Chapter 463: Press 1 if you want it, press 2 if you don't (8800 words)

"I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry. I'll give you a 20% discount on your bill tonight."

"Yes, yes, there's an important matter, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Apologies, please take your time leaving."

Zhao Lei stood on the stage, watching in utter shock as Yingzi hurriedly began ushering people out. Before long, only that group of new guests remained in the small bar.

Yingzi moved so quickly that he couldn't even stop her; he could only set his guitar aside and stand on stage, watching helplessly.

He hadn't even sung his final song yet—was this appropriate?

Having spent so many years in the bar scene, Zhao Lei knew very well that even though the departing guests didn't seem to say anything, it was basically impossible for them to ever come back.

For a newly opened bar, driving away customers was absolutely a path to self-destruction.

The key was that these uninvited guests didn't give him a good feeling either. Not only was the woman leading them impolite, but the other men and women were also staring at him with a strange look.

That gaze wasn't like looking at a panda; it was more like looking at a panda with two butts.

These were definitely not fans, and certainly not talent scouts.

He, Zhao Lei, was no diamond buried in the sand. He had already been on Super Boy; which major domestic entertainment company would run over here during the New Year, acting as if they had discovered a new continent just to find him?

Besides, talent scouts weren't top scholars; they couldn't possibly be so dedicated and passionate about their work that they wouldn't even rest during the New Year holidays.

So, what exactly did this woman say to Yingzi to make her act without a shred of hesitation?

Once everyone had left, he was truly confused and asked, "Yingzi, what's going on? Who are they?"

Yingzi suddenly cried out, "Brother, they're from China Central Television."

"China... Central Television?" Zhao Lei broke the five characters apart and repeated them.

"Yes!" Yingzi said excitedly.

This was an answer that completely exceeded Zhao Lei's imagination. For a moment, he didn't know how to react and just subconsciously looked at the woman leading the group.

She was about 40, with short hair and a rectangular face, wearing a small suit. She looked very capable. When she spoke to Yingzi, she tilted her head slightly, squinting as she looked him up and down. From her gaze, one could tell—she didn't care about his feelings at all.

This point was actually a bit like China Central Television.

Seeing him look over, the woman said, "Let me introduce myself. My name is Ha Wen, and I am the director in charge of song and dance programs for the Spring Festival Gala. You are Zhao Lei, right?"

Zhao Lei nodded blankly and said, "Yes."

The woman raised her hand to check her watch, then looked up and said, "It's getting late. Sing a song for me to hear now."

After saying this, she plopped down onto a booth chair in the hall, and the others followed suit, taking their seats.

Zhao Lei had no idea how he should react.

Rationally speaking,

"China Central Television Spring Festival Gala program director"—this was truly a ridiculous answer. It was 1:00 AM, six days—no, five days—before New Year's Eve, and a Spring Festival Gala director comes to find you in person?

For a folk singer, believing this would be less likely than receiving a phone call from someone claiming to be named Chen Nuo, who says he wants to recommend him as a guest performer at the Oscars, provided he transfers 20,000 yuan to a China Construction Bank card under the name Li Sufen to grease the wheels.

Anyone with an IQ over 50 wouldn't believe such nonsense.

So when Zhao Lei sat back down in front of the microphone and picked up his guitar again, he truly felt like an idiot, crazy to be famous!

He held the guitar and froze for a moment, finding his mind a complete blank, then asked, "Um, may I ask what you would like to hear me sing?"

Zhao Lei had only asked casually; he thought the other party would reply with something like "Sing one you're good at" or "Whatever."

Unexpectedly, after he asked this question, the men and women opposite him began to discuss it in low voices.

It wasn't the pretentious kind of discussion, but a real, earnest debate. The sounds of them talking over one another drifted over in fragments. Among them, an old man of about 50 and a young man in his 30s were arguing quite intensely.

"...Didn't they say before, don't..."

