Chapter 24: An Unexpected Surprise

The next morning, just as the first light crept over the horizon, a slender figure slipped out of the Pink Cottage. Upon closer look, it was Ye Fangfei. She climbed directly into the waiting nanny van and departed.

Nearly an hour later, the other guests in the villa, still deep in sleep, began to stir.

Xu Junze was the first to rise, heading to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Before long, Li Jiayan emerged as well.

“Oh? Good morning!” Li Jiayan greeted him with a surprised, then cheerful smile upon seeing Xu Junze in the kitchen. “I thought I’d be the first one up, but you beat me to it.”

“It’s Sunday—why not sleep in a bit? Are you heading out later?” Xu Junze plated the freshly fried eggs, then cracked another egg into the pan.

“Yeah, I have work today. And you?” Li Jiayan took a cup, filled it with warm water, and sipped, standing by the kitchen counter to watch Xu Junze cook with practiced ease.

“We're in the same boat—working on a weekend.” Xu Junze tapped the egg with his spatula, asking, “This one’s for you. Do you like your eggs a bit more done, or…?”

Li Jiayan raised her brows in delight. “Ah, Junze, you’re too good! Thank you, I like mine just a little more cooked, please!”

Hearing her sweet, soft voice so early in the morning was unexpectedly refreshing.

“You’re welcome. Should I make breakfast for the others too? Are you the only woman up?” Xu Junze asked casually as he busied himself.

“My roommate Chu Yao is still asleep, and the doors to Jiajia’s and Fangfei’s rooms are closed. I’m not sure if they’re up yet,” Li Jiayan answered.

“Then I suppose they’re all still asleep.” Xu Junze divided the breakfast onto plates and handed one to Li Jiayan. “Come on, let’s eat.”

“I was planning to have breakfast at the office, but you’ve sorted me out already,” Li Jiayan laughed.

The two moved to the dining table to eat.

Just then, Wen Yiming came downstairs and spotted them. “You two are up early—and already having breakfast?”

After exchanging greetings, Xu Junze grinned, “You’re just a bit late. If you’d come sooner, I’d have made yours too.”

Wen Yiming stretched, then headed into the kitchen to pour himself some water, gulping it down. “I’ll just eat at the office later.”

“Yiming, do you have work today too?” Li Jiayan asked.

“Yeah,” Wen Yiming nodded, looking between her and Xu Junze. “Tonight, everyone’s jobs will be revealed. I’m pretty curious about what you both do.”

“I’m just as curious about everyone else,” Li Jiayan replied, glancing at the time. Realizing she was running late, she stood quickly. “I can’t be late. I have to go—Junze, thanks for breakfast!”

Xu Junze: “That rushed?”

Wen Yiming: “I’d better go too. Jiayan, which district are you going to? If we’re headed the same way, I can give you a ride.”

Li Jiayan waved him off. “Thank you, Yiming, but don’t trouble yourself. It’ll be faster if I drive myself.”

Wen Yiming: …Attempt at gallantry failed.

Xu Junze nearly laughed aloud but managed to hold back. “Jiayan, don’t forget we’re making dinner together tonight.”

Li Jiayan tapped her forehead, laughing. “Oh, right! I’ll try to come back early.”

With that, she hurried off.

Not long after, Wen Yiming and Xu Junze also left.

When Lu Zhou woke, it was already past nine. Zhang Chen was still fast asleep in his room.

Chu Yao was doing yoga on the second-floor balcony. When she saw Lu Zhou, she smiled from afar as a greeting.

Lu Zhou headed downstairs to find something to eat. Qi Jiajia was in the dining room, munching on cereal soaked in milk.

“You’re just eating that?” he asked.

“Essential for lazy people,” Qi Jiajia replied with a bright smile.

Lu Zhou rummaged through the fridge looking for something better, but after a fruitless search, he gave up and took out a bowl to copy Qi Jiajia’s breakfast.

Qi Jiajia couldn’t help but laugh. “Ha! We must be kindred spirits.”

“What a nutritious and healthy breakfast,” Lu Zhou said, expressionless as he swallowed the cereal.

