Chapter 500: Can You Play

Zhou Yi paused in his noodle-eating, sucked his nose after biting through a strand, and raised his eyes to look at her.

"Don't overthink it; I'm not telling you what to do."

Cheng Hao made a joke, yet as she pulled out a chair and sat down, her left index finger flicking against the knuckles of her right hand grew ever faster.

"It's not that bad, is it? Are you really that tired?"

Zhou Yi, who had never truly complained about being tired in front of Cheng Hao or her family, raised his eyebrows in slight surprise.

"When I chatted with my parents, they said you were very tired in the States, sometimes sleeping only a few hours a day."

Cheng Hao pressed her lips together, then spoke: "Do you know, Zhou Yi, our stocks, in your words, have already taken off, especially the NetEase shares in the internet sector."

By the end of last year, NetEase's stock price, which had soared straight up thanks to the game "A Chinese Odyssey Online 2," had officially entered a takeoff trajectory, bringing gains to Zhou Yi and Cheng Hao that were nothing short of a roller coaster.

Especially for Cheng Hao.

She had once bought NetEase alongside Zhou Yi with the mindset that she wouldn't mind losing the money entirely, and she had watched helplessly as NetEase's stock, amidst internal strife and external threats, once plummeted below $0.65, forcing a suspension of trading.

But what was the result?

Ding Sanshi, having regained control of the company, turned the tide against the wind with the game "A Chinese Odyssey 2," causing the stock price to rise steadily; by the end of last year, it had stabilized near the $8 mark, reaching a high of $10.14.

On January 21, 2003, NetEase's stock surged to $17.9 due to the explosive popularity of "A Chinese Odyssey Online 2" around the New Year.

Since the start of this year, the impact of SARS, which kept large numbers of people at home, indirectly promoted business expansion for internet companies holding Guli shares, such as NetEase and Sina.

By today, May 30, NetEase's stock price had even surpassed Sohu's "mere" $25.83 per share, skyrocketing directly to $31.65.

This internet company, once suspended in 2001 and earning Zhou Yi and Cheng Hao the title of "suckers" in the investment circle, became in May 2003 the first internet company in Chinese history to break the $30 threshold.

As for Sina, the other company in which Guli held shares, it was merely the filler among the three major players, with a stock price as "grim" as only $15.24, a chasm-like gap compared to NetEase.

The might of NetEase Games is terrifying indeed.

The returns on the NetEase shares held personally by Cheng Hao alone, just the fractional part, were enough to cover her parents' ongoing medical expenses in the US.

No longer a novice, Cheng Hao could even foresee how far she and Zhou Yi could rise by relying on NetEase and Sina, these legs of unequal length; she now understood why so-called stock trading held such great magic.

The excitement and thrill brought by each rising number were enough to make ordinary people addicted.

But fortunately, she was not an ordinary person.

Although she had made money in the stock market and could visibly continue to make huge profits, Cheng Hao still maintained a calm mind; she had even considered selling all her holdings right now, quietly taking the money home to live a peaceful life.

For instance, returning to her alma mater, the Central Academy of Drama, to pursue a master's degree, then taking a civil service exam to become a teacher.

Seeing that Zhou Yi was still so busy preparing for the concert that he hadn't even eaten dinner this late, and recalling what her parents had said during their phone call—that Zhou Yi sometimes worked so hard he slept only three or four hours a day—she couldn't help but feel a pang of heartache.

"Taking off was expected, wasn't it? Otherwise, would I have been so certain to buy? Would I have let you buy too?"

After a moment of silence, Zhou Yi smiled at her: "But you know, I always see things through to the end."

"This round of the 'Star World Tour' was decided long ago; it can be considered a promise between me and those fans. I really don't want to break my word."

Cheng Hao, hearing the implication, was stunned for a moment.

"This is probably my first and also my last world tour."

Taking a sip of soup, Zhou Yi smiled and invited: "So, beautiful Young Lady Wan Ren Mi, are you interested in making an appearance in this destined-to-be-out-of-print 'Star'?"

At the latest, after the 2008 Olympics, having completed his Olympic mission, he could withdraw from the music scene and start retiring early to enjoy life.

