Chapter 101

I’ve already contacted the school to have them speak with Luo Quan, and I’ve also sent people online to restrict traffic related to this news, doing everything possible to lower the discussion Redu .

As for the copyright, get Xiao Lin Xiyuan to change it to Luo Quan’s name immediately—have him step forward to take the blame if necessary; absolutely do not let you be tied to this in any way!

Iwasaki Eiji whispered: “Xiao Lin already said that just now, and he’s already taken care of it.”

Learn more from Xiao Lin—he’s been his grandfather’s right-hand man for decades, and his abilities are excellent; Xiao Lin is no slouch either. If the two of you can work together at school, no problem will be unsolvable.

But don’t go near Luo Quan again—she’s not someone you can handle, not yet anyway.

“She’s just some stupid celebrity…” Iwasaki Eiji still sounded resentful.

Iwasaki Jinpei sneered: “Then she’s certainly not ordinary—she’s now a spiritual pillar for countless Japanese citizens, even the Prime Minister has praised her without reserve, and she’s a Chinese person who’s achieved this status in Japan—that in itself is a kind of ability.

Without the Mitsubishi conglomerate’s backing, could you possibly stand against her? Do you think I don’t know? Your prized karate can’t even survive one move against her!”

Iwasaki Eiji’s face instantly flushed red; he opened his mouth several times but couldn’t utter a single word.

“She didn’t directly expose you online, which means she still has some reservations about our family—but second time’s a charm, third time’s a dealbreaker. Some people simply can’t be pushed.”

Iwasaki Eiji was unwilling to give in: “So we just accept defeat?”

“What good would a stubborn fight do us?” Iwasaki Jinpei sighed in frustration. “Do you still think we’re in the Showa era? Our family has money, but we’re not so powerful we can control everything in Japan.

We must consider the government, public opinion, and China. If she were just an ordinary person, fine—but she’s highly famous in both countries. If we touch her, who knows what chaos might erupt? I won’t let my son’s personal grudge endanger the entire family.”

Since you can’t defeat her on your own, you must accept defeat. If you still won’t give up, I’ll immediately process your transfer paperwork and cut off all your expenses except tuition.”

For a spoiled Young Master like Iwasaki Eiji, having his financial support cut off was worse than death; at his father’s threat, he dared not speak another word.

Even without that threat, he wouldn’t dare touch Luo Quan again—he’d already failed twice, and both times she’d gone easy on him. If he tried a third time, his good days at the University of Tokyo would be over.

Soon, Xiao Lin Xiyuan completed the copyright transfer procedures; the composer and lyricist of “Re:make” finally had a name.

The most innocent party was probably Super Band—Iwasaki Eiji deliberately gave them this song just to annoy Luo Quan, and since the song was so good, Super Band naturally couldn’t refuse it.

But just a few days after release, it was exposed as stolen—and the victim was none other than Luo Quan, the hottest figure right now. From lead singer to bassist, every member of Super Band was viciously attacked by fans and netizens; once a moderately famous band, their reputation plummeted overnight.

Fortunately, Luo Quan never unjustly blamed others; Super Band was completely innocent in this incident. Seeing how badly they were suffering, she quickly posted on Twitter:

“Please stop attacking Super Band—they had no knowledge of this, and I think Super Band performed ‘Re:make’ exceptionally well. Therefore, I’ve decided not to revoke their usage rights; they may continue using the song. I hope everyone will support them.”

Honestly, Luo Quan’s action was remarkably generous—three sentences salvaged a band on the verge of collapse and established her image as gracious and dignified.

Netizens flooded the comments:

“No wonder she’s a goddess—look at that magnanimity!”

“I’m curious who the real mastermind is—so many news articles have been deleted.”

“Probably some rich playboy…”

“This is Japan’s reality—zaibatsu control public opinion!”

“It’s terrifying—we don’t even have the freedom to dislike someone!”

“I hope lawmakers investigate!”

“These guys are all in cahoots—better to believe in the Japanese Communist Party than them!”

“By the way, Luo Quan was born in China, a socialist country—surely similar incidents are rare there, right?”

“Suddenly I’m a little envious!”

“Suddenly I really want to be Chinese—Japan really has nothing worth staying for…”

The comment section took a strange turn: everyone started praising Luo Quan, then gradually shifted to ranting about Japan, criticizing the government, and idealizing China.

But insiders know their own house—similar things happen in China too, just not so brazenly. You could say every family has its own hard-to-sing song.

