Chapter 65: Writing a New Song Again (Please Vote and Support)

After letting Li He go, Old Qin, still full of confusion, stopped another colleague who had come out to make strong tea with hot water, unable to stay awake any longer.

This songwriter had dark circles around his eyes, his whole demeanor listless and weary, with an air of grievance clouding his brow.

Who bullied you? Why does it feel like you’re suffering the woes of a lonely palace behind locked curtains... Old Qin muttered inwardly. Could it be that I sobered up the wrong way?

“What’s wrong with everyone? How late did you all stay up last night? Why does everyone look so exhausted?” Old Qin unleashed his classic triple question, a hint of concern rising in his heart.

Although the lyrics and composition department was loosely managed, if an entire group acted as if they’d been coerced and abused, there would be no way to work normally.

If Zhang Yang saw this, she’d definitely lose her temper.

“You don’t know?” The dark-eyed songwriter was puzzled. How could Old Qin seem so unaffected, as if the culling of the song didn’t bother him at all?

Hearing this, Old Qin got annoyed. “I know nothing! Last night you all went crazy, forcing me to drink like mad. I’m not some eighteen-year-old girl, you know.”

His head was still foggy and aching—a most unpleasant state.

So Old Qin managed to avoid it... The dark-eyed songwriter felt unwilling. They’d all attended together, yet only Old Qin was unscathed—it left him feeling unsatisfied and resentful.

He gave up on making his tea, hurried back to his desk, grabbed his phone, and returned to Old Qin, who was still lost in confusion.

He was about to hand his phone over, as it contained a video from last night recorded by a senior lyricist.

The video wasn’t his; it had been recorded by a level 5 lyricist and posted in the F Group’s chat after the welcome banquet, but hadn’t circulated beyond.

Just as he extended his hand, he hesitated and quickly withdrew, fearing for his phone’s safety. Instead, he said, “Qin, check the group chat. There’s a link to a new song Jia Bei wrote last night. The quality is insanely good—a lot of people lost sleep after listening to it.”

After saying this, for some reason, he was eager to see Old Qin’s reaction after watching the video—so much so that his drowsiness vanished, replaced by an alert excitement.

Without much thought, Old Qin opened the group chat, scrolled up twice, and soon found the video link.

When he clicked it, the sudden burst of sound startled him, nearly making him drop his phone.

“Is that Jia Bei singing?” Old Qin grumbled, turning off the volume.

“Yeah,” replied the songwriter, with no ill intent. “He has a great voice, and his singing is excellent—he could debut just like that.”

Is it really that amazing...? Suspicious, Old Qin took out his wireless earbuds and continued watching.

After a few lines, all doubt vanished, replaced by pure shock.

Only one thought echoed in Old Qin’s mind: F Group had struck gold.

He even suspected that Zhang Yang didn’t know about Jia Bei’s vocal talent; otherwise, she would’ve mentioned it.

A minute passed.

Old Qin was rooted to the spot, his expression ever-changing, more vivid than ever.

Many F Group lyricists and composers near the corridor looked on with gleeful anticipation. Seeing Old Qin’s reaction, their satisfaction dispelled any lingering fatigue.

Two more minutes went by before Old Qin finally snapped out of his existential crisis.

He looked around for the dark-eyed colleague, only to find that the culprit had long since vanished.

“This was definitely deliberate.” Old Qin gritted his teeth, wishing he could kick that person from the twelfth floor all the way down.

Already suffering from too much alcohol the night before, his head was still muddled and his body uncomfortable.

After watching the video,

it wasn’t just his body—his entire being felt unwell.

That kid’s too sharp.

At this moment, Old Qin was utterly discomfited, and Li He was in no better shape.

After returning from Zhang Yang’s office, Li He prepared to upload the truncated version of “Friend” he’d recorded at home the night before onto Douyin, when the infernal system suddenly popped up.

System: [Friendly reminder: The song “Friend” was not provided by this system. Any resulting negative emotion points will not be recognized by the system.]

Li He stared at the message several times, devastated. So all his hard work last night was for nothing, and his enthusiastic colleagues stayed up all night in vain.

“System, can’t you make an exception?” Li He pleaded, meek and pitiful.

System: [No.]

Li He instantly bristled. “That’s called monopoly! I’m going to report you to the system administration!”

This damn system was too heartless, devoid of any sense of camaraderie.

The mention of a “system administration bureau” left the system bewildered; it had never encountered such a concept in its world.

