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

A strong wind whipped up yellow sand, pelting the film crew's makeshift tents with a crackling sound.

Zhang Ji sat beside the monitor, coldly watching Lin Yan on the small plastic stool opposite him.

The dozens of people around were completely silent, afraid that if they breathed too loudly, they would offend the "King of Hell" on set.

Lin Yan's slender fingers pressed on the guitar strings.

Without any extra movements, he plucked the lowest note, the E string, with his right thumb.

"Buzz..."

The dull, rough sound of the strings exploded in the open space, accompanied by the howling wind, bringing out an unreasonable and domineering force.

Zhang Ji was startled. This starting stance was simple, but powerful!

Lin Yan's fingers began to fly across the six strings, not the complex chords of Western pop music, but the purest and most ancient pentatonic scale: Gong, Shang, Jiao, Zhi, Yu (1 2 3 5 6).

The melody is desolate, vast, and heroic.

As soon as the music started, the yellow sand, cold wind, and dilapidated props on site seemed to be controlled by the music, as if they were infused with a soul.

Lin Yan tilted his head back slightly, his voice low and hoarse, carrying a sense of world-weariness, and began to sing:

"A hearty laugh echoes across the vast ocean, as tides surge on both shores."

"Floating and sinking with the waves, I only remember today."

After just two sentences, Zhang Ji straightened up abruptly, gripping the back of the chair tightly with both hands, his whole body numb.

These two lines of poetry, without a single word describing the clash of swords and the shadows of war, reveal the vastness and cruelty of the entire martial arts world!

What is Jianghu?

Isn't it just about drifting through this vast sea of ​​people and finding peace in the face of life and death?

Lin Yan's hands didn't stop; the force of his right-hand strumming suddenly increased, making the strings tremble precariously. His tone also rose wildly, revealing an arrogant air of dominance over the world.

"The heavens laugh, the world is in turmoil."

"Who wins and who loses, only God knows!"

With a deafening boom, a thunderbolt seemed to explode in Zhang Ji's mind.

He's listened to countless sentimental "martial arts" stories these past few days, and his ears are practically calloused from it.

Those lyricists racked their brains to pile up words, but compared to this one line, they couldn't even touch the mud on the soles of their shoes! This is the kind of martial arts theme song he wanted!

"Who won and who lost... only God knows!"

Zhang Ji muttered frantically to himself, goosebumps rising all over his body.

The movie protagonist's state of mind after retiring from the underworld, watching the younger generation of gangsters kill each other for fame and fortune, while he holds a wine bowl and laughs coldly from a high place, is all captured in this one line!

The rough-around-the-edges men on the film crew didn't understand music theory, but they understood emotions.

Listening to this song, even the tough guys who usually carry sandbags and work as shovels suddenly felt an urge to grab a bottle of liquor and run wildly in the desert.

Shen Qingqiu stood behind, her beautiful eyes sparkling. She had long known that Lin Yan was a monster, but every time she saw him make a move, she still felt that his talent was simply a bottomless pit.

The pace quickened, like a sudden downpour tapping on a window:

"The landscape smiles, the mist and rain stretch far."

"The waves have washed away so many beauties of the mortal world."

"The gentle breeze laughs, yet it stirs up loneliness."

"All that remains of my heroic spirit is the setting sun."

After singing the last line, Lin Yan swept his right hand forcefully.

With a "clang," the fifth string could not withstand the force and snapped!

The broken string struck the wooden box with an extremely abrupt, dull thud.

This unexpected off-key note didn't ruin the game; instead, it sounded just like the metallic lingering sound of an old swordsman sheathing his sword, the blade rubbing against the scabbard.

The entire place was deathly silent, with only the sound of wind whipping up yellow sand.

Lin Yan casually tossed the broken guitar, missing a string, onto the sand, dusted off his hands, and looked up at Zhang Ji.

"Director Zhang, is this martial arts world flavorful enough?"

