Ring—
Before the first ring could even finish, the call was connected.
The phone screen lit up, displaying a single name—
[Silver Fish]
“…Coming for another song again?”
The voice was lazy and lingering, dragging out the final syllable.
In the background, the faint sounds of anime dialogue could be heard—it seemed like a hot-blooded shonen series, with the protagonist currently shouting the name of a finishing move.
“Yeah.”
The person on the other end of the line was Silver Fish.
She was currently a popular, beautiful young musician.
“What kind of song?”
There was no nonsense.
Even the pleasantries were skipped.
“A song for a newcomer. I haven’t thought of a title yet.”
Silence.
Only the sound of the anime drifted through the receiver.
The finishing move had been shouted, and now the background music was playing.
“…What kind of newcomer?”
I thought of Su Nian.
I recalled the experiences of the past few days in my mind—
The girl crouching under a streetlight writing in her notebook.
The figure who stood in front of me when threatened by Charles.
The fool who ran 5 kilometers every day until she was breathless but kept going.
The person who danced on stage nine times, collapsed, and then stood up to say, “I can do it.”
“…Someone who gets back up every time they fall, someone who is destined for success in the end.”
2 seconds.
3 seconds.
“……How extravagant.”
Her voice softened slightly.
“You’re actually asking me to write a song for a rookie.”
I didn’t respond.
But I knew why she said that.
Three years ago, she was just a musician so ordinary she couldn’t be more average—no, back then, she couldn’t even be called a “musician.”
She couldn’t afford a recording studio or equipment; she huddled in a 10 square meter rental writing songs that no one would sing, and even if she sang them, no one would listen.
When I found her, she was eating instant noodles.
It was 3:00 AM, and she was staring blankly at a computer screen that showed a half-finished melody.
I told her, “I’ll invest in you. You write the songs, and I’ll take them.”
One song every two months, 10,000 yuan per song.
She was stunned.
She asked why.
I said, “Because what you write has that kind of value.”
Later, she became famous.
Her songs started at 100,000 yuan each.
People commissioning her were lined up three years into the future.
If she were just a bit more diligent, there was no telling how far she could go.
But she was simply lazy.
Once she earned enough money, she lived the life I dreamed of—
Yet, she still sent me a song every two months.
10,000 yuan.
Mobile transfer.
Accepted instantly.
—A contract is a contract.
“That kid,” she spoke up, her voice dropping a bit lower as if filled with helplessness, “she’s very talented… right?”
“Just like me.”
***
7:00 AM.
I pushed open the door and walked out.
In the hallway, sunlight streamed through the window, cutting a bright line across the floor.
Tiny specks of dust floated in the light, drifting slowly as if they hadn’t woken up yet.
I walked to the door of the training room.
I pushed it open.
Four pairs of eyes looked over at the same time.
Su Nian was standing in front of the mirror, already changed into her sportswear.
Her ponytail was tied tighter than usual, and there were still beads of sweat on her forehead that hadn’t been wiped away—she had started practicing long ago.
Chuxue leaned against the wall, holding her cup of black tea.
Today, she was wearing light gray loungewear, her snow-white hair cascading down, looking different from her usual white dress.
—Standing next to Xiao Xi, she was also looking at me.
I walked over.
The paper was still warm.
It had just come out of the printer not long ago; the edges were slightly curled, and the ink wasn’t completely dry.
It was densely packed with lyrics and notations—things that had been argued over from 1:00 AM until dawn.
“Lyrics. And choreography.”
She was stunned.
She looked down.
“…Lyrics?”
“Yeah.”
She stared at the papers.
She looked at the words on them without raising her head.
Her fingers lightly brushed against the surface of the paper as if confirming it was real.
“President…”
“Yeah?”
“Did you… stay up all night?”
I didn’t answer.
Shen Wei whispered from the side.
“Um… President Lin? Are you okay?”
“…I’m fine.”
My voice was a bit airy as I recalled the “fierce battle” in the early hours of the morning.
***
The early morning hours.
The sound of the keyboard was pitter-pattering, like someone was smashing the keys with their fingernails.
“I told you the one you wrote won’t work! She’s a newcomer! Change the lines to something simpler for me!”
“What the hell are you screaming for?!”
Silver Fish’s voice exploded from the receiver.
“What kind of rookie goes on stage with less than twenty days of practice?! You’re insane!!!”
“I said she can do it, so she can! Just write!”
Yes, the creative process between a popular musician and a popular idol was just this kind of unpretentious shouting.
The typing didn’t stop. It grew louder.
“Yes, yes, yes! Young Master Lin—you won’t use the songs I write anyway!”
After she finished shouting, the keyboard sound stopped for a second.
Then it started again, even more forcefully than before.
I hesitated for a moment.
“Who said that? I am using them, I’m just saving them for later.”
I felt a pang of guilt.
“Sure—I know. Saving them, and then writing and modifying them yourself. I’m just someone who can’t compare to Young Master Lin’s talent, after all~”
The typing stopped again.
This time, it wasn’t forceful; it was a rhythmic smashing born of venting.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
I knew she must have heard it—the recent song “Detonate the Fuse” by Alice.
It was her song.
I had used her foundation and modified it until even its own mother wouldn’t recognize it.
I had no choice.
If the styles were too similar, Alice’s identity would be in danger.
But I knew she had still figured it out.
“Anyway, in your eyes, I’ll always be that half-baked newcomer… sob sob sob…”
The keyboard sounds became chaotic.
Clack-clack-clack-clack-clack—
I stared at the computer screen; that was the song we had “fought” over until now.
3 seconds later, I suddenly realized something was wrong—
“You idiot—!!!! Stop—you deleted the entire song—!!!!!”
My roar reached her—the keyboard sound came to a screeching halt.
Silence.
A deathly silence.
Then, a voice came through the receiver, tiny and soft, with a bit of a nasally tone like someone who had just woken up:
“…Heh-heh~”
—She was trying to act cute to get away with it.
…Outside the window, the sky began to brighten.
***
Time returned to the present.
Hearing Shen Wei’s voice, my first thought was—
‘Shen Wei—when did she get here?’
However, I still replied.
“I’m fine…”
My voice was drifting.
My eyelids were fighting to stay open. My neck ached terribly.
The aftereffects of that early morning “battle” were all surging up now.
But I still didn’t forget to arrange the subsequent daily tasks.
“For today’s training, let Chuxue lead you. That includes going to the theater.”
Chuxue put down her teacup. The bottom of the cup hit the table with a soft clink.
Her voice came from behind me.
It was slow and carried a clear hint of amusement.
“Hehe~ I’d be happy to help.”
She was smiling—I could guess she was definitely making fun of me again, snickering at my pathetic state.
I couldn’t be bothered to deal with her.
Su Nian still hadn’t looked up, staring blankly at the lyrics of this song that didn’t even have a name yet.
And yet, it was this kind of idiot who made me spend 10,000,000 and overcome various exercises and trials time and time again.
Even if she did terribly at first, she was a “lucky one” who could always barely pass.
Like a protagonist in a fairy tale who constantly overcomes hardships and manages to stand up again.
—I looked at her stupid expression. A flash of inspiration struck me.
“The title of this song… let’s call it ‘Brave’.”
Su Nian’s body, which had seemed petrified, finally showed some change as her shoulders trembled slightly.
She slowly read out that name, her debut song, the first song she had received in her idol career, one that belonged to her—
“…Brave.”