"How can we not have it at all... We are facing hundreds of millions of viewers, tens of millions of teenagers... they will all be influenced..."

"...That's right, we must consider the influence of..."

"...But what if they don't agree in the end..."

"We should at least ask..."

"I agree... the leaders will definitely watch his program..."

"...What if there isn't one?"

"If there isn't, then of course, forget it."

A few minutes later, the woman who called herself Ha Wen looked up and said, "Do you have any songs that are more positive?"

Hearing this question, Zhao Lei's heart suddenly began to beat violently. If the previous credibility was 1%, after this question, based on his anti-fraud awareness, the credibility had risen to at least 40%.

"I do," he answered immediately.

The woman nodded and said, "Then go ahead."

Zhao Lei didn't put on airs; he picked up his guitar and began to sing: "Draw a moon for the lonely night sky, and draw me singing beneath that moon... Draw a large window for the cold, empty house, and draw a bed... Draw a girl to keep me company, and draw a lace-trimmed quilt..."

Soon, he finished singing "Painting."

There was some whispering on the other side, and Ha Wen said again, "Do you have anything even more positive?"

Zhao Lei thought for a moment and sang "Southern Girl."

Next, he sang "Rice Shop," "Farewell," "Snowman," and "We Are Already People on Two Different Paths"... all the songs he had sung when he participated in Super Boy last year. These songs had already been screened by Hunan Television. They were also the most positive songs he had created.

Before this, he had already been singing all night. After playing and singing non-stop like this, his voice was reaching its limit, but the group opposite was clearly still unsatisfied.

"Little Zhao," the old man in his 50s said, "I'm a few years older than you, so I'll call you Little Zhao, alright? Listening to these songs of yours, except for the first one which barely qualifies, the others all contain some negative, defeated elements. That's not very good. We hope for works that are purer, more positive, and more educational."

Zhao Lei understood what the old man meant.

Calming down to think about it.

If—and it really is just an if—these people were indeed from this year's CCTV directing team, coming to select songs for the Spring Festival Gala, then his songs were indeed not very suitable.

Up to now, Zhao Lei had been a failed, down-and-out wretch, suffering every day in the cracks between ideals and reality. The vast majority of the songs he created inevitably carried some influence from this.

To summarize, there was a quality in them that many people saw as moaning without an illness or being overly sentimental. It was fine to sing them in a small bar—everyone there was the same as him—and it was fine for professional shows like talent competitions, as those were just local stations.

But if he were to really stand on the CCTV Spring Festival Gala stage on New Year's Eve and sing to the whole nation, even he felt guilty; he felt it was just too damn unlucky.

His racing heart gradually calmed down. Zhao Lei couldn't be bothered to figure out if the people opposite were real or fake, so he said politely, "Most of my songs are like this. Director, if they aren't suitable, then maybe..."

He had originally wanted to say "maybe forget it,"

But halfway through, the words "forget it" seemed to have taken root on his tongue, and he just couldn't spit them out.

At that moment, many images flashed through Zhao Lei's mind.

In a dim bar, a seventeen-year-old boy timidly asked a guest, "Brother, would you like to request a song?" The other party was that round-faced man who became famous nationwide for "Dark Fragrance." He looked down at his phone and replied without emotion, "Get lost."

On the bluestone path beneath a towering palace, two people walked and sang while holding beers. A sharp-featured, monkey-faced youth suddenly turned back and said with a serious face, "If you, Zhao Lei, don't become famous, it would be a crime against heaven."

A gray-haired woman lay on a hospital bed, clutching his hand tightly, her eyes full of concern and reluctance. Her lips trembled as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she said nothing; only that hand, slowly dropping, was left in a state of unspoken words.

And that Sihe Academy filled with clutter, that cramped eight-square-meter rental room where it was hard to even turn around.

The late-night bus, the swirling snowflakes.

And the coldness of the rain hitting his face...

In the end, he didn't say the words "forget it."

