Early that morning, after finishing his workout, Yang Yi continued practicing his vocals. Though it was a bit dull training alone without Murphy around, Yang Yi didn’t slack off—after all, he was a man with musical dreams!{Note 1}
However, today Yang Yi was pleasantly surprised to find a breakthrough. It happened when he had a sudden whim to use his inner energy to expand his vocal cords. By gently channeling a bit of inner force into his throat, his once no-longer-youthful vocal cords actually loosened slightly! Yang Yi tried singing a few lines and discovered that, though still a bit unnatural, he could now reach ranges he couldn’t before! This was a good sign!
As he increased the infusion of inner energy, he felt like he had stepped into a new world—a world brimming with the joy of music! Of course, it was exhausting. His body had only been practicing inner energy for a few months, so Yang Yi couldn’t sustain it for long. Within minutes, his inner force was nearly depleted. Clearly, becoming a virtuoso spanning countless vocal ranges through inner energy alone was impossible.
But the surprises didn’t end there. After withdrawing his inner energy, Yang Yi could still keenly sense that his vocal cords, though back to their original state, were no longer as stiff as before. The vocalis muscle and vocal ligament seemed to have gained a bit of elasticity! The change was subtle, but Yang Yi was certain it was there! “This could work!” Yang Yi mused, a hint of excitement in his thoughts.
What if, during his daily vocal practice, he incorporated inner energy as a stimulating factor? Gradually, this positive change in his vocal cords might accumulate, leading to a qualitative leap—allowing him to sing ranges he couldn’t now without relying on inner energy? Yang Yi decided to observe for a while longer before drawing any conclusions.
...
“Daddy, hurry up, we’re going to be late!” After breakfast, the little girl tugged at her small backpack, shouting in the living room. This was Xixi’s fourth day at kindergarten. There, she made friends, chatted, and played with kids her age, growing more outgoing by the day. She was no longer the shy little girl who clung to her father and hid behind him when meeting strangers. That was a good thing—Yang Yi didn’t want Xixi to end up as aloof as him and Murphy, with hardly any close friends.
The little one seemed a bit impatient, but Yang Yi was slow. He wasn’t exactly a slowpoke, but since embracing ordinary life, he’d taken to moving at a leisurely pace, like a turtle, smugly declaring, “This is living!” “So eager to leave Daddy and go play with Zhaoyu and your friends? Daddy’s unhappy. Daddy’s sad,” Yang Yi said, pretending to be jealous as he packed Xixi’s lunch into a plastic bag. But who knew how much of that was an act? There was probably some truth to it!
“Okay!” Xixi let out a heavy sigh, slumping her shoulders as if crushed by a heavy burden. She spread her hands helplessly, like a little adult, and said, “Actually, I really want to play with Daddy too, but the teacher says kids who are late to class aren’t good and have to apologize to the other kids! So I don’t want to be late either!” Yang Yi couldn’t help but chuckle at her expression. He reached out, ruffled her little head, and said dotingly, “Don’t worry, Daddy won’t let you be late. That’s a promise from a driver of Qiushan Mountain!” Too bad his car was a Bawolf, not a Wuling Hongguang, let alone the legendary Wuling Hongguang S.
...
After dropping the little girl off at kindergarten, Yang Yi started writing a help-wanted ad while the morning coffee crowd was still thin. For this ad, he specially bought New Year’s red rice paper, a brush, and ink. Among the four arts—music, chess, calligraphy, and painting—his music was top-notch, his painting decent, his chess average, and his calligraphy just passable. He hadn’t practiced brush calligraphy in a long time, so he first warmed up on plain white paper before writing it all in one go on the red rice paper.
“Help Wanted Due to business needs, this shop is hiring one to two coffee shop employees, part-time available. Must be proficient in manual coffee techniques, humble, polite, diligent, and hardworking. Salary negotiable.” Instead of signing his name, Yang Yi wrote “The Coffee Shop on the Corner.” The content was simple and brief, so on such a large sheet of red paper, he made the characters big, satisfying his urge to write large. Luckily, he resisted the impulse to show off with cursive; the neat regular script was easy to read.
Yang Yi blew on the ink to dry it, admiring the characters as he waited. Such bold, vigorous strokes, penetrating the paper! Even without much practice over the years, his calligraphy hadn’t slipped too much! Surely, once this ad was posted, many would come to apply! Yang Yi felt his calligraphy would have a magical effect.
But it didn’t... That afternoon, when Yang Yi closed the shop to pick up Xixi, he glanced gloomily at the red ad stuck to the door. He’d waited all day, and not a single applicant showed up! If only one had come! How embarrassing...
...
That night, after telling Xixi a story and putting her to sleep, Yang Yi went to the study to send the manuscripts and illustrations he’d accumulated over the past few days to his editor, Qiangzi, for layout and publication. But when he opened his email, he saw a message from a stranger. Frowning, Yang Yi could tell from the subject line that it was another request for a song. These Tianmei people were relentless once they got his email! How many had they sent? He planned to ignore it, but the little red dot bothered him, so he clicked it open, ready to close it.
However, when he saw the email’s content, he paused, his right index finger hovering over the mouse. “Ju Jie?” A faint smile crept onto Yang Yi’s face. This guy, just as Murphy had complained, was using her colleague status to buy songs from him—specifically, songs Yang Yi hadn’t registered for copyright. It was a nasty idea, but also audacious!
In this world, the heavily funded copyright organization was formidable! Unless the original author consented, even if someone preemptively registered a song on the copyright website, the organization would investigate every detail if the author filed a lawsuit. Correspondingly, those who engaged in copyright squatting faced severe penalties—bankruptcy and jail time! So, wasn’t Ju Jie afraid Yang Yi might go back on his word?
“Walking a tightrope—interesting!” Yang Yi had an idea, but he first sent an email asking Ju Jie what he had in mind. Finally, he added, “If I were to sell you a complete song, how much would you pay to buy it outright?”
{Note 1: The so-called musical dream means he wants to sing songs he enjoys, not that he intends to enter the entertainment industry.}