...What's the second one?" He cleared his throat.

"'Love is Very Simple'." Lu Zhixian announced the song title.

The rhythm of this song slowed down.

Lu Zhixian's singing style changed accordingly.

Chenzi played the bass, his head unconsciously swaying gently with the beat.

Toward the end, Lu Zhixian's voice took on a very thin layer of raspiness, as if his emotions had reached a certain threshold but didn't overflow, perfectly balanced at that point.

This kind of control was ten times harder than hitting high notes.

Because you have to know when to let go and when to pull back, to what degree to pull back, and with what measure to let go.

A little more would be greasy; a little less would be thin.

Lu Zhixian nailed it perfectly.

The second song finished.

Zhou Yang placed the drumsticks on his lap.

Lao Duan looked back at him.

The two exchanged a look; they said nothing, but the meaning was clear.

He's good.

This guy is the real deal.

...

After the three songs were sung.

The rehearsal room fell completely silent.

Zhou Yang looked at Lu Zhixian, silent for about five or six seconds.

Then, with a "thwack," he slapped the drumsticks onto the drumhead and stood up from the stool.

"Fuck."

Just one word.

Lao Duan unslung the guitar strap from his shoulder and looked at Zhou Yang.

Zhou Yang took a deep breath and walked up to Lu Zhixian.

"I'll be honest."

"Go ahead."

"I've been in this industry for nearly twenty years and have formed bands for dozens of singers. I've worked with A-listers, even King and Queen level stars."

"Today, after hearing you sing these three songs live, without any embellishment, just into a crappy microphone..."

He paused.

"Your vocal capability is the most monstrous I've ever seen. Bar none."

Chenzi finally spoke up slowly from behind; this was the first complete sentence he had said all day.

"That improvised passage in the third song—the interval between those four melismas was less than half a beat. That kind of reaction speed isn't something you practice; it's innate."

Lao Duan also nodded. "The key is that he did three songs in three different styles, with a different singing method for each, and he could sustain them all. This kind of range... I've just never seen it."

After hearing the two of them, Zhou Yang turned back to Lu Zhixian.

"Alright, no more testing needed."

He held out his hand.

"I'm taking this job."

Lu Zhixian shook his hand.

"Then shall we discuss the fee?"

Zhou Yang pulled over a chair and sat down, gesturing for Lu Zhixian to sit as well.

"I'll give you a figure first, and you see if it's appropriate."

"A full band setup—drums, bass, guitar, keyboard—plus a small-scale string section, totaling about eight to nine people. The rehearsal cycle will be three weeks, with at least three rehearsals per week. Plus the fee for the performance day."

"Package price: nine hundred thousand."

Xiao Liu wasn't there, but if he were, he'd probably be pulling out his calculator again.

Nine hundred thousand.

It was quite a bit lower than Old Zhao's previous estimate of 1.2 to 1.5 million.

"This price..." Lu Zhixian didn't rush to agree but looked at Zhou Yang seriously. "Did you quote too low?"

Zhou Yang was stunned, then laughed.

"You're the first client I've ever met who complained that the quote was too low."

"I'm not complaining it's low; I'm afraid you'll lose money. The people under you are all A-list quality; according to market rates, nine hundred thousand wouldn't cover it at all."

Zhou Yang waved his hand.

"Under normal circumstances, it indeed wouldn't. But this project of yours is different."

"Fully live with a real band, zero backing tracks. Do you know what this kind of performance opportunity means to us musicians?"

He counted on his fingers.

"Ninety percent of the concerts on the market use the band as decoration. A few people stand on stage to put on a show, while the actual sound all comes from backing tracks. We stand on stage no different from wooden mannequins."

"But your show is different. You've thrown out all the backing tracks; every sound has to come from our hands. This means every person on stage is truly playing, and every note is alive."

"We'd fight for this kind of gig."

He leaned back in his chair.

"Nine hundred thousand is a 'friendship price,' but it's not a loss-leader. When my brothers heard it was your concert, two of them said they'd come even without pay. I was the one who stopped them; one has to give people at least some dignity."

Lu Zhixian listened and was silent for two seconds.

"One million."

"Huh?"

"Let's call it one million. The extra hundred thousand is for meals and transportation subsidies during rehearsals. If your brothers are going to rehearse with you for three weeks, they can't go without even a decent meal."

Zhou Yang stared at him for a few seconds.

Then he held out his hand.

"Deal."

The two men's hands clasped together again.

This time, the grip was even firmer.

Lu Zhixian let go, stood up, walked to a corner of the rehearsal room, and picked up an acoustic guitar leaning against the wall.

"By the way, Old Zhou, since we're already here, shall we jam one more?"

Zhou Yang sat back on the drum stool and picked up his drumsticks, his eyebrows arching.

"You're playing?"

Lu Zhixian slung the guitar on, his left hand pressing a chord on the neck while his right hand strummed once.

The tone was clean and bright, the resonance full.

With just that one strum, Lao Duan's expression changed.

That hand position for the chord, the angle of force, the strength of the strum—this wasn't the level of someone who just "knew a little."

Lu Zhixian looked down to tune a couple of strings, then looked up and smiled at the three of them.