Shen Lang nearly burst out laughing when Wu Zhoutong finished speaking.
This is exactly what I've been hoping for, he thought. I've been dying for a platform to showcase my music.
"What if my songs don't match the listeners' requests?" he asked, not wanting to agree immediately. He wanted to build up some buffer in case things went wrong, so he wouldn't be solely responsible.
Wu Zhoutong stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Here's what we can do," he suggested. "I'll take the calls. If a listener's request matches one of your songs, you'll perform it live. If none of them do, we'll just play the CD as planned."
Shen Lang couldn't refuse any longer. "Alright," he agreed.
Wu Zhoutong smiled. "With your help, I'm confident our show can weather this crisis."
As soon as work hours began, Wu Zhoutong pitched the idea to Director Yang Lin. Yang Lin, seeing a glimmer of hope in the recent surge of listener calls, decided to give him another chance.
Next came the scriptwriting and planning, tasks Zhao Xue took charge of.
Shen Lang provided six original songs. Wu Zhoutong needed to practice the keyboard accompaniment to coordinate with him, as the guitar-only arrangements felt too simple.
"You wrote all of these?" Wu Zhoutong asked.
"Yeah."
"Lyrics, music, and arrangements—all you?"
"Yep."
"Holy crap! You really chose the wrong major. If you'd gone into music, you'd have debuted as a singer ages ago!"
"Maybe it's a blessing in disguise," Shen Lang replied. "If I'd studied music, these songs might never have existed."
Wu Zhoutong looked at Shen Lang, a strong feeling rising within him that this young man was destined to shine in the Chinese music scene.
Appearance, voice, singing skill, composition—Shen Lang possessed all the qualities a singer needed, and each was exceptional.
With this realization, Wu Zhoutong's initial apprehension vanished completely.
Shen Lang's rise might very well threaten to replace him.
But now it seemed clear that this place wasn't Shen Lang's final destination.
In that case, Shen Lang's success could even become a stepping stone for Wu Zhoutong to solidify his own position here.
As everything fell into place, Wu Zhoutong's gaze toward Shen Lang was filled only with admiration and genuine fondness.
Time flew by, and the weekend arrived in the blink of an eye.
In recent days, the number of listeners requesting Shen Lang's "Lonely Sandbank Cold" had surged.
The song had finally broken out of Yanjing, thanks to the buzz it had generated.
Since the beginning of the year, Yanjing Music Radio had spearheaded the establishment of the National Satellite Music Broadcasting Network to promote original Chinese music. This initiative enabled daily synchronized satellite broadcasts across 22 provinces and municipalities, reaching an audience of 400 million nationwide.
Amid this unprecedented hype, Wu Zhoutong, Yang Lin, and everyone at the radio station eagerly anticipated the next episode of "Midnight Melodies."
At precisely midnight, Wu Zhoutong felt more nervous than ever before, even more so than during his first broadcast. The fate of the show hung in the balance.
Success meant a new chapter for "Midnight Melodies."
Failure would mark its end.
The familiar opening remarks...
The conventional routine...
Soon, the first caller was connected.
"Hello, this is your host, Wu Zhoutong. Thank you for tuning in to our show. How can I help you?"
As Wu Zhoutong focused on the call, his nervousness began to subside.
"I..."
The voice on the other end was weak and tearful, clearly belonging to a young woman.
"Hello? What's wrong? Can you tell me about it?" Wu Zhoutong asked.
"I feel like my life is meaningless. My parents hate me, and the only person who loved me went to Heaven Paradise last month... Do you think the 10th floor is too low? If I jump, will I even die?" The girl's voice dripped with despair.
"Young woman, don't cry. No hardship lasts forever. Things will get better. Where are you? I'll send a Policeman Uncle Police to find you, okay?" Cold sweat broke out on Wu Zhoutong's forehead.
"I want to request his favorite song, 'The Days We Spent Together.' After it plays, I'll go join him," she said, ignoring his question.
Realizing the gravity of the situation, Wu Zhoutong knew he had to alert his superiors and call the police immediately. He glanced at Shen Lang beside him and mouthed: Take over. Keep her on the line. I'll get help.
Shen Lang nodded vigorously, moved to the host's position, and said, "Young woman, he must have been a wonderful person."
Whenever she mentioned "him," her tone softened. Shen Lang planned to use this as a starting point to calm her down.
The young woman slowly said, "He wasn't particularly handsome, but he was incredibly thoughtful and caring."
"Once, when I had a severe cold and was alone in my rented room, he came to see me with fresh flowers he'd picked by the roadside in one hand and a specially prepared food box in the other. Knowing I might not be used to Jinmen Tianjin cuisine, he went to a Sichuan restaurant and chose all my favorite dishes."
"He was the most wonderful, most interesting, most touching angel in the world."
Not being used to Jinmen Tianjin cuisine narrows the location to Jinmen Tianjin, but we still need to narrow it down further.
Shen Lang felt that asking directly might agitate her, so he said, "I think someone as wonderful as him wouldn't want you to attempt suicide. He'd want you to live a good life, right?"
The young woman fell silent.
Shen Lang, Zhao Xue, and Zhang Zhong's hearts tightened.
After seven or eight seconds, the young woman suddenly cried out, "No! I want to be with him!"
Shen Lang felt helpless. Wu Zhoutong hadn't returned yet, so he said, "Young woman, didn't you want to hear a song?"
The young woman calmed down slightly and replied faintly, "Play it."
Shen Lang naturally wouldn't play "The Days We Spent Together" as she requested. That would only reinforce her suicidal thoughts.
His experience as a music teacher in his previous life had taught him that music could be a powerful medicine, capable of soothing even the deepest wounds.
But the right song was crucial.
After a moment's thought, Shen Lang picked up his guitar, strummed the strings, and beautiful notes floated into the air.
"Fallen leaves drift with the wind, where will they go?
Leaving only a fleeting beauty in the sky.
The figures that once danced so freely,
Like angel's wings,
Brush past my cherished memories..."
When she realized it wasn't "The Days We Spent Together," the young woman almost hung up.
But the word "angel" in the lyrics made her hesitate.
Shen Lang's warm voice seemed to transform into a comforting current, flowing into her ears and reaching her heart.
Outside the broadcasting booth, Zhao Xue and Zhang Zhong's palms were sweating profusely, their nerves stretched taut.
They both thought Shen Lang was being too bold.
At this moment, going against the girl's wishes would be disastrous if it angered her.
Fortunately, the call hadn't disconnected.
He could still hear her breathing.
"Where love once bloomed,
Yesterday's fragrance lingers still.
That familiar warmth,
Like an angel's wings,
Brushing across the boundless expanse of my heart..."
As she listened to these lines, the girl's heart trembled slightly.
Every place their love had touched flashed before her eyes:
Whether bustling city streets
Or tranquil countryside lanes.
Hand in hand, they had shared joy, sweetness, and happiness.
Everything felt as vivid as if it had happened yesterday, now brushing across her heart once more.
But he was gone.
All that beauty had withered like fallen flowers, carried away by the wind.
I must leave too.
Carrying the memories he gave me, I will let everything fade into peace.
On the other end of the line, Shen Lang knew the most crucial part was coming. Whether he could move her depended on this moment.
He deliberately suppressed his voice and emotions,
All to make the chorus's climax hit even harder!