Life countdown begins, ice queen bursts into security room

It was 6:30 p.m. at Xu Qingya's private apartment.

When Jiang Fan opened the door and came in, a rich aroma of garlic wafted out of the kitchen, mixed with the sizzling sound of hot oil being added to the pan.

He changed his shoes and walked straight through the living room.

The kitchen sliding door was half open.

Xu Qingya stood with her back to the door, wearing a light gray apron.

Her usually meticulously styled long hair was casually tied into a ponytail, revealing a section of her fair nape.

The oil in the pan had just heated up when she started adding sliced ​​garlic.

Jiang Fan leaned against the door frame and looked at it for a few seconds.

One of the four queens of the Chinese music scene is currently standing on tiptoe to reach the condiment bottle on the range hood.

My fingertips barely touched the edge of the bottle.

Jiang Fan didn't say anything, but walked over and reached over her head to take the condiment bottle down.

Xu Qingya was startled by the figure that suddenly appeared behind her, and almost dropped the spatula.

"When did you come in? You walked in so quietly!"

"Just arrived."

Jiang Fan glanced at the three dishes and one soup on the stove. They looked good, at least a 70 out of 100.

"One more dish will be ready." Xu Qingya reached out to take the condiment bottle.

Jiang Fan didn't give it to her; instead, he flicked his wrist and placed the bottle on the table next to him.

He took a step forward, his breath brushing against her ear.

"The last dish is right here."

Xu Qingya paused, the spatula in her hand still.

Before she could turn around, a pair of hands were already around her waist.

Jiang Fan wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin naturally on her shoulder.

Chest pressed against back, body heat transmitted through the thin fabric of the lounge dress.

"Jiang Fan—"

The bow at the back of the apron was deftly ripped open by a hand.

The gray apron slid down her body and piled up at her feet.

Xu Qingya was wearing a pale yellow loungewear dress with a loose neckline that revealed half of her collarbone.

Jiang Fan's fingers gripped her waist, while his other hand pressed down on her shoulder as she tried to turn around.

"Don't move."

"you--"

The hem of the nightgown was lifted up.

Xu Qingya tensed up abruptly and reached out to press down on his wrist.

"The food is burnt!"

The pot on the stove made a protesting sizzling sound.

Jiang Fan freed one hand and snapped the gas stove off.

-

The two went from the kitchen to the dining table.

The bowls and chopsticks on the table made a clattering sound.

Then from the dining table to the bedroom.

It took nearly an hour for Xu Qingya to reappear in the restaurant wearing a nightgown.

The food was completely cold.

She put the food in the microwave, heated it up, and then put it back on the table.

The two sat down.

Xu Qingya picked up a piece of pork tenderloin with her chopsticks and glanced at him.

"You're not allowed in the kitchen anymore."

"it is good."

He agreed too readily.

Xu Qingya glared at him again.

After dinner, the two snuggled up on the sofa.

Xu Qingya put her feet on Jiang Fan's legs, and he casually pinched her ankle while flipping through his phone.

The TV was on, showing a rerun of a music variety show.

On the screen, a popular young male celebrity is belting out a rock song, his veins bulging and his expression ferocious.

Jiang Fan took the remote and turned it off.

"I can't listen anymore. I'm going to sleep."

He stood up, bent down, and scooped Xu Qingya up from the sofa.

"I can walk by myself—"

When the protest was ignored, Jiang Fan simply carried the person to the bedroom.

Xu Qingya struggled for a moment, then simply gave up.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and quieted down.

"Jiang Fan".

"Um."

"Leaving tomorrow?"

"There are only three days left for recording. The arrangement is complicated, and the band needs time to work together."

Xu Qingya didn't reply, and tightened her arms around her neck.

-

late at night.

A system notification sounded deep within my consciousness.

[Multiple in-depth interactions with a highly compatible target will increase lifespan by 4000 points.]

Current lifespan: 8000 points. Remaining lifespan: 7 days.

Jiang Fan opened his eyes; Xu Qingya beside him was already fast asleep.

My hand rests on his chest; his breathing is even and deep, he is sleeping soundly.

Her insomnia, which had plagued her for three years, was cured without her even looking after him.

Jiang Fan pulled the blanket over her exposed shoulders.

Xu Qingya stirred and snuggled even deeper into his arms.

-

The next morning at seven o'clock.

Xu Qingya drove Jiang Fan to Hongqiao Airport.

"Send a message after landing." She held the steering wheel with one hand and turned to look at him.