“You weren’t saying that a moment ago,” Qi Jiajia teased, nearly bursting with laughter.

Lu Zhou, thick-skinned, showed no embarrassment at contradicting himself.

After her amusement faded, Qi Jiajia studied Lu Zhou secretly.

He was, undeniably, quite handsome. If she were to choose a man based on looks alone, Lu Zhou would be her first pick.

After spending time together last night, her overall impression of him was pretty good; she liked him.

But a handsome face alone doesn’t fill the stomach…

Of the four male guests, Lu Zhou dressed most plainly. If one were to judge a man’s wealth solely by his appearance, Lu Zhou would lose by a mile compared to the others.

But then again, some men preferred to be low-key.

So, Qi Jiajia decided it was best to wait until tonight’s career reveal before making any moves.

Besides, Lu Zhou hadn’t sent her a goodnight message last night, which meant she wasn’t his top choice among the female guests—so they might as well both wait and see.

Lu Zhou, focused on his breakfast, had no idea that Qi Jiajia, sitting across from him, was entertaining such a flurry of thoughts about him.

He finished his breakfast in record time and headed out.

Yesterday, Lu Zhou and Pan Chengyi had agreed to meet at a designated recording studio at eleven. Since he might need Pan’s help, being late wouldn’t do.

Before he left, the producer, PD Zhao Xing, texted him with a flurry of questions—where he was going, whether the crew could follow, if he’d use the show’s car, and so on.

Lu Zhou declined to be followed by cameras, simply stating he was off to work, then hailed a cab to the recording studio.

He arrived a little before eleven.

The studio was a large, upscale place. When Lu Zhou entered, Pan Chengyi was busy overseeing a live recording for a singer and had no time to chat, merely nodding at Lu Zhou and motioning for him to wait on the sofa.

Pan Chengyi looked to be in his thirties, with shoulder-length hair that gave him an artistic air, and a rather stern face.

Sitting at the other end of the sofa were three young men, all strikingly handsome, seemingly about sixteen to eighteen years old—likely a newly debuted, or soon-to-debut, idol group.

They glanced at Lu Zhou with mild curiosity but, seeing he was a stranger, soon returned to their own world.

“Once more—the last word isn’t clear.”

“Keep your breath steadier, again.”

“Put more feeling into it, one more time.”

The recording engineer’s voice echoed constantly in the background as Lu Zhou waited, always asking for retakes.

Eventually, the singer emerged from the booth, looking utterly spent.

“I just can’t get in the zone today—my throat’s about gone.”

“Same. No inspiration, not my best take.”

“Me too…”

The three young men on the sofa began chatting with the newly emerged singer. Lu Zhou listened but didn’t join in.

“Sorry for the wait,” Pan Chengyi finally approached once his work was done.

“No, it’s me who’s troubling you,” Lu Zhou replied with a smile, rising to shake his hand.

“Nanjiao said you wanted to produce your own song and were looking for a recording studio. Tell me, what are your requirements? Do you want an all-in-one package, or just a simple recording session?” Pan Chengyi got straight to the point.

“Nanjiao probably mentioned I’m an independent music producer. If you need a song made, I can handle it all—any genre. If you work with me, you won’t need to worry about arrangements, equipment quality, or post-production. Just focus on singing well; I’ll take care of the rest.”

“As for price… Since you were introduced by a friend, I’ll give you a twenty-one percent discount.”

Before Lu Zhou could respond, Pan Chengyi was already enthusiastically pitching himself.

Lu Zhou was momentarily stunned.

“Thank you, Chengyi, maybe next time. I already have an arrangement, so I just need a studio with good equipment for recording,” Lu Zhou politely declined.

If not for being strapped for cash, he wouldn’t have spent so long searching for a suitable studio.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t find one with the right hardware—those were simply too expensive. The affordable ones didn’t have the quality he needed.

With his finances, how could he possibly afford to hire a top music producer through Nanjiao?

Lu Zhou thought Pan Chengyi’s enthusiasm would wane at the rejection, perhaps to the point of not bothering to introduce the studio’s resources any further. To his surprise, Pan didn’t so much as bat an eye, simply nodding in understanding.