However, although he hadn't said the words, his meaning was already quite clear.

He suddenly worried that if they got up and left, but to Zhao Lei's surprise, the people opposite were much more tolerant and gentle than he had imagined. Hearing his words, the old man actually squeezed out a smile and said:

"Little Zhao, don't be anxious... I'm not criticizing you. I'm just... think about it, it's the New Year, if we really make everyone feel bad, that wouldn't be right, don't you agree?"

A man next to him took over, "That's right, just keep it simple, don't be too depressing. The subject matter is unlimited; family, friendship, love are all fine. Like 'You at the Same Desk' or 'Brother in the Upper Bunk'—those are all fine."

Finally, the female director named Ha Wen said, "As long as it doesn't make people feel particularly pessimistic or add to their troubles... Little Zhao, think again, do you have anything similar among the songs you sang tonight?"

Zhao Lei shook his head and answered honestly, "The songs from tonight... really don't."

After saying this, he desperately searched his mind for possible options, then said hesitantly, "However, I do have a song I'm currently writing... I feel it's not bad."

"Still writing?" The old man shook his head immediately upon hearing this, "That won't do. We are on a tight schedule and can't wait for you to finish. Director Ha, what do you think we should do?"

Ha Wen frowned and pondered in silence.

Zhao Lei's heart was also pounding. He already believed them 60%—if they were really scammers, would they go to such lengths, running over in the middle of the night to play this scene for him? What else could they possibly be trying to scam him out of?

Aside from a guitar, a mountain of debt, and a pile of unsold CDs at home, he had nothing.

Scam him?

They probably wouldn't even make back their taxi fare.

He thought and thought; the only reasonable explanation was that his brief appearance on Super Boy had somehow caught the attention of the Spring Festival Gala directing team.

Wasn't it true that Zhao Benshan had announced his withdrawal from the Spring Festival Gala a few days ago?

And didn't he also happen to have the surname Zhao?

So, could it be that the Spring Festival Gala directing team had made a decision to have him replace Zhao Benshan's spot...

"Smack!"

A crisp sound.

Everyone looked over in astonishment.

Zhao Lei's face burned; he had really put some force into that slap. The sharp pain disrupted his wild thoughts, and his mind became completely clear.

In this life, he had never fought for anything.

But this time, regardless of whether these people were real or fake, even if there was only a one-percent chance, for the sake of those who loved and cared for him, for his mother, he had to fight for it.

"I write songs very quickly. Although it's only a rough draft right now, the lyrics are finished, and as for the melody, the chorus part is also complete. If you want it, in three days—no, two days—I will have it written," Zhao Lei said earnestly.

The people opposite were silent for a moment, and then the director named Ha Wen said, "Alright then, sing it for us to hear."

Zhao Lei took a deep breath and looked at Yingzi, who was standing not far away. The girl hadn't said much, just standing silently to the side. At this moment, she met his gaze and nodded at him without hesitation.

Zhao Lei lowered his head, closed his eyes, and began to quickly organize the melody and lyrics in his mind. He had indeed only written a prototype of this song; he hadn't even made a complete score.

It was a song he had written three years ago after returning from Lhasa, when he had stayed briefly in a city in the southwest and had an encounter with a girl that moved him.

At the time, he felt the song was too niche and too regional, with no market nationwide, so he had just shelved it and lacked the motivation to finish it.

But thinking about it now, among all his works, there is indeed none more pure than this one.

He began to lower his head and strum the chords, played the prelude for a while, and started to sing: "What makes me shed tears, is not just last night's wine..."

While singing, he observed the expressions of those people opposite him.

As soon as this line of lyrics came out, that old man, Ha Wen, and several others all frowned to varying degrees.

Zhao Lei’s heart suddenly went cold, but he could only brace himself and continue singing, "...what makes me reluctant to leave, is not just your tenderness..."

The soothing song was told slowly, echoing in the small bar.