Zhang Ji sat in the chair, panting heavily, his chest heaving violently.

Suddenly, he slapped his thigh hard, jumped up, and rushed to Lin Yan.

"Great! That's fucking great!" Zhang Ji shouted three times, his eyes reddening.

He grabbed Lin Yan's hand with terrifying force.

"This is the true Jianghu! This is the true Wuxia!" Zhang Ji exclaimed excitedly, drool flying everywhere.

"Old Li wasn't lying to me! Lin Yan, Brother Lin! Your song has truly brought the soul of my movie to life!"

One second he's a "young heartthrob" and a "traffic star," the next he's been upgraded to "Brother Lin." Director Zhang's transformation is too fast, focusing on authenticity and genuine appeal.

Lin Yan took a half step back in disgust and wiped his hand on his trouser leg.

"Alright, Director Zhang, you've listened to the song. We'll talk about the copyright fee with my boss later. And can I take that Buddha Jumps Over the Wall soup with me?"

"Package my ass!" Zhang Ji glared and yelled at the production assistant, "Go to town and buy the best wine! The crew is wrapping up early today; I want to become sworn brothers with Brother Lin!"

The entire audience was stunned. The on-set devil wanted to become sworn brothers with a 22-year-old?

This is contrary to the Heavenly Stems!

"No, no, no, that's hard to say." Lin Yan quickly waved his hand. "I'm a lazy person. Becoming sworn brothers involves kowtowing, which strains my knees. I don't think it's necessary."

Zhang Ji ignored him completely, gripping his arm tightly: "Brother, could you write down those lines for me from memory? I'll get someone to build a set at the recording studio right away!"

Just then, a cold, hard voice came from behind the crowd.

"Director Zhang, the song is good. But martial arts can't be created just by singing it."

Everyone turned around.

A middle-aged man wearing a black training uniform, with a buzz cut and a face full of fat, came out.

He carried two heavy, unsharpened, eight-sided Han swords in his hands, his eyes sharp.

The crew quickly made way for Li Tiezhu, the martial arts choreographer for "Reign of Assassins," a top-notch instructor in China, a former lay disciple of Shaolin, and possessing exceptional martial arts skills.

Li Tiezhu admits the songs are good, but he is a true martial arts fanatic and can't stand seeing delicate young stars talking about "the martial arts world" on set.

"Brother Lin's songs are superb, but to truly understand the world of martial arts, one must know the weight of iron weapons striking bone."

Li Tiezhu threw one of the Han swords at Lin Yan's feet.

With a clang, a cloud of dust was kicked up.

"I wasn't quite satisfied with the male lead's sword-drawing move. Since Brother Lin knows about the martial world, why don't you spar a bit and give us some pointers?" Li Tiezhu said, arms crossed and chin slightly raised.

Provocation, blatant provocation.

Zhang Ji's face darkened: "Li Tiezhu, what nonsense are you spouting! He's the music director!"

"Director Zhang, you shouldn't concern yourself with matters concerning martial arts practitioners," Li Tiezhu said stubbornly.

Lin Yan looked down at the Han sword on the ground, then glanced at Li Tiezhu, sighed, and scratched his head.

"What the hell is this about martial arts skills? I'm just a songwriter and singer." Lin Yan was utterly speechless.

But he still bent down and picked up the heavy Han sword.

If I don't teach you how to be a decent human being today, what kind of time traveler am I?

Shen Qingqiu frowned, wanting to stop him, but Lin Yan turned and gave her a look, signaling her to stay calm.

Holding the sword hilt, Lin Yan casually twirled the sword, his movements loose and haphazard, lacking any real technique.

Li Tiezhu burst out laughing. Sure enough, it was all show and no substance.

"Master Li, right?"

Lin Yan, carrying his sword, strolled leisurely towards the center of the arena.

"Want to teach me swordsmanship? Sure, then you show me around first, and I'll check... whether your 'martial arts world' conforms to the laws of physics."