Taking Liu Yifei back to Northeast China for the Chinese New Year has sent the entire internet into

Fang Yu kept his eyes closed and didn't reply.

Her breathing was even, and she looked like she had already fallen asleep.

Mr. Zhang picked up his thermos and slowly took a sip.

Then, he continued speaking as if talking to himself.

"I've reviewed the data predictions provided by the platform."

"With the current level of popularity, once your songs are released, the revenue on the first day will be staggering."

"If you finish recording today, it can be uploaded tomorrow morning."

"If you drag it out until next week..."

He put down his cup as he said this.

The bottom of the cup touched the coffee table.

"despair."

A soft sound.

"The longer it drags on, the less attention it gets."

"The platform's revenue sharing is calculated on a daily basis and is constantly changing."

"A delay of one day in launching the service would mean a loss of at least several hundred thousand yuan."

Mr. Zhang sighed, his tone sounding quite sorry for him.

"Sigh, there's nothing we can do about it."

"Internet traffic, once it's gone, it's gone forever."

"If you didn't make money, you didn't make money."

"After all, health is the most important thing."

on the sofa.

Fang Yu, who had been "peacefully asleep," was now asleep.

My eyelids twitched suddenly, and I sat up abruptly.

"Mr. Zhang."

"Actually, I just thought about it carefully."

"In this highly competitive era, how can young people give up so easily just because of a little travel fatigue?"

His expression was serious, and his tone was firm.

"Music is my dream!"

"It's my life!"

Mr. Zhang almost lost his composure.

"Has the production team's donkey stopped panting?"

Fang Yu looked righteous.

"Does a donkey know anything about art?"

"What donkey or anything!"

"I love my job!"

"I'd go through fire and water for you, Mr. Zhang!"

Done.

He stood up and strode towards the door.

Fang Yu had already placed his hand on the doorknob when he suddenly turned around.

"Mr. Zhang."

"Is our company's music department recording studio on the seventeenth or eighteenth floor?"

……

Starry Entertainment, 18th floor.

Music Production Department.

This place is completely different from the sixteenth floor.

Just now, the sixteenth floor was decorated with a red carpet, cannons, and people wearing yellow robes, making a scene like a religious ceremony.

The 18th floor was much quieter.

The corridor was covered with thick soundproof carpet and the walls were covered with sound-absorbing cotton, so even the sound of footsteps was suppressed.

Fang Yu pushed open the door and entered Recording Studio No. 1.

Inside the control room.

Old Wang, the head of the music department and a recording engineer, was wearing headphones and adjusting the equipment.

Old Wang is in his forties and wears a typical artist's ponytail.

Upon seeing Fang Yu enter, he immediately took off his headphones and greeted him with a smile.

"Teacher Fang Yu?"

"I heard you just got off the plane, why don't you go back and rest first?"

"If you're not proactive in making money, there's something wrong with your brain."

Fang Yu's words were concise and to the point.

"Brother Wang, can you turn on the equipment for me?"

"Let's work on two songs today."

Old Wang was taken aback and subconsciously glanced at the clock on the wall.

2:30 p.m.

"Two songs today?"

Old Wang looked a little embarrassed.

"Teacher Fang Yu, the recording studio is different from the live recording."

"Live performances rely on emotion, while recording studios require meticulous attention to detail."

"Even the slightest flaw in breathing, articulation, or pitch will be amplified in the monitoring headphones."

He spoke very frankly.

"For a normal song, just refining the dry vocals would take at least two or three days."

"With so little time today, we can at most get the arrangement and accompaniment sorted out first, and then let you warm up your voice and get into the zone."

This isn't Lao Wang deliberately trying to dampen enthusiasm.

He's been in this line of work for far too long.

He knows perfectly well what level many singers in the Chinese entertainment industry are at.

Some people can spend a whole month recording a single song.

Analyze it sentence by sentence.

Revise it sentence by sentence.

In the end, it was entirely thanks to the sound engineer's "million-dollar audio editing skills" that a listenable finished product was painstakingly pieced together.

Recording two songs in half a day?

Fang Yu's singing skills are quite good.

But we can't do it like that, can we?

"It's okay, let's record it first, consider it a warm-up."

Fang Yu didn't explain much and simply pushed open the heavy soundproof door of the inner shed.

He picked up the monitoring headphones from the music stand, put them on, and then adjusted the microphone height.

It was separated by a blowout shield and double-glazed soundproof glass.

He gave Old Wang in the control room an "OK" sign.

"I've already copied the backing track to the system using a USB drive; I can just import it into the tracks."

"No need to turn on the voice correction tool."

"Just give me some reverb."

Fang Yu's voice came through the microphone.

Clear, calm, and exuding a blind confidence.

Inside the control room.

Old Wang and his two assistants exchanged a glance, both looking somewhat helpless.

Young people, you know.

It just became popular.

It's normal to be a little overconfident.

"OK."

Old Wang didn't directly criticize him; he gave him plenty of face.

"Let's record one track first to get a feel for it."

He pulled out a chair and sat down, his finger resting on the record button.

"The Sound of Falling Snow".

"Give me a hand signal when you're ready."

Inside the shed.

Fang Yu closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

In my mind.

Snow and wind in the Greater Khingan Mountains.

Liu Yifei's smiling eyes, hidden beneath her military overcoat.

Snowfields, aurora borealis, a nose red from the cold...

Scenes flashed rapidly through his mind.

Emotions flooded in instantly.

Fang Yu raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

Old Wang pressed the record button, and the accompaniment track was started.

A gentle guitar intro flowed slowly through the studio.

Like snowflakes falling one by one.

Quiet.

And there was a hint of unspoken regret.

Twenty-five seconds later.

Fang Yu spoke.

"Gently, it landed in my palm."

"Quietly, ice forms in the palm of your hand."

Just this one sentence.

Inside the control room.

Old Wang, who was holding a thermos and about to drink water, suddenly stopped.

He stared at the sound waves dancing on the screen, and his expression changed instantly.

There was no obvious breathing sound.

No.

To be precise, it was Fang Yu's breathing that was too smooth.

Inhalation, resonance, and articulation are almost seamlessly integrated.

There are no discernible breaks in the sound.

"Our meeting was preordained in a past life."

"Between pain and pleasure, savor every bit of happiness."

Fang Yu's pitch was perfectly in the center of the track.

What's even more outrageous is the emotion.

The absolute silence of a recording studio is the ultimate test of one's emotions.

Any attempt to overdo it will appear fake and greasy.

If any emotion is not properly conveyed, the performance will appear pale and lifeless.

But Fang Yu opened his mouth.

It's like someone whispered in your ear a regret that spans many years.

It's not sentimental, but it touches the heart.

I listened slowly to the sound of snow falling.

"Imagine it never stops even with your eyes closed."

As soon as the chorus starts.

The two young assistants in the control room got goosebumps all over their arms.

One of the girls instinctively hugged her arms, and her eyes inexplicably welled up with tears.

That's too stable.

That's such a vivid image.

Old Wang sat in front of the mixing console, already a little dazed.

He has heard too many singers' raw vocals.

A capable and talented individual.

Traffic-driven.

New idol.

There are all kinds.

He had never seen anyone sing to this level on their first take.

The murmur in the bass register is very soft.

The transition between true and falsetto in the high register is also very smooth.

Each ending note was clearly finished.

It didn't shake too much, nor did it float.

This is hardly a song recording.

It's like stuffing a finished master tape directly into a microphone.