Chapter 74: Overinterpretation

Li Xuan wasn’t pondering the terrifying musical talent that Zhang Qiyang possessed the way Chen Ke was; instead, she was completely absorbed in the daydreams inspired by his rendition of “Grandma’s Penghu Bay.” In her mind, every line he sang and every note of the melody echoed, as if the song became a time machine transporting her back to childhood, conjuring up beautiful memories of her grandmother and her hometown. Yet the final “old driver” in the lyrics was a jarring note for Li Xuan, as if a single rat droppings had fallen into a steaming pot of nostalgic soup, spoiling the purity.

After some thought, Li Xuan’s bright eyes lit up and she gave Zhang Qiyang a look full of interest. “That last line with ‘old driver’—was that intended as irony?”

Qin Xueyang was baffled. “Irony?”

Li Xuan, convinced she had unraveled Zhang Qiyang’s subtle design, shared her analysis with the others. “’Old driver’ is an internet catchphrase. Using it in a nostalgic song like this is so abrupt—it must be deliberate. I think he’s reminding us that in the course of rapid social development, we’re neglecting and losing those simple, beautiful things we should cherish. This ‘old driver’ also symbolizes how the internet, while changing society, has ended that pure, white-clad era in our hearts, ushering us instead into the less innocent age of the ‘old driver.’”

Qin Xueyang exclaimed in astonishment, “Just one ‘old driver’ can mean all that?”

“Of course, by itself it wouldn’t mean so much. But appearing suddenly at the end of a nostalgic old song, so out of place and not even rhyming, it must be intentional. Am I right, Qiyang?”

Li Xuan’s elaborate interpretation of “old driver” reminded Zhang Qiyang of the old joke about language teachers overanalyzing Lu Xun’s simplest lines:

Lu Xun: “Good night!”
Language teacher: “‘Night’ pinpoints the time, evoking darkness, which symbolizes the social gloom of the era. That people can feel ‘good’ under such darkness reflects their numbness. The exclamation point at the end conveys Lu Xun’s grief and anger at their indifference.”
Lu Xun: “Are you kidding me...”

Zhang Qiyang could only laugh wryly. “You really have an imagination—I’m impressed. But you’re overthinking it. I just sang it off the cuff, with no intention to be ironic.”

Li Xuan was embarrassed. “You just sang it casually?”

“Yeah, irony doesn’t really fit in a sentimental song like this, does it?”

Li Xuan sighed. “Then using ‘old driver’ here is just too strange. It doesn’t rhyme, and it doesn’t suit the scene.”

“Then let’s change it to ‘old captain’—it rhymes and fits the setting.”

Li Xuan tried singing it in her head and found “old captain” actually sounded pleasant. She couldn’t help nodding in approval at Zhang Qiyang.

“If you like this song, you could adapt it further—maybe add a country style for more energy, or even a light jazz flair to make your voice more captivating.”

“I actually think your nostalgic classical approach is best; it really preserves the original childhood flavor. If I sing it, I’ll stick to your style.”

Li Xuan sought Chen Ke’s opinion. “Let’s have Little Frog arrange this song when we get back. I’ll perform ‘Grandma’s Penghu Bay’ next week—what do you think, Coco?”

Chen Ke cleared her throat. “It’s a great song. It will definitely be more refreshing for the audience than your previous cover of ‘Penghu Bay.’ But... you should take some time to consider it carefully back at the company before making a final decision.”

Zhang Qiyang could hear the concern behind Chen Ke’s words and came straight out with it. “Coco, are you worried that if Li Xuan sings a song I wrote, it’ll attract haters to her?”

Chen Ke was at a loss for words and didn’t know how to respond. She was indeed worried. If it were anyone else’s song, she would have agreed without hesitation.

Li Xuan also suddenly realized the problem. She had been so caught up in her admiration for the newly transformed Zhang Qiyang that she’d almost forgotten about his notorious ability to attract negativity.

Zhang Qiyang gave a carefree laugh. “That’s easy to solve. When we submit the song to the show, we’ll just use a completely unknown pen name for the songwriter.”

Chen Ke was taken aback. “A pen name?”

“In the future, anytime you need me to write songs, you can publish them under my pen name. That way, you avoid all the trouble. And someday, when I’ve turned the world upside down and all those who hate me have become nothing but dust in my wake, I’ll reveal the truth behind the pen name.”

As he spoke, Zhang Qiyang deftly snatched the two freshly peeled lychees that Qin Xueyang was about to eat right out of his hand. Before Qin Xueyang could even react, Zhang had already eaten them, nearly driving him mad with frustration.

Chen Ke and Li Xuan exchanged a glance, surprised by how considerate Zhang Qiyang was being.

If he was willing to publish under a pen name, it would eliminate the risk of negative backlash.

But Chen Ke was still cautious. She worried that one day, Zhang Qiyang might impulsively reveal the truth about the pen name, which would benefit him greatly—he could ride Li Xuan’s popularity and even use her as a stepping stone to boost himself, which would have serious repercussions for her. Given the cold, calculating side he’d shown earlier when devising ways to crush his opponents, it wouldn’t be too surprising if he chose to exploit Li Xuan in such a way.

He might seem goofy, but he was actually unfathomable.

Even with her own people, Chen Ke felt she had to be wary and said, “Let’s discuss this carefully when we’re back in Beiling.”

Just then, her phone rang.

Chen Ke went out to the balcony, taking the opportunity to light a cigarette while she answered the call.

When she returned, her face was grim.

“What happened? Is something wrong?” Li Xuan asked.

“It was a friend from the TV station. They said Tan Zhizhong had a stroke.”

“What? A stroke?” Everyone in the room exclaimed in shock.

Chen Ke waved her hand. “Not too serious, just a bit of facial droop. He’ll have to stay in the hospital for a while. I thought he was faking it, but it turns out he really did faint from anger. What a character.”

Qin Xueyang was flustered. “This is a disaster. The people at Chu Entertainment will definitely use this to throw dirt on our Qiyang.”

Chen Ke warned, “No matter what tricks they pull, Qiyang, you must stay calm. We’ll find a way to handle it.”

Zhang Qiyang said helplessly, “Listening to you all, it sounds like Tan Zhizhong had a stroke because I upset him. What does that have to do with me? He brought it on himself.”

Qin Xueyang nodded vigorously in support of Zhang Qiyang’s innocence.

Chen Ke said, “If Chu Entertainment dares to smear you, our company will back you to the end. But you mustn’t get involved in this—stay away, or you’ll just get splashed with mud. Focus on preparing for the competition. As long as you ignore them, Chu Entertainment won’t be able to stir up much trouble, and this will blow over soon.”

“I understand. I’ll leave it to you, then.”

For once, Zhang Qiyang openly acknowledged Chen Ke’s efforts to clean up his mess—something the original Zhang would never have deigned to do.

With the situation with Tan Zhizhong weighing on him, Zhang Qiyang no longer felt like singing. After chatting with Li Xuan for a while longer, he took Qin Xueyang back to his suite.

As soon as they got in, Qin Xueyang grabbed his tablet and shouted, “My god! Tonight the ‘I Sing’ forum has hit record highs in both online users and posts! Your third consecutive win has really stirred public outrage! So many people who got slapped in the face are now venting against ‘I Sing.’”

Zhang Qiyang stretched out his hand. “Let me see. Time to savor the fruits of victory.”