“I see,” Pan said, gesturing around them. “Take a look at the studio’s setup and see if it meets your needs.”

Lu Zhou had already read through the equipment list while they were recording. He smiled at Pan’s question.

“Absolutely—it’s perfect, except for the price…” He let his words hang, testing the waters.

“It depends on the arrangement. You can pay by the hour or by the number of songs. By the hour, it’s usually a thousand per hour here,” Pan replied straightforwardly.

“This studio belongs to a friend of mine. If you really want to use it, I can ask him for a discount,” he offered.

“Thank you, Chengyi.”

Suddenly, Pan thought of something and turned back to Lu Zhou. “You said you’ve already got the arrangement?”

“Yes.”

“Did you bring the sheet music? Since I’ve booked the studio for the whole day, and we’re ahead of schedule, there’ll be a couple of free hours left after we finish. If you’re free, you can use the remaining time for your recording, free of charge. No point letting it go to waste.”

Lu Zhou hadn’t expected to be so lucky.

“That’s too generous…” he demurred politely.

“Well, if you’re embarrassed, you can always come back another day and pay for your own session,” Pan replied.

Over all his years, Lu Zhou had rarely met anyone as direct as Pan Chengyi. Anyone else would have said, “We’re friends, what’s there to be embarrassed about?”

“Thank you, Chengyi! If you ever need my help in the future, just let me know,” Lu Zhou quickly amended, dropping any pretense.

When fortune falls into your lap, you’d be a fool not to accept it.

They went out for lunch, then Pan returned to work with his four young protégés.

It was a simple song, not requiring much vocal prowess, and by noon they had most of it down. In the afternoon, they just needed to polish up a few rough spots.

Pan’s earlier time estimate had been accurate. After about two and a half hours, they were done for the day.

“The rest of the time is yours—enjoy!” Pan flopped onto the sofa, utterly spent, and told Lu Zhou.

Lu Zhou gave him a grateful glance and went over to discuss things with the engineer.

It was now 4:45 pm.

While waiting, Lu Zhou received a message from Zhao Xing, requesting that he try to return to the Pink Cottage by seven.

So he’d only have about an hour in the studio, but that would be enough.

Pan Chengyi, exhausted from a day’s work, wanted only to collapse on the sofa, phone in hand, his mind disengaged. He wasn’t particularly interested in what Lu Zhou was about to record.

If Lu Zhou couldn’t even afford a pricier studio, it was easy to guess what kind of producer he’d hired…

Pan scrolled through short videos on his phone until he overheard Lu Zhou and the engineer discussing a live violin accompaniment. That caught his attention—he looked up, surprised.

Wait—had he heard that right?

Wasn’t Lu Zhou here to record vocals? He could play the violin?

Didn’t Nanjiao say he’d been an idol trainee? Idol trainees usually played piano or guitar, not violin.

Even if they did play an instrument, they rarely recorded their own accompaniment; that was left to professionals—unless they were truly skilled and confident.

Lu Zhou’s approach was certainly unexpected.

Was he too poor to hire someone for the instrumental part, forced to do it himself?

But if money was tight, he could have just used MIDI input. It wouldn’t have the same soul, but it’d suffice.

If his playing was mediocre, insisting on a live take would only make things harder for the mixing engineer.

While Pan mused, the engineer had already set up the equipment for Lu Zhou and left the booth, returning to his own desk and pulling out his phone.

Pan frowned, thinking the engineer was being neglectful. Sternly, he said, “Why are you slacking off? Even if Lu Zhou is a last-minute addition, he’s my guest. Can’t you be a bit more attentive?”

The engineer turned, looking baffled, and pointed to Lu Zhou inside the booth. “He said he doesn’t need me to supervise…”

“Really?” Pan was taken aback.

Lu Zhou’s methods were certainly unconventional.

Pan’s curiosity only grew. He put his phone away and walked over. “Let me see his sheet music.”

But before he reached the console, he heard the prelude of violin tuning coming from inside the booth.

Just the tuning sounded effortlessly smooth!

Pan stopped in his tracks, eyebrows raised as he looked at Lu Zhou through the glass.

That professional posture? That focused, captivating expression?

What was going on here?