Volume Two: Shadows of the Past Chapter Nineteen: Change

“Ajing, Jialan Temple has climbed the charts again—it’s overtaken your Nocturne and is now number one!” Lin Zitan shouted excitedly at Chen Jing, eyes fixed on the screen displaying Jialan Temple’s latest statistics.

“I really didn’t expect it,” Lin Xi said, shaking her head. “Who would have thought that just an MV would bring Jialan Temple back into the spotlight?”

Chen Jing shrugged. “I’m surprised too. I guess the fans just really love it. But honestly, it’s not just the MV’s work—I have to give credit to Sister Xueyue.”

“You should definitely thank her properly this time,” Lin Zitan teased. “She gave up her first on-screen appearance for you, you know. And she looked stunning in that cheongsam.”

“I plan to,” Chen Jing replied. “I’m thinking of adding two duets to her second album.”

Lin Xi looked at him in surprise. “You’re already planning to help Xueyue with a second album? Didn’t you promise to help Ruohan with hers first?”

Chen Jing shook his head. “I already told Sister Ruohan, I’ll just give her the songs. I’m not going to oversee the entire album this time. She can have someone else handle the production. I’ve already finished the scores; once she’s done, I’ll just give them a listen.”

“That works. Having some free time to help Xueyue isn’t a bad idea.”

“No, actually, apart from those two duets, I plan to let Xueyue handle the rest of her album with someone else too. I won’t be managing the whole process.”

“Oh?” Lin Xi began to catch on, a hint of suspicion in her voice. “So what are you freeing up your schedule for?” She knew Chen Jing well—he never accepted ads or commercial shows. If he was deliberately making time, he must have a reason.

“I want to clear some time and join a film crew as a background actor.”

“You want to be an extra?!” Lin Xi and Lin Zitan exclaimed in unison, disbelief written all over their faces.

“Yeah. It doesn’t have to be an extra role—I just want to follow a crew, see how they make films. Ideally, a big production with people I know, so I can learn more and gain some experience.”

Lin Xi furrowed her brow. “Are you planning to switch to the film industry? There’s no need to rush. You still have plenty of room to grow in music. Shouldn’t you stabilize your standing in music first?” To her, it sounded like Chen Jing wanted to become an actor.

Chen Jing waved his hand. “No, I just want to see how others make films. I’m not stopping my work in music—just that things are already on track, so I don’t need to pour all my time into it anymore. Since I have some free time, I want to do something I’m interested in.”

Lin Xi thought for a moment, then nodded. “Fine. If you really want to learn about acting and the like, I suggest you first take the performance training courses our company offers artists. You know the saying—a sharp blade makes for better chopping.”

Chen Jing nodded. “I know those courses. I’ve already finished them all.”

“What?”

Chen Jing continued, “Those acting courses for new artists? I squeezed them in while filming the MV.”

In fact, it wasn’t just acting—he’d attended every course related to film, and even taught himself a great deal about cinematography. In his previous life, he’d never studied acting or filmmaking, unlike music, which he’d learned before. So, if he was going to venture into film in this life, he had to study the craft thoroughly.

Lin Xi was left speechless. She didn’t believe Chen Jing would lie to her, which meant he really had already finished all those courses—so he must have been planning to enter the film industry for some time.

Never mind, she thought. With her keeping an eye on his music, and as long as Chen Jing kept building his body of work step by step, there was nothing to worry about. After all, someone who could fill two cardboard boxes with songs hardly needed anyone to fret about his career in music.

After a pause, Lin Xi spoke again. “Do you remember Director Zhang Qishan?”

Chen Jing replied, “The director who bought Birch Forest from us to use as the theme song for his TV drama?”

Lin Xi nodded. “That’s him. He’s preparing to launch a war film and is looking for investors. If you’re interested, you could join his crew and learn something. We’ve kept in touch since our last collaboration. If you want to go, I can reach out and arrange it. Getting you onto the set won’t be a problem.”

