Chapter Fifteen: Hao Mingxing's Gift

To Qian Lun, Hao Mingxing going to give Wang Mo a gift was truly a disgraceful thing.

“This child has lost his way…” he sighed.

However, Qian Lun firmly believed that once Hao Mingxing truly set foot in the music industry, he would surely recognize the gap in status between himself and a composer, and then find his way back.

His people would return!

Stay calm.

Don’t panic.

...

Composing Department.

After Liu Zhengwen returned, he shed all the frustration he’d endured in the Vocal Department and once again became the proud goose he was.

Number one!

Number one on the Newcomer Chart!

Though August was only halfway through, “Whatever” had already left the second place far behind, firmly securing its spot at the top. There was little chance for any other singer to overtake it.

Wang Mo had become the hero of the day.

Because not only had he saved Liu Zhengwen’s precarious position, but he’d also brought a hefty bonus to the composing department.

The company’s requirement for Liu Zhengwen was to get a singer into the top ten of the chart. As long as one singer made it, he wouldn’t be held responsible.

But if someone reached third place, the department would get a fifty-thousand bonus.

Second place, one hundred thousand.

First place, two hundred thousand.

“Whatever” had taken first place on the August Newcomer Chart, which meant the composing department would receive a two-hundred-thousand bonus.

According to usual practice, half of the bonus would be split among the lyricist and composer, and the other half among the department members.

So Wang Mo was especially delighted.

A hundred thousand—enough to resolve his urgent needs.

Of course, there was another reason for his happiness:

Now that more than a week of August had passed, “Whatever” had reached 86,000 downloads. After the platform’s thirty percent cut, his share according to the contract would be over twenty thousand.

Though this income couldn’t compare to what top stars earned, he knew it was only the beginning.

When he’d released ten or twenty songs…

When singers started taking commercial gigs…

When his songs were covered by others or picked up by media and TV stations…

Then, he would truly be making money in his sleep.

“Hehehehe…”

Imagining a future where royalties poured in, Wang Mo couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Liu Zhengwen, who had been watching him, sidled over. “Got your bonus, happy?”

“Of course,” Wang Mo replied without hesitation.

Liu Zhengwen’s expression turned awkward, and he lowered his voice. “Um… Once you get the bonus, could you lend me fifty thousand for a rainy day? I’ll pay you back next month.”

Wang Mo was stunned. “Director Liu, you need money?”

Liu Zhengwen said, embarrassed, “I was fine before, but I overspent a bit this month.”

Wang Mo was even more surprised. “Director Liu, you spend almost every hour between the company and home. Where did you overspend? And by tens of thousands?”

“Don’t ask!”

Irritated, Liu Zhengwen snapped, “Are you lending it or not?!”

“All right, all right, I’ll lend it,” Wang Mo conceded.

“Thanks.” Liu Zhengwen seemed to heave a great sigh of relief.

Then he announced a department meeting.

The agenda was simple.

First: Congratulations to Wang Mo for his chart-topping song.

Second: Everyone had to start preparing songs for the September competition.

That was the fate of the composing department—three hundred sixty-five days a year, if they weren’t writing songs, they were on their way to write them.

Liu Zhengwen said seriously, “Although we did well in August, we can’t let down our guard for September. The Vocal Department has made plans: for September, they’re having fifteen singers release songs. So our department needs to prepare sixty songs for them to choose from. Same as before, ten groups, each preparing four songs for me.”

“Yes!”

“All right!”

“Understood.”

This time, the composing department swept away its usual lethargy and was filled with enthusiasm.

After announcing the tasks, Liu Zhengwen glanced at Wang Mo. “You should take a good rest now.”

This was department tradition: if a composer turned out a quality song, unless inspiration continued to flow, they would basically take time off. It cleared the mind, allowed inspiration to be found again, and benefited the next creative round.

Wang Mo said, “No need to rest. I’ll keep participating.”

Liu Zhengwen’s eyes widened. “You still have inspiration?”

“Yes. But as before, I won’t write to order for the singers—I’ll keep doing things my own way.”

