Chapter Five: A Song

Lin Qihua was utterly unable to accept such a blow. He desperately searched for the reason, and finally discovered the truth: everything was the work of Liu Feng behind the scenes. Liu Feng had been his fellow trainee in the same program, equally dazzling in talent, but always overshadowed by Lin Qihua. Proud as he was, Liu Feng could never accept this. From the very beginning, he and Lin Qihua had been at odds; he had even frantically pursued Zhao Wanting, but her attention had always been on Lin Qihua, thwarting Liu Feng’s hopes. Since both were star trainees, vying for attention and resources, their rivalry only grew more intense, though Liu Feng always remained a step behind.

After debuting, the two formed a duo that quickly drew a following, their prospects boundless. Lin Qihua believed he could follow the path he had mapped out, but others had different plans. Unable to outdo Lin Qihua in the open, Liu Feng resorted to underhanded means, currying favor with Young Master Guo, the heir apparent of the company, by every possible method to win his support. His one goal: to expel Lin Qihua and keep everything for himself. To achieve this, he went so far as to betray Zhao Wanting, diverting Young Master Guo’s interest to her. The outcome was now plain: Lin Qihua left in defeat, Zhao Wanting fell into Guo’s arms, and with Guo’s backing, Liu Feng at last drove Lin Qihua away, fulfilling his ambition.

On the night of his debut, witnessing Young Master Guo embracing a beauty, seeing Liu Feng’s sycophantic grin and the malicious smirk he directed at him, Lin Qihua realized how naive he had been. In a moment of lost temper, he clashed with Young Master Guo on the spot, and further frictions followed. Perhaps it was this that led Guo to resort to dirty tricks to teach him a lesson. In the final instant before losing consciousness from a heavy blow to the back of his head, Lin Qihua clearly saw the other’s arrogant grin and heard his careless words: “This is just a small lesson. If you still don’t understand your place, next time I won’t be so polite.”

After awakening, Lin Qihua had considered burning all bridges and dragging everyone down with him. If he made a scene, surely Guo would suffer—public opinion, the Artists’ Association, all would side with him. But a sudden thought doused his anger: what good would that do? Guo would emerge unscathed. Lin Qihua had no solid evidence to bring charges, and Guo wasn’t an artist himself; at worst, his reputation might take a slight hit, but the company would bear most of the fallout. Lin Qihua, on the other hand, could lose far more. The world was better than the entertainment industry of old, but darkness still lurked everywhere. Taking them head-on would be like an egg striking a rock. Instead, if he held onto this leverage and threatened exposure, he might achieve his true aim: freedom from a three-year contract. As long as the contract remained, he was a fish on the chopping block, at their mercy.

With his plan set, he staged the initial exit. Though he left in dejection and was mocked by others, he achieved his greatest goal: freedom. As long as he endured this year and proved his ability, he could start anew and fight to stand once more on that lofty stage. One day, he would make them taste what he had suffered.

As for Zhao Wanting, Lin Qihua could not muster hatred. First, he had truly fallen for her and treated her as a real girlfriend, but neither had ever openly acknowledged the relationship, and the company would never have tolerated it being made public. In name, then, there was no betrayal; even if they had been truly together, a single “I’m sorry” would have sufficed. Second, whether by choice or compulsion, she had chosen her path. Such things were all too common in the industry—strange to outsiders, but perfectly normal to those within. What Lin Qihua could give her, Young Master Guo could also give; what Young Master Guo could give her, Lin Qihua could not. Her decision was entirely understandable, and there was nothing to blame. No matter how much it hurt, Lin Qihua had come to terms with it. Ever since that blow to the back of his head, many things had become clear—his obsession with her, his reckless impulsiveness—all now seemed laughable.

Her face appeared before his mind’s eye, that smile that could melt hearts, her tears like pear blossoms in the rain; recalling every moment they shared, his head throbbed anew. Shutting his eyes, he felt a deafening roar in his mind, and the image that had appeared so many times before now became vivid: a dazzling nebula, myriad stars spinning around a central point, forming a breathtaking spectacle.

