Chapter 12: Has This Boy Lost His Mind Completely?

Su Chen’s voice was soft, yet it rang clear throughout the conference room.

Everyone’s movements paused.

In the second composition department, a single thought flashed through everyone’s mind: has this kid lost his mind? Meanwhile, those in the first composition department exchanged glances, wondering, who is this guy?

Where there’s competition, there’s hostility.

Dong Xiaojie quietly reminded Su Chen, but seeing he gave no response, she could only let it go.

Wang Yan glanced at Su Chen, then looked at Kong Qishui with a questioning expression. Kong Qishui hurriedly explained, “This is Su Chen, from the second composition group. He just joined today!”

He muttered inwardly, this kid is a little too forthright, isn’t he?

Wang Yan nodded. Su Chen’s question matched his own intentions, so he smiled at Su Chen and said, “Of course. We support everyone’s participation!”

“In the past, only silver-level composers and above could join this project. From now on, everyone is welcome to participate.”

His words were as pleasant as a spring breeze, as if he wasn’t the same person who’d just lost his temper.

“Anyone who creates a piece can send it to your group leader, to Director Kong, or you’re always welcome to bring it directly to me!”

“That’s all. Meeting adjourned!”

With a wave of his hand, he picked up his things and headed for the door. Suddenly, he recalled something and turned back to Kong Qishui, saying, “Right, synchronize the detailed project information to all regular and senior composers, and share today’s meeting decisions with all silver and gold composers.”

Kong Qishui quickly nodded in agreement.

According to company policy, composers are divided into several levels: regular, senior, silver, and gold. Regular and senior composers are required to work on-site. The rules for senior composers are a little more relaxed, like timekeeping and attendance. But the real privileged class are the silver and gold composers. Silver composers only need to clock in once a week. Gold composers don’t need to come to the company at all, unless there’s something important.

So among today’s attendees, some were absent and needed to be updated.

Once Wang Yan and the other leaders left, the conference room exploded into chatter.

“Whoa! The company’s really going all out this time, such a big reward.”

“Right, I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Well, it’s understandable. They suffered such a big loss in film and TV. If the composition department falls behind now, the company would lose its last bit of dignity.”

“Do you have any ideas?”

“I wouldn’t dare. If I can just finish my current tasks and keep my senior composer status, that’s enough for me. What about you?”

“Me? Ha! With my skills, do you think it’s possible?”

A few people gathered in clusters, their voices much louder than before. Though outwardly polite, their hearts were already stirring with ambition.

Of course, most of their attention was on Su Chen.

“Su, are you going to try?”

“It’s good for young people to be bold and ambitious. You never know, it might just work out!”

“Sure, being bold is important, but so is keeping your feet on the ground.”

“This new composer in your department is really quite naïve, isn’t he?”

Some mocked in secret, others were openly sarcastic, and a few offered quiet words of comfort.

Chen Yang! He was perhaps the only one to offer genuine kindness.

Su Chen didn’t pay much attention. After the leaders left, he exited the conference room, leaving the others behind to discuss.

Back at his desk, the project information for the theme song of “Strange Tales” had already been sent to everyone’s computer. He skimmed through it quickly, a strange feeling flickering in his heart.

What a coincidence!

The story was about a nine-tailed fox who, after a thousand years of cultivation, was injured and saved by a mortal. Years later, the fox repays her debt by marrying her savior. Later, it’s revealed that the protagonist possesses a hidden, extremely potent constitution—making him the ultimate nemesis of evil spirits and demons. When good and evil clash, tangled with passionate love and devotion, a grand legend of true love unfolds.

It was almost identical to a film plot from his previous life! The difference was, in that story, the main characters were the savior’s son and the nine-tailed fox’s daughter. Here, it was the savior and the nine-tailed fox themselves.

Moreover, the film’s director was the renowned Li Chengnian, a frequent guest at film festivals, winner of numerous awards both domestic and international, with considerable status in the industry. Thus, the investment in this film was greater, and the plot was more intricately crafted.

“White Fox.”

That was the first thing that came to his mind—“White Fox.” Wasn’t this ready-made?

The first time he heard this song, he’d been covered in goosebumps. The whole melody was haunting, lingering, and sorrowful.

From the nine-tailed fox’s perspective, it expressed the helplessness of a love that transcends worlds. With the singer’s slightly husky, melancholic voice and delicate interpretation, it conjured the image of two souls separated by life and death, powerless to change fate, suffering endless pain over the loss of a loved one.

“I am a fox who has cultivated for a thousand years, a thousand years of cultivation, a thousand years of solitude...”

“Could I dance for you once more? I am the white fox you freed centuries ago...”

That’s the one!

Because Luo Jie had previously archived his works in the company, the rough lyrics and score for Luo Jie’s song had been sent along with the project details.

“Fate’s Chronicle.”

He glanced over it and gave a four-word verdict: utterly unremarkable.

If scored out of a hundred, “White Fox” would get a 95 for suitability, while “Fate’s Chronicle” would barely scrape a passing grade.

The melody was okay, but the lyrics were truly poor—overly simple, direct, and melodramatic, lacking any sense of immersion.

If a song like “White Fox” didn’t end up winning the bid, he’d have to suspect something shady was going on.

He wasn’t used to the composition software here, so he simply grabbed a sheet of paper and started composing by hand.

For him, it was effortless. In less than ten minutes, a complete song lay before him.

Satisfied with his “work,” he knocked on Liu Wenxiong’s office cubicle.

“Leader Liu, this is my submission for the ‘Strange Tales’ theme. I didn’t use the composition software, could you take a look first?”

Liu Wenxiong was surprised to see Su Chen, and when he realized it was a submission, his brow unconsciously furrowed.

Barely ten minutes after the meeting, and he already had a finished song? Ambition in young people is understandable, and he even encouraged it—it’s only human nature. But this work attitude was unacceptable. A song produced in ten minutes—who was he trying to fool? Did he think submitting a song was like buying a lottery ticket and hoping for luck?

But he had other matters to attend to, so he didn’t say much to Su Chen, just gestured coldly, “Leave it here for now.”

...

P.S.: “White Fox” Original singer: Chen Rui Lyrics: Sun Hongying Composer: Li Xuhui