At this critical juncture, if he simply threw down his work and announced retirement, aside from the issue of not having earned enough money yet, it would be morally indefensible, since the authorities were currently going all out to promote him as their face.

"Me?"

Cheng Hao, utterly unexpected that Zhou Yi would suddenly invite her, waved her hands repeatedly in surprise: "No, no, I can't do it. I can't sing. You know my singing skills are limited to KTV level."

With singing skills of that level, appearing at a concert would be a huge embarrassment, let alone that Zhou Yi's was a limited concert where every show was one less.

"What's there to fear? You're so beautiful; just standing there would make you wildly popular. Don't forget who is currently acting out the three words 'Wan Ren Mi' until they are bound to themselves."

Zhou Yi waved his hand dismissively: "Besides, what's wrong with KTV-level singing? People who can't sing at all hold concerts. You reaching KTV level is already remarkable."

"..."

The smile rising at the corners of Cheng Hao's mouth was somewhat uncontrollable.

She thought that as a professional singer, Zhou Yi could not possibly say such a thing unless his brain was slightly damaged; what kind of concert singer couldn't sing? Was that even a proper singer?

Yet he said it anyway, and his brain wasn't damaged, so the meaning was self-evident.

"Just spare me. With my level, wouldn't I just embarrass you on stage? You really do come up with ideas on the spur of the moment." Although somewhat tempted, Cheng Hao, clearly worried about ruining Zhou Yi's concert, shook her head and chose to refuse.

When others appear as guests, they showcase their talents; if she went up, it would truly be a display of ugliness.

"If you need someone to be a guest, I can help you contact Liu Ruoying; I think she would be very happy to help."

As she spoke, Cheng Hao also thought of Liu Ruoying, the de facto lead actress of the drama "Love in Pink."

Because of Zhou Yi, Liu Ruoying had been quite caring toward her on set back then; she herself was an established diva, and when Zhou Yi first debuted, his song competed neck and neck with her "Later."

Although at that time, the novel musical style of "Happy Worship" laughed last, winning the Song of the Year victory, as time passed, while "Happy Worship" remained popular, in terms of emotional aftertaste for listeners, it was clearly inferior to "Later," a song that could be considered a top candidate for the best lyrics of the century in pop music.

In Chinese songs, the importance and value of lyrics are visibly rising, a point embodied to the fullest in the song "Later." The reason it was so moving and had such a powerful aftertaste was due to its invincible lyrics.

"Do I need you to contact Liu Ruoying? Just make a call to Rock Records directly."

Zhou Yi sneered, curling his lip: "How about this, you won't sing, okay?"

"Huh? I won't sing?"

Cheng Hao paused in her tone: "Then what do I do up there? Perform acrobatics and break a stone with my chest??"

"Can you play 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star'?"

"..."The one with 'Twinkle, twinkle, little star'?"

Zhou Yi's question instantly made Cheng Hao think of that children's song that had swept the globe for over two centuries.

In terms of popularity, "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" as a children's song was invincible. The lyric "Twinkle, twinkle, little star" was not only familiar to most Chinese people but had even been adapted by them to create numerous catchy rhymes.

"Me? Singing a children's song at your concert? To lull my son to sleep?" Imagining that scene, Cheng Hao couldn't hold back and burst out laughing.

"Of course not singing; I want you to play it on the piano."

Having slurped up the noodles in three quick strokes, chewed through the poached egg and vegetables, Zhou Yi let out a burp: "The intro to this song is very simple; anyone who has mastered the piano as a beginner can play it with their eyes closed. Come with me."

Saying this, Zhou Yi, having put down his bowl and chopsticks, took Cheng Hao's hand and led her straight to the piano room.

Do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, si.

The seven most basic notes in the modern music system; the simplified piano score for "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" could be played even by someone using only two fingers—do, do, sol, sol, la, la, sol...

After Zhou Yi demonstrated once, Cheng Hao, hesitant yet curious, began pressing the keys one by one in the slow sequence Zhou Yi had just shown.

"Occasionally" forgetting, Zhou Yi would immediately grab her hand and correct her to the right key.

"Yes, just like that..."

(End of this chapter)