“Eh? Wenwen, you’re here to record a song too?” Just as Lin Shuwen and Chen Sichu arrived at the recording studio, they ran into a female artist who had joined the company around the same time as her.
Chen Sichu inwardly cursed their bad luck. This woman was Sun Lu, who had majored in music during college and had joined the company as a singer.
Lin Shuwen, however, wasn’t a trained professional. She had studied biology in university—both of her parents worked in that field, so their intentions for her were pretty obvious.
Lin Shuwen hadn’t had any objections at first and followed her parents’ advice by applying to the biology department at Shanghai Jiao Tong University.
But what her parents hadn’t expected was that their daughter, on whom they had placed such high hopes, would run into Director Liu on campus while he was scouting locations during her college years.
And because of her exceptionally striking looks, Director Liu noticed her right away and pulled her into the entertainment industry.
In her senior year, Lin Shuwen didn’t take the graduate school entrance exam. Instead, she balanced acting with her studies, and after graduation, she signed directly with Huayue Entertainment.
This infuriated her parents, who had wanted her to pursue a master’s degree and become a biologist, researching microorganisms and viruses alongside them. They didn’t speak to Lin Shuwen for over half a year.
Later, when Lin Shuwen found fame through singing, and her parents saw her shining on stage, they finally gained a bit more understanding of her choice.
After joining the company, Lin Shuwen had initially followed the acting track, and Sister Shan had arranged all her training accordingly.
But those two TV dramas flopped, derailing her acting career and pushing her toward becoming a singer instead.
And honestly, fine—she’d pivot if she had to!
But after that pivot, Lin Shuwen actually became more popular than Sun Lu and even won Best Song and Best New Artist at the Golden Melody Awards.
That rubbed Sun Lu the wrong way, and she didn’t hold back her gossip about Lin Shuwen behind her back. With Sister Shan’s connections, of course, all that talk made its way back to her.
Sister Shan told Lin Shuwen and the others directly, so neither Lin Shuwen nor the Chen sisters were particularly fond of Sun Lu.
After all, who likes someone who talks behind your back?
Of course, personal feelings aside, they still had to keep up appearances.
Lin Shuwen smiled and nodded at Sun Lu, then walked into the recording booth.
“Teacher Huang, sorry for the trouble,” Lin Shuwen said politely, greeting Old Huang.
Old Huang nodded and asked with interest, “That song you wrote is pretty good. What was your inspiration?”
Lin Shuwen had already coordinated this story with Luo Ming long ago, so she smiled and replied, “It’s nothing really—just a sudden idea that came to me while I was reading Director Liu’s script.”
“No wonder this song fits Director Liu’s movie so perfectly.”
“What do you think of the song, Teacher Huang?”
“In all my years of songwriting, I’ve always followed one principle: lyrics express emotion, melody conveys intent, and singing gives voice to feeling—all three are indispensable.
The lyrics of this song speak of unwavering devotion to love, and the melody is lively and energetic, which fits current pop music sensibilities well. But the liveliness falls a bit short when it comes to capturing the grandeur and majesty of the cosmos—that’s a minor flaw.
However, when the lyrics and melody come together, that small flaw becomes barely noticeable.
The words and music complement each other perfectly—both expansive enough to make you feel the vastness of the universe, yet intimate enough to ground you in reality and make you feel your own smallness.
I especially love this line: ‘Fate brought us together in a world of chaos, but destiny demands we love each other through the danger.’
It shows you the vastness of the world and encourages an open, unattached perspective, yet it also calls you to cherish the happiness and joy of the present moment.”
After hearing Old Huang’s words, Lin Shuwen lowered her head to hide the surprise in her eyes.
This was high praise. In her memory, Old Huang was notoriously picky, and it was rare for him to rate any song so highly.
“What’s wrong? Feeling shy? I’m not just flattering you—I’ve always said what I mean, and this song truly is outstanding,” Old Huang said, adding a rare lighthearted remark when he noticed her looking down.
“Thank you for your kind words, Teacher Huang.”
“Spare me the formalities. Take your lyrics and sheet music into the booth, and let’s get started.”
“Alright, Teacher Huang.”
Meanwhile, over on Luo Ming’s end—
Lin Shuwen had weighed herself and found she’d lost some weight. Luo Ming didn’t need a scale to know he’d gained some—he could feel his pants getting a bit snug.
“This superstar must have been a starving ghost in a past life, right? Burgers and barbecue nonstop!” Luo Ming grumbled. He took a quick tour of Lin Shuwen’s apartment, then flopped onto the sofa and stared at the ceiling.
“Not that I have room to talk—looks like I’m basically living off her,” he muttered to himself.
The money to start the studio came from Lin Shuwen, and the place he was living in was hers too. At this stage, he owed her a huge favor.
And Lin Shuwen had been really dedicated to the studio’s setup too. Earlier, Luo Ming had planned to prep the hiring materials, but when he looked through everything, he found that Lin Shuwen had already taken care of most of it. Luo Ming felt that even if he had done it himself, aside from refining some technical programming details, he probably couldn’t have done a better job.
“How can I repay her?”
“Alright, I’ll wait for your song. Perfect timing—we still don’t have a lead single for this album yet!” Lin Shuwen’s voice suddenly echoed in his mind.
Luo Ming sat straight up on the sofa. Right! Giving Lin Shuwen an album’s lead single would be the perfect way to pay her back.
But which song should he borrow?
This was Lin Shuwen’s debut album—it should be uplifting, energetic, and full of youthful vitality.
With that thought, Luo Ming closed his eyes and began searching through the memory palace he’d just built.
“Got it! This is the one!”
Luo Ming sprang up like a fish leaping out of water. He ran downstairs, took a cab to a music store, and bought a guitar for a thousand bucks.
After returning, he grabbed some paper and a pen and, with the guitar’s melody as his guide, started his “relocation” work.
Before he knew it, the whole morning had passed.
On Lin Shuwen’s end, she’d been in the recording booth since 9:30 and didn’t come out until 11:50.
At first, she was completely out of sorts—mainly because she hadn’t sung in a week and couldn’t find her rhythm at all.
The first hour or so felt like “rehab,” and it wasn’t until almost 11 that she finally got back into the groove.
Then she finished recording “Light Years Away” within an hour.
When Lin Shuwen stepped out of the booth, she felt a bit embarrassed—it had taken an entire morning just to record one song.
Old Huang didn’t seem to mind, though. Plenty of people took days to finish a single track, so a morning was nothing.
And as an expert, he could tell that Lin Shuwen had spent the first part just finding her singing voice; once she locked it in, the rest came together quickly.
To be fair, Lin Shuwen’s vocal quality was genuinely excellent—the kind of natural gift you’d call “heaven-sent.”
What makes a great voice? Simply put: strong vocal cord closure.
In layman’s terms: clear, pure, bright—a voice free of any muddiness.
Lin Shuwen’s voice fit that description perfectly.
“Teacher Huang, thank you for your time today. Let me treat you to lunch.”
“No need—my wife packed me a bento. You’ve got a great voice, so don’t waste the gift you’ve been given.”
“I understand. Thank you for the advice, Teacher Huang.”
“Got it? Then get out of here. No need to stand around.”
Lin Shuwen bowed to Old Huang and turned to leave.
Ding-dong~ Just as Lin Shuwen and Chen Sichu stepped out of the recording studio, she heard a WeChat notification from her phone.
She pulled out her phone and saw two messages from Luo Ming: a photo of a messy, scribbled-on sheet of music, along with a caption: “Your album’s lead single, as promised.”
