Chapter 52: Hidden in Plain Sight

They had spent some time together, yet Huang Guolun had never asked Bai Yao about her plans for the future or her life goals. So when Huang Guolun suddenly posed this question, Bai Yao was at a bit of a loss for how to answer, as she herself had never seriously or systematically considered these matters.

Setting down her cup of soy milk, Bai Yao thought for a moment before replying, “I haven’t really thought carefully about which university to apply to. But Tsinghua’s Department of Mathematics and Applied Mathematics is probably my top choice. Peking University’s Finance Department is my backup. If the University of Hong Kong offers me an attractive scholarship, I’d also consider studying there.”

Huang Guolun couldn’t help but marvel inwardly—she truly was a top student! While others were scrambling to get into one prestigious university, she was effortlessly weighing her options among several leading institutions.

Given Bai Yao’s academic abilities, Huang Guolun was certain that getting into any of these top three universities wouldn’t be much of a challenge for her.

“Are you really interested in mathematics?” he asked.

Bai Yao smiled gently. “I wouldn’t say I’m particularly interested. I just think mathematics is very easy to learn.”

That only made Huang Guolun feel more defeated.

Back in his own student days, mathematics had always been his greatest struggle. He still remembered scoring only 32 points out of 150 on his college entrance exam math paper. One of his childhood friends who took the exam with him, and who also struggled with math and claimed to have filled in the answers randomly, managed to score 40 points—eight points higher than him. The memory had left a psychological scar that would never fade.

Now, whenever mathematics was mentioned, Huang Guolun felt a headache coming on. He quickly changed the subject, asking Bai Yao, “Have you ever thought about what you want to do in the future?”

Bai Yao unconsciously tapped the table with her fingers, as if she were playing the piano—she was deep in thought.

After a long pause, Bai Yao couldn’t come up with a definite answer regarding her future. She could only offer a sheepish smile. “I haven’t really thought about it. Maybe I’ll just keep studying, get a PhD, and become a professor at a university? Or perhaps I’ll go into finance and do something related to investment? Actually, I once thought about becoming an actuary at a casino.”

“What?” Huang Guolun was surprised. “Why would you want to work at a casino?”

“Well, not exactly a casino,” Bai Yao clarified. “I considered working for one of those mainstream gaming companies as an actuary, someone who deals with numbers. I’ve heard actuaries earn a lot. I’m not good at much else, but I’m good with numbers. The job might be boring, but I think I could handle it.”

Huang Guolun pressed further, “Is there any particular career you dream of pursuing?”

Bai Yao shook her head sincerely. “No, I’ve never really thought about it. Right now, I just want to study hard and change my fate through knowledge. I don’t have strong feelings about what specific job I’ll do in the future. Or rather, I’m not picky—as long as the job pays well, is legal, and lets me use my talents and potential, I’ll be happy to do it.”

There was one thing Bai Yao didn’t say aloud—that she absolutely didn’t want her next generation to be born into poverty as she had been.

She truly didn’t care what work she did, as long as it paid well, was aboveboard, and allowed her to realize her abilities—she would gladly do it.

Huang Guolun nodded thoughtfully, now having a clearer sense of Bai Yao’s situation.

He had already told her about the payment for this recording—ten thousand yuan, a sum that had almost made Bai Yao’s heart leap out of her chest when she heard it. She hadn’t expected that singing with Huang Guolun could earn her so much money; it was much faster than the money she’d made singing in bars before.

Now that Huang Guolun was asking her about her future, Bai Yao more or less understood his intention.

She volunteered, “Teacher, I’ve really enjoyed learning music and singing with you these past weeks. My voice has its flaws, and I know it’s not pleasant, but after your coaching, I was able to sing a movie theme song. I think that’s amazing. If there are more opportunities for recording or performing in the future, I hope you’ll consider including me. I really want to keep learning from you.”

Huang Guolun nodded with a smile.

