Chapter Five Keywords

Since the day they finished recording that song, the two of them had clearly grown much closer. They’d go out to eat together, watch movies, and sometimes stroll around campus in the evening, chatting as they walked.

During this time, Chen Ling discovered through his interactions with Jing Tian that the girl was truly passionate about singing. Every time the conversation turned to music, her eyes would light up with excitement.

Now that he knew what she liked, Chen Ling naturally tried to please her. And soon enough, the opportunity presented itself: Fan Zheng called to tell him that the full version of “Just Once” had been completed. He asked Chen Ling to listen and see if there was anything that needed to be changed.

Of course, Chen Ling invited Jing Tian along. It was, after all, a perfect chance to show off his shining moment and let the girl witness more of his charm.

It was the weekend, and the two of them arranged to visit Bad Monkey together. Having been there once, Chen Ling was now familiar with the place, so he didn’t need Jing Tian to navigate. Still, the girl obediently sat in the passenger seat, and Chen Ling was quite pleased with her thoughtfulness.

When they arrived at the recording studio in the office building, Fan Zheng was already waiting for them.

“The music and everything else are just as you wrote in the score, hardly any changes,” Fan Zheng said. “Listen to it, and let me know if there’s anything you want me to adjust.”

As he spoke, he handed them each a set of headphones that looked very professional. There’s a big difference between professional headphones and ordinary ones—the former can pick up the subtlest nuances of sound, and, of course, they’re much more expensive.

As for speakers? Out of the question.

With the headphones on, this was Chen Ling’s first time hearing the full version of his own song. Beside him, Jing Tian put on her headphones and listened quietly.

Soon, the song flowed into their ears.

Hmm—

There had been a little tuning, but not much. Mostly, the breath sounds had been edited out. Chen Ling’s voice was naturally gifted, though he had never really trained or developed it, so there were flaws—like his breath control, which was a bit lacking compared to professionals, and the breathing was a bit obvious.

The arrangement and everything else were just as he’d hoped.

When the song finished, Chen Ling took off his headphones and gave Fan Zheng a big thumbs-up.

Chen Ling remembered the composition very clearly and had provided a complete score, but he was still pleasantly surprised by how faithfully Fan Zheng had reproduced it.

After all, they’d hardly communicated since the recording session, so producing the song to this standard relied on more than just professionalism.

Anyone who’s worked as a go-between knows this: what you imagine, what you describe, what the other party hears, and what they ultimately produce for you—these are often entirely different things.

Fan Zheng’s postproduction work had exceeded Chen Ling’s expectations.

“This guy’s got real talent. I guess I underestimated him a bit before,” Chen Ling thought to himself.

He’d always assumed Fan Zheng was just coasting at the film company, but now he saw how capable he really was. It seemed he could safely entrust Jing Tian’s promised album to him.

If Fan Zheng could have heard Chen Ling’s thoughts, he’d probably have patted his bald head and said, “Sure, I’ve lost some hair over the years—but I’ve grown stronger too.”

“How was it?” Chen Ling asked softly, seeing that Jing Tian had also taken off her headphones.

“It was amazing. Mr. Fan’s postproduction work is incredible.”

Jing Tian tilted her head, her eyes curving into crescent moons as she smiled.

“What about me? Didn’t I sing well? Didn’t I write good lyrics? Why aren’t you praising me?” he teased.

“You were even more amazing,” the girl replied, her smile growing brighter as she gave Chen Ling a thumbs-up.

“So, what do you think about recording the next few songs for my album here as well?” Chen Ling asked, resisting the urge to reach out and ruffle her hair.

“You’ve already written new songs?” Jing Tian’s face lit up with delight.

“I’ve finished one more. The rest will take a while,” Chen Ling replied. He didn’t plan to reveal too many songs at once; after all, he wasn’t a professional in the music industry. If he suddenly produced a slew of songs, “genius” alone wouldn’t be a convincing explanation. Releasing them gradually would give everyone time to adjust.

