Chapter Four: Neglecting One’s Proper Duties

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After leaving the teaching building, Chen Ling caught sight of Jing Tian and Chai Biyun in the distance, whispering to each other with their heads close together at a corner. He was too far away to hear what they were saying. Glancing at the book in his hand, Chen Ling decided he should return it first.

He quickened his pace, and before he reached them, Chai Biyun looked up and spotted him. Jing Tian’s gaze followed soon after. Chai Biyun leaned in to whisper something to Jing Tian, making the latter blush and shake her head, trying to swat her friend playfully. Chai Biyun dodged with a few steps back, still laughing, and shot Chen Ling a meaningful glance before leaving.

Chen Ling scratched his head, unable to guess what had just been said.

“You forgot your book,” Chen Ling said, handing Jing Tian the book she’d just left behind.

“Thank you,” Jing Tian replied quietly, her eyes downcast as she accepted the book, her shyness evident.

Her hands were so fair, Chen Ling thought. "There really isn’t a part of a beautiful woman that isn’t beautiful."

“About that song earlier—I may have been a bit presumptuous. I’m sorry,” Chen Ling apologized.

“It’s all right. Just… don’t sing in front of so many people next time,” Jing Tian replied.

“Okay, hmm?” Chen Ling paused, considering her words. Did she mean it was all right to sing for her in private? His imagination began to wander.

He realized he’d underestimated the impact of singing a song he’d written for a girl in public. After all, in his previous life, he’d often done so and was used to it.

But this was still 2009, when people chatted via QQ, the iPhone 4 hadn’t been released yet, 3G was just taking off, and Weibo had only been around a month or two. Things that later would become cliché in the age of information overload were, at this time, the preserve of idol dramas.

What’s more, Chen Ling was tall and handsome. If he’d sung while holding a guitar, what girl could resist? Especially someone like sweet Jing Tian, who’d been protected all her life—she was still dazed from the experience.

“That song—did you really write it?” she asked.

“Of course,” Chen Ling replied with conviction, showing no sign of guilt.

“I don’t believe you.” Her eyes, misty with doubt, met his, but Chen Ling was unperturbed. He took a step closer, looking straight into her eyes.

“I really wrote it. All in one go. If you don’t believe me, look it up on Kugou Music—see if you find it.”

“I’ll check when I get back. But it’s actually easy to convince me you wrote it,” Jing Tian said, retreating a step under his gaze, her eyelashes trembling.

“How would I prove it? You can’t exactly crawl into my heart to check, like in that old movie,” Chen Ling joked.

“As if I’d crawl into your heart.” Jing Tian tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the breeze having loosened it. “I have a friend with a professional recording studio. If you can record it, I’ll believe you wrote it.”

“No problem,” Chen Ling agreed readily. He remembered the song well; recording it wouldn’t be hard.

“Anyway, the song is for you—you make the call.”

“Then let’s go. My friend’s studio isn’t far,” Jing Tian said, pleased that he hadn’t refused. She was already mostly convinced.

“Let’s take my car. You’ll be my navigator,” Chen Ling said, noting Jing Tian clearly didn’t care about skipping class and preparing to take the wheel.

“You have a driver’s license?” Jing Tian was surprised. At that time, few college students had one—unlike later, when high schoolers would get their licenses during summer break.

“Yes, I got it during the holidays.” Chen Ling pulled out his car keys. His family had bought him a Ford SUV after he got his license, worth over 200,000 yuan. He’d arranged with his teacher to get a permit, so he could park on campus, not far from the teaching building.

Chatting as they walked, they reached the car within minutes. Chen Ling opened the passenger door for Jing Tian, claiming it’d be easier for her to give directions, and she didn’t refuse.

Once inside, Chen Ling naturally fastened her seatbelt for her, and she didn’t shy away. They were so close he could smell the soft fragrance of her hair—pleasant and comforting.

“How many girls have you buckled in like this?” Jing Tian asked, looking him straight in the eye for once, all seriousness.

“You’re the second.”

“Oh?”

“The first was my mother,” Chen Ling quickly clarified, seeing her expression change. He dared not tease her further.

“Hmph. And what does it matter to me how many girls you’ve helped?” Jing Tian said, but for some reason, she felt a strange happiness at his answer.

“All right, it doesn’t matter to you. But the directions do. Let’s go!” Chen Ling started the car and drove off campus.

