Chapter 12: Composing on the Spot

Xiao Chi stepped into the music pit, curiously looking here and there, touching things like a country bumpkin who had been dazzled by the surroundings.

Wen Anran had already realized this guy’s lack of experience back at the clothing store. He didn’t rush over to Ji Chenxuan’s side to draw attention, instead, he picked a spot not too far but not too close, curling his lips in a subtle sneer, quietly waiting for the show to begin.

Xiao Chi looked around, seemingly unable to decide which instrument to play.

What’s the point of stalling?

Bai Qing sneered inwardly but spoke more and more gently, “Don’t be nervous. There’s always a first time for stepping on stage, and it’s okay if you don’t play well.”

“Let’s go with the piano.” Xiao Chi gave up the fight with his indecisiveness.

This was exactly what Bai Qing had hoped for. The stronger the contrast, the greater the difference—it was the perfect green leaf. Bai Qing almost laughed out loud. He couldn’t decide if he should admire this guy’s overconfidence or find it endearingly naïve.

Xiao Chi was completely unaware of Bai Qing’s rich inner monologue and didn’t care at all.

He casually sat down at the grand piano, his fingers lightly grazing the keys, almost as if performing some ritual. His expression was incredibly serious, and his eyes sparkled with a childlike innocence and excitement.

This was his first time playing a real piano!

In his deep blue suit, with the glossy black piano in front of him, the soft halo of light swirled above his head, casting a focused and handsome profile.

Ji Chenxuan stared at him, unconsciously holding his breath, as if he were more nervous than Xiao Chi.

Without even taking thirty seconds to think, Xiao Chi’s long fingers danced across the black and white keys, playing the melody as if it were an innate instinct.

The smooth notes, clear rhythm, and flowing melody trickled like a stream.

The whispers in the hall faded away, and the guests’ expressions shifted from anticipation to surprise.

Ji Chenxuan relaxed, his previously tense heart now at ease. He even had the leisure to switch to a different glass of wine—this guy, perhaps beneath his pure appearance, hid a sly heart?

Slowly, he slid his thumb along the rim of his champagne glass, smiling faintly. His peripheral vision caught Bai Qing’s ugly expression, and he shook his head, sipping his wine.

Bai Qing, suppressing the turmoil within, kept his face calm. But the veins throbbing at his temples betrayed the storm raging inside him—this pretty boy, who had relied on his looks to rise to fame, had only heard Bai Qing’s piano performance once, yet he could immediately replicate it perfectly on the spot?!

Is this for real?! Does his memory really work like that?!

Xiao Chi’s performance continued, focused and steady, like a sunflower growing freely under the sunlight. Each note, each scale, was as precise as if it were recorded by a machine.

But it was more than just a perfect reproduction—it was full of passion, more joyful, like a fledgling bird immersed in the morning light, chirping and full of vibrant energy.

When the piece ended, he lingered a moment over the keys, his fingers brushing them, and the previously cold white paint seemed to absorb the warmth of his touch.

The guests finally snapped out of their reverie, applauding thunderously. The smiles on their faces and the amazement that couldn’t be hidden deeply pierced Bai Qing’s heart.

There’s no pain like the pain of comparison. For a singer, nothing is more embarrassing than a cover version being better than the original.

Wen Anran was also surprised. He had been leaning against the corner of the bar, and nearly dropped his wine glass, the base of the glass tapping lightly against the bar before he quickly covered it up.

He secretly glanced at the grim-faced Shang Quan, then looked over at Bai Qing, who was stuck in a difficult situation in the music pit. Wen Anran shook his head in mockery. It seemed he had underestimated this guy, but it didn’t matter—after all, it wasn’t his own face on the line.

“Ahem, not bad,” Bai Qing awkwardly clapped his hands, forcing a smile. “I didn’t expect your imitation skills to be so strong.”

The word “imitation” was emphasized heavily, and Xiao Chi, seemingly unaware of his sarcasm, still wore the excitement of playing the piano for the first time on his face. With a slightly embarrassed smile, he said, “Thank you for the compliment.”

Compliment?

Bai Qing almost ground his teeth in frustration. Was this guy mocking him? Playing the innocent, huh?

They had agreed on an impromptu performance, and yet this guy dared to blatantly steal his music in public. What a devious person!

Bai Qing took a deep breath and, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, said, “But, imitating can never escape the mold. It doesn’t have the substance to stand on its own. Since it’s an impromptu performance, I think it’d be better to play something you composed yourself, don’t you think?”

