Chapter Thirty: Guan Yu

Li Qin excitedly patted Zhao Li. “He’s absolutely crazy about cats—a total cat fanatic. I think we can use that to our advantage.”

Zhao Li shot her a look. “Are you saying we should give him a cat? That’s ridiculous. You don’t even know what breed he likes…” Her words trailed off as she slumped onto the bed like a salted fish. “Besides, we can’t even afford a cat. Pet cats are so expensive these days.”

The more she spoke, the more disheartened she became. Zhao Li, a penniless young woman, clenched her fists in frustration. “If only I had money!”

“We don’t necessarily have to give him a cat,” Li Qin said. “Didn’t your sister’s family just get a British Shorthair? You could steal—borrow it, then we…” She leaned in close to Zhao Li’s ear, whispering her mischievous plan.

Zhao Li frowned, pondering for a while. “What did you just say? I didn’t catch all of that.”

Li Qin smacked her forehead helplessly. “I’m saying we borrow a cat, then use the excuse of exchanging tips on cat care to get close to him. Once we’re familiar, it’ll be easy to ask him for a song.”

“Will that really work?” Zhao Li sounded uncertain.

Li Qin spread her hands. “Do you have a better idea? We’re just sitting around anyway. Instead of waiting for a song to fall from the sky, why not go after it ourselves?”

Hearing this, Zhao Li made up her mind, raising her fist. “Let’s do it!”

The next morning, Zuo Qiu came to pick up Zhou Miao. As they’d discussed yesterday, today they were going to visit Professor Guan Yu of the Central Conservatory’s composition department to ask her to mentor Zhou Miao.

Soon, they arrived at an older residential complex and stopped in front of a ground-floor apartment with a small yard. Zuo Qiu, carrying a gift, knocked on the door.

A middle-aged man, about fifty, greeted them with a warm smile. “Qiu, you’re here—come in and have a seat.”

“Uncle Guan, sorry to bother you,” Zuo Qiu said, placing the gift on the coffee table. She and Zhou Miao sat down on the sofa.

Guan Yu poured them tea while sizing up Zhou Miao. “You’re Zhou, right? Qiu has told me about you. I’ve also listened to your songs—you write well. But the path of the composition department is different from the one you’re on.”

“We study classical music. Most people find our compositions dull and unpleasant. But you’ll have to make a living with pop music in the future. I suggest you think it over carefully.”

Zhou Miao understood this perfectly. “I know all that. But I believe the future lies in the fusion of pop and classical music. There are already many such songs out there, and they’re well received. Besides, if I master classical music first, then move into pop, it’ll be a breeze.”

As Zhou Miao spoke, Guan Yu listened impassively, but when Zhou Miao finished his last sentence, his eyes suddenly lit up, brimming with admiration.

“Exactly! You’re absolutely right! If you’ve mastered classical music, pop is nothing!” As an old professor at the conservatory, Guan Yu had little regard for pop music. Zhou Miao’s words struck a chord with him and made him feel truly satisfied.

“Come with me. Let me see what your foundation is like. Qiu, wait here for a bit.”

With that, Guan Yu led Zhou Miao into his study. Zuo Qiu waited anxiously outside. She had brought him here, but whether or not he’d be accepted depended entirely on Guan Yu’s willingness.

Guan Yu was different from other teachers. Though highly skilled, he was rather lazy, a lifelong bachelor with neither wife nor children, and no shortage of money. If not for Zuo Qiu’s earnest request, he wouldn’t have agreed to meet at all.

An hour later, Guan Yu sipped his tea, studying the piece Zhou Miao had just composed. Interesting.

He had just tested all five components of the entrance exam. As for piano, there was no need to say more—Guan Yu felt Zhou Miao had already surpassed him. He was truly impressive; that piano duel hadn’t shown his full strength at all.

Sight-singing and ear training were also outstanding. People with perfect pitch have a huge advantage here—passing the exam would be a breeze.

His music theory was a bit weak, clearly lacking systematic study. There were also issues with harmony and composition, but he had remarkable talent. Knowing Zhou Miao had only studied piano and a few other instruments, to reach this level was already rare. It spoke volumes about his genuine love for music.

“From now on, come to my place every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at nine in the morning. One lesson is 1,500. Any problem with that?” Guan Yu said bluntly.

Zhou Miao was overjoyed. “No problem. Thank you, professor!”

1,500 per lesson was truly not expensive for a professor in the composition department at the Central Conservatory. If Guan Yu wished, he could easily charge 3,000 per lesson and still have people lining up to study with him.

“All right, off you go. I have another class soon.”

Back in the living room, Zuo Qiu saw the smile on Zhou Miao’s face and finally felt a weight lift from her heart. It seemed their mission was accomplished.

After leaving, Zuo Qiu suggested, “Why don’t I take you to the company? A lot of people want to meet you ever since they heard I signed you.”

With nothing else to do, Zhou Miao grinned. “Sure, let’s go. I can get to know the place.”

Rainbow Records, though it had declined in recent years, was still no small company. At its peak, it had bought an eight-story building inside the Fifth Ring, which was now the company’s most valuable asset.

Zuo Qiu led Zhou Miao up from the underground parking lot and began the tour on the first floor. “The first and second floors are mainly practice rooms. We have over eighty trainees now, all about your age. If you’re bored, you can come hang out with them.”

Through the windows, Zhou Miao saw each room filled with several or even a dozen trainees, sweating as they practiced—some dancing, some vocalizing. Everyone was striving for the same goal.

“The third floor is the office area—marketing, public relations, and so on.”

Seeing Zuo Qiu arrive, employees who had been slacking off quickly straightened up and pretended to be busy.

Many employees were stealing glances at Zhou Miao, then whispering excitedly among themselves about who knew what.

On the fourth floor, Zhou Miao saw the sign for the Production Department. Inside, there were likely musicians at work. He followed Zuo Qiu inside. “This is the Production Department. Most of the songs our artists sing are written by the teachers here.”

There weren’t many people in the Production Department—just four middle-aged men in their thirties or forties. When Zhou Miao entered, all eyes lit up with keen interest.

“Well, President Qiu, you actually signed Zhou Miao. I thought you were just pulling our leg,” said a plump man with a goatee.

Zuo Qiu introduced him. “This is Mr. Lin Ziran, our chief producer—stage name Cumin.”

Cumin shook Zhou Miao’s hand with a broad smile. “Glad you’re here. It’s been years since Rainbow signed anyone promising.”

“Oh, I’m hardly an artist. At best, I’m just a person,” Zhou Miao joked, making everyone burst out laughing. This kid was certainly amusing.