“What kind of song is it? Do you have the score and lyrics? Can I see them?” Jing Tian stretched out her fair little hand, full of anticipation.

“Here you go.” Chen Ling took out a set of lyrics and score he’d already prepared from his pocket and placed them in her hand.

Just like last time, he’d filled two whole pages of A4 paper.

Seeing that he had actually written another song, Jing Tian felt as if she were suddenly enveloped in surprise. He’d really done it—he really was a genius. She realized she’d underestimated him a bit.

“‘Keywords,’” Jing Tian read the song title softly.

“Mr. Fan, I have a copy here as well. Take a look,” Chen Ling said, noticing Fan Zheng trying to peek while pretending not to. Amused, he handed over the extra copy.

“Great, let’s see what you’ve brought this time,” Fan Zheng said eagerly. After the previous song, he was full of anticipation for Chen Ling’s new work.

Indeed, the new song Chen Ling had prepared was “Keywords” by Lin Junjie—a track from Lin’s 2015 album “Conversations with Myself,” which contained several excellent songs.

One of those was the famously difficult “A Song Not Written for Anyone.”

With that album, Lin Junjie received five Golden Melody Award nominations and won Best Mandarin Male Singer that year.

The reason Chen Ling chose this song over others was simple: he planned to use the last line of the lyrics for himself.

As Jing Tian read with rapt attention, Chen Ling leaned over, his head brushing her hair, and whispered softly, “The last line of the lyrics is what I want to say to you: you are my keyword.”

The same words, spoken in different situations, could have entirely different effects. At that moment, in that setting, when Chen Ling whispered, “You are my keyword,” in Jing Tian’s ear, it was as if he’d dropped a nuclear bomb into her heart.

It’s hard to describe exactly what Jing Tian felt when she read the last line and heard Chen Ling murmur it by her ear.

But when Chen Ling met her gaze—gentle as water, looking straight at him—he understood her feelings completely.

This time, Jing Tian didn’t shyly avoid his eyes. She just gazed at Chen Ling with gentle warmth.

Chen Ling smiled, his eyes full of admiration, and the air between them seemed to heat up rapidly.

Just as the atmosphere was growing more and more intimate, and things were about to progress further, Fan Zheng’s voice cut in at the worst possible moment.

“This song is fantastic—it has a touch of Chinese style to it!”

With the mood broken, Jing Tian shyly looked away.

This time, Chen Ling naturally reached out to ruffle her hair, and she didn’t dodge; instead, she closed her eyes in comfort, like a contented cat.

“That’s right—I incorporated some elements of Chinese style. The melody is based on the pentatonic scale, but I’m not planning to use traditional Chinese instruments for the arrangement,” Chen Ling replied.

“If we get a chance in the future, maybe we can record a version with Chinese-style accompaniment. But not this time.”

“All right—if you do, you have to let me be a part of it,” Fan Zheng said.

This new song had an even stronger Chinese flavor, and in Fan Zheng’s view, the lyrics and composition were clearly superior to the previous one. He was pleasantly surprised and even more excited for the rest of the album.

But a small doubt crept into his mind: was this song really written by the young man in front of him? From what he knew, Chen Ling was a directing major at the Beijing Film Academy, not a music professional. Two high-quality songs in a row would make anyone suspicious.

Still, it was just a fleeting suspicion. After all, there were plenty of geniuses in the world, and Chen Ling’s talent wasn’t too far-fetched.

With the experience from last time, the recording session went much more smoothly this time, although the song itself was more challenging to perform and took just as long to record.

After several hours, they finally had a rough cut.

During a break, Fan Zheng asked Chen Ling what his plans were for the album. If he wanted to get on TV programs, Fan Zheng admitted he didn’t have the connections to help. But if Chen Ling wanted to release the album online, he did know some people at web platforms and could probably get the songs recommended on those sites.

Chen Ling had no intention of debuting with the album, so TV appearances weren’t on his agenda. He simply asked Fan Zheng to help upload the songs to music sites. Since the recordings were done, he didn’t want them to go to waste.