So that’s what “impromptu performance” means?

Xiao Chi nodded without hesitation, “No problem.”

After confirming that the other wouldn’t try to “record” again, Bai Qing finally picked up the violin and rested it on his shoulder.

His mind was preoccupied with how to regain his position, to overshadow Xiao Chi, and reverse the guests’ impressions. The piece was still a section of a melody from his new song, which was set to be released.

However, his mind was so jumbled that he forgot to directly play the climax and instead instinctively began from the beginning.

A gentle, plain opening, standard and unremarkable. Bai Qing pulled a few bars before he realized it, but if he played the whole song, it would sound too staged, not impromptu at all.

In his flustered state, he even missed two notes, but fortunately managed to cover it up.

When the piece ended, the applause grew louder, and more guests arrived, intrigued by the rivalry unfolding between the two newcomers.

“Who’s this young man?”

“I think he’s Bai Qing, Shang Quan’s disciple and the editor-in-chief of Feng Shang Music.”

“Which one?”

“I’m not sure…”

Bai Qing heard his name being mentioned repeatedly and let out a deep breath. When his gaze met his master’s, he couldn’t help but flinch. The notes he had missed earlier surely hadn’t escaped Shang Quan’s sharp ears!

But it didn’t matter. As long as this guy showed his true colors, no one would care about the small details.

Bai Qing put the violin back in its place, and Xiao Chi had already rolled up his sleeves, waiting eagerly. As they passed by each other, Bai Qing glanced back, and sure enough, Xiao Chi had picked the same violin as his!

“I see you’re fairly skilled at the piano. How about you stick with the piano?”

Bai Qing noticed that Xiao Chi looked like a beginner with the violin, and even his motion of resting the violin on his shoulder seemed clumsy.

He smiled gently, shaking his head and lowering his voice to remind him, “I’ve been practicing the piano for over ten years. Looking at you, so young, how much can you know? It’s better not to overestimate yourself. Otherwise, if you embarrass yourself in front of so many people, it won’t just be you who suffers.”

He nodded toward Ji Chenxuan’s direction and said, “If you admit defeat now, you’ll still maintain some dignity, and I’ll spare you some face. I won’t make you uncomfortable.”

Xiao Chi looked at him curiously. “Give me face? Why would I want that? You should be giving me money instead.”

“?!” Bai Qing was taken aback, unable to follow his train of thought.

Xiao Chi, as if he were a kindergarten teacher, gestured while patiently explaining to the ignorant child: “In the past, if you wanted to see me perform publicly, the entrance ticket would cost at least a few thousand. You invited me to perform for you, and now you want to ‘request’ something from me? The price for me to perform a specific piece is pretty high.”

“I invited you? To perform for me? And you want a ticket fee?”

Bai Qing was completely confused. Had he misheard?

“Sigh, you look so clueless, it’s almost pitiful. I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t let it happen again,” Xiao Chi said with a mockingly kind nod.

“……”

Bai Qing laughed in anger. Dude, who do you think you are? A superstar?!

While they were talking, Xiao Chi still hadn’t started playing. Laughter began to emerge from the surrounding guests, and some even started betting on whether he could actually play the violin.

When he finally got into position, the murmurs in the crowd faded into the background.

Under the soft halo of light, the tiger-striped maple violin rested on his shoulder. The reddish-brown lacquer gleamed with a wet shine, the black neck of the violin, and his pale fingers stood in sharp contrast.

Xiao Chi tilted his head slightly, half-closing his eyes, his deep black pupils seeming to dissolve into affection. He was immersed in the melody from earlier, his tall figure resembling a statue of ancient Greek perfection, every inch precisely proportioned.

After a while, his hand holding the bow moved, starting the piece with a soft and poetic tone, like a poem gently turned by a breeze.

Bai Qing was stunned. Was he actually good at the violin?

Moments later, the familiar melody caused him to furrow his brow, followed by a cold laugh in his mind—this was clearly his earlier performance, but in a transposed version!

This guy… he really can only imitate!

Before he had the chance to feel smug, Xiao Chi suddenly changed the rhythm of his bowing, the last section drawn to its peak. He made a bold key change, a wide vibrato, and the melody gradually became lively and energetic, layered like waves, leading Bai Qing’s unfinished prelude into an entirely different, thrilling climax.

He actually continued Bai Qing’s incomplete piece live!

Not only Bai Qing, but even Shang Quan couldn’t help but stare in disbelief.

This can’t be real, right? Did he start practicing the violin in the womb?!

