A group photo of the debate competition was pinned on the Student Club Center’s information board.

With over twenty members from two grades, standing together they looked quite like a large club. Xie Lan and Dou Sheng stood in the middle of the back row. Rong Xinxin and Lin Bei were in front holding the certificate for Outstanding Club. Dou Sheng lazily draped his arm around Xie Lan’s shoulder and made a V-sign next to his face.

When the shutter clicked, Dou Sheng gently poked Xie Lan’s cheek with his fingertip.

That night, he posted a new status update—

@Ren Jian Jue Shuai Dou_dm: A big step for the returnee child.

The post had three pictures: one was the pre-competition photo that went viral in the grade, one was the club group photo, and one was a close-up candid shot by Che Ziming during Xie Lan’s cross-examination.

As soon as these photos were posted, they attracted a wave of screen-licking. Dou Sheng’s videos had broken out of his circle several times in a row, and the poverty episode broke his career record. His followers soared past 4 million, surpassing Xie Lan. A screenshot of his Bilibili post spread to various forums. Ms. Da Dou Dou produced content overnight, and the hand-drawn animation of them in formal wear hit the site’s Hot List the next day.

On the high-speed train to B City, Dou Sheng scrolled through comments and sighed, “With more fans, the presence of old fans is diluted. Comments aren’t very interesting.”

Saying this, he put away his phone in boredom, clicking his tongue lightly. “Du Gu Qiu Bai (The Loner Who Seeks Defeat).”

Du Gu Qiu Bai, another phrase Xie Lan didn’t understand.

Sitting by the window holding his violin case, he repeated the pronunciation into the microphone several times before matching it to the correct idiom.

Outside the high-speed train, barren hills and villages receded rapidly. The signal wasn’t very good.

The small group chat was lively, but his message reception was lagging. After the train passed through a long tunnel, WeChat suddenly spat out dozens of messages.

• Che Li Zi: LMAO, netizens’ first reaction seeing the debate photo is still shipping CP. Shouldn’t they be praising the wisdom and martial prowess of the two of you?
• Herring: Netizens are all like that, superficial.
• Che Li Zi: Dou-zi and Xie Lan are genuinely popular now, discussions everywhere.
• Che Li Zi: Damn, I’m really dying of laughter. Thousands of people in one thread seriously discussing if they are gay.
• Herring: This is too absurd.
• Che Li Zi: Why are only Herring and I talking in this group?
• Dai You: Mm, absurd.
• Wang Gou: Very absurd… Forget it, not talking about this. Xie Lan and Dou-zi are on the train, right? Going for the interview?
• Dai You: Probably.
• Che Li Zi: Lan-zai, charge for me! Take down the main arranger position!
• Dai You: Charge!
• Wang Gou: Charge!
• Herring: Charge.

Xie Lan sent an inspiring sticker. The small circle spun endlessly on the screen; didn’t know if it could be sent out.

He put down his phone, watching the platform approaching in the distance, and exhaled lightly.

“Don’t be nervous.” Dou Sheng squeezed his fingers beside him. “This is just a business cooperation, not a music conservatory entrance exam. Probably just chatting, won’t make things difficult for you.”

Xie Lan gave a hum.

His advantages were prominent, but his disadvantages were also prominent. He had always treated arrangement as a hobby, far less professional than Jiada. So before setting off, he prepared for almost a day and night, memorizing terminology so he wouldn’t fail to express himself clearly, and carefully reviewing all his career works—original, adapted, released, unreleased—sorting out personal style and common techniques.

Provincial training was the day after tomorrow. The interview was in the afternoon; he had to rush back to H City after finishing.

Xie Lan sighed lightly. “Going all out.”

Exiting the train station, it was the hottest time of the afternoon. The taxi navigated through wide streets and narrow alleys, taking a full hour to reach the interview location.

Lingxi’s headquarters were in G City. B City only had a small studio hidden in a compact commercial apartment building, requiring staff to come down and pick them up for access.

Xie Lan and Dou Sheng followed the female employee who received them. She looked back frequently along the way. Only after entering the elevator did she finally couldn’t help saying, “Your relationship is really good, accompanying him even for an interview?”

Xie Lan was dazed for a moment. “Huh?”

“Yeah.” Dou Sheng smiled faintly, putting his arm around Xie Lan’s shoulder. “Just treat me as Xie Lan’s private assistant.”

Before Xie Lan could react, he saw the girl’s mouth hook up quickly, then suppress it rapidly.

She nodded solemnly. “Okay.”

Xie Lan: “…”

A certain someone seemed to be in a good mood, starting to play the piano on his collarbone again.

Entering a glass door, inside were compact cubicles, a dozen or so seats. Further in were two offices and a conference room.

