Don't call me a singing god, I just want to go back to doing scientific research.

Teacher Jiang took a deep breath, as if she had made a great decision, and announced a number.

"One hundred thousand!"

After he finished speaking, he tensed up and stared nervously at Ling Luo.

"Sure, but the price isn't low."

Ling Luo's answer was faster than he expected.

Teacher Jiang almost choked on her breath and stood there stunned.

Ling Luo added, "However, I'm only transferring the performance rights and the right to adapt the music; the copyright to the lyrics and music remains mine."

Upon hearing this, Teacher Jiang's cloudy eyes instantly lit up. He grabbed Ling Luo's hand and shook it excitedly, "Oh, Ling! I knew I hadn't misjudged you! Don't worry, with just 100,000 yuan, they still want the copyright? They're dreaming!"

"I'll have Lao Miao come over to sign the contract right away!"

As she spoke, fearing that Ling Luo might change her mind, Teacher Jiang immediately took out her phone and dialed a number, her tone urgent, as if she were snatching some precious treasure.

Less than a minute after the phone call ended, the door to the lounge was pushed open.

Miao Cheng'an was helped in. He was old and his legs were not very nimble. He was leaning on a well-worn wooden cane.

"Hello, Elder Miao." Ling Luo quickly stood up to greet him.

"Hello, hello." Miao Cheng'an's eyes were a little cloudy, but still sharp. He carefully looked Ling Luo up and down, his eyes full of admiration. "You're the one who wrote the ending of 'Puppet Show,' right? You're really young and promising."

"It's me, Mr. Miao. Please have a seat." Ling Luo stepped forward and took Miao Cheng'an's other arm, helping him settle steadily on the sofa.

"It's time to close the curtain," Miao Cheng'an said earnestly, holding Ling Luo's hand tightly after sitting down. "Are you really willing to sell the song to us? I know how expensive a good song is these days, and I really can't afford it... Just consider it... just consider it an old man owing you a favor."

In this world, it's common for a song to sell for hundreds of millions or even millions of dollars; a hundred thousand dollars is really not even a fraction of that.

Ling Luo knew in his heart that he shouldn't have accepted money for this song.

But we already gave two songs to Teacher Jiang for free last time. If we don't ask for a penny this time, these veteran artists will probably feel bad and feel indebted to us.

If something really happens in the future, and they're too shy to contact me again, then the loss would be huge.

"Mr. Miao, you're too kind. One hundred thousand yuan is a lot." Ling Luo waved his hand with a smile, his tone relaxed. "My annual salary used to be only one hundred thousand yuan."

Upon hearing this, Miao Cheng'an's tense body visibly relaxed, and he gripped Ling Luo's hand even tighter: "Luo Mu, thank you so much, thank you so much! If you ever need any help from us old bones in the future, just ask! I may not have much else, but I do have a few connections in this industry."

"Mr. Miao, there's no need to be so polite. Just call me Xiao Ling." Seeing that he still looked a bit reserved, Ling Luo changed the subject and said half-jokingly, "If you ever have any business opportunities in the future, please give me a recommendation."

One sentence instantly dispelled the heavy atmosphere.

Miao Chengan was stunned for a moment, then burst into hearty laughter.

"Haha, good lad! No problem!"

The contract was quickly printed out, and Ling Luo and Miao Cheng'an signed it on the spot. Watching Miao Cheng'an's trembling hands carefully put the thin contract into his inner pocket, and even pat it hard as if afraid it would fly away.

"There are two versions of the song 'Puppet Show'," Ling Luo reminded her. "The female voice is gentle, and the male voice is resolute. Both are very good. You can try them both."

"Two kinds?" Old Miao's eyes lit up, and he slapped his thigh. "Great! I've hit the jackpot this time! I'll go back and find someone!"

  

After finishing their business, Ling Luo returned to her seat, and Gu Yang immediately came over like a curious cat.

"Why did you take so long? I thought Teacher Jiang had dragged you backstage to be a laborer."

"We discussed some business," Ling Luo said.

"What kind of business?" Gu Yang asked, intrigued.

Ling Luo smiled slightly: "Your song 'Puppet Show' has been sold."

"Holy crap!" Gu Yang exclaimed in surprise, then lowered his voice and asked excitedly, "How much did it sell for? Seven figures? Or eight figures? This song is definitely worth that price!"

