Chapter 118: Original Sin and Redemption

Cheng Xiaoyu called over a waiter to order a cup of coffee for Liu Bin. With a smile tinged by an indescribable emotion, he asked, “What’s the matter? Is the music not good enough?”

Liu Bin wiped the sweat from his forehead with a tissue and shook his head. “No, no, it’s just too good. Good beyond words.”

Hearing such sincere and genuine praise, Cheng Xiaoyu showed no sign of joy. In that instant, he felt his soul hollow. He hastily took a sip of coffee to mask his unease, the corners of his mouth staining darkly without even bothering to wipe it off. He spoke slowly, “Because this song is supposed to be like this. When it appears in my mind, it’s exactly like this!” He had to face this question sooner or later. He had imagined countless times how he would respond if asked, and yet this answer seemed to drain every ounce of strength from him.

When everyone naturally admired his talent, he felt ashamed. He tried to convince himself: If something is ownerless and you find it, doesn’t it become yours? Yet he never found peace within. He was even somewhat afraid when people asked, “Did you write it?” Bearing such precious memories was his greatest original sin.

Liu Bin, however, didn’t notice Cheng Xiaoyu’s discomfort. After a moment of silence, he thought perhaps he simply couldn’t understand the mind of a genius.

Ordinarily, the creation of a song starts with the lyrics, followed by the composition, though sometimes the composition comes first. After the lyrics and melody are completed, the composer usually makes a demo, recording it themselves—vocal parts generally sung softly in falsetto for the demo. After the singer listens to the demo and agrees to perform the piece, the composer hands over the score and demo to the singer and producer, who then find an arranger. The arranger, given the score and sometimes the demo, begins arranging. That’s roughly how a song is made.

Liu Bin still couldn’t grasp what it meant for a song to appear in Cheng Xiaoyu’s mind. His answer was too mystical, leaving his thoughts in a muddle. Feeling it might be impolite to press further, he took out his business card and handed it over. “Sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. I’m the chief music editor at MusicNet.”

Cheng Xiaoyu’s heart felt heavy; he had no mood to look at the card and casually slipped it into his pocket. Smiling faintly, he said, “It’s alright. I haven’t introduced myself either. I’m Cheng Xiaoyu, a senior at Fudan High School affiliated with Fudan University.”

Liu Bin knew “Poison” was young, but not this young. No matter how you looked at it, such works shouldn’t be those of a high school student, neither in lyrical and melodic depth nor in the avant-garde nature of the arrangements. He couldn’t help but ask again, “Did you really complete all four songs by yourself?”

Cheng Xiaoyu suppressed his inner shame and deflected. “I started piano at three and took third place in the Chopin International Piano Competition at sixteen—the first and second places were vacant that year. I also taught myself guitar, drums, and synthesizer. My guitar skills are probably at a master’s level. I have a studio and recording room at home. Pop music is just a hobby. I imagine you didn’t come here just to discuss music with me.”

Hearing Cheng Xiaoyu’s self-introduction, Liu Bin gasped inwardly. As a top student majoring in composition with a piano minor, he fully understood the significance of even a third prize at the Chopin International. Calling him a genius seemed insufficient. Now Liu Bin was no longer doubtful and steered the conversation back on track. “I want to know if you’re willing to sign a contract with MusicNet.”

Cheng Xiaoyu sighed. He couldn’t openly claim these pieces as his own. As a musician, he had his pride. He had considered creating his own works, but the musical library in his mind rendered him powerless. Those brilliant pieces were like lights in the darkness, irresistibly drawing his gaze, leaving him unable to write anything new.

Looking into Liu Bin’s earnest eyes and sensing his eagerness in journeying from Yangcheng to Shanghai, Cheng Xiaoyu felt his sincerity and replied, “Signing a contract is certainly possible.”

Liu Bin breathed a sigh of relief, his once-straight posture relaxing somewhat.

But Cheng Xiaoyu shifted gears. “However, I have quite a few conditions—you’ll have to see if you can accept them.”

Liu Bin knew Cheng Xiaoyu wouldn’t be easy to deal with; his demands would be high. But as long as he set some conditions, there was room for negotiation. Besides, he didn’t believe a high school student’s appetite would be too large. Smiling, he said, “Any conditions can be negotiated. We can offer the highest revenue share, even at the level of current top stars. My sincerity is genuine.”

Cheng Xiaoyu smiled and shook his head, regaining some pride. Quietly, he said, “Honestly, money isn’t the most important thing to me. I don’t want to change my current state. In other words, life under the spotlight is not what I desire. So, if I’m to sign, first you must protect my anonymity. I’m selling my music, not myself. Do you understand?”

Liu Bin hesitated. Low-profile stars weren’t unheard of, so he quickly responded, “That shouldn’t be a big problem, right?”

Cheng Xiaoyu saw Liu Bin’s expression and realized he hadn’t fully grasped the point. He elaborated, “I mean, I exist only under my pen name. I also want you to sign a confidentiality agreement with me. I’ll sell you my music, but won’t cooperate with anything else.”

Only then did Liu Bin understand Cheng Xiaoyu’s terms. But this greatly diminished the value of him as a star. It meant no promotions, no commercial performances, no advertisements, not even concerts. Liu Bin couldn’t help but ask, “Not even concerts?”

