Chapter 30

Tianhai Records, recording studio.

Wang Tianxiao had always treated Cheng Chen's desire to record songs as a joke.

There are indeed producers who write, compose, and sing themselves, but how could he take on everything?

His outstanding talent for writing lyrics and composing music made Wang Tianxiao completely overlook the fact that Cheng Chen could sing.

But when Wang Tianxiao saw Cheng Chen's performance in the studio, he fell silent.

People say that when God opens one door for you, he closes another window.

Wang Tianxiao really wanted to ask Cheng Chen:

Which window did God close for you?

To be honest, Cheng Chen's singing technique isn't particularly impressive, but he has exceptional natural vocal qualities.

It's not even accurate to call it talent—these five songs he delivered perfectly match his vocal condition.

Wang Tianxiao even wondered if Cheng Chen had planned it all along, deliberately writing these five songs for himself to sing.

"How was it?"

Cheng Chen stepped out of the studio and asked with a smile.

"Have you ever received professional music training?"

Wang Tianxiao asked.

"No, but I sang regularly in bars for a few years and discussed music with other bar singers."

More accurately, he had experienced bar singing in his previous life.

After all, good roles weren't daily occurrences, and he needed to make a living, so he intermittently worked in bars for over three years.

"Your vocal condition is excellent, but you lack technique.

I know a vocal coach—go study with him for a while.

Don't start releasing songs until you've fully absorbed these five tracks.

But you must finish within two months; otherwise, you'll miss this year's Golden Melody Chart."

Wang Tianxiao gave Cheng Chen a business card.

Cheng Chen glanced at the card: Luo Tong?

Luo Tong? He'd never heard of him—probably a stage name.

The card contained nothing but the name, contact details, and address.

It seemed mysterious; though the man was unknown, Cheng Chen had zero doubt about his ability.

Wang Tianxiao wouldn't joke about something like this.

"Go to his place next week—Teacher Luo is currently traveling abroad.

When you visit, bring him a gift—show some respect."

As he left, Wang Tianxiao reminded him.

"Come on, big sister, I'm not a kid—don't worry."

Cheng Chen said helplessly.

After Cheng Chen walked away, Wang Tianxiao muttered under his breath:

"Kid…"

…

On the "倚天" set, although Cheng Chen's scenes were all finished, due to Lai Dao's words, he spent his days loitering around the set.

Though called loitering, most of his time followed Lai Dao—something Lai Shuiqing deliberately arranged.

He wanted to use this time to let Cheng Chen observe the performances of veteran actors and hone his acting skills.

After all, Cheng Chen had served as his translator for so long; helping him along was just a small favor.

A renowned director taking someone under his wing was a rare opportunity many actors begged for, and Cheng Chen certainly didn't waste Lai Dao's mentorship.

He occasionally shared filming techniques he'd seen in the future for Lai Dao's consideration.

After all, it was 2002, and many filming techniques seemed outdated to Cheng Chen.

Since the birth of cinema with "Train Arriving at the Station" in 1895, over a hundred years had passed, during which countless predecessors invented and refined numerous filming methods.

From the earliest single-shot long takes to the use of montage, from practical effects to the creation of green-screen CGI.

The film and television industry was constantly evolving and optimizing.

Lai Dao didn't favor autocratic control like other directors—he came from Gang Sheng's TVB.

Starting from the actor training class, he had done everything: extra, crew, assistant director, director, producer.

He was among the first Gang Sheng directors to come to the Mainland to shoot films and expand the market.

Thus, he possessed a forward-thinking ability to learn and never dismissed Cheng Chen's ideas simply because he was an actor.

On the contrary, he listened seriously to Cheng Chen's ideas and considered their feasibility.

Due to tight shooting schedules, he often studied camera positions, shots, and scene blocking with Cheng Chen after wrap.

"Impressive, Cheng Zai—you're wasting your talent as an actor. Interested in becoming an Assistant Director?"

The title "Assistant Director" sounded impressive, but it was merely the director's assistant.

Depending on the complexity of the production, a crew might have several or even a dozen Assistant Directors.

For example, "倚天" had a full twenty-four Assistant Directors.

Most Assistant Directors just carried a megaphone, supervising extras' makeup, costumes, and props before scenes.

On set, they arranged extras' entry, guided rehearsals, and adjusted positioning for the director's review.

Then they explained the scene to extras; when too many people couldn't hear, they used gestures as signals.

So, while "Assistant Director" sounded grand, it was often the most overworked and miserable role.

Originally, Cheng Chen was quite tempted as he listened, after all he had many quality films and TV dramas in his mind that he wanted to produce.

Getting more exposure to crew work now would be a great help for remaking films and TV dramas in the future.

But on second thought, he still had to study music and release a single next, so he probably wouldn't have much energy to put toward the crew.

He politely declined Director Lai's suggestion, and Lai Shuiqing didn't press the matter either.

In the blink of an eye, three days passed. Cheng Chen received a call from Wang Tianxiao, saying that that Teacher Luo had returned from abroad.

Cheng Chen then grabbed a fruit basket and some gifts, and went to visit Teacher Luo in person according to the address on the business card.

Actually, there are many ways to learn music; generally, finding a university teacher will do.

In Jingcheng, teachers from well-known universities like the Central Conservatory of Music and the China Conservatory of Music all run music classes outside of school.

But the teacher Wang Tianxiao had connected him with, according to Gao Yuanyuan's introduction, was a senior music veteran.

Many famous musicians in the country had consulted him; only the old man sought neither fame nor fortune.

Too many people and he'd consider it a disturbance, so most of the time he was very mysterious and not well-known.

Since Gao Yuanyuan had put it that way, Cheng Chen wasn't afraid Wang Tianxiao would cheat him.

"34 Qingnian Road, this is the place."

It was a siheyuan, red bricks and grey tiles, full of old Jingcheng flavor.

"Knock knock"

"Excuse me, is anyone home?"

Cheng Chen stepped forward and knocked on the door.

"Excuse me, is anyone home…"

"The door's not locked, just come straight in."

A clear, crisp voice came from inside.

Clear and crisp? An old man?

Cheng Chen stepped back out and checked the house number—34, that's right!

Pushing the door open, Cheng Chen walked into the small courtyard.

In the courtyard, a girl was sitting beside an easel, a paintbrush in her right hand, an air of pure, otherworldly grace radiating from her features.

Impossible to forget at first sight.

Alley, courtyard, girl.

Mottled light spilled across the trees, filtering through the gaps in the foliage, dust drifting softly down.

"Are you here to see Teacher Luo? He just stepped out. If there's anything, you can tell me, and I'll pass it along.

"My name is Tang Wei."

The girl said with a smile, paintbrush in hand.

……