Speaking of this, Mo Xiaojuan felt displeased. She said, "The company said Teacher Duan couldn't fit it into her schedule. I called her today to check on her health, and found out she does have a commitment, but it's for Zhenzhen's new album."
She wasn't sure if this arrangement was made before Mo Fei presented those twelve songs, and Mo Xiaojuan couldn't argue with Ling Jie about it, but she felt very frustrated.
Mo Fei furrowed her brow slightly, but with her calm and indifferent nature, she didn't intend to make a big deal of it. She hummed in acknowledgment and said, "So, how is this Teacher Jin?"
The meeting was originally scheduled for yesterday, but Mo Fei pushed it to today. Mo Xiaojuan had still received Jin Yingming and let him look at the sheet music for a few songs, having some level of discussion.
"Teacher Jin is pretty good!" Mo Xiaojuan said with some excitement. "He's very humble, not as tough as Teacher Duan."
"Xiaojuan, don't say that about Teacher Duan. She's just strict," Mo Fei scolded.
Mo Xiaojuan pouted. "Fine, strict. Anyway, Teacher Jin speaks and acts gently, a very easygoing person. I asked him about his thoughts on these songs, and some of his ideas are quite similar to yours. He's quick-witted too—probably a producer with real talent!"
She had been vaguely worried that the company might go back on their word and assign a mediocre producer to brush Mo Fei off, but now Mo Xiaojuan felt she was overthinking it, judging others by her own narrow standards.
"Whatever, you go meet him first before judging! I'm not as professional as you anyway," Mo Xiaojuan said with a grin.
...
In the reception room, Mo Fei met Jin Yingming. He was a middle-aged man in his late forties to early fifties, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, sitting upright with his hands on his knees.
Mo Fei wasn't good at socializing. After exchanging a few words, she spoke less and listened more. Fortunately, Mo Xiaojuan was there to lighten the mood, so the initial atmosphere wasn't too awkward.
"Teacher Jin, what are your thoughts on the songs for my album?" Mo Fei asked calmly.
When it came to the songs, Jin Yingming became animated. He first highly praised the lyricist and composer, Mu Zi'ang: "This is a creator with versatile styles. I've never seen such a talented person who can master blues, rock, traditional styles, and more! And what's rare is that every song he creates is a top-notch gem!"
Then, he shared some preliminary ideas on arrangement.
Basically, Jin Yingming didn't change much of the original music but aimed to enrich and smooth out the accompaniment by adding some niche instruments.
Jin Yingming spoke with enthusiasm, going on at length, before sighing, "I heard Mu Zi'ang keeps himself well-hidden and rarely shows up. That's such a shame. I'd love to get to know him and discuss the use of some instruments."
In Jin Yingming's view, Yang Yi's original scores were already near-perfect, not monotonous, and incorporated multiple instruments—a subject he loved to study. Over the years, he had experimented in small projects with minor stars, gradually developing his own approach!
Mo Fei nodded lightly, still listening more than speaking, but she genuinely approved of Jin Yingming's musical philosophy.
After today's meeting, Mo Fei felt reassured. Though Jin Yingming wasn't widely known, he was indeed capable. She began to look forward to collaborating with him, curious to see what results they could achieve with Mu Zi'ang's work.
...
The early promotion of "Prison Break" received mixed reactions from readers. Some strongly opposed and doubted Yang Yi's decision to work on two series simultaneously, while others, as always, supported him and eagerly anticipated the story he would create.
Of course, most of the latter group had shifted from the former.
Take Mu Yucheng, for example. Initially, he was particularly worried that Yang Yi couldn't maintain quality with two series. But after joining a group of detail-obsessed fans studying the tattoo in the promotional image, Mu Yucheng gradually developed a strong interest in "Prison Break."
Finally, the day of the new book's release arrived. Mu Yucheng waited by his computer, not sure if he was the first, but he clicked into the first chapter the moment it refreshed.
From the very beginning, this novel showed its uniqueness.
There was no chapter title; below the chapter number was an illustration.
Mu Yucheng glanced over it quickly—not because he wasn't interested, but because he had already seen this illustration countless times. It was the intricate tattoo on the back.
The story unfolded with the text, and Mu Yucheng saw a scene in a tattoo shop. The protagonist, Michael Scofield, was getting a tattoo that covered most of his upper body amid the buzzing machine sounds.
"Michael Scofield?" Mu Yucheng frowned. It was a foreign name—was the story set abroad? [Note 1]
But it wasn't hard to understand. Tattoos were still a niche interest in China, not widely accepted by mainstream society.
Mu Yucheng didn't dwell on it and calmly continued reading.
During a break in the tattooing, Michael had a conversation with the tattoo artist, a Gypsy woman named Sid who wore a nose ring.
"...Most people, when they get their first tattoo, start with a small design. Sometimes it's a mother's or girlfriend's name in initials, sometimes something similar. But not like you—spending two months on a full set. For others, it would take years!"
Michael put on his clothes, took a heavy breath, and said meaningfully, "I don't have years... Or, I wish I did!"
Reading this, Mu Yucheng stroked the stubble on his chin, feeling that the author had deliberately planted some foreshadowing in this passage.
But he didn't need to guess—the story moved quickly.
Michael, in a suit and tie, returned to a high-end apartment and began tearing down newspaper clippings stuck to the floor-to-ceiling windows.
A suit and tie? So this guy with the terrifying tattoo was a refined person? Mu Yucheng found the story increasingly intriguing.
Even more interesting was another illustration in the text—a hand tearing down the clippings. Mu Yucheng studied it with interest.
Several stickers were still legible. One looked like a subway map, and another clearly outlined a headline: "Lincoln Burrows' Final Appeal Denied!"
The text of this chapter only described Michael opening the window in the glittering night and, like a baseball pitcher, hurling a computer hard drive into the artificial lake below.
What happened next?
Mu Yucheng felt something was off. This tattooed man was already covering his tracks—he was definitely about to pull off something big!
But that damn cliffhanger—the story stopped right there!
"Ahhh!" Mu Yucheng scratched his head in frustration. He went back to the webpage, first tipped the author with a "leader" donation, then angrily demanded an update: "Brother Yang Yi, don't leave us hanging like this! Update now, or I'll break your legs!"