Chapter 18: Jiang Qi Arrives (Happy Children's Day, please support the new book)

Unknowingly, Li He drew closer, his eyes fixed on the phone screen between He Xi’er’s knees. Once he made out what was playing, he cast a furtive glance at the shameless one.

Brother, this is for your own good... Li He planned to reveal He Luo’s true identity to He Xi’er, believing it would be quite the spectacle.

He Xi’er, however, was inwardly annoyed, cursing He Luo as an utter fool.

Just as Li He was about to expose the shameless one’s identity, He Xi’er noticed the peculiar look in his eyes and followed his gaze downward.

“Pervert!”

He Xi’er instantly raised her bag to shield her pleated skirt, her fair legs pressed tightly together, her face flushed—whether from anger or embarrassment, it was hard to tell.

Li He was baffled, wondering what had gotten into He Xi’er. Was it really necessary to react so strongly just because he glanced at her phone?

“I was about to tell you who sings ‘Dispel Sorrow,’ but it seems that’s unnecessary now,” Li He muttered, retreating a few steps.

He’d only looked twice because He Xi’er’s phone seemed to be looping a clip from “Dispel Sorrow.” He hadn’t expected such a dramatic reaction—was her period making her temper wild?

He Luo, oblivious to what had transpired, still wanted to ask He Xi’er where she was headed and whether she’d like to join him, never missing a chance to play matchmaker for his best friend.

But when he caught sight of the murderous look in He Xi’er’s eyes, he decided to postpone his matchmaking efforts.

He Xi’er might be on her period—best not to provoke her.

He retreated to his best friend’s side and whispered, “I think He Xi’er’s on her period. Stay put for now and wait for my intel.”

Li He instantly felt the urge to kick him off the bus—was being Cupid addictive now?

Forty minutes later, the bus reached its stop.

He Xi’er clattered down the steps, her long legs carrying her swiftly away, vanishing among the towering buildings.

She had no desire to see those two again—one was hateful, the other lecherous.

He Luo complained, “Friday buses are torture. Standing the whole way—I'm exhausted.”

The bus was packed with students; nobody got off until the city center, where passengers finally began to disembark.

Li He pulled out his phone and sent a message to Jiang Qi: “I’ve arrived.”

He felt a bit nervous, like meeting an online acquaintance in real life.

The difference was, Li He knew what Jiang Qi looked like, but Jiang Qi had no idea what Gabe looked like.

He Luo asked curiously, “Old Li, you’re meeting someone else?”

“Yeah,” Li He nodded. “The one who’s taking you to record your song.”

Jiang Qi was indeed the person who’d arranged for He Luo to record. Li He knew the address but didn’t know anyone inside.

“Whoa,” He Luo said, excitement rising.

He was finally about to record his song.

He’d prepared for days, skipped several classes, almost got caught. If his best friend hadn’t said he’d found a studio, He Luo would’ve gone out yesterday, paid for a higher-end studio to record.

If he waited any longer, he feared it would be too late.

April was already a third gone.

Time was running short.

Soon, Jiang Qi replied: “Fountain International Hotel, Room 32106.”

Li He’s eyelid twitched—what did that mean?

Then came a second message: “I’m having dinner outside and it’s inconvenient, so I’m only available at the hotel. Sorry.”

Li He understood instantly.

She was afraid of being photographed by paparazzi, which could lead to bad press.

Celebrities had it all—except for the inconvenience. Everything they did was easily twisted and blown out of proportion.

“Let’s go, to Fountain International,” Li He said, beckoning the shameless one.

Fountain International was just five minutes’ walk from the bus station.

He Luo stood beneath the hotel’s sign, exaggerating, “Who on earth arranges meetings in a hotel? Old Li, you’re not selling yourself for my sake, are you?!”

Having dinner in a hotel—it felt increasingly suspicious to He Luo.

Suddenly, a thought struck him.

Could it be Old Li was afraid of getting caught wet and was using him as a shield?

Hiss!

He Luo, whose imagination ran wild, sucked in a breath.

Soon, the two took the elevator to the thirty-second floor.

After rounding two corners, they found Room 32106.

Li He messaged Jiang Qi to let her know they’d arrived, then knocked.