“Alright, let’s go with them,” Chen Jing agreed.

“I’ll make the call later, then.”

“Oh, by the way, Ajing, the company is chasing you for a few new songs.” Lin Zitan grinned. “All the company’s artists are waiting to snatch up your songs.”

Chen Jing didn’t mind. “Just give them the three I sent you last night. I’m not going to sing them anyway—they’re good for the new artists.”

“Will do! Oh, and one more thing,” Lin Zitan recalled, “Huang Wenhao’s agent reached out. Whenever you have time, they want to meet and discuss the song you promised him.”

“Oh, right,” Chen Jing remembered. He’d been so busy lately, he’d nearly forgotten about the promise he’d made to the three judges from Voice of China. Since he’d given his word, he wouldn’t go back on it. He thought for a moment. “Ask if he’s free tonight. If he is, I’ll go to his office and talk about the song.”

It was always easier to arrange these things with colleagues from the same company.

“Okay, I’ll check.”

“If there’s nothing else, I’m off to see Teacher Yuan Mengru. She probably needs the score for Chopin’s Nocturne. I’ll take it to her.” Since there was nothing left for him to do, Chen Jing made his way to find Yuan Mengru.

When Chen Jing had performed Nocturne during filming, he hadn’t planned to publicize the piece. But somehow, the score ended up in Yuan Mengru’s hands, and she’d asked him to come by. He wasn’t sure what she wanted to discuss, but he could guess it was about the piece.

Arriving at the company’s artist training room, Chen Jing found Yuan Mengru, and by coincidence, Li Qingwei was there too, attending Yuan Mengru’s music theory class along with a few other artists.

Seeing Chen Jing, Yuan Mengru signaled the students to take a break.

“That’s Chen Jing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, he’s even more handsome than the rumors say…”

“A talented genius in music. If only I had half his talent.”

“That’s easy; just keep studying with Teacher Mengru. I heard Chen Jing started out with her, too.”

“Really?”

“Of course…”

The artists whispered among themselves as Chen Jing entered. In their eyes, he was a legend within the company—a champion from Voice of China, a songwriter whose work had helped Ling Ruohan achieve diva status, an album that launched Xueyue to the pinnacle of girl idols, and another that made him the most popular singer-songwriter in the country.

How Chen Jing had managed all this was beyond their imagination.

“Boss!” Li Qingwei hurried over, grinning.

He looked completely different from his time on Voice of China. Back then, he’d sported long, unruly dreadlocks and always dressed in hip-hop clothes, looking like a wandering musician. Now, his hair was cropped short, his clothes normal—he finally looked like a young man, not a thirty-something uncle.

Chen Jing smiled. “How’s the studying? Keeping up?” He was pleased with Li Qingwei’s transformation—it suited him far better. Loving hip-hop didn’t mean you had to dress the part. A man should have a bright and sunny image.

Li Qingwei scratched his head sheepishly. “Heh, it’s going okay. I struggled at first, but I studied harder and caught up in the end.”

What impressed Chen Jing most was not just Li Qingwei’s outward change, but his attitude. Li Qingwei had gained fame with Drift to the North. Most people, after tasting the perks of success, found it hard to give it up and start over. Not everyone could heed advice, calm their restless hearts, and focus on learning, waiting for the right moment to shine. But Li Qingwei had done exactly that, and done it flawlessly.

Chen Jing clapped him on the shoulder. “Keep at it. If you fall behind, just take it slow. Knowledge isn’t going anywhere.”

Knowledge doesn’t run away, and neither do opportunities for success. Some people are destined to succeed—Chen Jing believed Li Qingwei was one of them.

Li Qingwei didn’t reply, only nodded firmly.

Noticing Yuan Mengru signaling to him, Chen Jing excused himself and followed her into her office.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Yuan Mengru said, closing the door.

Chen Jing took a seat by her desk without ceremony. Yuan Mengru was used to his easygoing manner by now—she just shot him a playful glare.