Cheng Xiaoyu smiled, “At least not for the time being. Don’t think so far ahead. I have more conditions. If you want to release albums, the partner must be Shanghe Records.”

Liu Bin didn’t understand why, but compared to the previous condition, this wasn’t a big issue.

Cheng Xiaoyu continued quickly, “I won’t take a penny from any music profits. MusicNet must help me establish a fund to support individuals with serious illnesses who can’t afford medical care and children who have dropped out of school.”

Liu Bin was stunned. He thought Cheng Xiaoyu must not realize the enormous sums involved. He stammered, “Do you know how much you could earn in the future? Not to mention the future, do you know how much you’ve earned in just a few hours from these songs?”

Of course, Cheng Xiaoyu understood the value of these songs. When Jay Zhou sold 2,400 albums during the last heyday of the record industry, could he not calculate such simple figures?

But no matter how much money was involved, he didn’t care. This was something he had decided when uploading his music. He wasn’t a saint, but being no saint didn’t mean he lacked principles. He couldn’t shamelessly take what wasn’t rightfully his for more profit. He had already gained too much. If he didn’t give something back, he felt he wouldn’t sleep peacefully. So when replying to Liu Bin, he was resolute, even feeling a lightness as if a heavy burden had been lifted. “I believe music is priceless. I just want to share my music with the world. If profit gets involved, I feel I won’t be able to write anything anymore. When facing God and music, I must always keep a humble heart. Fame and wealth only corrupt them. To me, the value of music far surpasses money, and I’m not exactly short of money.”

In truth, this was the time Cheng Xiaoyu most needed money. The future held promise as a cash machine, but at this moment, it was a money-devouring monster.

Liu Bin was silent. He had once doubted Cheng Xiaoyu, but now he felt that such a mind and spirit could only belong to a genius madly devoted to music. Everyone knew geniuses were often destroyed by fame and fortune, but who among ordinary people could resist such temptation and remain true to their sincere beliefs?

At this moment, Liu Bin no longer saw Cheng Xiaoyu as a child but regarded him with deep respect. Yet he had to say, “Have you reconsidered? Actually, you only need to take half the earnings—that would be enough!”

Cheng Xiaoyu looked down at the dark brown coffee, swirling it with his spoon and smiled, “We can talk about that when your company agrees to the first two conditions. I believe your company has integrity, and for someone like me who donates all earnings to charity, the contract won’t be harsh.”

Liu Bin smiled as well. “Of course. I’ll report directly to the company president about you. I personally admire your decision. I couldn’t do the same, but I will fight for the best interests of your fund, for the sake of patients and children.”

At this moment, Cheng Xiaoyu felt he had expressed all his demands clearly. He also felt he had completed a part of his own redemption. He stood and extended his hand to Liu Bin. “Alright, I trust you very much. I’ll wait for you to secure the best rights for me. Please contact me anytime. I’m about to take the college entrance exam and must go home to study. Sorry I can’t invite you to a meal now. Next time you come to Shanghai, I’ll definitely take you out for a proper feast.”

Liu Bin grasped Cheng Xiaoyu’s hand, feeling its weight like a thousand pounds. Looking into those eyes that shone like stars, he thought the world was a better place because people like him existed.

Liu Bin wanted to say more but didn’t know what. All his thoughts condensed into one sentence: “We will definitely meet again.” Saying this, he shook Cheng Xiaoyu’s hand firmly.

Cheng Xiaoyu smiled slightly and turned toward Fudan University, where his car was parked.

Liu Bin watched the slightly plump figure beneath the tall canopy of trees, like a flickering candle flame. That black silhouette seemed to be burning with fire.

At seven o’clock, Shanghai’s evening was falling. One by one, street lamps along the road lit up in sync with Cheng Xiaoyu’s footsteps. The blue sky rolled in like a tide, vast and boundless like the deep sea after calm. The silver crescent moon and twinkling stars appeared like faint lights shimmering amidst the waves.

His departing figure was like a lighthouse in this vast night, drawing Liu Bin’s gaze, stirring an overwhelming emotion in him.

This scene made him feel that darkness did not truly exist in the world—it was only the absence of light to cleanse it.

(Thanks to Youmi, Huang Banyun, and Sad? Dynasty for their generous support. Writing this chapter was very challenging. I believe Cheng Xiaoyu has achieved a form of self-redemption here. Some readers previously said he was insecure and timid. Actually, he’s prouder and braver than anyone. As an artist, that is his most noble quality. Personally, after reading so many entertainment stories where protagonists shamelessly claim magnificent works as their own, I always feel a strong refusal. Everyone is born with original sins, like greed and pride, but being human means original sin isn’t everything. There must also be complex kindness within. If the male lead’s character isn’t noble enough, how could he deserve such a wonderful heroine? In my heart, Cheng Xiaoyu is gentle and proud, with a bottom line that may not be high but is firmly upheld—a devoted brother! Actually, that last point is the real emphasis. By now, I really, really like the character Su Yuxi. I think anyone with such a sister would become a devoted brother! Well, that’s all. Thanks for reading my rambling. I love you all!)