Chapter Two: A Song, the Memory of a Million People

After leaving the hospital, Ren Qian was left feeling dizzy and disoriented. The nurse had been so enthusiastic—no man could have resisted such warmth.

But, after all, he was a rational man. Having recklessly taken over this body, he knew he had inherited its responsibilities as well. Love was not a game to be taken lightly, and parents must be honored and cared for. So, the first thing he did after being discharged was to call home. He chatted with his family, assured them of his wellbeing, and then slowly made his way towards the dormitory area of Jiangnan University.

“Isn’t that Ren Qian, the lead singer of Landing on Mars?”
“Lead singer? More like a scoundrel accused of plagiarizing his bandmate’s song,” scoffed a passerby with disdain.
“He doesn’t seem like that kind of person to me.”
“What do you know? Faces are easy to read, but hearts are inscrutable.”

Ren Qian lifted his head and glanced around; nearly every whisper and glance was tainted by the rumors that slandered him. Perhaps it was because he had shone too brightly in music as an academic star, and now that he’d fallen, people were eager to trample him for their own pleasure. Isn’t it human nature to step on others to satisfy one’s vanity?

Back in the dormitory, his roommates showed a measure of concern. They knew things weren’t as simple as the rumors claimed. After all, over the past three months, they’d witnessed Ren Qian working tirelessly, day and night. The talk of plagiarism was likely nothing but slander.

Yet, regardless of the truth, Ren Qian had fallen this time. Compared to his former bandmates, he would now lag behind, one step at a time, falling further and further. No one could guarantee those bandmates wouldn’t use their resources to blacklist Ren Qian. They didn’t understand the entertainment industry, but even they knew that in showbiz, connections were everything—backing was king. Even someone of mediocre talent could be made into a superstar with the right support.

In this light, Ren Qian’s future seemed hopeless—unless he possessed talent that could defy the heavens themselves.

Setting his phone aside to charge, Ren Qian smiled in response to his roommates’ concern, then buried himself in reviewing the information now stored in his mind, listing his strengths and weaknesses.

Strengths:
A superb voice and striking appearance, brimming with talent and gifted in both composing lyrics and music—thanks, of course, to being reborn with access to another world’s resources. Whether ancient-style songs, Cantonese ballads, or even English hits, none were beyond his reach. His looks gave him the makings of an idol singer, and his voice, with its wide range, meant he also had the potential to be a respected vocalist.

Weaknesses:
He was mired in a plagiarism scandal, his former bandmates were set on suppressing him, and he had little popularity—he couldn’t stir up much of a wave. He had no agency, no promotional team to boost his influence, no connections or opportunities to appear on TV and gain exposure. The road to becoming a household name would be long and arduous.

After carefully weighing his strengths and weaknesses, Ren Qian felt an overwhelming pressure.

The empire’s entertainment industry was much like the Qing Dynasty of China: stagnant, blindly arrogant, convinced that ancient-style music had a market, so they’d clung to it for decades. Even now, there was no sign of progress; ancient-style songs still dominated the scene.

“Can I bring songs that will amaze people? Can I break the deadlock?” Ren Qian’s eyes burned with determination.

The previous “Ren Qian” had talent but lacked emotional intelligence. He hadn’t even registered the copyright for his songs before handing the manuscripts over to the band, allowing three ungrateful leeches to register the rights first and then, in a stunning display of betrayal, accuse the original creator of plagiarism.

Yet perhaps this was a blessing in disguise. The break came early, sparing him the burden of dragging along these half-baked freeloaders and having to share profits with them later.

Ren Qian clenched his jaw, let out a cold laugh, pulled a sheet of blank paper from the bookshelf, and twirled his pen in thought.

Whose songs should he “borrow” from his former world? He didn’t dare choose Mandarin songs—he couldn’t guarantee there wouldn’t be any overlap, and the consequences of plagiarism here were severe. The fate of the previous Ren Qian made that all too clear.

So, he could only start with Cantonese songs. This had another advantage: he could claim to be the pioneer of a new musical genre! Such a title, however hollow, was often invaluable for a singer’s career. So, Ren Qian decided: Cantonese songs it would be!

But which one to choose?

If he took ten classic Cantonese songs from his world and made them his own, with a little media hype, he could become a top-tier star. If he took twenty, he’d be crowned a king of pop. Fifty, and he’d be a living legend. A hundred, and he’d become a legend of the music world.

