Chapter Three: The Shock of the "Child of the Future" Production Team

Liu Xiaoyu immediately listened attentively as Jiang Yi’s voice continued to flow:

“All those rains we missed in those years,
All those loves we let slip away,
How I wish I could tell you—I haven’t forgotten,
That night when the stars filled the sky,
A promise made in parallel worlds,
If we were to meet again, I would hold you tight,
Hold you tight…”

But before long, the song came to an end.

“It’s so beautiful? How is that possible…” Then, Liu Xiaoyu was stunned. “That’s it? It’s over? Play it from the beginning…” Regretting her carelessness, she hurriedly dragged the progress bar back to the start.

She wanted to hear Jiang Yi sing the song from the very beginning.

Because she hadn’t paid enough attention at first, she’d started listening right in the middle, at the chorus.

“Ahem, greetings to the directors of the program…” She even replayed Jiang Yi’s initial greeting.

“…An original song… ‘Those Years’…”

Hearing this, Liu Xiaoyu thought, “Those Years? The theme song for that coming-of-age movie?”

This time, Liu Xiaoyu listened from the start, and the gentle verse reached her ears:

“Returning to the very beginning,
The memory of your youthful face…”

Liu Xiaoyu was deeply moved. “Even the verses are this beautiful…”

She was now wide awake, no longer drowsy at all.

She kept listening, thinking, “These lyrics are so well written! Is he really a screenwriter? His way with words is impressive!”

Liu Xiaoyu’s eyes sparkled.

When someone has a true command of language, their lyrics naturally have depth and quality. Many singers who return from abroad may speak fluent Chinese, but they lack literary foundation, and their self-written lyrics in Chinese are often unrefined, sometimes even ruining a good melody.

However—

As the song continued:

“Bang, bang, bang… you little rascal…” With Jiang Yi’s father banging on the door, needing the bathroom desperately, the recording was abruptly cut off as Jiang Yi hurried out.

“Pfft!”

Liu Xiaoyu couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“Pfft!”

She even caught, faintly, the sound of Jiang Yi’s father’s stomach troubles.

“…What a pity…” Liu Xiaoyu’s lips twitched. “Such a wonderful song, but now it’s got a certain… flavor to it?”

“What a shame! I couldn’t hear the whole thing, all because of that uncle with the upset stomach. And this Jiang Yi—so infuriating! He didn’t even bother to re-record, just sent this version straight over, ah…”

Now Liu Xiaoyu was exasperated.

Of course, she thought to herself, “It seems Jiang Yi really just signed up for fun, maybe to make up the numbers. Who knows if he has any other original works? He didn’t mention it. With no professional background, who knows if he can keep up this level?”

In these talent competitions, nothing is certain.

Until the show officially ends, not even the staff knows who the true champion will be.

Of course, some shows are rigged, but even so, there has to be some basis in reality—they can’t just push someone with no appeal, no talent, and no popularity to the top.

“Let’s listen again!”

Even now, after listening, Liu Xiaoyu glanced around, a little furtive, and dragged the video back to the start.

She listened to Jiang Yi’s performance again.

And again.

“It’s so good! This song! It’s just a pity—the recording conditions are so poor, and the song isn’t even complete…” The more she listened, the more she sighed.

Just then—

A slightly older female colleague next to Liu Xiaoyu, Zhang Xiaoli, noticed her unusual behavior and asked, “Xiaoyu, what’s wrong? Is there someone you’re not sure how to judge?”

Zhang Xiaoli was one of Long Dandan’s long-time subordinates, and quite experienced.

The reason Liu Xiaoyu was seated beside her was so she could guide Liu Xiaoyu along.

After all, though Liu Xiaoyu had graduated from a prestigious university with a degree in media, she had never worked on a real project, and it was Zhang Xiaoli who had taught her how to evaluate and filter the applicants.

Seeing Liu Xiaoyu repeatedly listening to a single video, a little distracted, she felt a twinge of guilt and said quickly, “No, mentor, I…”

Zhang Xiaoli’s eyes lit up. “Oh? Did you find a promising candidate? You seemed to spend a long time on one video just now?”

Since she was sitting right next to Liu Xiaoyu, she’d naturally noticed.

“I found someone whose original song is quite good… Mentor, why don’t you listen too?” Liu Xiaoyu offered her headphones to Zhang Xiaoli.

“Let me hear!” Zhang Xiaoli took the headphones.

Looking at Jiang Yi on the screen, she commented, “Pretty young, not bad-looking. Can he sing? And it’s an original song?”

“But he isn’t professionally trained, and his guitar playing is just so-so. The original song, though, is good… I think he’s decent,” Liu Xiaoyu replied.

At this point, Zhang Xiaoli stopped chatting.

Because Jiang Yi’s singing was already reaching her ears, captivating her at once.

“This is just beautiful…”

She couldn’t help but praise him.

Zhang Xiaoli was well-liked in the production team, and when the others heard her exclaim, the rest of the office ladies were drawn over.

“Xiaoli, what’s going on?”
“How good is it? Did you find a real gem?”
“What kind of singer is this? From which music academy?”
“Let us listen, we’re all exhausted over here, everyone on my list is mediocre…”
“Put it on speaker, let’s all hear it…”
“Have we struck gold? Is our show saved?”

One after another, they crowded around. Some of the veterans who had worked with Long Dandan knew that if the show produced a breakout contestant, the whole production would thrive.

“Alright, I’ll play it out loud. Everyone listen… Of course, I can’t say it’s a treasure, since he’s not a professional. It’s just that this original piece moved me…” Zhang Xiaoli said, unplugged the headphones, and dragged Jiang Yi’s video back to the beginning.

“Ahem, greetings to the directors of the program…”

Jiang Yi’s voice sounded again.

“Huh? He’s not a professional?”
“Wants to be a screenwriter? And joins our show?”
“Is he just here for exposure?”
“His guitar playing really isn’t great…”
“And he can’t dance… Is his original song really that good?”

As they listened to Jiang Yi’s introduction, the production team gathered around, all chattering at once.

Some of them had worked alongside Long Dandan back in the TV station’s talent show days—they’d seen all kinds of contestants.

Naturally, they weren’t so easily impressed by an original song. For someone without formal training, their expectations were actually quite low.

However, as the gentle intro began—

As Jiang Yi’s clear, youthful voice rang out, everyone fell silent. This voice, this melody, truly carried a touch of artistry:

“Returning to the very beginning,
The memory of your youthful face…”

Everyone listened quietly, exchanging glances and nodding in agreement. The verse was good, but that wasn’t the most important part—the chorus was what mattered most.

And in the hush, Jiang Yi’s voice soared into the chorus:

“All those rains we missed in those years,
All those loves we let slip away…”

As the song reached its climax, a look of awe appeared in the eyes of all the office ladies, and they exchanged glances. But no one spoke; they just listened intently.