Chapter 31

Sony Records has many recording studios; although it was already nine at night, more than ten singers were still working hard in their respective studios.

Luo Quan’s creation was complete; she had exchanged 1,000 Heat Points for the song she intended to sing—“Myall.”

In addition, she spent 10,000 Heat Points to exchange for a specialized skill in electric guitar playing, which she would use to produce the backing track.

The song she would record, “Myall,” is a famous track by Asian pop diva Hamasaki Ayumi; although it was not her most representative hit and the album it came from did not have top sales.

But this song held special meaning for her and her fans; Hamasaki Ayumi composed “Myall” to thank the countless fans who never abandoned her and supported her to the very end.

The lyrics of this song recalled her past of growing alongside her fans, expressing heartfelt gratitude to a particular fan with the most passionate and sincere words.

When Luo Quan wanted to express thanks to her fans through a song, she immediately thought of this one—there was no choice; Hamasaki Ayumi’s most famous song in Huaxia was this one, and Luo Quan herself had listened to it countless times.

After obtaining the arrangement for “Myall,” Luo Quan immediately began producing the backing track.

She had originally planned to record the guitar part herself, but only at the last moment remembered her hand was injured and she couldn’t play guitar—wasting 10,000 Heat Points.

Fortunately, she could still synthesize it on the computer; the impact wasn’t significant.

The mixing for this song wasn’t complex; with full access to the entire mixing workflow, Luo Quan only needed to use the studio software to create each audio track and then combine them to finish.

The entire process required no technical skill—it was like copying homework; once familiar with the workflow, no thought was needed, and in just over an hour she had produced the backing track.

After minor vocal tuning, Luo Quan skipped the DEMO recording step, put on her headphones, and began recording.

This song didn’t demand high vocal technique—it was basically singable by anyone with a mouth—but to sing it well required deep emotional investment, since it was a sincere thank-you to her fans; one couldn’t move others without moving oneself first, so Luo Quan spent over ten minutes just cultivating the emotion.

The actual recording took less than five minutes; her steady, human-CD-like voice combined with fully immersed emotion allowed Luo Quan to perfectly perform the song.

Luo Quan had full confidence in her singing ability and skipped the final vocal tuning; after confirming there were no timing issues, she exported the song and posted it on Twitter with the caption:

This song is dedicated solely to my fans—thank you for never leaving me; I will never forget how you fought for me today!

Over the past two days, Luo Quan had been the entire internet’s focal point; every move drew countless eyes, and after she posted a tweet angrily confronting trolls, many were debating whether her reaction had been too extreme.

When her second tweet was posted at 11:30 p.m., fans, trolls, and bystanders all flocked to watch—no one expected that within just over three hours, Luo Quan had released a new song, and one that was a heartfelt thank-you to all her fans.

At this moment, Luo Quan’s fans must have been incredibly happy; after battling through the night, they finally saw their idol cleared of false accusations and received such a precious, beautiful reward as the day ended.

Especially after hearing the lyrics of “Myall,” some emotionally sensitive female fans even shed tears of emotion, leaving comments to express their admiration and love for Luo Quan, vowing to support her forever.

In less than twenty minutes, nearly thirty thousand comments flooded beneath Luo Quan’s tweet; the explosive surge in discussion once again pushed her to the trending list—this was her fourth time trending today.

Since the beginning of the year, no artist in Japan had ever appeared on Twitter trending with such frequency as Luo Quan; even Hoshino Sakura, the fastest-rising star of the past three years, hadn’t been this extreme.

But upon reflection, an artist with both singing and songwriting talent, beauty and brains, and who naturally generates buzz possessed nearly all the conditions for explosive popularity; today’s nationwide wave of public opinion—first suppressed, then soaring—had already brought her halfway across the threshold to top-tier status.

Album sales surged again, growing even faster than before; on the Oricon charts, her three songs had already far surpassed the fourth-place entry, and in three more days, Luo Quan would claim her first-ever weekly number-one.

The sales of her mini-album “Spring Water” surpassing one million copies was merely a matter of time; in Japan, where physical albums were gradually declining, this achievement was the best for a solo female artist in recent years—only a few national idol girl groups ranked higher, relying purely on fan support, with actual song quality being relatively low.

If Luo Quan’s next album continues this momentum, the winner of this year’s Record Awards for Best New Artist will be unquestionable.

Even the prestigious awards for Best Album and Best Female Pop Artist are within serious reach; after all, one of the main judges, Oonoji Ryusuke, had already expressed appreciation for Luo Quan in his earlier evaluation—a major advantage.

At midnight, Luo Quan’s Twitter followers officially surpassed one million, reaching the “Famous” rank (gold: Japan region), and her Heat Points cap rose to 75,000.

The next rank is “Big Star”—in Huaxia terms, top-tier idol; names vary by region, and Wen Xia is currently at this stage. But strictly speaking, Luo Quan still had some distance to go; however, once her next album becomes a massive hit, she will truly deserve the title of Big Star female artist.

A Big Star at nearly eighteen years old—unthinkable. She wondered what reward the system would give her for breaking through such a crucial rank.

When Luo Quan returned home, it was already past midnight; Junko was fast asleep, while Wen Xia sat in the dark, staring at her laptop, gently typing; so absorbed was she that she didn’t notice Luo Quan had come home.

“Still working?” Luo Quan tapped Wen Xia’s shoulder softly.

Wen Xia nodded: “Mmm… I’ve gathered most of the data; once this proposal is done, I can start arranging the program.”

“Get some rest; after this vacation ends, you might be busy nonstop from now on.”

After urging Wen Xia twice, Luo Quan went to the bathroom for a quick wash, then applied the sprain ointment she had bought from the pharmacy.

Although she had dominated the entire fight with that scarred man today, due to lack of real combat experience, she twisted her right wrist when delivering her final punch.

Although Junko applied ice immediately, the effect wasn’t promising; she didn’t know if any bone was damaged—if this ointment didn’t help tonight, she’d have to see a doctor tomorrow.

“Girls’ bodies are so delicate…” Luo Quan sighed softly, then lay down beside Junko.

With each gentle breath, she caught the scent of platycodon flowers, instantly relaxing her mind after a day of tension.

What a nice shampoo—though she still preferred Liushen, especially in summer.

With a sharp slap, Luo Quan hit her own buttock—just now, a mosquito had sneaked a bite while she wasn’t looking, and a small bump had already formed.

Summer was great in every way, except these damn mosquitoes; she’d have to prepare some mosquito repellent tomorrow.