Bai Yao continued honestly, “I don’t have many other interests or hobbies. Other than studying, singing is my favorite thing to do. Usually, when I talk, everyone says my voice is unpleasant—even I think so. But when I sing, whether it was back at the bar or now after studying with you, I find that my voice can take on a different quality and actually attract listeners. That gives me a real sense of accomplishment. If someone with a naturally beautiful voice sings well, it’s not that surprising. But for someone like me, whose voice was ruined by a fever, to be able to attract people by singing—that’s truly inspiring, don’t you think?”

Huang Guolun smiled. “I understand.”

Bai Yao warmed to the topic. “If my voice could one day allow me to become a singer, I think I’d feel incredibly fulfilled and accomplished. But the chances are slim, so I don’t have any unrealistic expectations. If I can just be a distinctive amateur singer, keep learning from you, and occasionally get paid recording jobs like this, I’ll be satisfied. Teacher, thank you so much for giving me this opportunity. If there are more in the future, I’ll work even harder and won’t give up halfway like I did this time.”

Huang Guolun waved his hand reassuringly. “We didn’t give up halfway; we actually wrapped things up quite well. Next time my brother’s company produces a similar film and there’s an opportunity for your voice, I’ll do my best to secure it for you.”

“Thank you, teacher, thank you so much!” Bai Yao was so grateful she nearly stood up to bow deeply to Huang Guolun.

“Don’t be so formal with me. If anyone should be grateful, it’s me—thank you for always looking after Peach. This weekend you can finally relax.”

Because she’d been looking after Huang Tao, Bai Yao’s spare time had been almost completely “hijacked”; she hadn’t even had weekends off. Now that Peach had been picked up, Bai Yao could finally enjoy a proper break.

That morning, Huang Guolun took Bai Yao to Kunlun Culture to sign a solo recording contract and collect her payment.

It was the first time the staff at Kunlun Culture had seen Bai Yao. At first, they thought she was just a little assistant trailing after Huang Guolun.

When they learned Bai Yao was the vocalist for “The Beautiful People,” everyone at Kunlun Culture was stunned. They would never have guessed that the explosive, husky female voice in “The Beautiful People” belonged to this delicate, pretty young woman with a sharp, avant-garde hairstyle!

The company’s art director, Yuan Zhiyu—known as “Master Yuan,” and a peer of Huang Guokun at thirty-two—was half-joking, half-flattering as he sang Bai Yao’s praises, predicting a limitless future for her. Right in front of Bai Yao, he urged Huang Guokun to sign her quickly, warning that if they didn’t, such a promising newcomer would inevitably be poached by another company.

However, Huang Guolun didn’t discuss this topic further with his brother or their colleagues.

Though Bai Yao had a passion for singing, Huang Guolun sensed she still hadn’t figured out what she truly wanted for her future. For a genius like her, gifted with a mind for numbers, he didn’t want to push her hastily into the entertainment industry.

Perhaps her sensitivity to numbers would allow her to achieve even greater accomplishments in another field—accomplishments that could astonish the world.

Becoming a singer in the entertainment industry wasn’t necessarily the best choice for Bai Yao—at least, that’s how it seemed now.

Moreover, her voice had a congenital issue, and her technical singing ability wasn’t especially solid. If they tried to force her development at this stage, they might actually hinder her growth.

As Bai Yao herself had said, Huang Guolun thought it best for her, at present, to treat music as a hobby and remain an amateur singer, focusing her main energy on her studies and using knowledge to change her fate. That was the true path for her life.

Once she had honed her singing skills and had a clearer plan for her future, then they could consider whether a career as a professional singer was possible.

For now, it was too soon to discuss such things.

Although they didn’t talk much about Bai Yao at Kunlun Culture, Huang Guolun did bring up another matter with Huang Guokun and Yuan Zhiyu.

A few days earlier, Tang Jing’s company, Fisherman Music, had contacted Huang Guolun, wanting to buy the rights to his song “Born Rebellious” for one of their new artists.

Fisherman Music was an established mainland record label, and their interest in “Born Rebellious” came as a surprise to Huang Guolun.

He had never intended to make money by selling songs, but having Fisherman Music promote “Born Rebellious” would be beneficial, bringing the song to a wider audience. So he was willing to let them buy the rights.

