Chapter Seventy-Six: Moonlight

Hmm? Oh! Xu Ye clapped his hands in sudden realization—what a brilliant suggestion! Zhou Miao was truly like a dog; once someone provoked him, he’d sink his teeth in and refuse to let go until he was satisfied. If an opportunity presented itself for him to defeat his old rivals openly on stage, there was no way he would let it slip by!

“Then it’s settled for now. But don’t tell any artists under Huiyuan or Tidal Wave that Zhou Miao might be coming. If they find out, they might refuse to participate. Wait until the contracts are signed, then approach Zhou Miao. Understood?” Xu Ye instructed.

“Understood!”

On the other side, Huiyuan sat on the couch, his face clouded with disappointment. The cigarette between his fingers had burned down to the filter; he was utterly exhausted.

“So be it. I give up. I’ll just keep my distance from him from now on,” he sighed.

His manager shot him a surprised look. “I’m glad you’ve come around. He’s at the peak of his popularity now, and the public likes him. No matter what we do to him, we’ll be the ones getting dragged through the mud. Harmony brings prosperity, after all.”

To be honest, he was relieved. Every clash between Huiyuan and Zhou Miao had ended with Huiyuan being mocked all over the internet—he not only lost out but also took a heavy blow to his reputation. If Huiyuan stubbornly insisted on going head-to-head with Zhou Miao, he’d only destroy himself further. After all, in both popularity and achievements, Huiyuan was now completely outmatched. How could he possibly compete?

Wouldn’t it be better to quietly make his own money?

A week later, Song Kuiyi, who had received Zhou Miao’s call, arrived at Rainbow Records. On the way, he silently prayed this would be the last stop of his search for a song—he truly couldn’t take it anymore.

“Director Song is here, please have a seat. Xiaoya, pour some tea,” Zhou Miao greeted warmly upon his arrival.

Song Kuiyi sat on the sofa, curiously surveying the recording studio.

“One moment, I’ll turn on the speakers,” Zhou Miao said, closing the doors and windows. Song Kuiyi rubbed his hands nervously, suddenly feeling as if he were on a blind date, uncertain whether the woman about to appear would be a beauty or a disappointment.

Seeing his expression, Zhou Miao couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t worry, Director Song. I guarantee you’ll be satisfied.”

It wasn’t arrogance—it was simply that, as the theme song for a martial arts animated film, nothing could be more fitting than this particular piece.

Once everything was ready, everyone settled into their seats, faces full of anticipation. Zhou Miao clicked the audio file on his computer and pressed play.

A prelude imbued with ancient tones arose—the lilting flute entwined with the mournful erhu, weaving a cool and sorrowful atmosphere.

As the introduction faded, Zhou Miao’s unadorned voice resonated:

“Moonlight’s hue, a maiden’s fragrance, tears severed by the sword, a love so long.”

At the very first line, Song Kuiyi’s eyes lit up. The images from “Sword Chasing the Moon” blended perfectly with the song’s lyrics and melody; it was harmonious and astonishingly beautiful.

“How deep the pain, unspeakable thoughts, forgetting you.
A lonely soul drifts with the wind, who ponders the lovesick man?
On this battlefield of the mortal world, among thousands of armies, who can claim the crown?”

Zhou Miao closed his eyes, recalling the first time in his previous life that he’d heard this song. He’d been so young then, unable to describe it in words—only knowing that it was truly, hauntingly beautiful.

Among the countless classics of his past life, this theme song from the martial arts animation “The Legend of Qin”—“Moonlight”—had always been his first and brightest love.

“Who dares to cross the threshold of love? Gazing at the moon, the heart is cold.
Endless regrets tasted through lifetimes; when eyes close, who is the boldest?
The world’s capriciousness dooms those who love deeply to a lifetime of sorrow.”

In the small recording studio, everyone was immersed in the poignant beauty of “Moonlight.” There were many songs styled after ancient China these days, but upon hearing this one, they realized what true ancient charm was.

The lyrics, melody, and arrangement were all masterful—imbued with a classical elegance and heroic tenderness, carrying an enduring and far-reaching emotional resonance.

Compared to this, the other ancient-style songs paled in comparison.

After listening to the entire song, Song Kuiyi couldn’t help but sigh—indeed, the only flaw with something so precious is its price.

In every aspect—lyrics, composition, and atmosphere—it was the perfect match for “Sword Chasing the Moon.” Nothing could suit the film better.

“What’s the name of this song?” Song Kuiyi asked eagerly.

“Moonlight.”

“Moonlight…” The more Song Kuiyi considered the name, the more he liked it.

He rubbed his hands, somewhat embarrassed, and asked, “I’d like to buy this song. What’s the price?”

Zhou Miao thought for a moment. “Let’s keep the same price as ‘Fearless’—five million. But don’t make Director Zhang pay. You can pay 1.5 million upfront, and the remainder after the film is released.”

This suggestion solved a major headache for Song Kuiyi, who was overjoyed. “No problem! Thank you so much!”

Having worked as Zhang Yichuan’s assistant director for ten years and as a director in his own right for nearly another decade, Song Kuiyi’s reputation remained modest. He had poured so much heart and effort into “Sword Chasing the Moon,” shouldering investors’ pressure and spending seven years perfecting every detail.

Now, with the theme song finally secured, it was time for the audience to judge the fruits of his seven-year labor.

After sending off the elated Song Kuiyi, Yang Xiaoya remarked, “This director seems a bit simple-minded.”

Zhou Miao tapped her on the head with a folder. “Don’t talk about others behind their backs. Director Song is just not good at socializing—he’s actually an idealistic, talented man.”

Cumin sat at the computer, listening to “Moonlight” over and over, feeling nothing but envy. If only he’d written this song—he’d brag about it for the rest of his life.

“The moment this song is released, there’ll be a whole new wave of directors lining up to commission you,” Cumin sighed.

Yang Xiaoya pinched her chin. “No, we have to raise our prices. To write such a good song and only charge five million? That’s way too cheap!”

Zhou Miao pointed at her, helpless. “Do you even know the going rates for other musicians? Very few get more than two million. In this industry, five million is already astronomical.”

Yang Xiaoya didn’t care what others charged. If their songs sold for less, it was simply because they weren’t good enough—their work was only worth that much. How could their songs compare to Miao’s?

“It doesn’t have to be much—let’s just raise it by two million. Seven million a song, and if we take ten projects a year, that’s seventy million!” Yang Xiaoya smacked her lips, knowing she’d never earn that much in her lifetime.

Zhou Miao lounged comfortably in his favorite old armchair. “If we take too many, the songs lose value. Theme songs like this should be rare—one or two a year at most. Only then will they command a premium.”

“If you treat it like wholesale cabbage, it just cheapens my work. Understand?”

Yang Xiaoya nodded, half-understanding. Sidling up to Zhou Miao, she began to massage his shoulders obsequiously.

“Miao, what did you eat growing up? If I have a kid one day, I hope they’re half as talented as you.”

Zhou Miao beckoned her closer. “Come here, I’ll tell you.”

Curious, Yang Xiaoya leaned in, expecting some secret formula.

Whack! Zhou Miao flicked her hard on the forehead.

“My parents fed me plenty of this when I was young. Make sure you give your kids more of the same.”