The song was not finished, and it was inevitable that there would be stumbles in the middle, stopping and starting; sometimes Zhao Lei even had to think of the melody on the spot. As a result, the expressions of those people opposite naturally became uglier and uglier. Zhao Lei saw Ha Wen’s brows furrowing tighter and tighter, and that old man even seemed prepared to interrupt him several times, only to force himself to hold back.

His heart also sank lower and lower as the song progressed.

Finally, he reached the chorus section, which was relatively mature and complete. Zhao Lei adjusted his state and smoothly entered the rhythm, "...walk with me on the streets of Chengdu, oh oh~"

Before he could finish the "oh," he heard.

"Stop!"

"Stop, stop, stop!"

"Wait a moment!"

At least three or four people in the row opposite him shouted out at the same time.

Among them, the old man who had been finding fault with him stood up the moment he stopped and questioned: "Chengdu? You are singing about Chengdu??"

Looking at his appearance, Zhao Lei really didn't know which heavenly law he had broken. What? Is Chengdu a forbidden word at the Spring Festival Gala?

"Yes, it's Chengdu?"

"Are you sure it's Chengdu?"

"I am sure." Under the old man’s aggressive questioning, Zhao Lei’s temper also flared up a bit, and he said with a not-so-good tone: "Chengdu, what is the problem? The name of this song of mine is intended to be called Chengdu."

After he finished speaking, the opposite side suddenly went quiet.

The old man also stopped making noise.

Zhao Lei had originally thought he was finished. Unexpectedly, the female director named Ha Wen said: "...Little Zhao, you continue singing, finish the song."

Zhao Lei couldn't be bothered to think more, so he lowered his head, found a key, strummed the strings again, and continued to sing.

Except for the chorus, the rest of the parts were still stumbling and full of hitches.

But this time, he noticed that no one was frowning anymore; instead, they had changed their expressions, each one looking excited, whispering to each other while listening.

When the song was finished, they actually started clapping together.

"Good, not bad, it can completely be called a feeling of homesickness, a longing for this land, for one's hometown."

"The love inside is also very beautiful. I think it is very suitable, Director Ha, what do you all think?"

"No, no, no, it's not love; one can completely imagine the girl inside as some kind of symbol, right? Doesn't the feeling come all at once?" "Makes sense, this is completely tailor-made."

"That's right, haha, Chengdu is good, ah, Chengdu, too good."

Zhao Lei was left completely bewildered, but he also knew he had misunderstood. It seemed he had interpreted it wrong. Chengdu seemed to be particularly compatible with these people.

"Alright, that's about it, Little Zhao, come down, let's have a chat." Ha Wen looked at her watch and beckoned to him.

Zhao Lei put the guitar on the stool, walked off the stage, and sat at the round table next to this group of uninvited guests, with Yingzi standing behind him.

"I know, you might still have some doubts in your heart right now."

The woman said: "But we are indeed from the Spring Festival Gala program team. If you don't believe us, you can search for my name online right now—'Ha' as in 'laughing out loud' (haha), 'Wen' as in 'literary genre,' Ha Wen. These are my colleagues, our CCTV directors and senior producers. We came here this time for our program for this year's Spring Festival Gala..."

Zhao Lei listened, turned his head to glance at Yingzi, and saw the girl nod.

He immediately understood that Yingzi had already checked; this person was a real visitor from CCTV, and this one called Ha Wen was truly a CCTV director!

"...You should have heard that this time, Master Zhao Benshan has withdrawn from the Spring Festival Gala stage..."

Zhao Lei suddenly felt a surge of hot blood rush to his head; his hands were frantically pinching his thighs under the table, and he barely managed not to jump up and shout. He considered himself absolutely a talent unrecognized. However, he had truly never thought that filling the vacancy left by Zhao Benshan on the Spring Festival Gala stage would come true.

However, the woman's next words instantly pulled him back to reality.