So young and headstrong! Liu Zhengwen thought.

One success and you think you’ve conquered the world.

Now you fear nothing.

Having written one good song, you want to write a second right away, without a break. Even ace composers can’t be sure of that.

Well, let him try. Failing once or twice might take the edge off his arrogance.

But Liu Zhengwen was a little worried: if Wang Mo’s second song turned out badly, the folks in the Vocal Department would surely rub it in, insisting that “Whatever” only succeeded because of Hao Mingxing’s talent, not Wang Mo’s writing.

He’d have to take it step by step.

When the time came, he’d personally review Wang Mo’s song—if it didn’t make the cut, he’d have to stop him from releasing it.

Thinking thus, Liu Zhengwen nodded. “All right, keep going your own way.”

“Okay.” Wang Mo agreed.

With Liu Zhengwen’s approval, all he needed now was to find a singer in the Vocal Department who could do justice to “Invisible Wings.”

Then—

Release it.

...

After the meeting, Wang Mo had just returned to his seat when he saw Hao Mingxing had been waiting for him for quite some time.

Wang Mo smiled. “I told you, you sing pretty well.”

Hao Mingxing grunted. “But, Brother Mo, you’re the only one who’s ever brought warmth to me.”

“Ahem…” Wang Mo’s expression grew serious. “Mingxing, let me repeat, I am not a warm-hearted guy. Really! Please, never say that again.”

“I understand.” Hao Mingxing seemed puzzled; he’d meant it as a compliment, but Wang Mo didn’t seem happy.

Clearly, he still didn’t know how to flatter people.

No matter. He’d learn.

He handed over the gift box. “Here, Brother Mo.”

Who gives gifts in the office? Do it discreetly!

Seeing Hao Mingxing’s clumsy gifting, Wang Mo felt exasperated. With a stern, righteous look, he said, “Mingxing, are you questioning my character?”

Hao Mingxing replied awkwardly, “I know you’re not like everyone else, but this is the only way I can show my gratitude. It’s nothing special, really.”

So what is it?

Wang Mo peeked inside. The box held only a bank card and a slip of paper.

Hao Mingxing explained, “The bank card is my salary card. From now on, all my earnings will go into it. But I don’t need the money. I happen to know you’ve been having some difficulties lately, so I’m giving it to you in case you need it. The password is your birthday.”

Wang Mo swallowed.

That password was a bit too personal—it left him at a loss for words.

And who gives their salary card as a gift? He’d only ever seen that exchanged in a certain kind of relationship—which certainly wasn’t the case between him and Hao Mingxing.

He didn’t take the card, but opened the slip of paper.

On it were a few words: “If you ever need me, I’ll go through fire and water.”

The handwriting was average, but the words carried a resolute, steely energy.

Judging a man by his script.

Combined with Hao Mingxing’s powerful, muscular arms…

Wang Mo asked in surprise, “Mingxing, did you train in martial arts by any chance?”

Hao Mingxing smiled sheepishly. “You have a keen eye, Brother Mo. My family is a martial arts family. I trained for several years. But my heart was never in it—I always loved music. So when I grew up, I sang in bars and clubs. Later, the company recruited me into the Vocal Department.

But not long after joining, I lost my voice. Anyone else would have terminated their contract and quit the industry. But when you’ve practiced martial arts, you get stubborn. So I shamelessly stayed on.

Even as a janitor, just watching the others debut made me feel like I was still close to my dream. I thought I’d always be a bystander, but Brother Mo, you pulled me out of the depths. So, no matter what the others say about you, to me, you’re nothing less than a god.”

“You flatter me,” Wang Mo said hastily, pocketing the slip of paper. “But you can keep the bank card.”

“Don’t worry, Brother Mo, just accept it. It’s between us—no one will talk.”

Wang Mo shook his head. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

“Really don’t want it?”

Wang Mo swallowed again and replied, upright and resolute, “Really don’t want it!”

Only then did Hao Mingxing put the card away. “All right.”