Jing Tian sat in the passenger seat, guiding him along the way. She even made a call about the recording arrangements. Chen Ling, focused on driving, only caught pieces of the conversation and couldn’t guess whom she was contacting.

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The car, under Chen Ling’s practiced hands, weaved skillfully through Beijing’s congested streets. With his years of experience from another life, this was nothing for him.

After a series of turns, they arrived at an office building. Parking the car, Chen Ling followed Jing Tian into the elevator and up to the company.

Seeing the sign for Bad Monkey Films, Chen Ling immediately guessed who her acquaintance was—most likely Ning Hao. After all, the music video for his debut song had been directed by this famous director, who was also an alumnus from the Beijing Film Academy. If he remembered correctly, Ning Hao’s “No Man’s Land” had already been filmed but was still stuck in review. At this time, the director was likely troubled by that.

A company like Bad Monkey Films naturally had a recording studio for post-production work—dubbing, music, theme songs, and so on. When things were slow, they might even take on outside gigs.

Upon entering, a pretty receptionist was already waiting. “Hello, Miss Jing. Mr. Ning is out at the moment, but he called ahead about your request. I’ll take you over; the recording studio and engineer are ready.”

“Thank you. Let’s go,” Jing Tian replied.

Chen Ling and Jing Tian followed the receptionist inside. Unlike Chen Ling, who was looking around curiously, Jing Tian seemed completely at home—she must come here often. They reached the end of a hallway, and the receptionist opened a door to a professional recording studio.

Inside was a soundproof room for recording vocals, visible through a large glass window so the engineer could observe. Outside the window were racks of cables and professional equipment, with several monitors arranged nearby.

Across from the monitors sat a balding, middle-aged man and a young assistant. They were adjusting equipment when the group entered. The middle-aged man stood up to greet them.

“Jing Tian, you’re here.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fan. My classmate here wants to record a song,” Jing Tian explained, glancing at Chen Ling but not mentioning he’d written it.

“Oh? Which song do you want to record?” The man, Mr. Fan, clearly knew Jing Tian.

“It’s a song I wrote myself. I didn’t bring the sheet music since it was short notice, but I have everything in my head. If you give me some paper and a pen, I’ll write it down. Maybe you can look it over and give me some feedback—see if anything needs changing.”

Chen Ling remembered the song perfectly. Writing it down and singing it would be no trouble.

“You wrote it yourself?” Mr. Fan was a little surprised.

“Yes. I’ll sit here and write out the music and lyrics,” Mr. Fan said, pulling out a chair for Chen Ling.

Chen Ling sat and began scribbling on the provided paper. The receptionist said her goodbyes and left, telling Jing Tian to call her if needed.

Jing Tian thanked her, then went to the computer and began typing rapidly.

“She’s not looking up the song online, is she?” Chen Ling wondered to himself.

After about fifteen minutes, Jing Tian finished her search, looking pleased as she came over to see how Chen Ling was progressing.

Chen Ling handed over two full pages of neatly written music and lyrics. Mr. Fan took the sheets, his interest growing as he read. Where he’d been half-reclining in his chair, by the end he was sitting bolt upright.

“This is a very complete piece. Did you really write it?” Mr. Fan couldn’t help but ask—the song was impressive, and the arrangement was mostly finished. All that was left was to record it.

It was rare for someone to be able to write lyrics, compose, and arrange their own music, even in the heyday of the Chinese music scene. It was hard to believe a student could do this—and he even intended to sing it himself? Was this his debut?

“Yes, I wrote it. I only finished the arrangement recently. If there’s anything lacking, please let me know,” Chen Ling replied modestly. Without borrowing from others, his skills were at best average, except for his good voice.

“The lyrics and composition are fine. And don’t call me Mr. Fan—just Fan Zheng is fine,” he said, nodding as he reviewed the music again.

“I’ll record the basic accompaniment on the computer first, so you can find the tempo when you sing.”

“No problem, I’m not in a hurry,” Chen Ling said. He knew it was best to have the backing track ready before recording.

“How long will it take?” Jing Tian asked. With her strict upbringing, she rarely stayed in the dorm when her parents were in Beijing, usually going home instead.

“Not long. We’ll record a rough track first; after your vocal, we can polish the arrangement later,” Fan Zheng replied.