Amazed, Lin Qihua watched as one star detached itself, floated before him, and began to dance. Suddenly, an image blossomed in his mind—a music video, with haunting melodies, fresh and elegant lyrics, scenes that tugged at the heartstrings. Lin Qihua forgot all else, utterly immersed in the exquisite song. After a female voice finished singing, a male voice took up the tune, followed by several more versions—some with dramatic rearrangements, all superb. If the original was suited for quiet repetition in a car or room, like waves ceaselessly eroding your heart, then the new arrangements were made for live performance, with a more direct and powerful emotional impact.

After a long time, Lin Qihua opened his eyes, rose to turn on the light, threw himself before his desk, and opened his music editing software. The melody lingered in his mind, every note perfectly remembered. He entered it into the program and hit play. The familiar tune flowed through the room, plaintive yet beautiful, as if he had heard it countless times. He opened a folder, transcribed the lyrics from memory, and sang softly along:

Youth is a journey of stumbling and falling,
With a beauty that dawns too late.
No time to thank you for giving me courage,
So that I could be myself again.

Perhaps I was busy smiling and crying,
Busy chasing the shooting stars in the sky,
Taking for granted and forgetting
Who it was that silently waited through wind and rain...

Humming along, Lin Qihua’s tears streamed down his face. Each lyric seemed to narrate his own first love—a love that ended before it began, tender and beautiful, fresh and enduring. He had no idea what the future would hold, but as for Zhao Wanting, he could only wish her well. From now on, they would be strangers, each walking their own path.

He knew with certainty that this song had never existed in this world, and yet it had appeared so vividly in his mind, as if it were his own creation.

“Could it be?” Lin Qihua touched the back of his head, recalling many similar stories online. “Did I, by some strange twist of fate, gain the ability for songs to appear in my mind?”

Staring at the song he had just written, and at the swirling nebula in his thoughts, Lin Qihua’s heart pounded wildly. If this were true, did it mean he would have access to countless original songs in the future?

With this in mind, he quickly lay down again, closed his eyes, and once more saw the spinning nebula. But no matter how hard he tried, it continued its slow rotation, unresponsive. If not for the vivid music video and song, he would have doubted whether anything had happened at all.

Gazing at the mysterious black hole at the center of the nebula, Lin Qihua wondered if it was connected to some secret space, or perhaps a parallel universe with a dazzling entertainment culture unlike this world’s—had his mind become the bridge between two parallel worlds? There was no reason to doubt, for science had advanced so far that many scientists now hypothesized about parallel universes, alternate timelines, and layered realities. Lin Qihua had also heard of people with inexplicable gifts—perhaps he was one of them.

But how to guide this ability?

Tossing and turning through the night, Lin Qihua finally drifted into deep sleep.

Yet at six thirty in the morning, his mother whipped off his covers to wake him. Her reasoning was ironclad: “Whether or not you continue on the artist’s path, you must never relax your standards. Daily practice and exercise are non-negotiable.” In fact, she had instilled this in him since elementary school—those unforgettable days of vocal training in the courtyard with veteran artists.

Yawning, he got up, changed into sportswear, did a lap around the park, then practiced his vocal exercises on the balcony. Morning practice done, his mother had already prepared breakfast. “Your father has a class today, and I have a meeting this morning. You’ll be home alone. Don’t let a little thing keep you up all night. Is it really worth it?”

“It’s really not that,” Lin Qihua replied gloomily. He’d simply been too excited last night, mulling over the strange events in his mind, unable to sleep—a fact his mother mistakenly attributed to turmoil over the company.

“It’s normal to be troubled,” his mother said, with the wisdom of experience. “Every young person has their worries. Just get some good rest.”

“Alright. I want to go to school today, do some research.”

“So suddenly?” She looked at him curiously, but seeing his calm face, said nothing more. “Take your father’s ID then, it’s in the drawer.”

“Okay, I know. Go on with your day, I’ll be fine.”

She knew well her son’s ability to take care of himself—he’d been independent since junior high, and had lived on his own as a trainee since freshman year. After a few reminders, she left for her own busy schedule of performances and meetings.

After breakfast, his drowsiness had vanished. Returning to his room, he picked up his guitar and softly sang the new song, following the score. This newfound ability, once a source of confusion and anxiety, now felt like a stroke of luck—or perhaps destiny. Lin Qihua had always believed in himself, confident he could make a name in show business. But he had to admit, he wasn’t yet good enough to become famous overnight; he still needed to endure, to wait for his moment. Now, a pie called “luck” had fallen straight from the sky, and the seed in his heart was beginning to sprout.