Chapter 28: Singing Casually

"Let's go eat first. You've been watching this for half the day. If you don’t, all the dishes will get cold," Huang Guolun reminded when he saw Huang Guokun utterly absorbed, watching the new soundtrack edition of "Biochemical Dictatorship" over and over.

"No need, I’m not eating. On my way here, Peaches and I chatted and snacked all the way—I’m already full."

"What?" Huang Guokun realized he’d said too much and quickly covered, laughing, "No, I meant Peaches chatted the whole way and I just kept eating, buying a bit of everything that looked tasty to tease him. Heh."

"Give me a break! I told you not to buy him snacks. Why do you keep indulging his bad habits?"

"Alright, stop nagging. It’s just some food—what’s the big deal?" Seeing Huang Guolun was about to go on, Huang Guokun hurriedly changed the subject back to the film. "By the way, your music for these segments is really top-notch. Especially the opening—I’ve listened to it more than a dozen times, and I never get tired of it! With this style of BGM, the film’s class shot up from 8 million to 10 million! I never thought you were so skilled at this kind of biochemical-themed soundtrack. You shouldn’t bother with other genres—just stick to this. There’s a real future in it."

Dropping the topic of Peaches, Huang Guolun replied with earnestness, "This isn’t the only music I can do. The reason this came out well is that your film is high quality. It inspired my creativity and imagination. If your film were trash, I couldn’t have composed this kind of biochemical score."

"That makes sense. But I still think you shine more in this style—it has much more flavor than anything you’ve done before." Huang Guokun dragged the film to the end and asked, "So you haven't written the ending theme yet?"

"The song is done, and I’ve recorded a demo, but I think it would be better if Bai Yao sings it."

"Oh? Let me hear your demo first."

Huang Guolun handed him the songbook, then sat at the arranging desk to cue up the demo for Huang Guokun.

"Why is it in English?" Huang Guokun frowned as he saw the English lyrics.

"You said the film might become a major release in Thailand—having the ending song in English makes it more suitable for an international audience."

"You've really thought this through. Looks like you’re taking this seriously for once," Huang Guokun said, clearly pleased. In his mind, the company belonged to both of them, and he’d always hoped they could work together to make it big. As the saying goes, united as brothers, they could break through anything.

But until now, Huang Guolun never seemed invested—he still didn’t think of the company as theirs. You could tell just by the way he spoke: always "your company," "your film," never "our company," "our film." It had always left Huang Guokun feeling powerless.

But now, seeing Huang Guolun’s unprecedented enthusiasm, Huang Guokun finally felt they were charging forward together—the very state he’d always hoped for.

Huang Guolun played "The Beautiful People" for him.

Huang Guokun muted the film’s ending and listened to the song paired with the visuals.

As soon as the urgent drumbeat and rhythm kicked in, Huang Guokun felt immediately gripped. Then, with Huang Guolun’s cold, raspy industrial rock vocals, a brilliant, astonished expression erupted on Huang Guokun’s square face.

He pointed at Huang Guolun in surprise, as if to say, "That’s you singing?"

Huang Guolun smiled and nodded.

Huang Guokun was truly stunned.

Until then, he had never heard Huang Guolun sing with such a hardcore rock voice. The very first line sent a thunderous shock through his mind.

With the ending scene of the heroine charging at the dictator’s army, and Huang Guolun’s high-class English vocals, Huang Guokun was so excited he nearly jumped up.

This song alone would raise their film’s quality by at least another half a million!

It was absolutely killer.

Halfway through, Huang Guokun couldn’t hold back anymore and exclaimed, "This song is so cool! Did you write it yourself?"

"If I didn’t, who would have?" Huang Guolun retorted with a smile. He was convinced now—all these inspirations that Bai Yao had knocked into his head with a lunchbox were his own. People are selfish—if bursts of inspiration appeared in anyone’s mind, they’d want to claim them as their own, wouldn’t they?

Huang Guokun praised him twice in quick succession, "Amazing! Incredible! I never thought your greatest musical talent lay in rock! Stop messing around with folk songs—you’re just not cut out for that. Stick with rock! You’re a hidden rock genius, whether composing or performing—it’s got real style! And all in a dark mode—you’re really something!"

"I only wrote this kind of rock because your film inspired me. Honestly, I still prefer folk music."

"Folk is so bland—soft, pretentious, nothing like the impact of rock," Huang Guokun declared, clearly partial to rock.

"If you want grandeur, listen to symphonies—those have true grandeur," Huang Guolun countered.

"I’m talking about songs, not pure instrumental music. Rock is still the most stirring!"

"Not necessarily. Rock is like a bulldozer, intent on knocking everything down—impressive, but not always the most moving. A good folk song is like a needle, piercing straight into the deepest corners of the heart, evoking the most delicate emotional resonance. As long as there are people who need to shout, rock will never die; as long as there are people who need to confide, folk songs will always endure."