“That’s fine,” Jing Tian said. Having recorded an album before, she knew this was the fastest way. Creating a finished track could easily take all day.

“I’ll warm up in the booth,” Chen Ling said. Now that he was here, he had to get into the right state.

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“All right, go ahead and warm up. You’re familiar with the setup, right?” Fan Zheng and his assistant had already started working.

“I’ve been in studios before. If I’m unsure, I’ll ask,” Chen Ling replied.

“Do you believe the song is mine now?” he asked Jing Tian before entering the booth, leaning close to her ear.

They were so close they could feel each other’s breaths.

“It’s not on Kugou, but you haven’t finished recording it yet,” Jing Tian said, averting her gaze, stubborn as ever.

“Heh…” Chen Ling chuckled. She was indeed a stubborn one.

He pushed open the heavy soundproof door and entered the recording booth. Positioned in front of the large glass window were two high stools and two music stands for the sheet music and lyrics. From the ceiling hung two microphones, perfectly aligned with the stools.

The entire room had been professionally designed. While not top-tier, it was definitely a qualified studio. Sitting on the stool, Chen Ling could see everything outside through the glass—Fan Zheng and his assistant busy with the arrangement, and Jing Tian, a bit at a loss for what to do, glancing away shyly whenever she met his eyes.

How could she ever act with this personality? Chen Ling wondered.

When he finished warming up, the two engineers had already recorded the basic rhythm track and printed out the sheet music for Jing Tian to bring in.

Chen Ling set up the music on the stand, put on the headphones, and gave a thumbs-up to indicate he was ready.

Soon the melody came through the headphones. After listening, he nodded again—everything was fine. Time to start recording.

“Let’s do a first take to get a feel for it,” Fan Zheng’s voice came through the headphones.

Though separated by only a glass wall, the soundproofing was so good that without headphones, they could only communicate by gestures—like silent actors in a play.

Professional equipment and experienced staff could quickly identify a singer’s strengths and weaknesses, offering advice and adjustments. They would also make changes to the lyrics and arrangement as needed to improve the work.

Chen Ling’s voice wasn’t the best, but it was definitely above average. He lacked extensive training, so his potential hadn’t been fully realized. But for this song, it was more than enough—it wasn’t technically demanding; the most important thing was the emotion.

The first take finished quickly. Through the headphones, he and Fan Zheng discussed some suggestions. After making adjustments, they began the second take.

With each take, the recording improved. In total, he recorded five or six takes before stopping.

In his previous life, Chen Ling had spent nearly half a month in the studio recording an album. This was nothing by comparison.

“I’ll perfect the music in the next couple of days and then burn it to a disc. Only then will it be a complete work,” Fan Zheng said as Chen Ling emerged from the booth.

“This USB drive has backups of your takes. You can listen to them at home and let me know if you want to make changes. We can exchange numbers and QQ accounts,” Fan Zheng said, handing Chen Ling a USB stick.

“Thanks. I might have a few more songs to record—hope it’s not too much trouble,” Chen Ling replied. If one was plagiarism, then ten or a hundred made little difference—might as well make the most of the professional studio.

“Planning to release an album?” Fan Zheng asked.

“I’d like to, but I’m not sure if I have enough songs for a full album yet,” Chen Ling admitted.

“No rush. At your age, being able to create such excellent work on your own—there’s a bright future ahead,” Fan Zheng encouraged him, clearly optimistic.

“Thank you,” Chen Ling said.

By the time Chen Ling finished recording, Director Ning Hao still hadn’t returned, so he missed the chance to meet him.

With the song recorded, Chen Ling and Jing Tian said their goodbyes, escorted courteously to the elevator by the staff.

Outside, the sky was already growing dark. They’d spent the whole afternoon without realizing it.

“Here, take this,” Chen Ling said, handing Jing Tian the USB drive.

“That’s yours—why would I want it?”

“I told you, the song is a gift to you. Of course, this belongs to you too.” Chen Ling took her hand and pressed the USB drive into it, not to take advantage, but simply to prevent her from refusing. That was all.

“It’s getting late. Let’s get back to campus. What a way to spend the afternoon—me, a future director, running off to record a song,” Chen Ling said as they got into the car. He fastened her seatbelt as usual.

“Come on, let’s get back before it gets too dark,” Jing Tian said, fiddling with the USB drive, her eyes shining mysteriously, her thoughts impossible to guess.