Her conflict with Iwasaki Eiji seemed finally over. After the ultimatum, he obediently returned the copyright—and it would remain his Achilles’ heel. If he ever dared act up again, a single tweet from her could destroy him.

What truly put her at ease was the next day: Komaba Campus’s Dean of Student Affairs—the same man who’d asked her for a signature before, Dean Kawamura—called her into his office.

As before, Dean Kawamura smiled warmly as always; his reason for calling her was to ask her to avoid mentioning Iwasaki Eishi on campus, since both were students of the University of Tokyo and a public scandal would damage the school’s image.

Of course, she’d receive ample academic accommodations going forward—she wouldn’t be left at a disadvantage.

Most importantly, Dean Kawamura told her that Iwasaki Eiji had expressed a desire to reconcile with Luo Quan and would no longer bother her.

This outcome was perfect for Luo Quan—forcing a zaibatsu heir to bow meekly was indeed satisfying; she had no objections.

Dean Kawamura was very pleased and relieved that Luo Quan was so reasonable, assuring her she could come to her anytime she faced academic trouble—though whether this was a genuine promise or just empty flattery remained unclear.

At the Aileshe rehearsal room, everyone was tinkering with their instruments; they merely nodded and greeted Luo Quan, saying nothing about yesterday’s incident.

It seemed the school hadn’t just spoken to her alone—everyone who knew anything had been warned.

“Where’s Yu?” Luo Quan didn’t see Anzhu Yu.

Yunjing Xiao looked up: “I don’t know. He should be here soon.”

Speak of the devil.

Just as they were talking, Anzhu Yu appeared at the door.

Miyano Natsuko complained: “We’ve been waiting for you—hurry up!”

Seeing all those familiar, kind faces, Anzhu Yu felt moved and ashamed—he realized he’d nearly abandoned these true friends for that woman!

Thousands of words rushed to his lips, but in the end, he spoke sincerely: “I’m sorry for worrying you all.”

Yunjing Xiao stood up, glaring fiercely: “You idiot, if you ever do this again, I’ll beat you up—got it?!”

“By the way, we still haven’t picked a proper name for our band, have we?” Miyano Suzune raised an important question.

“Naming is too much trouble—just decide among yourselves!” Yunjing Xiao showed zero sense of responsibility as band leader and club president, immediately shirking the duty.

Luo Quan suggested: “Since we’re Aileshe’s band, why not call it Aileshe Band… but that sounds kind of plain.”

Miyano Natsuko thought for a moment: “Just use English—Lovemusic. Doesn’t that instantly sound more sophisticated?”

Yunjing Xiao’s eyes lit up: “Lovemusic… that’s a great name! Let’s do it—our band is now Lovemusic!”

Luo Quan smiled: “A band without signature songs won’t go far. I’ll work overtime these two days and write one or two more—once we record them and post them at night, they’ll definitely blow up!”

The band members blinked in surprise: “You can finish two songs in two days?”

Luo Quan nodded matter-of-factly: “Yeah—if I’m lucky, I’ll get it done.”

Miyano Suzune sighed with a smile: “This is what a genius looks like—truly beyond ordinary people’s comprehension.”

Yunjing Xiao said confidently: “Even though my singing isn’t great, I actually have some talent for composing. If we ever get a chance to release an album, I can contribute plenty of songs.”

“How does the captain manage to brag so shamelessly right in front of Luo Quan?”

“The captain’s got thicker skin than anyone.”

“Can’t say anything but—typical captain.”

“Hey, are you guys seriously undermining your own club president?!”

Everyone burst into laughter. Among all the club presidents at the University of Tokyo, Yunjing Xiao was probably the least respected and least authoritative—but also the most beloved by his members.

That same night, Luo Quan delivered as promised—“wrote” two songs perfectly suited for the band’s performance.

Since “Re:make” was a punk-influenced Japanese rock song, unique but with a narrower audience.

This time, Luo Quan chose songs with far broader appeal—catchy melodies, intensely passionate overall style, and requiring a powerful voice like Yunjing Xiao’s to truly bring out their soul.

Still, the final impact depended on how well the band could perform them—but since everyone was so talented, Luo Quan didn’t think it would be difficult.

After finishing these two songs, Luo Quan immediately contacted the Japan Music Copyright Association to complete the copyright registration—learning from past mistakes.

Just as Luo Quan was about to rest, an unknown number called:

“Is this Luo Quan? I’m Keita Tanaka, head of the Tokyo Ghoul anime production team.”