Chapter 72: Creating on the Spot

Li Xuan raised one eyebrow, giving Zhang Qiyang a look of utter exasperation. Her beautiful eyes seemed to speak as they shot back at Zhang Qiyang's underestimation: Are you kidding me? How could a newcomer possibly unsettle me? If I can't even handle a rookie, how could I ever call myself a queen of song?

Qin Xueyang whispered excitedly, “Sister Xuan will definitely outshine that newcomer. This is going to be intense!”

Chen Ke considered for a moment and said, “It is a bit risky, but I believe in your ability to keep the upper hand, Li Xuan. If you can truly crush the newcomer's confidence, it would be a significant blow to Chuyu Music Department.”

Li Xuan replied, full of confidence, “Then I don’t need to make any special preparations for next week. I’ll stick to the original plan and sing ‘Penghu Bay.’ I’ll save my real power for the week after.”

But as soon as Li Xuan mentioned singing ‘Penghu Bay,’ Chen Ke frowned and said, “Even if you don’t plan to go all out next week, isn’t ‘Penghu Bay’ a little too gentle? That newcomer will definitely give it her all in her first appearance. You can’t let her steal all the spotlight—if the audience, even nationwide, is left with a deep impression of her from the very start, it’ll be hard to suppress her later.”

Zhang Qiyang agreed, “COCO's right. We can’t let her dominate the scene from the get-go, like I did these past few episodes. Li Xuan, you don’t have to go all out next week, and you don’t need to pick a grand piece like ‘Taking the Stage in Costume,’ but you must leave the audience with a striking impression. If you cover an old song like ‘Penghu Bay,’ apart from your grandmother and your devoted fans, the rest of the audience probably won’t remember your performance.”

Li Xuan had always thought Zhang Qiyang was on her side, so she hadn’t expected him to advise against singing ‘Penghu Bay.’ She pouted slightly and looked into Zhang Qiyang’s eyes, asking seriously, “Do you really think I should change my song?”

“Rationally speaking, yes, I think you should. But if you’re emotionally set on it, there’s nothing wrong with that either. Compared to the precious bond of family, what does a single episode’s result matter?”

This remark left all the women, including Qin Xueyang, a little stunned. To hear Zhang Qiyang utter the words “family bond” was simply unbelievable! He was notorious for being indifferent to his own family. The whole world knew about his falling out with them. Qin Xueyang knew even more—he hadn’t been home in two years, hadn’t seen his father, and rarely answered his beloved older sister’s calls. She couldn’t even remember the last time Zhang Qiyang had a meal with his sister—wasn’t it just before the Spring Festival this year?

Back then, his sister urged him to come home for the holidays, but the mere thought of seeing his father and soon-to-be stepmother made him sick to his stomach. He had said, in no uncertain terms, that he would never return to that cold, unfeeling house for the rest of his life. To him, home was “cold.” And now here he was, speaking of family bonds so fluently—it caught Qin Xueyang completely off guard. Could it be that, now that he was no longer disgusted by himself, his attitude toward home and family had subtly changed?

Chen Ke noticed the shift in Zhang Qiyang’s demeanor as well and made a mental note to report this to Zhang Qiyuan.

Li Xuan, however, didn’t dwell on Zhang Qiyang’s issues. She simply felt that what he said made sense—compared to the love and happiness her elderly grandmother brought her, what did a single episode’s result on “My Song” matter?

Zhang Qiyang continued, “Your intention to sing for your grandmother is wonderful, but I don’t think you have to sing ‘Penghu Bay’ specifically. If your grandmother likes that kind of song, you could perform a new one in a similar style. As long as it’s you singing, I’m sure she’ll love it. And if you sing a new song, it’ll bring the audience something fresh and memorable. I made my mark on ‘My Song’ by performing new material—if I’d just covered old songs, I wouldn’t have this momentum.”

He uncrossed his legs and adopted a more earnest posture, continuing to persuade Li Xuan: “Just think, if you sing a new song on the show and have Dongyu push the publicity—saying it’s a song you wrote for your grandmother—the buzz would be huge. But if you just cover ‘Penghu Bay,’ even with Dongyu’s promotion, most of the audience will be bored. That kind of story has been done to death; there’s nothing new to it anymore.”

“I understand what you’re saying, but my grandmother’s favorite is ‘Penghu Bay.’ I just want to sing her favorite song for her,” Li Xuan replied, her tone unusually stubborn.

“Don’t be so obstinate. I agree with Young Master Yang—whatever you sing, your grandmother will love it,” Chen Ke chimed in.

“But she won’t realize that I’m singing it for her!” Li Xuan protested, almost desperate.

“That’s easy—just write a new song and call it ‘Grandma’s Penghu Bay.’ Then she’ll know right away it’s for her, even before she listens to it,” Zhang Qiyang suggested.

“‘Grandma’s Penghu Bay’? Is there such a song?” Li Xuan racked her brain but couldn’t think of any.

“There wasn’t before, but I can write one for you right now.”

“Pfft—!”

The last mouthful of zhajiang noodles sprayed out of Qin Xueyang’s mouth.

She quickly made a gesture of apology to Li Xuan and Chen Ke, then turned her chubby face toward Zhang Qiyang, tugging at his shirt hem and whispering, “Boss, it’s one thing to talk big, but don’t embarrass yourself in front of everyone, okay?”

If it weren’t for the guests present, Zhang Qiyang might have been tempted to give Qin Xueyang a blast that would send her straight to outer space, never to return.

“Xiaowei, go get me that guitar.”

Li Xuan’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you really going to compose on the spot?”

“Actions speak louder than words. I’ll show you right now.”

Xiaowei hurried off to fetch Li Xuan’s favorite custom-made top-tier acoustic guitar and brought it to Zhang Qiyang.

He cradled the guitar, tested the sound as he always did, and said, “If I remember correctly, ‘Penghu Bay’ is in the palace mode with a two-part structure. I’ll write something now in the same nostalgic style, maybe add a little twist. But I can’t make it too good—otherwise, you’ll blow that newcomer out of the water.”

Li Xuan and Chen Ke, both seasoned musicians, were intrigued by Zhang Qiyang’s readiness to compose on the spot. Chen Ke, in particular, had never really believed in his songwriting skills. But this was a spontaneous situation—there was no way he could have prepared in advance. This would be a true test of his creativity.

Chen Ke was so stirred up, she almost wanted a cigarette, eager to see what Zhang Qiyang was really made of.

Qin Xueyang slurped back the last bit of noodles she’d spit out, wiped her mouth, and asked, “What’s this palace mode? That kind of beach tune like ‘Penghu Bay’ is palace mode? No way! Young Master Yang, are you bluffing?”

“Li Xuan, is this guitar important to you? Can I use it as a weapon?”