While Li He tussled with the system, Old Qin, his expression complex, walked over.

The gazes of F Group’s lyricists and composers surreptitiously followed Old Qin, hoping he’d use his authority to pressure Jia Bei into quickly finishing the full version of “Friend.”

Li He stood up politely and greeted him, “Qin.”

That only made Old Qin more embarrassed to speak. Jia Bei had always been respectful, calling him “Qin” again and again.

Old Qin was so conflicted, his features nearly twisted together. In the end, unable to bear seeing the young man suffer, Li He asked, “Qin, do you have a task for me?”

Yes, a task... It was as if Old Qin had seized a lifeline. But realizing the idea had come from Li He only made him feel more stifled.

After three seconds’ hesitation, Old Qin forced out, “I heard that last night you wrote... sang a song.”

Realizing “wrote” wasn’t quite accurate, Old Qin corrected himself to “sang.” It felt bizarre for a lyricist to sing a new song, like seeing a polar bear in the Antarctic or a penguin in the Arctic. Both were creatures of the frozen world, but something felt off.

It went against reason.

“Yes.”

Without batting an eyelash, Li He lied, “My colleagues were so enthusiastic. Moved by F Group’s spirit of unity and mutual help, I was inspired to write ‘Friend.’”

What does enthusiasm have to do with unity... Old Qin wondered, but let the thought pass.

His focus was on the full version of “Friend.”

Who cared where the inspiration came from? It wasn’t important.

“Do you have any ideas for the second half of this song?” Old Qin asked nervously.

Li He shook his head, replying helplessly, “After sobering up, I can’t remember a thing.”

Old Qin was immediately dissatisfied.

You can’t remember? What are we supposed to do?

Who was the idiot who got Li He drunk last night? Their pay should be docked!

Old Qin felt his mental state crumbling.

“It’s fine.” Old Qin forced a smile. “If you’ve lost your inspiration, just take your time. No rush. This month, your only task is to complete ‘Friend.’ Don’t worry about anything else.”

That wouldn’t do. Without tasks, there’s no commission; without commission, there’s no income; without income, he couldn’t send money to his sister, and without that, she’d have to keep working herself to the bone... Li He was a thousand times unwilling.

But he knew, as a workplace newcomer, he couldn’t defy his superior.

Yet this was truly a task he couldn’t complete.

“Friend” was only half-remembered from his memory; he hadn’t retained the lyrics or melody for the full version.

And given the system’s nature, getting the complete version of “Friend” out of it was next to impossible.

Li He felt that tormenting its host was the system’s main goal and amusement.

How despicable.

But refusing outright would embarrass Old Qin, and who knows what kind of payback might come his way in the future.

After some thought, Li He declined gently, “I can’t.”

Old Qin was stunned.

Why not?

Completing a song you’d just written within a month was an easy task.

And if the quality stayed high, the company’s singers could perform it, earning a generous share.

After all,

the company’s assignments for each team were usually limited to a set area, restricting lyricists’ creativity.

But Li He was different. “Friend” had just been created, less than twenty-four hours ago, and was still fresh.

Finishing the second half should be much easier than composing something new within strict guidelines.

If even this was too much, the bar was set too high.

Li He tried to explain, “I’ve already written a new song.”

Seeing Old Qin’s sour expression, Li He felt he’d declined as tactfully as possible.

Sigh!

The old fellow had quite a temper. Li He made a mental note to bring some cooling herbal tea for him next time.

He’d read much about workplace unwritten rules online—how to please your boss, for example: give them exactly what they need, never something random.

Or, never openly contradict your boss in public; you could hint or gently refuse.

And always show respect to your superiors—though Old Qin fell short here, calling Sister Yang “Little Zhang” behind her back. Maybe he’d report that when the chance arose.

At this moment, Old Qin felt his mind jam.

What did he mean, “already written a new song”?

Old Qin couldn’t keep up with Li He’s train of thought—modern young people jumped topics too quickly; he struggled even with his own son’s slang.

Especially odd phrases like “GOAT,” “SORRY,” “SKR,” “NSDD,” and so on.

Old Qin racked his brains, but couldn’t decipher the deeper meaning behind these letters.

Worse than learning English all over again.

Old Qin asked, “What do you mean by ‘already written a new song’?”

Li He replied, “Exactly that—I’ve already written another new song.”

Saying it like that makes me feel like an idiot... Old Qin shook off that strange thought.

He couldn’t wait. “Let me have a look.”

———

PS.

Posting first, will revise later