"...So, we have invited a heavyweight guest to fill Master Zhao Benshan's vacancy, but the problem now is the song; the song has not been chosen yet. However, he told us before that he thinks your song is good..."

Zhao Lei muttered: "My song?"

"Yes, after the selection just now, we found that you have two songs that are quite suitable. One is 'Painting,' and one is this semi-finished product you just sang."

Zhao Lei understood.

So they had their eyes on his song, not on him!

His mood was like returning from heaven to the human world.

Although this sounded much more reasonable, the sense of disparity after rising to the top in one step and then quickly falling back made his heart feel like it was stuffed with a stone, and he couldn't even speak.

"Especially the second one, so I suggest you don't sleep tonight, hurry up and perfect it, and go to the recording studio tomorrow morning to record a demo to hand to us. Of course, if you can't find a suitable professional recording studio, I can help you coordinate our CCTV recording booth."

Zhao Lei didn't want to say anything.

Although having a song on the Spring Festival Gala was not bad, compared to his previous thoughts, it was simply like heaven and earth. His songs were like his children; he had really never thought about letting others sing them. As a result, this woman was still acting all high and mighty, asking nothing, saying nothing, and directly telling him to start writing the song tonight?

First, did he agree?

Second, writing a song is not moving bricks! It’s not something you can just do; it requires inspiration, emotion, as well as moonlight, the sound of the wind, and a bit of the smoke and fire of the human world. What do you know!

He forced a smile and said: "Isn't that too tight?"

Ha Wen said coldly: "It's not tight; what we lack now is time. You must have a basic demo to give me by tomorrow morning. You don't need complex arrangements; just record the vocals plus guitar accompaniment. But the melody and lyrics must be complete. We have an audio team here that can do post-production arrangements based on your demo."

This tone really treated him like a grandson!

With the humiliation of failing to sell himself in his heart, Zhao Lei’s rebellious temper flared up again. What’s so great about the Spring Festival Gala? If they really want to use his song, they are still being so impolite to him?

He, Zhao, had never thought about selling songs; for the sake of the Spring Festival Gala, he could make an exception and agree, but who are you being impolite to? His artistic youth temper flared up, his face suddenly fell, and he said neither coldly nor warmly: "Director Ha, writing a song isn't that fast; it needs to be felt. I am very tired today; I know you are in a hurry, but I can't help it. I will finalize the lyrics and melody line tomorrow during the day, go record a rough-mix demo in the evening, and hand it to you the morning after tomorrow."

Ha Wen shook her head and said: "No, there isn't enough time. How about this, you come back to the station with me now, use our recording room, you finish recording the vocal and guitar tracks tonight, and I will have the audio group work overnight on basic noise reduction and track separation, so we can have a demo by tomorrow morning."

"Director Ha, I... let's put it this way, if you really are the Spring Festival Gala, I have a question I want to ask: if you use a song here, how is the copyright fee generally paid?"

The woman said with a look of astonishment: "Copyright fee?"

"Yes, copyright fee." Zhao Lei saw the other party's surprised look, felt a bit secretly pleased, and said lightly, "It can't be that we give it to you for free, right? Although I know your Spring Festival Gala is a big stage, I still need a statement if I give my song to your singer to sing."

"A statement?"

"Yes."

The woman laughed, still with that same arrogant look, and said: "What statement do you want? Money? Do you know who is coming to the Spring Festival Gala to sing your song? You are asking me for money?"

Zhao Lei felt even angrier and said lightly: "No matter who it is, even if Wang Fei or Chen Yixun come to sing, I still have to collect a copyright fee. However, I do indeed want to know who the guest you selected is. Director Ha, both of these songs are works I particularly like; I don't want to be lip-synced on stage."

Zhao Lei originally thought Ha Wen would be angry, but he didn't expect the woman to chuckle, as if she found him quite funny, and said in an extremely annoying, understated tone: "Don't worry about that, there won't be lip-syncing..."