“Jiada came in the morning. Chatted with Director Pei for a while then went for tea. Then Director Pei came back alone.” The girl whispered to Xie Lan, “Inside are a man and a woman. Sister Kai is the person in charge of this project. Director Pei is the chief director; he was also a music producer before switching to directing.”

Xie Lan nodded. “How long did Jiada chat with him in the morning?”

“About ten minutes inside, drank tea outside all morning.” The girl looked down to send two messages. “You go straight in. I’ve already greeted them.”

Dou Sheng leaned against the wall next to him, raising an eyebrow at Xie Lan. After the receptionist girl left, he whispered, “Good luck, Second Cat. Waiting for you.”

A simply decorated conference room, air conditioner blowing loudly. Sitting at one end of the long table were a man and a woman. The woman had short, capable hair wrapped in a large shawl. The man wore a khaki denim vest over a paint-splattered white T-shirt. looked to be in his early thirties, high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, dry hard hair tied in a short ponytail stub at the back, faint stubble.

The woman smiled warmly. “Xie Lan, right?”

“Mm.” Xie Lan made eye contact with them in turn, nodding hello. “Hello Sister Kai, hello Director Pei.”

Sister Kai invited him to sit and started with a lot of small talk about Xie Lan’s exams and Bilibili updates. It was obvious she followed Xie Lan’s activities. In a few sentences of chat, she mentioned several of his music videos.

Xie Lan answered one by one. When her pleasantries were about done, he said timely, “I organized a file of all my adapted and original tracks.”

“Received.” Pei, who had been silent on the side, finally spoke. His voice was very low, somewhat light and hoarse. Saying this, he picked up the tablet next to him and scrolled down.

Sister Kai smiled gently. “We saw all those. Neither you nor Jiada are outsiders. Although there can only be one main arranger cooperation opportunity in the end, we still hope you relax. Today is just meeting a net friend in the circle, and chatting about cooperation opportunities by the way.”

Xie Lan nodded.

“Actually, when I first approached you, I just happened to find a few adaptations and thought they were quite special.” Sister Kai had Xie Lan’s homepage open on her phone, dragging down casually. “Take Death of Red Lotus for example. Want to hear your general thinking on the adaptation?”

“I’ve adapted H.Blood many times. The version uploaded to YouTube is the most well-known.”

Talking about music, Xie Lan relaxed. “The original anime is a story of starting again after despair. The OP style is fiery mixed with sorrow, but to match the plot, intensity far outweighs sorrow. When adapting, I wanted to enhance the desperate atmosphere in the musical narrative, so I added a melody segment, using counterpoint-style multiple variations before the trigger, a total of twenty measures, pushing the melody of the listener and performer to the highest point. That’s roughly the idea.”

Listening to him, Sister Kai clicked on the relevant video and played that segment.

“This is what attracted me too.” She laughed. “Actually, many people in the folk circle adapt using repeated variations, mostly to show off skills. But I think yours is particularly different; your control over emotion and rhythm is very strong. Did you organize a general rhythm line when adapting?”

Xie Lan shook his head. “No, just by feeling.”

“This is God giving you food to eat (natural talent).” Sister Kai turned to Pei and said.

Pei just nodded, continuing to browse the materials Xie Lan sent on the iPad carefully.

Actually, from the moment he entered, Xie Lan felt this person was a bit strange.

A bit… couldn’t say unfriendly, but somewhat cold.

Xie Lan glanced at him, then withdrew his gaze when Sister Kai spoke.

Sister Kai had obviously done her homework. Following H.Blood, she asked about adaptations that could be called milestones for Xie Lan. She also focused on asking about the lawn concert. After confirming that the arrangements for each section were all handled by Xie Lan, she nodded with satisfaction.

“Actually, our internal evaluation of your demo is also quite high.” She shook her ballpoint pen gently. “Although that was just a canvassing demo, I think to a considerable extent it already fits the framework I envisioned for the Youth on Strings OST quite well. Also wanted to ask, if you only get the position of collaborative arranger, would you accept this opportunity?”

Xie Lan shook his head truthfully. “Main arranger is a rare opportunity, whether in terms of income or cooperation with folk music masters. I’ll be in the third year of high school when school starts. If it’s just collaborative arrangement, I might not consider it for now.”

Sister Kai nodded gently. “Mmhmm, understandable. But our final result still needs several rounds of internal discussion, so it won’t be so quick to…”

Pei suddenly interrupted, “But if we really let you be the main arranger, do you have the confidence to complete it?”

