Chapter Ten: Musical Scriptwriting and Track Selection!

Long Dandan observed the reactions of the many young women under her command and smiled as well, joining in the applause. “This song,” she said, “though a love song, is tinged with sweetness. It’s subtle, and the lyrics are a bit odd—especially the last part, which is almost colloquial—but when you savor it, there’s a peculiar charm to it… Not bad at all!”

Ma Xiaohan nodded in agreement. “It really does paint a beautiful scene! It even reminds me of my own days as a girl, those feelings when you’re secretly in love with someone…”

“Oh? Xiaohan, how come you never told me about that before?” Long Dandan teased, but before she could continue, Ma Xiaohan shot her a look.

“Don’t interrupt,” she chided, then turned serious. “Jiang Yi, your song has genuinely piqued my interest in your screenplay. Could you tell us what story lies behind it?”

“Are you really interested in my script? Of course,” Jiang Yi replied at once. “The story is about a wealthy, rather picky but handsome man and a young woman who’s a wonderful cook. It follows how they heal each other and gradually fall in love…”

“So… the classic ‘domineering CEO falls for me’ trope?” Ma Xiaohan cut in bluntly. “That’s quite a cliché.”

Jiang Yi was left momentarily speechless. In truth, the plot behind the song’s movie was indeed the old ‘CEO falls in love with me’ formula. But the film itself had been well executed and received good reviews. Looking at the script alone, though, it didn’t seem to have any real highlights. Yet once adapted for the screen, it was bound to be appealing. After all, it was a system-produced work, already validated in the world he had come from. Still, Jiang Yi knew he couldn’t convince others to fall in love with the story by words alone.

“Seems I’ll have to participate in the show and build a bit of fame first…” Jiang Yi thought to himself once more. After this exchange, it was clear to him that both bosses and the others present had lost interest in his script. They probably saw him as someone good at writing songs but a terrible screenwriter. There was nothing more he could say in his defense.

At this point, Long Dandan spoke again, leaving the topic of the script behind. “Jiang Yi, both of your original songs were quite good… However, your guitar skills and vocal accuracy need some work… That’s all for today’s audition. Let’s just have a casual chat now…”

“A chat? About what?” Jiang Yi was caught off guard. He had actually prepared a third song—King Zhou’s ‘Secret That Can’t Be Told’—but it seemed that would have to wait until the competition itself.

“If you were to give yourself a nickname or a label, what would it be?” Long Dandan asked.

Jiang Yi immediately understood—something like ‘Amateur Superstar’ or ‘Veteran Artist’, the kind of labels that were common. The superstar Mao from his parallel world had made his debut under the moniker ‘Amateur Superstar’.

He had already thought about this. “Music Screenwriter!” he answered without hesitation.

“Music Screenwriter?” Long Dandan repeated, surprised.

“Yes!” Jiang Yi nodded. “If I must have a label, that’s it.”

He explained, “My dream is to be a screenwriter, and that’s what I intend as my main profession. The songs I sing are all written for my scripts—they’re full of stories. Other people write songs about their own experiences and feelings, their own loves and hates. But not me. Every song I write is built from the stories or emotions within my scripts. So, I think ‘music screenwriter’ suits me best.”

Ma Xiaohan nodded in approval. “That’s a unique label! I’ve never seen one like it before. Jiang Yi, even though you didn’t mean to be a singer and are just here to make up the numbers, you really do have your own uniqueness. No one before has written songs solely for their scripts’ stories and characters. Judging from your two songs just now, both your music and lyrics have a strong narrative quality.”

“Thank you,” Jiang Yi replied with a smile.

“One more question,” Long Dandan continued. “You know that our competition is divided into the Magic Voice, Beauty, and Soloist tracks, right? Have you decided which one you’ll join when tomorrow’s live broadcast starts?”

The initial audition videos, of course, wouldn’t be released. The performances just now wouldn’t be made public, and staff weren’t allowed to record them on their phones either. Of course, there were cameras set up, so everything was recorded. Later, if the show needed extra footage—say, to create a montage for a contestant who made it far—these materials might be used. So, a bit of casual conversation was necessary.

“Which track should I choose?” Jiang Yi frowned, genuinely conflicted. First, he ruled out the Magic Voice track. In his previous world, the coach for that track, Hua Chen, was a great singer but had never managed to produce a star from his roster—every one of his contestants had flopped for several seasons! Besides, the track demanded too much professional skill, especially in singing, which Jiang Yi couldn’t meet at the moment.

That left the Beauty and Soloist tracks. The Soloist track was led by Xue Zhi, who valued talent and would promote anyone with ability. He was a good choice, but based on past experience, this track was extremely competitive—anyone talented or even just good-looking would flock there, making it a real battleground. The other two tracks, especially the Beauty track, were much less so.

Jiang Yi considered whether he should join the Beauty track. Mao, the superstar from his previous world, hadn’t had the looks to qualify for the Beauty track. But Jiang Yi did! Competitors there were all about looks, and when it came to actual talent, they had little to show—so the winner usually just had to be passably good at singing.

Moreover, each track would definitely get at least one spot in the finals. Otherwise, if an entire track was eliminated, the coach would lose face. (Though, in Jiang Yi’s past world, when Mao debuted, the entire Magic Voice track was wiped out.)

“I haven’t decided yet…” Jiang Yi finally said honestly. “First, I’m not a music major, so I definitely can’t do the Magic Voice track. As for the other two, I’m still considering.”

The conversation wound down.

“All right, go home and think about it. But by tomorrow morning, you’ll have to choose—since the live recording is about to begin,” Long Dandan said.

“Your two original songs today were really good, but honestly, Jiang Yi, we can’t say if you’ll make it through or how far you’ll go… After so many years of talent shows, we know there’s a lot of uncertainty.”

“We just never know who will come out on top… After all, you don’t have other talents, and your guitar and singing aren’t particularly strong.”

“Still, we hope you’ll prepare well and do your best!” both Long Dandan and Ma Xiaohan encouraged him.

“Thank you. I don’t have any illusions about winning—I know my level. I’ve always seen myself as ‘just making up the numbers’…” Jiang Yi nodded, then stood up to leave. “But even if I’m just making up the numbers, I’ll give it my all.”

As he walked out, he saw another contestant being led into the room. There were more auditions to get through, so they couldn’t spend too much time on any one person. That was why he hadn’t been asked to perform a third song. He’d already sung two, which had taken quite a while, and he didn’t dwell on it.

…

As he was about to leave and head back to the dormitory, Liu Xiaoyu quietly followed him out and called, “Jiang Yi, wait a moment…”

Jiang Yi turned, surprised. “Yes?”

He looked at Liu Xiaoyu standing before him: ponytail, delicate features, dressed in jeans, with long legs and a slender figure. As she spoke, Jiang Yi couldn’t help but glance at her chest—at the prominent, eye-catching item hanging there: her staff badge, with her name—Liu Xiaoyu—clearly printed on it.