A song called "The You of the Past" has prompted the entire internet to beg me not to leav

"A deadly KPI?"

Lin Yan instinctively lowered his legs from the sofa and stared warily at Shen Qingqiu, who was smiling across from him.

"Boss, you can eat whatever you want, but you can't say whatever you want. It's all clearly written in black and white in my contract: absolute freedom, no mandatory clocking in. What, Xingyao just died, and you're already trying to become a heartless capitalist?"

Shen Qingqiu slowly put down his coffee cup, the porcelain and glass lightly touching with a crisp sound.

"No mandatory clocking in, that's right."

Shen Qingqiu stood up and looked down at him.

"But have you forgotten that your contracted position is 'Chief Music Director' of Qingqiu Studio? You're getting a guaranteed annual salary of ten million from me; you can't possibly not even know which way your office door faces, can you?"

Lin Yan's lips twitched: "Can't I work remotely from home? Is that 200-square-meter top-of-the-line recording studio on the first floor of the villa just for show?"

"no."

Shen Qingqiu spoke with absolute certainty, but a sly glint flashed in his eyes.

"My new album is supposed to be officially launched and promoted next month, but we haven't even gotten past the song selection stage yet. The demos sent by those 'golden producers' in the industry are giving me a headache."

She leaned down, placing her hands on the armrests of the sofa on either side of Lin Yan, instantly closing the distance between them. A very faint woody scent mixed with the aroma of coffee wafted over.

"Director Lin, is it too much to ask you to help the boss with the selection?"

Lin Yan looked at the stunningly beautiful face so close to his face and sighed helplessly.

He who takes a bribe is bound to do his bidding; he who eats another's food is obligated to do his bidding.

What's more, he plans to continue living off this big villa like a freeloader.

"Okay, okay, I'll go, alright?" Lin Yan raised his hands in surrender.

"Let's go."

Shen Qingqiu straightened up, smiling like a fox that had just stolen some fish.

"Go change your clothes, we'll be leaving in ten minutes."

Half an hour later, a black Mercedes-Benz G-Class discreetly drove into the underground parking garage of a Grade A office building in the core area of ​​Xinghai City's CBD.

Qingqiu Studio occupies two entire floors of this building.

As the most popular independent label in the Chinese entertainment industry today, its decor is extremely luxurious and modern.

Shen Qingqiu walked ahead wearing sunglasses, her high heels clicking on the polished marble floor.

Wherever he went, all the employees immediately held their breath and respectfully greeted him.

Lin Yan, wearing an oversized white T-shirt, followed behind with his hands in his pockets, looking like a street urchin who had wandered onto a film set.

Good morning, Sister Shen.

"Hello, Mr. Shen."

As the employees greeted him, they also stared at Lin Yan with extreme shock and curiosity.

This is the mysterious and powerful figure who hammered Xingyao Entertainment into delisting online, took a pop diva to an island to catch lobsters, and got the State Administration of Cultural Heritage to endorse him with his song "Blue and White Porcelain".

Why does he look...so much like a male college student who hasn't woken up yet?

Ignoring the gazes around him, Shen Qingqiu pushed open the door to the largest conference room at the end of the corridor.

In the conference room, the studio's core executives were already sitting upright.

The leader was a middle-aged man with black-rimmed glasses and artistic long hair.

"Qingqiu, you've finally arrived." The middle-aged man stood up, looking exhausted.

"Zhang Hai sent over the final demo. We listened to it and felt it wasn't quite there yet as the first single from the new album, but there's really no time left..."

Shen Qingqiu took off his sunglasses, pulled out the chair in the main seat and sat down, then pointed to the empty seat next to him: "Lin Yan, sit down."

Upon hearing this name, the long-haired middle-aged man turned his head sharply, his gaze fixed on Lin Yan.

"This must be... Director Lin?" The man's tone carried an instinctive scrutiny.

"Let me introduce you. This is Lao Liang, the studio's deputy music director. He's an expert in music arrangement with fifteen years of experience in the Chinese entertainment industry," Shen Qingqiu said calmly.

"Old Liang, I won't say much about this one. Lin Yan, from now on, he has veto power over the music content in the studio."

Old Liang pushed up his glasses and forced a smile: "Teacher Lin's 'Blue and White Porcelain' is renowned, truly a masterpiece. However... creating a solo single and managing a complete album by a top-tier artist are two completely different things. Today is a perfect opportunity to ask Teacher Lin for some guidance."

That was said politely, but the sour grapes and resentment were obvious to anyone with ears.

After 15 years of hard work in the industry, it's frustrating to have a newbie suddenly appear and put you in a difficult position.

Lin Yan, without any regard for appearances, grabbed an orange from the fruit plate on the table and began peeling it: "I wouldn't call it giving pointers, I'm just here for the fun. You guys play, I'll just listen."

Seeing his carefree attitude, Lao Liang's brows furrowed into a knot.