As he spoke, he locked the tablet screen, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and said with half-closed eyes, “I’m quite direct. Your student vibe is still too heavy. The arrangement has many whimsical little designs, but the overall logic is lacking. Many professionals on the foreign network and Bilibili deconstruct your arrangement structure, but actually I want to ask, have you formed a basic logic for your own structure?”

Xie Lan paused for a moment. “I generally require the main melody to appear in the first fifteen seconds, adjust the interlude with different chord combinations, and don’t want completely identical parts to appear in the whole song. Used to having the climax echo the main melody, will adjust note types to increase the layers of the beat, or simply make variations. Do these count?”

Pei shook his head. “Don’t count.”

The atmosphere in the conference room was subtle for a moment. Sister Kai nudged Pei’s arm. “He’s used to speaking straight. You don’t have a professional background; we knew this from the start. But our OST needs to be measured from many aspects, not just professionalism, but also…”

“An anime OST needs more than just the violin section.” Pei interrupted her again, his gaze falling on the table in front of him, index finger tapping lightly. “For example, a melody written for violin needs clear main melody, cadence, and strong rhythm. But if written for trumpet or saxophone, more harmony is needed to highlight the high-pitched parts. Brass section, woodwind section, string section, even percussion section—how to bring out synergistic effects, how to add sound effects—this is what a commercial main arranger should coordinate and consider. Even more important than the narrative and atmosphere of the music design, understand?”

“…”

Not quite.

Pei’s voice was very low. When he rambled about these things, coordinating with finger movements, it was like chanting sutras. Xie Lan barely followed more than half, roughly grasping the meaning he wanted to express.

Even if a candidate memorized professional terms fluently, they couldn’t handle the listening equipment being on its last breath.

He pondered for a while before answering, “I indeed cannot explain the arrangement process with professional theory, but unable to explain clearly and unable to do it are two different things. In the UK, I was in the school symphony orchestra for a long time and also helped students in other sections modify scores.”

Saying this, he opened the violin case and rested the violin against his neck. “For example, the following is a violin trial version of the previous demo.”

With the bow tilted slightly, he quickly played the first twenty measures of the demo.

“Now if adapting for the piano section, I would handle the interlude more heavily and gently, lower the key, cancel the variation, and turn the melody into a classical triple meter.”

Hearing this, Pei finally lifted his eyelids and glanced at him.

Xie Lan adapted on the spot, half relying on his brain spinning fast, half on feel. He paused in the middle, but still completed the demonstration calmly.

“Then, if it’s trumpet or saxophone, I would discard the main melody directly. Because given the temperament of this demo, brass instruments are only suitable for adding brilliance to the melody. I would raise the key and flatten the rhythm.”

Using a violin to play parts modified for other instruments didn’t sound great, and playing it was a bit weird, but Xie Lan was somewhat used to it; everyone in the orchestra used to play like this together back then.

He finished playing the brass section and tried to describe his thoughts on bass and drum beats, occasionally using the violin to play one or two measures as supplement.

After a demonstration, he put down the violin. “Don’t know if this counts as multi-part structural ability?”

At some point, Pei had rotated his chair to the side, looking at another tall building outside the window, eyes still half-lowered.

Xie Lan’s expression gradually became cold.

This person seemed to have barely opened his eyes. To describe in classical Chinese: Ruoyou Yanji (As if having an eye disease).

Pei suddenly said, “H.Blood, that counterpoint variation popular on the foreign network, can you demonstrate it live?”

Xie Lan was silent for a moment, but still nodded professionally. “Can.”

When Xie Lan started playing, the conference room was very quiet. He didn’t play the climax part Pei named directly, but cut in from the heavy, sorrowful adagio in front, gradually ushering in the climax. He only played a small segment before putting down the bow. Sister Kai was about to smile and applaud when Pei suddenly said again, “A while ago there seemed to be a piece At the Peak of Red Flame, style not quite the same as before. Can you demonstrate that too?”

Xie Lan: “…”

Facing Pei’s profile, he played At the Peak of Red Flame expressionlessly.

“Have you adapted pure adagio music? Original is fine too, play a segment.”

“…”

“Lawn symphony version of Totoro is also okay to listen to.”

“…”

After playing segment after segment for several minutes, the conference room became very awkward. Sister Kai started lowering her head to play dead.

Xie Lan put down the violin. “Are you ordering dishes?”

Pei looked back at him for a moment, smiled lightly with unclear meaning. “I’m just trying hard to find a little confidence to agree to let you be the main arranger.”

“Then did you find it?” Xie Lan’s voice had no waves.

Pei was silent for a while, sighing deeply.

“Not very ideal.”

In Xie Lan’s eyes, the person in front of him seemed like a fool whose brain capacity was squeezed out by carbon dioxide in the air; every word and deed was in a dying state.

