Chapter 43: Moving to Rolling Verse Company for "Development"

“Not only does it taste good, but even my throat feels so much better.”
Ren Qian swallowed the nurse’s special eight-treasure porridge with satisfaction, utterly enchanted. The texture was thick but not greasy, with coix seeds and red beans intermingling harmoniously—a creamy yet chewy delight.
After it slid down his throat, he even felt a cool sensation.
He’d been talking non-stop all afternoon, his vocal cords nearly at their limit, his voice growing hoarse. Yet just one bowl of this porridge seemed to sweep all the exhaustion away.
“Delicious! Another bowl, please.”
“First, have your meal. You can have more porridge afterward.”
The nurse smiled sweetly. What could be more fulfilling than winning over a man’s heart and stomach?
Watching Ren Qian devour his food with gusto, stealing glances at the pot of eight-treasure porridge, she felt a flush of pride.
She served him a bowl of rice, pale steam rising gently. The aroma alone made Ren Qian’s appetite surge, even though he’d just eaten a bowl of porridge. Ignoring the heat, he buried his head and began to eat.
“Look at you—were you starving in a past life?”
A past life?
Ren Qian paused. In his memory, his former life was spent chasing his musical dreams alone in the northern city, doing everything himself. He was never much of a cook. To save time and effort, he mostly ate at street food stalls.
The food was mediocre, and there was no warmth to it.
“It’s true, I never had such delicious food in my previous life.
By the way, a word of advice: unless it’s absolutely necessary, don’t go to Rolling Poetry Entertainment Company.
The diva has lost her mind. She’s actually set up a kitchen in the company and plans to give everyone a ‘benefit’! Those poor veteran artists, subjected to such torment. Just the thought is terrifying…”
Ren Qian shook his head as he spoke.
“Must you talk about such disgusting things at the table?”
The nurse slapped her chopsticks on the table, looking exasperated.
It was all Ren Qian’s fault—of all topics, he had to bring up the diva’s cooking, poisoning her thoughts.
“From now on, never mention such things again!”
“All right, I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

Ren Qian closed his mouth and obediently ate his meal.
…
In a corner of the residential compound,
a pitiful beggar lay in a darkened nook, clothes in tatters. His gaze was vacant, fixed on the wall ahead.
Tonight’s ordeal was a nightmare he could not shake. It was as if he’d been violated again and again, wandering helplessly in the aftermath…
Damn it, what on earth did I eat?!
That thing—soft, somewhat warm, slightly thick, with an overpowering burnt smell, and the rest was simply indescribable. It seemed like the stuff of legend—feces.
And its owner had apparently eaten street barbecue a few days ago—bad quality, probably chased down with some alcohol…
Damn, damn, damn, I can’t think about this anymore!
Should I confide in someone to vent my feelings?
No, the secondary trauma from gossip would be even worse! I’d be a laughingstock among my peers for life, unable to lift my head.
He immediately dismissed the idea, deciding to move away as soon as he recovered his wits. Far from this place of disaster, to a wealthier, more auspicious area.
With summer approaching, beggars’ hormones surged; they had their own cravings and desires too. For example, lying on the street to sneak a peek at girls in skirts.
“Tonight, I’ll move to the plaza near Rolling Poetry Entertainment Company. Those little starlets’ long legs, fair skin, hot bodies, and the way they sway… Tsk tsk.”
With this thought, a certain longing swelled uncontrollably within him, and a faint light of hope gathered again in his eyes.
It was decided—he would make his way to Rolling Poetry Entertainment Company before dawn!
…
After dinner, Ren Qian took on the task of washing the dishes. With a beauty at home, he couldn’t let her get bogged down in housework and become a worn-out housewife before her time.
Even the nomads of the grasslands understand the principle of rotating pastures—let them rest to remain lush. If it’s a young married woman, then of course she should be both graceful in the parlor and skillful in the kitchen.
Ren Qian smiled with a hint of mischief but without lewdness. Few people could match his long-term vision.
“By the way, we need to buy a house. What price range should we consider?”
At some point, the nurse had come up behind him, hands encircling his waist, leaning against his solid back, her voice soft.
“Around one and a half million, I think. I’ll license out those songs first and see what I can earn… Then we’ll settle on a price. I also want to buy some professional music equipment.”

Investing in music equipment was a costly affair; if he got particular about it, even a million wouldn’t be enough for a full set.
Those obsessed with music always scrimped and saved to buy high-quality gear. Even if not buying in full sets, a single item could cost a hundred or two hundred thousand.
And for Ren Qian, the higher the quality, the better. He wished he could buy every instrument, then arrange the accompaniments and harmonies himself at home.
In his past life, he’d spent every penny piecemeal on equipment, but, unknown and unheeded, his songs never sold for much, and he lived in perpetual struggle.
But in this life, he didn’t have to worry about money.
No matter what, just uploading these songs to Wangyi Music Player would net him two million.
After all, the Huaxia Charter Empire was extremely strict about copyright protection.
If he uploaded original songs to the music platform, every user would have to pay 0.1 yuan per download. So, with ten million downloads, he’d earn half a million.
By his estimate: “Stone Chronicle,” “Boundless Seas and Skies,” “Contented Heart,” “Truly Not As It Seems,” “Goodbye, Ideal,” “Lingering Regrets,” “Guardian Angel,” “Dimpled Smile,” and the other songs from Dream of the Red Chamber would bring in fifty to sixty million downloads.
So, an income of two to three million was entirely within reach.
Happily, he uploaded each song one by one.
Ren Qian immediately posted an ad on Weiblog—his earnings depended on these fans.
“Fellow friends, all my songs are now up on Wangyi Music! For full lyrics and the best sound quality, please go download from Wangyi Music—just search for Ren Qian. All Dream of the Red Chamber soundtracks, and a few unreleased songs, are available to listen to and download first.”
Comments flooded in below:
“After all these years, Lord Qian finally returns—everyone, come and see!”
“We’ve waited so long for Lord Qian to organize his songs. I can’t wait another minute—downloading now!”
“Heard all the music players are joining forces for some new chart—Qian’s fan club, let’s help him climb the rankings!”
“Right, the chart is new this year, created by the three major entertainment companies and the three top music platforms. We must get Lord Qian to the top!”
“Instructions for boosting the rankings, please!”
With a devoted fan leading the charge, Ren Qian’s Weiblog became a rallying ground for the revolution—fans sharpening their knives for the leaderboard, their voices rising in a lively chorus…