Why am I involved in this as well?

"This song is excellent, and you have a great voice, but your guitar skills are holding you back. Your singing ended up following the limitations of your guitar, when you could have scored ninety out of a hundred." As Guan Mingchen spoke, she took the guitar from his arms and began to play a few notes on her own.

She played just as he had, but in an instant, she stirred up a surge of emotion—without needing to sing a single line to set the mood. Xu Lin felt the vast difference between them with painful clarity, though he had expected as much; after all, his guitar skills weren't even rated level one by the system, making him a rank amateur.

"My guitar is definitely beginner level, but I think this song needs to be performed together," he said.

"Accompaniment is indeed an essential part of a song, but you don't know how to compose or arrange music, do you?" she asked.

"To be honest, I can hardly tell notes apart, let alone write a score. All I do is sing the words I’ve written in melodies I like."

“But that is talent.” Guan Mingchen narrowed her eyes, her sharp gaze softening a little.

"I didn't expect to come across two people with such natural gifts, yet knowing so little." She glanced at Chu Qingchan, who could only smile helplessly, realizing she too was a novice—driven by nothing more than passion to seek out Teacher Guan.

"But that's a good thing!" Guan Mingchen broke into a smile, then sat down gracefully, crossing one leg over the other with stylish ease.

"Blank slates are the easiest to shape—no bad habits, no wrong turns taken. But the downside is that with no foundation, you’ll need to work extra hard to build one."

"I’ll do my best," Chu Qingchan replied, sensing she had passed the test, while Xu Lin continued.

"Teacher Guan, may I speak frankly?"

"Go ahead," she nodded, curious what this uniquely gifted young man would say.

"I think I’m rather lazy, and not that in love with music. Teaching me might wear you out. I’m here today just to prove that Chu Qingchan’s judgment is sound."

"Xu Lin—what are you talking about?" Chu Qingchan interjected, but Teacher Guan burst out laughing.

"Haha! Good, I like honest kids. Over the years, many have come to learn from me, each with their own motives: some just for the name, some sent by entertainment companies to pad their resumes, some truly eager to learn. But you’re the first to say openly that you don’t love music! And that’s exactly why I feel compelled to put you through your paces."

"I still have classes, I don’t have much free time, and I want to get into university! That’s what my parents and I have hoped for all these years." This was his heartfelt truth—having just arrived in this world, he’d set his sights on fulfilling the goal he’d once failed to reach.

Music wasn’t part of his plans, though he didn’t dislike it; if all he had to do was copy songs, he could manage that much.

"No problem, you have weekends free, don’t you?"

"I do."

"Then come study on weekends."

"Just weekends?" Xu Lin hadn’t expected that, even after being so blunt, the legendary 'Demon King' would still give him such leeway.

"Yes. But I don’t intend to train you as a singer like Qingchan. The songs you wrote for her and the one you just sang clearly show your gift for creating. So, I’ll focus on nurturing that."

"Can someone who knows nothing about music really become a musician?"

"Of course. Do you think I majored in it? I started out fumbling by myself, then received formal training later. And do you imagine all singers understand music theory? These days, some young artists need autotune cranked to the max just to sound passable."

Guan Mingchen fixed her gaze on Xu Lin, as if seeing her younger self. To encounter two such promising talents in her later years—she counted herself lucky.

"So this afternoon, I’ll give you your first lesson: how to turn your song into sheet music!"

For the next several hours, Guan Mingchen gave him a straightforward explanation of each step in making a song—starting with writing lyrics and melodies, then professional arrangement, recording vocals and instruments, mixing, and more.

Throughout, Xu Lin and Chu Qingchan occasionally let their minds wander, only to be sharply reprimanded by Teacher Guan. Xu Lin found himself recalling the instinctive fear of teachers he’d felt as a child.

"Let’s end here for today, it’s already seven o’clock. I’ll treat you both to dinner," she said.

"Thank you, Teacher, but we shouldn’t trouble you. We’ll head home—Uncle and Aunt are waiting," Chu Qingchan politely declined.

"Alright then. Xu Lin, the songs you sang for me this afternoon are all perfect for Qingchan. I have to admit your talent—I wasn’t composing at your level at your age."

"It’s taken me years to accumulate these. If you want new songs, I’ll need more inspiration." After all, he couldn’t very well admit he’d just copied Chu Qingchan’s debut album. He remembered a few other songs, but not many.

If one day the system gave him something to improve his memory, he might manage to write a few more, but for now, these were enough to help Chu Qingchan take her first step.

"Qingchan, these next few days, come here often so I can train you well. Let’s have you in top form by December."

"Is something happening next year, Teacher?" she asked.

"My old company, Wanhua Music, has long held its place at the top not just because of me, but thanks to the Wanhua Seven Stars. The name may sound corny, but since the company’s founding, it’s referred to the seven powerhouse singers who kept Wanhua vibrant. But ten years ago, Du Longyi left for Jianning, seven years ago Zhou and He retired, and last year Jin Yaosheng left too. Only three remain now.

That’s not the main issue, though—the problem is Wanhua has become stagnant. This is a new era, not the age of records. They need to embrace the internet, harness online traffic, and overhaul their model. I’m nearly sixty and even I know this, but the company is too reluctant to invest. They’ll only act once all the old-timers are gone.

Fortunately, they’re not entirely clueless. Recently, they’ve begun talks with several major platforms. Now, another problem has surfaced: the company no longer has any young, talented singers ready for the spotlight.

With trends among young people, you can’t just send out the three veterans. Wanhua contacted me recently, complaining they can’t find any good new talent.

They’re working on it—planning to team up with a TV network to launch a singing competition. First, to promote the company brand and attract promising newcomers. Second, to use the show to select a few outstanding singers.

Then they’ll sign them directly, use the show’s momentum to build hype, and once the program ends, those singers will be the spearhead for breaking into the market.

You want me to join this show and sign with Wanhua?" Chu Qingchan asked, catching the gist.

"Not exactly sign with Wanhua. You should strive for a good result on your own; I’ll try to get Wanhua to provide resources. I’ll use my connections to help you rise quickly."

"Teacher... I’ve only just started." She was excited, but kept her composure, glancing gratefully at her mentor.

"I’m no saint—this isn’t just for you, but for myself as well. I want them to see that even after retiring, the disciples I, Guan Mingchen, train are still a force to be reckoned with!"

Her eyes blazed with confidence. Then she turned abruptly to Xu Lin, who’d been quietly observing.

"By the way, Xu Lin, if you’re free, you should join too."

"Huh? Why am I getting dragged into this?"