Ling Luo extended one finger.

"One million?" Gu Yang's eyes lit up.

Ling Luo shook her head.

"Ten million?!" Gu Yang gasped. "Holy crap, Ling Luo, you're my brother! Take me with you!"

"One hundred thousand."

"..."

Gu Yang's expression froze. He leaned close to Ling Luo's ear and whispered, "Brother, do you have some kind of misunderstanding about money? 100,000? Are you doing charity?"

Ling Luo smiled noncommittally and offered no further explanation.

Gu Yang sat directly behind Ling Luo, looking at him with a disappointed expression, but still diligently massaged Ling Luo's shoulders, muttering, "What a spendthrift!"

"Traditional opera is facing difficulties now, and puppet shows are even more so. We should help out as much as we can; there's nothing wrong with that."

"Okay, okay, I didn't say I disagreed. It's fine if you don't charge for this song; consider it a public service announcement for traditional culture. But I'm just worried that if word gets out, your future songs won't sell for a good price."

"No, don't worry, I have principles."

"It's good that you know what's going on."

Just then, all the lights went out and a spotlight shone on the stage.

The host announced loudly:

"Tonight, let us witness a feast for the senses! Next, let us give a warm round of applause to the Beijing Conservatory of Music Symphony Orchestra, who will bring us a magnificent original symphony—'The Elephant King's March'! Creator: Curtain Falls!"

The moment the words "the curtain falls" were uttered, the audience erupted in cheers!

"What the heck? 'The Curtain Falls'? The 'The Curtain Falls' that wrote the song for Gu Yang?"

"Isn't he a pop song writer? How come he's writing symphonies now? That's such a wild crossover!"

"This guy really thinks he's a god. Don't think he can write anything just because he's written a few hit songs. The threshold for symphonic music is very high!"

"Oh no, I feel like I'm going to witness a public execution tonight."

Amid the murmurs, Gu Yang proudly puffed out his chest, his chin almost reaching the sky, his smugness resembling that of a warrior about to go on stage to receive an award.

Ling Luo slapped his hand on her shoulder, smiled, and kept her eyes fixed on the stage.

The band members, dressed in black Tang suits, walked onto the stage quietly and orderly and took their seats.

The lights dimmed, and the entire auditorium fell silent.

"Waaah—"

There was no grand string ensemble, nor intense brass boom.

The first sound to reach everyone's ears was a long, ancient, and extremely desolate Buddhist horn.

The sound didn't come through a speaker; it resonated directly in the chest, as if it had traveled through a thousand years, coming from an ancient battlefield eroded by wind and sand, from the depths of a primeval forest shrouded in mist, instantly seizing everyone's soul.

Gu Yang was startled. He subconsciously looked at the two sides of the stage, where the two musicians holding horns were puffing out their cheeks and breathing into the ancient instruments.

"Ling Luo, what is this?"

Ling Luo turned her head slightly: "Tongqin is a type of dharma name. In Tibetan, it originally means 'great name,' and some people also translate it as 'great dharma name.'"

Gu Yang was stunned, his mouth half-open.

What an amazing musical instrument! It's incredible! I want to collect it!

The opening scene alone made the air in the entire auditorium freeze.

Immediately afterwards, the drum, like distant rumbling thunder, rolled over, one beat after another, striking the heartbeat of everyone.

Then, the clear and bright sound of a pipa (a traditional Chinese stringed instrument) entered, tinkling and instantly unfolding a vast and boundless expanse of land.

The melodious sound of the bamboo flute is like the vast sky and the free wind.

The sound of the erhu, though desolate, carries a resilient strength, representing the inexhaustible lifeblood of this land.

The guzheng followed closely behind, like an epic scroll slowly unfolding before everyone's eyes.

As the music progresses to the middle section, the tempo suddenly speeds up!

The pipa, bamboo flute, erhu, and guzheng are no longer solo performances, but intertwined, like thousands of streams flowing into a river, eventually creating a towering wave!

The music was no longer just sound, but a series of moving images!

Thousands upon thousands of giant elephants are striding with earth-shaking strides, traversing mountains and crossing rivers, rushing in!

The audience was completely captivated by the world created by the music, and even forgot to breathe.