He was just about to retort, 'Your Spring Festival Gala is a big stage for lip-syncing, who are you fooling,' when he heard the woman continue: "Chen Nuo doesn't have that habit."

Zhao Lei blinked, looked left and right, and saw that the few people opposite all had serious faces.

He frowned, feeling as if he had misheard.

Zhao Lei hesitated for a moment, but in the end, his so-called defense of self-esteem was like paper in front of those two words, collapsing at a single touch.

He blinked and asked: "Director Ha, excuse me, who did you just say? Chen what?? Nuo?"

Ten minutes later.

Ha Wen and her party left, just as they had come—hurriedly, without stopping, without pleasantries, without formalities. The woman led the way, and the others followed closely behind.

Zhao Lei had originally felt this was too impolite. But now, he understood instead—these people still had to rush back to the CCTV building to work overtime overnight; they hadn't been home for several days, so how could they have the heart to waste time on socializing and rituals?

Just like himself, tonight was also destined to be a sleepless night.

He had to go home, get his CD, the manuscript of "Chengdu," and bring his beloved wooden guitar, then rush to the CCTV recording room overnight. Finally, with the help of an audio engineer, he had to polish the melody prototype of "Chengdu" into at least a listenable demo before ten o'clock tomorrow morning.

"Brother."

"Hmm?"

"I didn't hear wrong, right? It's Chen Nuo who is going to sing your song?"

"I suppose so."

Zhao Lei didn't know how his voice sounded, but he hoped it wouldn't be like Yingzi’s, appearing too impatient.

"You say, where could he have seen you sing? Did he watch 'Super Boy'? That’s not very likely, right?"

"I don't know."

"Why do you think he would watch 'Super Boy'?"

"I don't know."

"Alright. Brother, he likes your song... Brother, don't you think it's magical?"

Zhao Lei said matter-of-factly: "It is a little bit magical."

"Do you think it could be Auntie’s spirit in heaven protecting you?"

Zhao Lei looked up at the ceiling and said: "Maybe it is."

The two were silent for a while, after which Yingzi changed her tone and said: "Brother, do you think you will be able to see him in person when the time comes?"

"I don't know."

"You are the author, won't they call you for rehearsals?"

"Hmm, they should."

"When the time comes, if you go to ask him for an autograph, will it be very embarrassing?"

Zhao Lei thought for a moment and said: "It shouldn't be anything. Do you want me to help you get one?"

"Okay, can you?"

"I can."

"...Brother, if you are short of money recently, tell me."

Zhao Lei stood up and said: "Alright, I'm going home, and then I'll head over."

Yingzi also stood up and suddenly hugged him, her eyes turning slightly red: "Brother, you are finally going to be famous. I just knew it, you would be famous sooner or later."

Zhao Lei did not act humble; that would have been too hypocritical. He patted her back and said in a solemn tone: "I owe this to you tonight, Yingzi. Thank you."

……

……

Chen Nuo had not expected the call from Central Television to come so early.

It was only a little past ten in the morning.

Did they not want people to sleep?

Gao Yuanyuan, who was beside him, was also woken up by the noise and opened her eyes groggily: "Who is it?"

"It's Central Television. They said the songs are ready; they've selected two and want me to go to their recording studio to take a listen."

"Ah? So early." Gao Yuanyuan propped herself up and sat up. "Can't they just send you a file to listen to?"

"They said one of them was just recorded and is still a demo, so I have to go there to listen. If there are any issues, we can change them on the spot." Chen Nuo leaned against the headboard and yawned.

"I don't want you to go." Gao Yuanyuan hugged his waist.

It was rare for Gao Yuanyuan to act like a little girl, and Chen Nuo felt his heart soften instantly.

Last night, this woman, who had always been labeled as a "literary goddess," seemed to have completely let herself go.

There was neither the indulgence of "drink today, be merry today" from their initial friends-with-benefits relationship, nor the distant, restrained, and reserved manner she had later. It was as if she had set down some heavy burden in her heart; she became passionate, generous, cheerful, and direct, and even quite hospitable.