He gave his assistant a wink, and the assistant immediately operated the computer to connect the audio to the speaker system.

"This song, 'Tears Under the Starlight,' was just sent to me last night by Zhang Hai, a well-known composer in the industry. He offered three million yuan for it, excluding any subsequent revenue sharing. Zhang Hai said it's the culmination of three months of seclusion."

Lao Liang set up a simple background and then pressed play.

A long and affected synthesizer intro begins, followed by a mediocre 4/3 time signature.

The melody of the verse is extremely clichéd, like a collection of popular love songs that have been cut up and reassembled.

Even the chord progression is the most clichéd "4536251", just a different name for the same thing.

In order to force a climax, a jarring high-pitched electronic sound effect was added during the chorus.

The people in the conference room frowned as they listened, but no one uttered a word because of the name "Zhang Hai," a titan in the industry.

Shen Qingqiu's face visibly darkened.

She has an extremely high level of musical fastidiousness; this kind of industrial assembly line garbage is practically raping her ears.

Two and a half minutes later, the chorus was just halfway through.

"Snapped!"

Lin Yan threw a peeled orange segment on the table, directly breaking the awkward atmosphere.

"Stop, stop, stop! Turn it off right now!" Lin Yan covered his ears, looking at Lao Liang with a pained expression.

"Director Liang, isn't this considered a work-related injury? This noise pollution is giving me a headache."

The meeting room fell into a deathly silence.

The assistant was so startled that she immediately pressed the pause button.

Old Liang's face turned pale and then flushed, and he suddenly stood up.

"Director Lin! What do you mean by that? This is Zhang Hai's hard work! Countless people in the industry beg him to write songs for them!"

"You're begging him to write songs?" Lin Yan burst out laughing.

"That's because they've never had a good meal. This song's verses are a blatant copy of 'Summer Wind Chimes' from eight years ago, and the chord progressions are directly taken from 'Autumn Wind Scattering.' He dares to call this a Frankenstein's monster a treasure and still wants three million? I'd even think three hundred is too expensive."

Lin Yan stood up, walked to the whiteboard, picked up a marker, and quickly wrote down a string of musical notation.

"Look, isn't this the direction of the second verse just now? He didn't even bother to change the transition chords, he just used C-sharp and converted it to E-flat. With this kind of tailoring skill, current AI can generate a hundred songs in three seconds."

Old Liang stared intently at the sheet music on the whiteboard, and cold sweat immediately broke out on his brow.

As a 15-year veteran, how could he not see through the trickery?

However, Zhang Hai was too big a star and his schedule was too tight, so he had no choice but to pretend to be blind.

"And these lyrics, like 'You are like starlight that stings my eyes,' 'My tears swirl in the darkness'..." Lin Yan shook his head in disgust.

"Where did this off-the-beaten-path signature come from? The boss is a superstar, not the heiress of the 'Funeral Love Family' from twenty years ago!"

Upon hearing the words "Funeral Love Family," Shen Qingqiu forcefully suppressed her laughter.

Old Liang was rendered speechless by the rebuttal, but he still stubbornly refused to admit it.

"This is the market's go-to formula! Catchy melodies, poignant lyrics, and easy-to-promote short videos. We're selling products!"

"Who says a commodity can't be a work of art?"

Lin Yan turned around and casually picked up Zhang Hai's discarded printed manuscript from the table.

"Does this shoddy work even deserve to be sung by Shen Qingqiu?"

A flick of the wrist.

"Splash!"

The sheet music, priced at three million, traced an arc in the air and landed precisely in the trash can in the corner.

A collective gasp filled the conference room.

This is Zhang Hai's manuscript! Are you just going to throw it away like that?

If this gets out, it's like dropping a nuclear bomb on the Chinese music composition scene.

"You...you're insane!" Old Liang pointed at Lin Yan, his fingers trembling.

Shen Qingqiu stood up, crossed his arms, and gave Lao Liang a cold look.

"Didn't you hear what Director Lin said? That's garbage. Lao Liang, if this is all the kind of trash you can hire, you might as well all resign."

The queen's words were decisive.

Old Liang seemed to have all his strength drained away, and slumped into a chair.

"But Mr. Shen, there's less than a month until the release. Even if we find someone else to write the lyrics now, there simply isn't enough time for post-production recording and music video shooting! The album is still missing at least five songs, especially the title track..."

"Who should we get to write it?" Lin Yan clapped the orange juice off his hands, yawned, and asked, "Why go to such lengths when it's so close by?"

Everyone turned to look at him.

Lin Yan, with his sharp ears, grinned.

He strode to the conference table, placed his hands on the surface, leaned forward, and surveyed the group of executives with varying expressions.

"Five songs, right? Okay."

Lin Yan extended a single finger, his arrogance reaching its peak:

"I'll get it done for you tonight. Take it to record at ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

The entire audience erupted in uproar.

One night?! Five top-tier hit songs?! Is this some kind of creative project or a wholesale order?!