A question that should have occurred to Murphy months ago flashed through her mind, but it was just a fleeting thought. Being deeply in love, her IQ wasn't at its peak. Though she noticed it, she quickly found an excuse for Yang Yi—he had sung the English version of the birthday song at Xixi's party! So Murphy didn't dwell on it and continued listening to Xixi's story.
The next day, Yang Yi dropped Xixi off at kindergarten to play with her friends, then drove Murphy to her company. She had no time to indulge in romance; preparations for her new album had officially begun, and Murphy was brimming with ambition, determined to create a miracle.
Mo Xiaojuan arrived early at the office and burst out laughing when she saw Murphy. "What's wrong? Is there something on my face?" Murphy asked, puzzled, touching her cheek. Mo Xiaojuan walked over with a grin, pulled Murphy to sit on the office sofa, and then took out a small compact mirror for touch-ups, showing it to Murphy. "Sis, there's nothing on your face, but your makeup is smudged! I know you and your husband are deeply in love, but you need to be careful. If someone caught you like this, it'd be trouble!"
Murphy saw in the mirror that her cheeks were flushed, and more notably, her lipstick was smeared, as if someone had taken a bite out of it. "That jerk!" she muttered under her breath, biting her lower lip lightly, too embarrassed to lift her head, silently blaming Yang Yi. But she stubbornly refused to admit it. "No way, I just rushed this morning and didn't apply my lip gloss evenly."
Mo Xiaojuan pursed her lips and snorted, "Still trying to hide it from me? Sis, it's so obvious! Look at those rosy cheeks—clearly, you two had a wonderful time alone yesterday." It seemed that not disturbing them yesterday was the right call, and she secretly felt pleased. She leaned in, hugging Murphy's arm, and giggled, "Come on, tell me, is your husband impressive? With a body like his, he must have worn you out, huh?"
Mo Xiaojuan was both a relative and a work partner to Murphy, and they were practically best friends. Among women, such topics were discussed without restraint. However, Murphy was still thin-skinned and blushed deeply, spitting back, "Get out of here, don't talk nonsense. You know I asked you to buy me sanitary pads a few days ago!"
"Oh, right, so you couldn't do it then! What a shame!" Mo Xiaojuan said regretfully. But curiosity got the better of her, and she leaned in again. "Sis, didn't you say you wanted to test your husband a bit more? How did you let him get so close so easily?"
"Pfft, what do you mean 'get so close'?" Murphy scolded, pinching Mo Xiaojuan playfully, her face still red. Yet she couldn't resist the urge to share her happiness. She pulled out her phone and whispered, "Let me show you something."
Mo Xiaojuan grumbled, "I don't want to see it, I don't want to see it. It's probably another dose of couple love!" But the flames of gossip burned fiercely—how could she not want to see? Despite her words, her body instinctively leaned in.
Murphy pulled up a photo of the "flower" arrangement Yang Yi had made for her yesterday. Just looking at it made her lips curl up again. She tugged at Mo Xiaojuan and said, "Look, he made this yesterday at noon. Guess what it is?"
"Flowers!" Mo Xiaojuan said dismissively at first glance. "Sis, is it that cheap? A bouquet of flowers, and you're won over?"
"What are you talking about! Look closer." Murphy chuckled, admiring how Yang Yi had made it so convincingly real, though the blurry phone camera helped too.
This time, Mo Xiaojuan examined it carefully. The layered effect suggested it wasn't quite a flower, and it was served on a large plate. She asked suspiciously, "Huh, it's not a flower. What is it?"
"It's dumplings..." Murphy covered her mouth with a laugh, a bit smug as she explained to Mo Xiaojuan.
"Ah, I'm blind! Even looking at a photo, I get fed couple love! Why doesn't anyone give me such adorable dumplings? I, a foodie beauty, swear here: whoever gives me a plate, I'll marry him!" Mo Xiaojuan cried out in envy and frustration.
"Ha, well, seeing how miserable you are, I won't tell you about the poem he wrote for me later," Murphy said, barely holding back her laughter. "I don't want to make it worse for you!"
But women are creatures who can't survive without gossip! Murphy's silence only made it worse. Mo Xiaojuan couldn't resist and grabbed Murphy, begging, "Come on, come on! What poem did your husband write for you? Was it super cheesy?"
Under the threat of "tickling if you don't tell," Murphy gave in and recited the two poems Yang Yi had written for her. Soon, a wail echoed from the office: "Ah! What sin have I committed? Why did I have to go and eat couple love? Now my eyes are deaf, and my ears are blind!"
Wait, something seemed off...
Today, Mo Xiaojuan had arranged for Murphy to meet with a music producer hired by the company. Tianmei and Tianxiang were different—Tianmei was a management agency, while Tianxiang was a record label. Naturally, the former didn't have a roster of top-tier music producers like the latter. When it was time to produce an album, the company would hire industry producers to help—sometimes from friendly record labels whose producers were free, sometimes independent producers. It was a bit like hiring mercenaries, though the former generally had higher skill levels than the latter—not always, but often.
This time, Tianmei had brought in a middle-aged musician named Jin Yingming, who belonged to the latter category, running his own studio. The name Jin Yingming sounded like it belonged to someone from a small northern country, but he was a genuine Chinese musician, born and raised in Shanghai. He wasn't entirely unknown—ten years ago, an album he produced for a singer had been nominated for the Chinese Golden Record Awards, earning him some recognition in the industry. But around that time, Jin Yingming chose to go independent, a path that proved rocky. Over the past decade, he hadn't encountered opportunities like that again, and instead of soaring, his reputation had suffered.
Still, Jin Yingming hadn't given up. After years of struggle, he had smoothed his rough edges and started taking small jobs he once looked down on, honing his skills in the process. Yet, lacking resources and opportunities, he remained obscure.
Murphy had heard of this producer long ago but couldn't recall him now. Before meeting Jin Yingming, she asked in confusion, "Xiaojuan, who is this Teacher Jin? What about Teacher Duan?"
Teacher Duan Shurong was also an independent music producer, but she had been a renowned producer before going solo, with extensive connections and resources. Her studio had over a dozen assistants, unlike Jin Yingming's humble setup. Murphy had worked with her on most of her albums, including the platinum-selling *Qing Tong Mo Lu*, and their collaboration was seamless.