The sound was perfect, and when the bow separated from the strings, the guests were still immersed in the symphonic poem Xiao Chi had just composed. The entire hall was silent, even the sound of breathing was crystal clear.

For five whole seconds, the applause was delayed, then exploded like a wave.

Xiao Chi, unwilling to part with the violin, caressed it as if still unsatisfied. He turned toward Bai Qing, his eyes sparkling, and asked, “Shall we continue?”

Damn it, this bastard is getting too cocky! How dare he provoke me?!

Bai Qing was so furious that his eyelids were twitching uncontrollably, and he almost couldn’t maintain his smile.

He reluctantly clapped twice, forcing a smile as he said sarcastically, “I didn’t expect you to be so full of surprises. You were pretending to be a beginner earlier, but really, that wasn’t necessary. In such a situation, why bother with these tricks?”

Xiao Chi blinked, looking confused. “What are you talking about?”

Bai Qing shrugged nonchalantly, “Never mind, I admit I underestimated you. It was just a little side performance at a party. There’s still a long way to go, but I hope you continue to be as lucky as you were today. Heh.”

This time, Xiao Chi understood. He patted Bai Qing’s shoulder with a smile, “Thank you, and I hope you’ll continue to be as lucky as today.”

“……”

Bai Qing’s throat felt like it was full of bile.

This bastard dared to openly mock him?! Just because he had stolen the spotlight with a little side performance, he thought he could act so smug?

What a petty little man!

Bai Qing glared at him deeply, then turned and walked away. Xiao Chi stood there with a hint of disappointment, was it over already? He had wanted to keep playing for a little longer.

Back by his master’s side, Bai Qing could barely lift his head, let alone look into his master’s eyes, but the master’s gaze shot at him like an arrow, and he couldn’t avoid it.

“Excuse me, are you Mr. Shang Quan and Mr. Bai Qing?” A cheerful voice broke the master-student conversation.

Bai Qing turned around to see a stranger, wearing glasses, smiling as he extended his hand. “Hello, I’m the manager from Changfeng Entertainment. Mr. Bai’s performance earlier was really impressive, it was a treat for our ears.”

Shang Quan’s expression softened a little, and Bai Qing seemed pleased, quickly shaking the man’s hand. “It’s nothing much, just a small side performance, not really worthy of the main stage.”

Bai Qing quickly adjusted his expression, trying to mask his earlier embarrassment from the scolding, feeling secretly pleased that at least someone had recognized his talent. It seemed his efforts to put on a show weren’t in vain.

He was eagerly awaiting further praise or perhaps an invitation, but to his surprise, after the manager’s compliments, the man suddenly changed the subject. “By the way, who is the gentleman you were competing with earlier? Do you know his name? Could you introduce him to me?”

Bai Qing’s smile slowly faded.

The manager, full of expectation, was waiting for Bai Qing to introduce Xiao Chi.

Bai Qing’s face stiffened, but he patiently replied, “I don’t know his name. It was just a chance encounter, and I didn’t ask for his name. If you want to know, you can ask him directly. He’s over there.”

“Is that so? I thought you two were familiar with each other,” the manager sighed in disappointment, glancing toward the direction of the music pool. “I’d like to ask him directly, but it seems there’s a crowd around him, and I can’t get through.”

“……”

Bai Qing’s face immediately darkened, his expression as black as storm clouds.

The manager, seeing Bai Qing’s change in demeanor, had no choice but to leave with a disappointed look. Bai Qing furrowed his brows, stealing a glance at his master’s grim expression.

“Master…”

He had barely spoken two words when Shang Quan interrupted, “What’s going on with you? How could you make such a basic mistake with the wrong notes? Such a great opportunity, and you wasted it like this. You’re just making others look good. If you’re not embarrassed, I am!”

“Master, I’m sorry…” Bai Qing opened his mouth in shame, stealing a glance at his master’s expression, before turning his head and glaring at Xiao Chi with a deep hatred. “That guy used tricks, pretending to be weak to fool me into underestimating him. I didn’t expect him to actually pull this off. Could it be that Ji Chenxuan set this up on purpose, trying to boost his image by using us as stepping stones?”

“Heh! How is Ji Chenxuan setting up traps? Can he predict that you were going to improvise with him? Or did he know from the start that you would be so useless?”

Shang Quan sneered coldly, the frown on his forehead deepening. When he started berating someone, he didn’t care who they were—he was like a master scolding a student, eager to reprimand every flaw as though he wanted to criticize their entire lineage.