Soon, the door opened.

Three pairs of eyes stared at each other.

He Luo was the first to voice his confusion: “He Xi’er, why are you here?”

He Xi’er was equally baffled.

Wasn’t Jiang Qi supposed to meet a bigwig lyricist and composer? Why were these two idiots at the door?

Li He reacted fastest, immediately messaging Jiang Qi, thinking he might have knocked on the wrong door.

He checked the room number—it was indeed 32106.

Soon, footsteps echoed from inside.

Li He saw a curly-haired beauty dash out, confirming he hadn’t made a mistake.

Jiang Qi looked much like her photos, though slightly less stunning—likely due to some photo editing.

Fortunately, the difference wasn’t much, and Li He recognized her instantly.

He naturally pushed aside the still-stunned He Xi’er, reached out to shake Jiang Qi’s hand, and said calmly, “Hello, Jiang Qi.”

Hearing the greeting, Jiang Qi had no doubts—no one else would address her this way but Gabe.

Now Jiang Qi was deeply shocked. Was Gabe really this young?

How could he be so young—entirely different from her expectations.

Shouldn’t a songwriter capable of “Dispel Sorrow” be older, perhaps middle-aged or elderly?

Such a song couldn’t be written without life experience.

And “Foam”—without being dumped a dozen times, how could someone write such heart-wrenching lyrics and melody?

Jiang Qi was torn.

If she bowed in humility, he was even younger than she was.

If she didn’t, he was so talented, the sort she ought to worship.

Li He didn’t overthink it. He was somewhat disappointed—he hadn’t seen the mortified expression he’d hoped for on Jiang Qi’s face.

He entered naturally.

Jiang Qi had booked the presidential suite—it was spacious.

Li He sat on the sofa, seeing the three still stunned, and chuckled, “Have a seat.”

He Luo quickly sat beside his best friend.

Normally lively, He Luo was now a bit uneasy.

A celebrity! And alive!

Though he knew that as soon as “Dispel Sorrow” was released, he would become a star too.

Still, he was excited.

He Xi’er, her mind still in a haze, followed Jiang Qi and sat down. The star of the vocal department was still processing what had happened.

It was unbelievable.

Jiang Qi, poised and elegant, said, “I didn’t expect Gabe to be so young and handsome.”

She truly hadn’t.

In her mind, accomplished lyricists and composers were always over thirty, most over forty.

Without experience, without witnessing the myriad facets of life, how could one write good lyrics or music?

Yet Li He was so young and handsome, he could easily debut as an idol singer.

He could even take the popular route with no trouble.

Li He replied a bit embarrassedly, “Perhaps it’s just talent.”

When did you become so shameless... He Luo shot a peculiar look at his best friend.

After some brief, simple introductions, they had a basic understanding of each other.

“Gabe, I’ve practiced ‘Foam’ enough. We can record it together tomorrow,” Jiang Qi said, now calling him “teacher” with ease, unaffected by his youth.

Don’t you have an agency? Why join in—must be bored... Li He offered a faint smile.

“Gabe, could you give me some guidance?” Jiang Qi asked.

Songwriters always have their own insights; their opinions are valuable for the singer.

“No problem.”

Li He agreed.

Jiang Qi got up and fetched a small speaker from the bedroom, loaded with the accompaniment.

She immediately slipped into character, emotions flowing.

After she finished singing, Li He noticed a sheen of tears in He Xi’er’s eyes, thinking, Have you been dumped too?

Three minutes passed.

Jiang Qi emerged from her emotional state, eagerly asking, “Gabe, how was it?”

Hmm...

Li He was stumped.

He was just copying songs—what did he know about music?

But seeing Jiang Qi’s expectant gaze, the shameless one’s shocked expression, and He Xi’er’s timid, sidelong glances, Li He sighed.

He couldn’t just say, “Not bad!”

That would be too perfunctory.

But he truly knew nothing.

Although this body had been in the vocal department in freshman year, after his voice failed and he switched to composition, he became despondent.

He barely studied; making it to junior year before committing suicide was already an achievement.

Li He’s eyes flickered, his mind racing.

“I’ve got it…”

—

(To be continued)