Yang Yi told Mo Xiaojuan that he needed time to prepare the songs—this wasn’t a brush-off, nor did it mean he truly had no songs suitable for Mo Fei. On the contrary, Yang Yi had no shortage of songs; he could practically pull out any of the pop hits from his past life, enough to fill several albums for Mo Fei!
The catch was that Mo Fei mostly needed female vocals, and in his past life, Yang Yi had never played those songs, so he couldn’t just produce the sheet music outright. Fortunately, the memories he brought over were crystal clear, like extracting audio files from a hard drive—any song he’d heard once was unforgettable. All he had to do was transcribe the sheet music!
Of course, this was a hefty task, because Yang Yi wasn’t just transcribing simple notation; he was reconstructing full scores that professional musicians and producers had refined and orchestrated—ready to use as-is. Luckily, as a classical music enthusiast in his past life who could handle three major instruments, his transcription skills were beyond doubt. As long as the piece didn’t involve obscure ancient instruments like the guzheng or xun, he could pull out the complete score. Even drums and flutes were within his grasp!
…
After finishing her recording session, Mo Fei didn’t go home. Instead, just like before she’d left for her promotional tour, she avoided the media and paparazzi and quietly slipped over to Yang Yi’s place.
She couldn’t quite explain whether she was infatuated with this little haven, or if it was just as she’d told Yang Yi: “I’m here to celebrate Xixi’s birthday with you!”
Yang Yi’s small building was nestled by the mountains and water, with weeping willows and clusters of flowers at the doorstep. In the morning, you could watch the sunrise dissolve the mist; in the evening, you could admire the long river reflecting the sunset—the scenery alone was intoxicating.
Even though it was the holidays and the area was sparsely populated, wasn’t this tranquility exactly what Mo Fei loved? No one to bother her, no one to run into—she could let down her guard and truly take a break.
What’s more, Mo Fei stubbornly refused to admit that living in this little building, with her daughter’s cheerful laughter and his occasional bickering—though noisy—was just the right amount of warmth. That was what home felt like!
With one day left until Xixi’s birthday, Mo Fei and Yang Yi sprang into action. They avoided Xixi, waiting until the little girl was glued to the TV before heading to the balcony to discuss.
“Where are you planning to set things up?”
“In the coffee shop on the first floor. I’ve closed it for a few days, saving it just for Xixi!”
“The first floor is all transparent glass…”
“Don’t worry, it’s pretty deserted around here at night. Besides, if we did it in the living room on the second floor, Xixi would find out right away.”
“Alright, then. What about the cake?”
“I’ve already ordered the cake. Tomorrow evening, you help me keep Xixi occupied, and I’ll have the cake shop deliver it. We’ll stash it on the first floor first!”
“You told me on the phone last time that you spent over ten thousand on the cake?”
“I had no choice. I wanted to make Xixi an ice castle, exactly what she’d love to see. I even drew up a design for the baker, but it’s really complicated to make, and they had to do a few samples first. Back and forth, the cost added up.”
“Alright, by your reasoning, it’s not too expensive. But do you have enough money?” Mo Fei was still worried about Yang Yi’s wallet.
“Hey, don’t underestimate me! My novel brings in millions a month, you know—way better than you slogging through commercial gigs!”
“Don’t bring up my sore spot! Or I’ll get mad again!” Mo Fei pouted angrily. “No matter how much you earn, I still have to work. Music is my dream.”
This was the first time Mo Fei had laid it all out with Yang Yi. But surprisingly, Yang Yi didn’t get stubborn and drive her up the wall like before. Instead, he was natural and easygoing.
“Of course, doing what you love makes life worthwhile, doesn’t it?” Yang Yi said with a faint smile. “I support you!”
Mo Fei stared at him in disbelief, as if looking at a stranger.
Wait! Was this still Yang Yi?
He actually supported her? Supported her music career?
Mo Fei couldn’t even muster gratitude; she was first baffled by how different his views were from before.
After all, Yang Yi used to be vehemently opposed! Almost every time they met, they’d end up arguing. Yang Yi clung to that ultra-traditional mindset: “Whether we’re rich or poor, I don’t want you out there singing for others.” It had driven Mo Fei to the brink.
(PS: You might have forgotten, but this conflict of ideals was mentioned at the start of the book, though everyone chose to overlook it. This is why Mo Fei found it so hard to accept Yang Yi before! It wasn’t about education, wealth, or status—thinking Mo Fei cared about those things was just the old Yang Yi’s misunderstanding. That stubborn notion, deeply rooted in his memories, also influenced the current Yang Yi. Let me reiterate this here! I hope you can distinguish between the reality and the misunderstandings in the conflict I’ve described!)
Seeing the look in Mo Fei’s eyes, Yang Yi realized he was in danger of slipping up. He quickly forced a dry laugh and said, “Let’s drop that. Have you prepared a birthday gift for Xixi?”
Her daughter was more important, so Mo Fei snapped out of her confusion. She smiled softly and said, “Of course. I had Xiaojuan buy it for me, and I’ve already brought it over!”
“What did you get?” Yang Yi pressed.
But Mo Fei grew wary, eyeing him suspiciously. “Why are you asking? Trying to see what my gift is so you can buy something more expensive?”
Yang Yi did have a bit of a competitive streak. He really wanted Xixi to like his gift more! After all, he’d prepared it meticulously for so long—he couldn’t let Mo Fei steal the spotlight!
Caught red-handed, Yang Yi gave an awkward laugh. “How could that be? My gift isn’t bought, so how can you measure it by money?”
“Hmph, Xixi has lived with me for four years. As they say, a mother knows her daughter best. I know exactly what Xixi likes!” Mo Fei lifted her chin with a hint of pride, revealing her fair, slender neck.
“But she has the most fun playing with me!” Yang Yi retorted, unconvinced.
“But a woman understands a woman best!” Shedding her cold facade, Mo Fei was becoming more and more like a little woman around Yang Yi, pouting in frustration. “I don’t believe it. Let’s compare tomorrow and see whose gift Xixi likes most!”
“Fine! Bring it on. If you lose, what then?” Yang Yi was getting into it.
“You’ll be the one losing!” Mo Fei snorted. “If one of us loses, they have to do one thing for the other, no questions asked. Deal?”
“Deal!” Yang Yi was confident he wouldn’t lose either, and he reached out his hand.
He wanted to do a hip-hop-style handshake and shoulder bump to kick off the bet.
But Mo Fei didn’t get it. She eyed him warily. “What are you doing?”
Yang Yi awkwardly pulled his hand back, scratching his head in a guilty attempt to cover it up. “Nothing, just an itchy head…”