Bai Qing had no words to argue, so he just fell silent.

—

Meanwhile, Xiao Chi was surrounded by a group of media reporters and talent scouts from agencies, nearly engulfed by the crowd, as people kept handing him business cards.

Li Mingyue, seeing this, mischievously teased Ji Chenxuan, “President Ji, what about your new, handsome young talent from Huanyi? Are you really going to just leave him there? He stole the spotlight today, don’t you worry that such a good prospect might be poached by someone else?”

“On my corner, who dares to steal?” Ji Chenxuan replied slowly, calmly finishing the last bite of his bear-shaped pudding. He then said nonchalantly, “If someone can steal this troublemaker, then I’ll be relieved.”

“Is that so?” Li Mingyue raised an eyebrow, smiling with a hidden meaning. “From what I see, he seems to have gotten quite a few business cards, and he doesn’t seem to be turning anyone down who comes to offer a toast…”

Ji Chenxuan paused for a moment, his hand stopping as he put down the empty plate. He glanced at his wristband, checking the time, and said, “I have a meeting at the company tonight, so I’ll leave. Excuse me.”

Li Mingyue looked at him with a cold expression, then, with some effort, pulled Xiao Chi out of the crowd. It was like trying to take a carrot from a bunch of braying donkeys.

Once they had rushed out and disappeared through the door, Li Mingyue couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing.

“What are you laughing at?” Director Liu Li, confused, asked.

Li Mingyue’s smile carried a deeper meaning. “I just think… when someone cares about something, no matter how hard they try to hide it, it’s impossible.”

—

The National Star Show Preliminary Committee, Beidu Branch.

The first round of auditions had entered its intense final stages, while preparations for the second round—public voting—were underway.

The official website had already released the news early, and countless music fans were eagerly awaiting the list of the top 100 songs that would be selected.

As per tradition, during the second round, the official website and major music platforms would release ten new songs every day for ten days, making them available for public listening. Once all the songs had been released, there would be a week of voting.

Only the top ten, who emerged victorious from this fierce competition, would advance to the third round— the live finals. The champions, runners-up, and third-place winners would directly be signed by Huanyi Entertainment.

Voting was based on real names, with each person allowed only one vote per day. To prevent cheating through vote farming, the final results would take into account the larger weight of download numbers.

Voting was free, but downloading required real money. The profits from this would be split between the organizers, the platforms, and the artists.

As a result, most contestants with modest ambitions aimed to make a small profit, not really expecting to make it to the finals.

The large scale of the event meant that vote farming could be an enormous cost, something that speculators couldn’t afford. On the other hand, if people weren’t willing to pay for the songs they liked, even a large number of votes could be ridiculed as fake data.

It was like a movie’s box office and ratings: only if both received positive feedback and high numbers could a contestant make it to the finals.

Every time it gets to this point, the internet is always in a chaotic battle of black fans, with the gossiping crowd eagerly tracking real-time data. Huanyi and the music platforms hide behind the scenes, making a fortune.

This phase is also known as the “test of new talent.”

In the committee’s judge office, dozens of judges gathered together to make the final preparations for the second round of voting.

The spacious conference room was dominated by a large oval table that took up a third of the room, with a holographic projection screen in the center, constantly displaying the outstanding audition songs recommended from various sub-venues.

Eleven chairs were occupied by judges, including directors and department heads from Huanyi, as well as invited music media personalities and musicians.

The room was filled with heated arguments, and a tense atmosphere hung in the air.

After several rounds of selection, the top 100 audition songs had been placed on each judge’s desk, and most of the judges had no strong objections to the shortlisted songs.

—The problem lay in the rankings of these 100 songs.

Each judge had their favorite songs, and everyone wanted to push the tracks they endorsed into the top ten spots.

Whether it was to prove their own taste or some unspoken selfish motives, the ranking was crucial. This would directly influence the order in the second round of popularity voting and, more importantly, the revenue generated by downloads.

The higher the ranking, the better the advantage in the second round of voting. After all, most casual listeners would only pay attention to the first wave of songs. As time went on, the audience’s attention would naturally decline due to listener fatigue.

Not every underdog could break through the competition.

Li Mingxin and Wan Baoluo sat at the main seats, watching the usually amiable judges argue heatedly over the ranking of a song, their faces flushed with passion. The two exchanged helpless glances, remaining silent.

Li Mingxin shifted his round body, carefully holding his box of chocolates, afraid that an overly enthusiastic judge might knock it off the table.

