Chapter 55: I Have Stories, Do You Have Wine?

Lin Chuan’s elimination of his rival Fang Hao by just one vote stirred up a storm of debate across the internet. Many argued that Lin Chuan’s advancement was nothing more than luck—unsurprisingly, most of these voices came from Fang Hao’s fans.

With dissent and skepticism brewing, Lin Chuan’s fanbase couldn’t stay calm either. Ding Min, still elated from Lin Chuan’s victory, rallied fans to strike back in forums, message boards, and microblogs, posting Lin Chuan’s performance of “Old Boy” to silence the naysayers with undeniable talent.

Meanwhile, major media outlets reported on the fate of popular contestants who had been eliminated this season. Almost all had signed with record labels or management agencies. Among them, the most promising was the Rock Singer; as a newcomer, he had managed to release an album so quickly that even seasoned artists were left in awe.

In the days following the competition, Lin Chuan was anything but idle. Previously, no company had reached out to him; but after he made it to the finals, record labels, management agencies, music websites, endorsement deals, and commercial performance invitations began pouring in.

Now Lin Chuan sat at home, gazing at a stack of exquisite business cards and the phone numbers stored on his mobile, grinning from ear to ear. Happiness had arrived so suddenly that he felt overwhelmed, unable to decide what path to take.

All these companies were major players in the domestic industry; whichever he chose would guarantee a bright future. Yet Lin Chuan didn’t let this rush of good fortune cloud his judgment. He knew they sought him primarily for his songwriting ability and, secondarily, for his current fame.

So Lin Chuan wasn’t in a hurry to respond. Signing a contract could wait; with his popularity, he had the privilege to be choosy. Who knew—perhaps an even more suitable company would approach him soon?

Aside from that, what tempted Lin Chuan most were the invitations from music websites and advertising endorsements. He still belonged to no company; if he cooperated with a music site now, all the earnings would go directly into his pocket. The same applied to endorsements.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, phone in hand, Lin Chuan scrolled through his contacts until he stopped at a name: Mu Qing.

Mu Qing was an assistant director in a film crew, who had contacted Lin Chuan two days earlier—not to cast him in a drama, but to commission a theme song. Lin Chuan was hesitant at first, but when he heard the offered price, he agreed without hesitation.

To sing one song and earn two hundred thousand, plus a credit in the drama—this was an offer Lin Chuan simply couldn’t refuse. Money was what he needed most right now.

They had arranged to meet at noon. Lin Chuan glanced at the clock—almost time—and after a quick tidying up, he headed out.

It was already mid-August, and the weather remained oppressively hot. By midday, many people sought refuge in cafés, ordering a cup of coffee to take a break from the heat.

The Frost Café was no exception; its name alone promised a refreshing coolness, and most patrons came drawn by that allure.

A man entered the café, dressed in a white T-shirt with a baseball cap pulled low over his brow, a sparse stubble giving him a mature look. Before stepping inside, he scanned both sides to make sure no one was watching, then carefully pushed open the door.

A rush of cool air greeted him, and he exhaled, feeling the hot wind finally dissipate. Glancing inside, he saw most tables occupied. In the farthest corner, a capable-looking woman with attractive features sat alone, sipping her coffee.

A smile curled at the man’s lips and he strode over.

“Hello, Miss Mu,” he said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

The woman was startled, sizing him up before breaking into a soft laugh. “Mr. Lin, I didn’t expect you to recognize me at a glance.”

The man was Lin Chuan, here for the meeting. His disguise was born of necessity. Since defeating Fang Hao and reaching the finals, he’d been recognized everywhere he went, often surrounded by crowds.

Lin Chuan, usually quite low-key, found this sudden attention overwhelming. So, like many celebrities, he’d begun disguising himself whenever he went out.

“Heh, frankly, Miss Mu, you’re the only one in this café with such poise. Assistant director—clearly not an ordinary person,” Lin Chuan said with a smile.

Mu Qing arched her brows, her eyes flickering as she looked at Lin Chuan, then suddenly burst into laughter.

