Chapter Sixteen: I Can Only Offer My Apologies

After leaving the Composition Department, Hao Mingxing took out his phone and made a call.

“I want to repay a favor. How should I go about it?”

“What kind of favor?”

“A life-saving one.”

“If they want money, give money. If they want power, give power. It’s that simple.”

“But the person is very upright, unwilling to accept such worldly things.”

“Then serve them for a lifetime.”

“Not easy to serve.”

“That’s your problem, not theirs.”

“Is that so?”

Hao Mingxing hung up, deep in thought.

What discomfort is Wang Mo experiencing now?

He pondered for a long time:

First, Wang Mo’s reputation has collapsed; he’s probably shunned everywhere.

Second, Wang Mo’s public image is terrible now.

If everyone is shunning him, he needs better personal security.

If his reputation is poor, it needs to be improved.

Suddenly, it all became clear to Hao Mingxing. His eyes flashed with excitement as he left, full of enthusiasm.

…

After Hao Mingxing left, Wang Mo stared in the direction he had gone for a long time before finally withdrawing his gaze.

His heart was troubled.

He struggled to calm himself, then began searching through the shared computer for vocalist department singer profiles.

Within the singer database were detailed records of every singer in the department, from newcomers to established stars, without exception.

Each singer’s profile showed: photo, height, weight, vocal range, timbre, representative works. There were even several specially recorded acapella audio clips.

This allowed the composers to clearly understand each singer’s characteristics and tailor songs accordingly.

Even Wang Mo’s profile was once included.

Of course, by now it had been discarded like rubbish.

“Bless me, let me find a singer whose voice suits ‘Invisible Wings,’” Wang Mo muttered, embarking on a massive screening process.

Naturally.

First, he eliminated all the male singers.

…

For the next several days, Wang Mo continued selecting singers at the company.

In the blink of an eye, days passed.

August 15th.

Don’t get excited—it’s the solar calendar, not the Mid-Autumn Festival.

That day, Wang Mo finally found five singers from the vast company database whose voices seemed suitable for “Invisible Wings.”

In truth, Wang Mo hoped most to find a female singer with a timbre similar to Zhang Shaohan, but fate did not favor him.

The five singers each had their own unique qualities.

But before any actual audition, Wang Mo couldn’t say who was the most suitable.

The most difficult part was: as a composer, he had no right to have singers audition one by one. Only singers got to choose songs, not the other way around.

Of course, Wang Mo couldn’t let singers pick his song. He thought for a moment, created an electronic demo of “Invisible Wings,” then took the audio to Liu Zhengwen: “Mr. Liu, my song is finished, and I’ve found five singers who might be suitable. Is there any way to have them audition?”

“Oh?” Liu Zhengwen replied, “Let me see the song. Where’s the sheet music?”

Wang Mo said, “This time, for clarity, I recorded an electronic demo. The arrangement is included. I’ve just sent it to your email. Please take a look.”

With that, he left the office.

Liu Zhengwen was slightly surprised.

An electronic demo? Arrangement included?

Only then did he recall that with the last song, “Doesn’t Matter,” Wang Mo handled lyrics, composition, and arrangement himself.

And the arrangement was quite good.

This kid is rather versatile.

Liu Zhengwen steadied himself and opened his inbox.

Sure enough, there was a new email from Wang Mo, sent a few minutes ago.

“Invisible Wings?”

He downloaded the audio file, glanced at the song’s name, but it meant nothing to him.

The name didn’t matter.

He put on headphones and played the audio.

Soon, the song finished.

Liu Zhengwen’s face showed surprise.

He had thought that Wang Mo, having written a second song so quickly, would have little chance of producing another hit, perhaps even losing his touch out of overconfidence.

Yet the song sounded unexpectedly good.

Though motivational, it didn’t follow the usual trend of shouting and roaring. Instead, it gently confided, blossoming with excitement of seeing a rainbow after the storm.

At least, he felt it was more pleasant than “Doesn’t Matter”—which he never quite appreciated.

Of course, the singing was electronically generated, so it sounded a bit rough, but that didn’t affect Liu Zhengwen’s judgment.

“This song really has potential,” Liu Zhengwen affirmed.

This kid Wang Mo is impressive!

What a pity… If only Wang Mo hadn’t pursued a career based on looks and had joined the Composition Department earlier, he might already be an excellent composer.

But in the next moment, Liu Zhengwen’s expression froze.

Because he saw a line in the email:

[Potential singers for this song: Li Yating, He Zhi, Chen Yiying, Zheng Wanru, Su Xueyao. Apart from these five, no other singers will be considered.]

Liu Zhengwen rubbed his brow.

Brother, do you think our Composition Department is some sort of noble house?

He immediately called Wang Mo back to the office and said, “Wang Mo, I listened to the song and it’s pretty good. But according to your idea, you want the five singers to audition, then choose the most suitable one to perform it?”

Wang Mo replied, “Yes.”

Liu Zhengwen said, “That will be difficult. Singers always choose songs, never composers choosing singers. You’re turning things completely upside down. Especially with the five you’ve chosen—apart from Chen Yiying and Su Xueyao, who barely count as newcomers, the other three are veterans. He Zhi is even a second-tier singer. They won’t set aside their pride to audition for you to pick.”

If selected, all is well.

But if not, where would their pride go?

Wang Mo smiled, “Let’s give it a try. Please contact them for me. They can listen to the demo first and decide. If they’re still unwilling to audition, I won’t insist.”

“All right, I’ll reach out,” Liu Zhengwen said.

To his surprise…

Upon hearing that Wang Mo had written a new song, and that he was selecting singers, all five immediately agreed to come listen to the demo.

After all, “Doesn’t Matter” was still topping the newcomer charts.

So a song by Wang Mo held some allure.

“Except for Zheng Wanru and Su Xueyao, who aren’t in the company, the other three will be here shortly,” Liu Zhengwen said.

…

Ten minutes later.

In a conference room.

Wang Mo, Liu Zhengwen, Li Yating, He Zhi, and Chen Yiying gathered, a computer playing the demo of “Invisible Wings.”

Soon, the audio finished.

Wang Mo looked at the three singers, inviting them to share their thoughts.

He Zhi, the most prominent, spoke first: “I want this song.”

Liu Zhengwen’s eyes lit up, signaling Wang Mo to accept at once.

This was a second-tier singer! Compared with Hao Mingxing, she was worlds apart.

If He Zhi could sing Wang Mo’s song, it would be great news for him.

More than that, if Wang Mo could earn He Zhi’s appreciation and work together long-term, he could gain real influence in the vocalist department.

Yet Wang Mo merely smiled, “Sister Zhi, could you try an audition first? If your timbre fits, I’ll have you sing the song.”

He Zhi raised an eyebrow, “And if my voice doesn’t fit?”

Wang Mo: “If it doesn’t, then I’m afraid I can only apologize.”

“Oh?”

He Zhi looked at Wang Mo with a meaningful smile.

If any other composer had dared say such a thing, she would have exploded. But for Wang Mo, once a top star she could only look up to, she restrained herself.

She smiled, “Although I think your song is good, it’s not so exceptional that I’d do anything to get it. I could ask other composers for songs of similar quality, and they wouldn’t require an audition. Given that, I must also say sorry.”

With that, she stood, nodded to them both, then left the conference room.

“Goodbye!”

Wang Mo called after her.

He Zhi waved as well, “Goodbye!”