After an afternoon of intense debate, the top ten rankings were finally settled.

Li Mingxin glanced at the final list from the committee and frowned, flipping through the pages until he reached the fourth page, where he found the song he was looking for.

He tapped his fingers on the table and asked, “Why is ‘Farewell to the Past’ ranked so low? It’s on the fourth page, at number thirty-nine! Have none of you heard this song? I believe it deserves a place in the top ten.”

Wan Baoluo sighed, looking at him helplessly. “I agree with you, but the judges think that while the singer’s voice and skills are excellent, the lyrics and melody are a bit too generic. They don’t have the unique musical qualities that other top ten songs have.”

Li Mingxin raised his eyebrows, displeased. “What’s wrong with being a little generic? That just means the melody is catchy, making it more likely to be widely sung. ‘Generic’ songs make the most money.”

Wan Baoluo rolled his eyes. “I wonder who used to look down on market-driven generic songs…”

A composer hummed and added, “I also think this song has top ten potential. But there are only so many spots in the top ten, and it has to be ranked somehow. The singer’s voice is truly special, honestly, it even impressed me. But the downside is clear—the lyrics and music feel mediocre, like… mass-produced.”

He shook his head regretfully. “If this singer had a tailor-made song that suited them, not only would they make it to the top ten, they could even make it into the top three. By the way, you have a lot of new talent at Huanyi this year. Why not let us have this one? Haha!”

Li Mingxin almost exploded in anger on the spot. “You’re trying to poach talent after just one round? There’s still no sign of this going anywhere! If we weren’t looking for new talent, do you think we’d be making this show?”

Another judge poured cold water on the situation, saying, “You all praise the voice, but I think this singer is technically good, but lacks emotion. They’re still too young. The ranking may be a bit low, but they don’t belong in the top ten yet.”

Finally, the director in charge of marketing shook his head. “What’s the point of all this arguing? Once it goes to the audience in the second round, the rankings could change drastically. The market decides what’s truly good.”

Li Mingxin tried to argue, “But this is too far down the list, outside the top thirty—there’s no chance of making it to the finals!”

“Then who would you push out of the top thirty? To make room for it?”

“Exactly, Director Li, you can’t just arrange things based on your personal preferences! The order was determined by our votes—are you suggesting we rig it?”

Li Mingxin was momentarily speechless. If “Farewell to the Past” were moved into the top thirty, it would mean that another song would have to be pushed out. Each spot in the top thirty could have intricate connections to the interests of certain judges.

This song had both clear strengths and weaknesses. The singer was just an ordinary college student, with no connections or background. Offending the judges for just one song clearly wasn’t a wise decision.

Seeing the situation was about to escalate again, Wan Baoluo quickly intervened to calm his colleague, holding up the list in his hand. “If no one has any objections, let’s proceed with the second-round placements in this order.”

Li Mingxin sulked, sitting back in his seat, his belly bulging even more.

The interests behind the second-round voting were too complicated, and he felt powerless to do anything about it.

Sigh, such a hidden gem, and it might just be buried like this?

—

Nightfall arrived, and the stars sparkled brilliantly in the polished night sky.

After leaving the gathering, Xiao Chi sat in Ji Chenxuan’s car, occasionally letting out a burp.

“If you can’t drink, don’t overindulge,” Ji Chenxuan said, driving with one hand and helplessly pushing Xiao Chi back into his seat with the other.

“There are always people coming to find me, and when they arrive, they offer me drinks. I see them drinking, and I feel bad rejecting them…” Xiao Chi half-closed his eyes, leaning his head to rest on Ji Chenxuan’s shoulder.

“They just want to poach you…” Ji Chenxuan kept his eyes on the road, though his peripheral vision subtly tracked the swaying figure in the rearview mirror. “They probably offered you some generous conditions. Aren’t you tempted?”

Xiao Chi opened his eyes slightly, replying with an expression that seemed obvious, “Why would I be tempted? I’m already yours!”

“…” Ji Chenxuan’s hand slipped on the steering wheel, causing the car to swerve dangerously.

“Watch out! Watch out! We’re going to crash!”

Ji Chenxuan took a deep breath, steadied the wheel, and with a stern face, said, “Don’t talk. You’re distracting me while I’m driving.”

“…You asked me first,” Xiao Chi pouted, muttering under his breath.

Humans really are fickle creatures!

The second round of the National Star Show Competition’s popularity voting finally began the next day.

—

Author’s Note: 

Little Scene:

Xiao: “I want to come play again next time!”

Ji: “No!”