After much deliberation, Ren Qian finally pressed his pen to paper and wrote out the lyrics and music for Beyond’s “Boundless Oceans, Vast Skies,” then immediately registered the copyright online. The process was simple—done in about ten minutes.

A few minutes later, he claimed Eason Chan’s “King of Karaoke” as his own as well. With that, he now had two classic Cantonese songs under his name.

It had all come so easily.

……

Ten days later.

“Qian, are you in?” The dorm room door was rattled by a sharp knock. Ren Qian put down his pen, walked over, and opened the door to find Yan Yu standing there—a good-looking young man from a well-off family, and Ren Qian’s die-hard fan.

He was always helping Ren Qian, running errands and working hard on his behalf. When the Landing on Mars band betrayed Ren Qian, it was Yan Yu who called to warn him. Even the hospital bills had been paid by him.

“Qian, you’re not as down as I imagined. That’s a relief. When heaven is about to place a great responsibility on someone… Well, never mind the philosophy. Get on Weibo and have a look—your fans are exploding!”

Weibo? He still had fans? There probably weren’t many left.

Ren Qian gave a wry smile. Let them “explode” as they wished; it wouldn’t amount to much.

But then again, this reminded him: if no entertainment company would promote him, he could promote himself online, gain popularity there, and then break into the real world.

After all, the internet was more free, and netizens were far more open to new genres of music.

It was time to change his Weibo and start anew.

That was Ren Qian’s plan.

“What are you spacing out for? Log onto Weibo and post an explanation!” Yan Yu, seeing Ren Qian standing there like a block of wood, wanted to give him a kick.

Ren Qian, finally responding, picked up his phone, patted the back of his head, and tried entering his account and password. To his surprise, they were correct.

Ugh…

It was all abuse.

Shameful plagiarist, I misjudged you, I used to like you so much, faces are easy to read, hearts are unknown, you can lack talent but never character, you’re not fit to make music…

“You had me check this just to feel worse?”

“No! I wanted you to see what Qi Fei, Yang Chen, and Wang Si posted on Weibo. They’ve joined Mars Entertainment, formed a new group, and are openly defaming you online. Now even strangers are jumping in to slander you!”

Ren Qian was speechless. He couldn’t stop people from cursing him—what did it matter if he saw it or not? He might as well focus on writing songs… Or rather, registering copyrights. That was far more satisfying.

Seeing Ren Qian still unmoved, Yan Yu became anxious. “Can’t you at least post an explanation on Weibo? If you leave it alone, the damage will only get worse. People will think you’re admitting to the plagiarism! By then, nothing will clear your name.”

“You’re right. I was just about to head to the studio to record a song. I’ll post it online later and see how people react.”

“You’re not posting an explanation right away?”

“Actions speak louder than words.”

Ren Qian said this because he’d just read a Weibo post: [I thought a good musician should have the basic moral qualities of a person. I never imagined someone I spent every day with in the band could do such a thing as plagiarizing. It hurts, but what’s done is done. I hope you learn your lesson and don’t ruin your future—Ren Qian.]

Those three knew how talented Ren Qian was, and that’s exactly why they feared him—if he stayed down, they could enjoy the industry in peace. Their malice was undeniable.

So Ren Qian’s heart darkened as well, and he silently vowed that one day, when he had enough power, he would make sure those three saw their careers wither and their lives descend into poverty.

……

Setting aside these petty grievances, Ren Qian turned his attention to the song he planned to record.

Among all of Beyond’s classics, if one had to pick the most poignant, it would be “Boundless Oceans, Vast Skies.”

Since its release, this song had inspired countless people across the land. If you shouted its name on a forum, thousands would respond with stories of how the song had touched them.

Stories of ideals, of reality, of hardship and struggle…

From its impassioned vocals, you could hear confidence, perseverance, compromise, striving, sorrow, destiny, freedom, grandeur, positivity…

In short, over the decades, this song had been given incredibly rich meaning by its fans.

That is the true power of a song: to touch upon each listener’s unique experience, to evoke resonance. Its length, breadth, and depth would only grow as it was sung again and again, its iconic status beyond doubt, its influence far surpassing that of any mass-produced commercial tune.

Ren Qian needed a song like this to clear his name! He wanted to show everyone that with his talent, he would never stoop to plagiarism.