"it is good."

Jiang Fan, carrying his guitar case, pushed open the car door.

The Porsche merged into the morning rush hour traffic and quickly disappeared from sight.

-

Two o'clock in the afternoon. Shenzhen.

Deep inside the industrial zone, in an old factory building, the iron gate was half open, and intermittent musical instruments could be heard coming from inside.

This place used to be a garment manufacturing workshop, but it was converted into a rehearsal hall after it went bankrupt.

Jiang Fan pushed open the door and entered; the seven people were scattered throughout the rehearsal hall.

The guzheng player was a woman in her early thirties with short hair, who was bending down to tune the strings.

The bamboo flute player sat in the corner wiping the flute membrane; he looked to be in his late twenties and early twenties, and he seemed like a difficult person to talk to.

The oldest erhu player, in his forties, was holding the instrument and resting with his eyes closed.

The electric guitarist and the electronic drummer huddled together looking at their phones, the screen displaying the Douyin video for "Xiao Chou" (消愁).

The youngest percussionist was in his early twenties, chewing gum as he twirled two drumsticks between his fingers.

The pianist was a tall, thin man wearing glasses, sitting in front of the electric piano in the corner, idly playing half of an etude.

Li Cheng was leaning against the wall smoking when he saw Jiang Fan come in, and he gestured towards him with his lips.

"Everyone's here. Let me introduce you—"

"No introduction needed."

Jiang Fan put the guitar case on the ground and pulled out a stack of A4 papers from his backpack.

Seven full scores.

Each sheet is labeled with the corresponding instrument's part, rhythm, dynamic markings, and mood cues.

"One sheet per person, look at the sheet music first. Ask any questions now."

The seven people exchanged glances.

The guzheng player took the score first, flipped through it, and glanced at it.

Then her hand stopped.

She brought the sheet music closer and traced the melody line of the guzheng with her fingertips, stopping at the transition section before the chorus.

"The arpeggios in this prelude on the guzheng... are they... a B-flat pentatonic scale?"

"Yes." Jiang Fan pulled over a folding chair and sat down.

"But when we move to the chorus, the key changes." The guzheng player looked up at him. "You want the guzheng to make a descending chromatic glissando transition here, connecting to the distorted tone of the electric guitar?"

"You figured it out?"

"I see it. But I've never seen it written like this before." She frowned, her tone not one of doubt, but the instinctive bewilderment of a professional performer encountering a problem beyond their syllabus.

"The pentatonic scale of traditional Chinese music and the harmonic system of electronic music are forcibly combined, which should theoretically cause them to clash. But your arrangement is going in the wrong direction..."

She read it again.

The finger pauses on a certain joint.

"No. They won't fight. You added a passing sound here as a buffer."

She looked up, and the way she looked at Jiang Fan changed.

The bamboo flute player also stood up, walked over to look at the guzheng player's score, and then flipped back to his own.

"The flute solo in the interlude, you wrote it as the lowest note, '2'?"

"right."

"This is not standard fingering."

That's why it sounds good.

The bamboo flute player opened his mouth, but swallowed back his rebuttal.

He held the sheet music and lightly pressed his fingers on the holes a few times.

This fingering technique not only requires extremely high breath control, but also gives the tone an ethereal and penetrating quality.

The rehearsal hall was quiet for almost two minutes.

All seven people were looking at the sheet music; the only sound was the turning of pages.

The erhu player opened his eyes, looked at his part, placed the score on his knee, and said nothing.

But his right hand picked up the bow and lightly plucked the melody of the chorus in the air.

The electronic drummer was the first to speak.

"Bro, what's the name of this song?"

Jiang Fan took out the last full score and spread it out on the music stand.

"Blue and White Porcelain".

He raised his hand and glanced at the time.

"Three days. We only have three days to rehearse."

The guzheng player lowered her head, pressing the strings with her left hand and plucking the first note of the prelude with her right.

Li Cheng leaned against the wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips, watching Jiang Fan's retreating figure.

He had managed artists for twenty years, and none of them could get seven musicians with different temperaments to shut up and read the score within two minutes.

He stubbed out his cigarette, took out his phone, and swiped to a chat window.

The message Shen Nian sent was still displayed on the screen.

"Once this episode is finished being recorded, I'll arrange for you to meet."

Li Cheng looked at the words and then glanced up at Jiang Fan, who was explaining the harmonic progressions to the musicians.

He suddenly had a gut feeling.

What will happen to this young man is far greater than what happens in a talent show.