"Alright, stop lecturing me. I’m not your student—you always put on the teacher act, just like Mom," Huang Guokun decided. "It’s settled then—we’ll use your new soundtrack for the film."

"Aren’t you going to consult the creative team?"

"I will, but I guarantee, once they hear your music, they’ll toss the old score into the trash. And scrap your student singing the end theme—let’s just use your version. It’s too perfect! You singing rock is seriously cool! After listening to your song, I feel like I’ve had a shot of adrenaline. It’s incredible!"

"Let’s not use my version—I just sang it as a demo."

"That’s just your casual singing?!" Huang Guokun was even more astounded.

"Let Bai Yao sing it. My professional judgment is that her voice is better suited for the film’s ending. You must have noticed her unique vocal advantage."

"I’m not convinced she can do it justice. But since you insist, I’ll let her try first. But if she can’t nail it, you have to step up!"

"Sure, no problem."

"This needs to move fast. I’ve already signed contracts with the eight major streaming platforms. The film has to be promoted and released soon. Get her to record as soon as possible," Huang Guokun said, getting up. "I won’t stay here—there’s a lot to organize at the company. This time, our company is going all out! Even if we don’t make much money, we have to make a name for ourselves!"

"Really not eating?"

"Eat what? I’ve had who knows how much watermelon, mango, sausage, and half a durian on the way here. Phew—smell my breath, it’s still durian," Huang Guokun joked, blowing toward Huang Guolun’s nose.

Huang Guolun pushed him away in disgust. "Gross! If you’re done eating, get out and stop making me sick."

"Heh."

The two brothers had a great relationship. Without lingering, Huang Guokun grabbed the digital master and data disk of the soundtrack, bid goodbye to Peaches and Bai Yao, and hurried off to the company to convene the creative and publicity teams for the next phase.

After seeing Huang Guokun off, Huang Guolun returned to the living room to find Peaches, sleepy-eyed, still struggling to tell Bai Yao jokes.

"Bai Yao, let me tell you another story about Old Liu next door. He started going bald in his forties and can’t stand anyone mentioning it. One day, a tractor went past him, and he just broke down. Hahaha, do you know why?"

Bai Yao laughed, "Of course, because—vroom vroom vroom vroom vroom vroom."

Huang Guolun came over with a smile and said, "Alright, that’s enough. Peaches, you should go to bed now."

Peaches yawned silently. "I’ll wait until Bai Yao performs her psychic transmission before I sleep."

"Fine, Bai Yao, let’s do it," Huang Guolun beckoned. "Bai Yao, transmit what you and Peaches just talked about to me."

Peaches forced his eyes wide open to watch the show.

Bai Yao snapped her fingers with flair. "There. It’s done."

Peaches exclaimed, "That’s it? That’s way too perfunctory! You’re saying it’s transmitted?"

Huang Guolun closed his eyes theatrically, as if receiving the psychic message, then suddenly opened them with an all-knowing expression and rattled off, "You just told her about Zhang Liang in your class eating dung in class, right? And you explained the origin of ‘Stick Guy’ in your class. Oh, and you and Grandma went for grilled fish and met an owner who marinates the fish with fragrant urine—what a riot. You even told her about your failed attempt to grow your hair out. You really are something, bragging about things you didn’t even pull off."

Peaches was utterly stunned, mouth agape. Every revelation from Huang Guolun hit him like a heavy blow—making it impossible to doubt the reality of magic any longer.

"Bai Yao, your psychic transmission is amazing! Incredible!" Peaches could hardly find words to express his awe.

Bai Yao played along, sighing, "Yes, it’s remarkable, but this magic cost me so much power—I don’t know when I’ll be able to use my magic again."

Peaches imitated her, snapping his fingers. "Just one snap, and you used up so much magic?"

"You don’t understand," Bai Yao said, assuming the lofty air of a witch.

"Clearly I don’t," Peaches gazed at her with worshipful admiration, convinced she was more mysterious than ever.

"Alright, you’ve seen enough. Time for bed."

"Bai Yao, let’s play together again when I wake up!"

"Of course, now hurry off to bed."

Peaches yawned as Huang Guolun took his hand and led him to his bedroom. Even as he walked, he couldn’t keep quiet: "With my sword raised I laugh at the sky, and after I laugh I’ll go to sleep. When I wake, I’ll take up the sword again and laugh at the sky once more…"

Bai Yao was left in stitches. She never imagined that Mr. Huang could have raised such a unique, joyful troublemaker.

Back at school, they’d all heard that Mr. Huang’s wife had passed away, leaving him a single father. The students all assumed his life must be full of hardship and sorrow.

But to her surprise, his life was so magical.

Inwardly, Bai Yao felt a rare envy, even a touch of admiration, for Huang Guolun.