Pei spaced out for a long time before whispering, “Still that problem. Professionalism is too weak; communication cost during production is high. Also, all your adaptations are too loose, don’t know how to restrain. Climax after climax is indeed catchy, but tiring to listen to. Listening the first time feels strong, second time feels severe mental wear and tear, third time the heart can’t take it.”

The last trace of expression left Xie Lan’s face.

Third time heart can’t take it—maybe it wasn’t his problem.

In Che Ziming’s words, this person mostly had kidney deficiency.

He finally couldn’t help asking, “Heard you started in music production. Why not just do it yourself?”

The awkwardness on Sister Kai’s face couldn’t even hold a smile anymore. She lowered her head and wrote some non-words on paper.

Pei was very calm, smiling as if dealing with reporters. “I only have genius, but too lazy to learn the profession. Doing music production is a dead end. Oh, that’s why I don’t really want to find someone like me.”

Xie Lan: “…”

“Better add WeChat.” Pei picked up his phone slowly.

Xie Lan took a deep breath, fishing for his phone in his pants pocket.

He was so angry his vision blurred. Fished out the phone and poked for a long time before opening his QR code.

Pei extended the scanning interface. “Add first. In case there’s a follow-up later, I’ll approve…”

The QR code just extended under his phone whoosh retracted instantly. Didn’t scan it.

Pei looked up. “Hmm?”

Xie Lan put the phone back in his pocket, expression cold. “Almost forgot I don’t have WeChat. If there’s a follow-up later, email me.”

Coming out of the conference room, he carried the violin and walked out silently. Only after leaving this small studio did Dou Sheng carefully ask, “No way, interview went that bad? Your face looks like you want to eat people.”

Xie Lan frowned. “Came for nothing. That Director Pei obviously doesn’t plan to consider me at all. Coming was just humiliating myself.”

“Humiliating yourself (Zi Qu Qi Ru).” Dou Sheng frowned. “I heard you playing outside. Could someone refuse that?”

Xie Lan repeated the situation inside just now, getting angrier as he spoke. At the end, Dou Sheng waved his hand to interrupt him. “Alright, let’s go down and catch a taxi first. I’ll ask X.”

This trip was rushed, stuck in the most precious time before provincial training. Catching the early morning high-speed train to come, and taking the night train back, arriving home at midnight.

Mentioning this made Xie Lan even more depressed. He went downstairs silently and hailed a taxi directly.

Dou Sheng messaged X, even putting on headphones to listen to a few voice messages in between.

After a long time, he took off the headphones, frowning out the window.

Mood visibly irritable.

“What did he say?” Xie Lan asked.

Dou Sheng struggled for a moment, but still told the truth. “X’s friend said, the one who pushed you to participate in the competition was Sister Kai, and the one who pulled in Jiada was Director Pei. Pei didn’t quite agree with finding music section UPs from the start, feeling most have inflated popularity and are unreliable for real commercial arrangement. During the public opinion storm a while ago, he even advocated cancelling the selection and pulling Jiada directly. But because we turned the tables and popularity was too high, investors wanted publicity, so they continued the voting.”

Xie Lan frowned as he listened to the complexity. “So the conclusion is?”

Dou Sheng sighed, squeezing his little finger. “When there’s a disagreement between a man and a woman, the woman compromises in the end. Every company’s situation is different. Lingxi Animation’s project manager’s authority is mainly in proposals and progress tracking. Art, plot, music—Director has the final say on total control.”

Xie Lan understood. “Then why ask me to interview?”

“Maybe wanted to give an explanation to those netizens who voted passionately.” Dou Sheng whispered, “Setting up such a big array before, sure enough, just wanted to use the heat of both sides for free publicity.”

Xie Lan stopped talking.

B City’s sunset glow was beautiful. Splendid colors spread across the sky, dyeing the forest of high-rise buildings.

This trip was hasty. Catching the evening rush hour, they didn’t even have time to detour to take a look at the university he longed for. A whole day wasted.

But more than just a day.

Xie Lan was silent until getting off the car, entering the high-speed train station, eating the burger and cola Dou Sheng bought.

checked in, waiting on the platform for the train, he finally sighed depressingly.

People came and went on the platform, men and women, old and young. He pulled Dou Sheng’s hand.

“Boyfriend.”

“Hmm?” Dou Sheng raised an eyebrow in surprise.

It was the first time Xie Lan called him boyfriend straightforwardly. He felt a bit awkward at first, but that feeling soon dispersed.

After all, he had heard Dou Sheng call him that countless times.

He felt himself looking down shyly, suspected to be possessed by a certain Herring.

“Quick, find a way to comfort me,” he whispered. “My mentality is about to collapse.”