Mu Qing was strikingly beautiful—tall and slender, skin like snow, and when she smiled, two charming dimples appeared at the corners of her mouth. Wherever she went, she was goddess material.

Lin Chuan wasn’t the type to lose his composure at the sight of a beautiful woman, but now he found himself momentarily stunned, especially by Mu Qing’s smile, which made his heart flutter.

In his memory, this feeling had only ever been evoked by one person: Lin Yi Yang’s biological mother, An Xier.

When he first started university and saw An Xier, his heart had inexplicably trembled.

Lin Chuan shook his head vigorously, banishing the thought with an awkward smile. “Miss Mu, on my way here, I kept wondering what you might look like…”

“Oh? I wonder, Mr. Lin, how did you imagine me?” Mu Qing set down her cup, interest gleaming in her eyes.

“Well… now that I’ve seen you, I suddenly have a question: are you really an assistant director?” Lin Chuan frowned slightly.

Mu Qing paused. “Why, do I not look the part?”

“Heh, don’t misunderstand me. In my impression, directors spend all day under the sun, coming back so dark they look like refugees from Africa. How do you manage to keep…” Lin Chuan trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

“You mean my skin is very fair?” Mu Qing laughed. “Actually, I find it odd too. Unlike other girls, I prefer a healthy bronze tone, but no matter how much I sunbathe, it barely shows. If I stay home for two days, I go back to how I am now…” She shrugged helplessly.

“That’s quite unusual,” Lin Chuan chuckled. Since they’d just met, he decided not to pursue the topic further and steered the conversation. “Let’s get to the main point. What kind of drama is your crew filming? Urban romance, or historical martial arts?”

“Neither, actually. It’s a historical war drama. Our director is very demanding about quality—theme songs, background music, everything must meet high standards. We’ve approached several songwriters, but none could satisfy our director’s requirements. So, we turned to you,” Mu Qing said with a wry smile.

“Oh? Who’s your director?”

“Chen ****. You must have heard of him,” Mu Qing said lightly.

Chen ****? Lin Chuan was taken aback by the name.

He hadn’t been in this world long and hadn’t watched much television or film, but the name Chen **** was already legendary. The man was in his sixties, a remarkably talented veteran. Since his debut, he’d directed over a dozen major productions, all grand historical dramas, each earning awards.

In modern terms, every work by Chen **** was considered a “conscientious production,” winning widespread acclaim from audiences.

As for his personality, Lin Chuan didn’t know. But from Mu Qing’s words, it seemed Chen **** was very strict about his work.

Lin Chuan had planned to throw together a song and pocket the two hundred thousand, but now he realized that wouldn’t fly.

“This is the script for ‘Legacy of Noble Families.’ You can take it home—it might help inspire your songwriting,” Mu Qing said, handing him a notebook from her bag.

Lin Chuan took it, gave it a cursory glance, then set it aside.

A waiter came by, and Lin Chuan ordered a coffee before continuing his conversation with Mu Qing.

For most men, a goddess like Mu Qing was unattainable. Lin Chuan had thought so too. But as they talked, he discovered Mu Qing was extremely easy to converse with; as they grew more familiar, the topics multiplied.

From her university days to graduation and work, she’d started as an employee at a foreign company. Her looks had often attracted coldness and exclusion from colleagues.

Frustrated, Mu Qing quit. At the time, Chen ****’s crew was recruiting. Without much hesitation, Mu Qing submitted her résumé.

Surprisingly, she was hired—not as assistant director right away, but starting with miscellaneous tasks in the crew, managing costumes and props, and handling various duties as the crew’s assistant.

Listening to her story, Lin Chuan was moved.

With her beauty, Mu Qing could have attracted the attention of any boss in any company, and a few tricks might have secured her promotion. But she chose a path no one could understand.

Though Mu Qing described her experiences as jokes, Lin Chuan knew the sweat and tears behind them far outweighed the laughter.

“And you—surely you have your own stories?” Mu Qing asked, smiling.

“Stories? Of course. But do you have any wine?” Lin Chuan replied with a gentle smile.