That night, she had used almost all her tricks, completely devoid of the airs of a national goddess; it felt like she had completely devolved into... ahem.

In short—with her acting spoiled like this, Chen Nuo truly felt a bit uncomfortable.

"Do you still have time before the new year?"

"I don't know," Gao Yuanyuan replied in a muffled voice.

There was nothing to be done about that.

He tried to get up, but Gao Yuanyuan was still clinging to him and wouldn't let go.

Chen Nuo couldn't help but laugh: "What are you doing? I really have to go."

The woman looked up, blinked her bright, large eyes, and said softly: "I want to have a child with you."

"............What did you say?"

At the moment he was least prepared, hearing a woman use the gentlest voice to say the most ruthless thing, Chen Nuo’s entire body shuddered, and his groggy head instantly cleared up.

Gao Yuanyuan sat up, her long, jet-black hair a bit messy, but the expression on her face was not messy at all; it was extremely serious.

"My mother is in poor health and is always worried about me; she has always hoped I would get married soon." Her speaking speed was not fast, but every sentence was clear, "Over this past year, I have thought a lot. I know it's impossible for you to be with me, so I never knew what to do."

"Sometimes I really think, what if I do what Fan Bingbing did and have a child behind your back? That would also let my mother be at ease." She gave a bitter smile, "But that would be too unfair to myself... I even often think about whether I should leave you completely and find someone willing to live a stable life with me."

"When I saw you last night, I actually hadn't made up my mind; I didn't even know what I wanted."

She paused here, then looked up, her eyes flashing with a light that was shockingly bright—a brightness that carried a hint of madness, as well as the determination of someone who had completely let go of all reservations.

"Until later, when I finally figured it out."

"You are the person I have been waiting for."

She called out softly: "Chen Nuo."

There was no hesitation or probing in her tone, only an unprecedented clarity and decisiveness: "I love you."

……

Do you know what a literary woman is like once she lets go of her reserve?

That is exactly what it's like.

More direct, more intense, and more uncompromising than an ordinary girl.

If it weren't for the fact that Chen Zong was truly a veteran of a hundred battles, if it were an ordinary man who hadn't even brushed his teeth early in the morning and was suddenly hit with the topic of having a child by a great beauty he had just slept with last night, he would probably be so stunned he wouldn't even know his own name.

But although he had turned over a new leaf in this life, in his previous life, the number of times he had been confessed to was like the stars in the sky. He had encountered more than once people cutting their own necks or wrists with knives, saying things like "if you don't agree, I'll die for you to see," let alone this kind of ordinary confession.

Therefore, Brother Nuo was not scared. Instead, he looked at Gao Yuanyuan with a calm gaze, his eyes not dodging or wavering, and said with a serious face: "Thank you for your love, Yuanyuan. I must say, this is my honor. I am very honored to receive your love. Thank you."

He paused slightly to give Gao Yuanyuan a moment to react, then continued: "As for what you said, I still want to thank you for not choosing to hide it from me, but telling me frankly... However, you have to let me think about it, okay?"

This attitude of his actually made Gao Yuanyuan a bit uncomfortable. Her face slowly turned red, a thin blush spreading from her neck to her face. It was clear she was suppressing her shyness as she nodded and said: "Okay, tell me when you've thought it over."

"I will, don't worry. I'm getting up now. You were too tired last night, sleep a bit more." Chen Nuo hugged Gao Yuanyuan naturally and kissed her on the lips. The woman's face turned even redder, and then, under her gaze, he got out of bed and walked out of the bedroom with composure.

However, the moment he pulled the door shut, Chen Nuo's expression changed instantly.

Didn't I say this woman had something going on?

Now the truth had come out; indeed, there was something, and it was a big deal.

Damn it, what should he do?

Seeking help online; reply 1 if you want it, reply 2 if you don't.

(End of chapter)