However, he didn’t want to get too caught up in the commercial side of music; he didn’t want to involve himself in deals. That was why he needed Kunlun Culture’s music planning department to handle it.

He would authorize Kunlun Culture to act as his agent for music copyright sales. In the future, if any company wanted to buy his songs, Kunlun Culture would negotiate on his behalf.

As for setting prices or deciding which rights to sell, he didn’t want to worry about those details—that would all be handled by Kunlun Culture. His only requirement was to retain credit as the songwriter; the rest was up to them.

Huang Guokun hadn’t expected Fisherman Music to be interested in his brother’s work; it was a huge boost for Kunlun Culture, offering a chance to expand the company’s reputation into new areas.

After hearing about this, Huang Guokun became even more eager for his brother to help develop the company’s music planning department.

But Huang Guolun had no intention of diving into the entertainment world just yet. He simply wanted to be a good teacher and raise Peach well.

Some people are born to crave the spotlight, loving attention and fame.

Others are born to shun it, believing in the old adage that fame brings trouble.

In China today, the more attention you attract, the more trouble follows. What billionaire truly wants to be named the country’s richest person by Forbes? Those who wind up on that list usually do so involuntarily, finding the position extremely uncomfortable.

Most truly capable people prefer to live quietly, hidden in plain sight.

Only those whose fame brings them more wealth and benefit are willing to brave the risks and headaches that come with notoriety.

Huang Guolun was clearly not one of those people.

His unambitious, contented nature made him prefer a low-profile, comfortable, leisurely life.

Perhaps one day, he would enter the music scene and let his talent shine, allowing more people to experience the beauty of his music.

But for now, he was content to stay behind the scenes, remaining an unknown figure free from worldly concerns, a good father belonging only to Peach.

That afternoon, after collecting her payment, Bai Yao insisted on treating Huang Guolun to a meal to thank him for recognizing her talent.

Seeing her sincerity, Huang Guolun agreed, letting her treat him to the old Beijing-style noodles he’d been craving for ages.

Over lunch, they talked about Peach.

Though only a day had passed, they both missed her.

So Huang Guolun called his mother to ask how Peach was behaving at home that weekend.

When he called, Grandma Zhou was having lunch with Peach and some guests.

Unlike Huang Guolun’s reserved nature, Peach was a born performer, loving attention.

In front of a room full of grandparents, uncles, and aunts, Peach was telling a story.

Grandma Zhou didn’t interrupt, but put the phone next to Peach so Huang Guolun could listen in.

Hearing that Peach was telling stories for the guests, Huang Guolun immediately felt a twinge of concern, worried she might say something inappropriate.

But this time, Peach’s story was unexpectedly beautiful and appropriate.

He put the phone on speaker so Bai Yao could listen too.

From the phone came Peach’s vivid, childish voice:

“This is a very old legend. Long, long ago, there was a brother and sister, each with a special ability. The brother had eyes that could see a thousand miles, able to spot the tiniest things far away. The sister had ears that could hear the faintest sounds. They grew up together, sharing joy and sorrow.

In their free time, they’d run to the hill behind their house. The brother would gaze into distant lands, telling his sister about all the strange and wonderful things he saw. The sister would listen to the messages carried by the wind and sing to her brother, echoing the angelic songs from far-off churches...”

Huang Guolun and Bai Yao exchanged glances—today, Peach’s story was surprisingly poetic and normal!

But then, the story took a sudden turn:

“...Maybe because they spent so much time together, they fell in love. Even though they knew their love was forbidden, they couldn’t help themselves. In the end, they cast aside all restraints and gave themselves over to their feelings.

But secrets never stay hidden. Their relationship was discovered. Their father flew into a rage, their mother wept day and night, and the neighbors gossiped endlessly.

To prove their undying love, the brother blinded himself, and the sister deafened herself. Why did they do this? For no particular reason—just because they felt that if they couldn’t have everyone’s blessing, their abilities were meaningless. After all, they were destined never to find happiness together.

Many, many years later, a musician was moved by their tragic love story and composed a touching song:

Two little tigers, two little tigers, running fast, running fast,
One has no eyes, one has no ears,
How strange, how strange...”