CHAPTER 110: CHAPTER 106: DELIVERING A NEW SONG AGAIN

Chu Tian lounged comfortably in his chair, scrolling through his phone, quite pleased with his current state of affairs.

He was earning Reputation Points and money simultaneously, with others handling tasks for him—it was simply too comfortable.

Moreover, whether it involved working or making money, he didn’t have to lift a finger himself, significantly reducing his troubles.

Now, the mere sight of his phone, overflowing with texts, gave him a headache. Endless greetings and blessings poured in during holidays, each requiring a polite, insincere reply.

He had to proactively greet seniors and elders; otherwise, he’d be seen as lacking manners, leading to complaints. He also had to reply to friends and colleagues, lest they think fame had made him arrogant.

As for juniors, he still had to maintain appearances and support them to earn some positive buzz, because who knew who might rise to prominence tomorrow, who might have powerful backers, or who might suddenly leak a story about him acting like a diva.

Although his team handled most tasks, many things still required his personal attention, which was incredibly mentally exhausting.

Now, however, things were different. Whatever he wanted done, he simply ordered others to do it. If he was short of money or Reputation Points, releasing a song from behind the scenes would have people scrambling to take care of everything.

Wait, something seemed off.

Recalling how parched and exhausted he had been from overwork just a few days ago, the smile on Chu Tian’s face inexplicably vanished.

Going round and round like this, it seems I haven’t exactly been idle after all, have I? Where did things go wrong?

The only consolation was that he had decisively refused when a crowd of people recently hounded him for his phone number.

With so many people, I might never have contact with most of them again. I don’t even want to be a Singer, so why give out my number? To invite trouble?

His standard reply was: no phone number. If anyone wanted to contact him, they had to go through Xu Qingqiu—even Guo Jingtao was no exception.

Although it created awkward situations, Chu Tian had gone all out for his own peace and quiet.

To this day, his phone only contained the contact information for two of his university professors, Xu Qingqiu, and Yiyi. Not even Sister Hua had his number—he couldn’t care less who it was!

Right, there are three songs left, aren’t there?

Chu Tian suddenly remembered that he seemed to have told Xu Qingqiu there were a few more songs for her album. He had previously given her seven; three more would complete a ten-song album.

This way, he could complete the system task perfectly. His Reputation Points limit would jump directly from ten million to one hundred million, giving him significantly more flexibility. No more staying up late competing with the damned system for Reputation Points.

He glanced at the system interface: his Reputation Points balance was still over six million. In a previous lottery draw, he had won five songs: "How Is It," "The Sound of Snow Falling," "Next Stop: Diva," "Teenager," and "Song of the Wind."

He planned to give her "Teenager" and "Song of the Wind," as these two were quite suitable and somewhat matched the album’s theme.

This was mainly because these two songs were expensive. To redeem them, "Teenager" alone cost 32 million Reputation Points, and "Song of the Wind" cost 30 million Reputation Points—both were phenomenally popular tracks with sky-high prices.

I couldn’t afford them myself, and writing them wouldn’t earn any Reputation Points—all that effort for nothing. Now that I’ve finally won them in the lottery, shouldn’t I use them immediately? Why hoard them, to let them breed?

He had also considered two other songs he possessed: "Thousands of Songs" and "Red Roses." He originally planned to use "Thousands of Songs" but felt it didn’t align with the album’s theme, so he had to set it aside. "Red Roses" was also unsuitable. Similarly, the other three new songs from the recent lottery draw—"How Is It," "The Sound of Snow Falling," and "Next Stop: Diva"—were also temporarily shelved due to thematic mismatches.

In that case, I’ll have to either redeem another song or try the lottery again?

He looked at his pitiful six million-odd Reputation Points. Even the cheapest song costs three million. A lottery draw? Who knows if I’d win anything suitable? And if I don’t, I’d have to wait ages. It might be better to just redeem a song.

After searching for a long time, he finally found a suitable song: "The Girl with Wings."

This was Joey Yung’s breakout hit, the song that had transformed her from an ugly duckling into a swan. Honestly, a song of this caliber would normally be far more expensive to redeem.

However, it was somewhat dated, and its popularity had undoubtedly declined. Compared to other legendary songs from the same era, it was also considered slightly inferior.

The most crucial factor was the lack of impressive later adaptations, which prevented a resurgence in its popularity and thus affected its value.

After all, times had changed. Songs popular in that era might not appeal to the current market. The system was quite adaptable in this respect, not as rigid as he had imagined.

So, relatively speaking, the song was cheap and offered excellent value, with an exchange price of exactly six million Reputation Points.

He looked at the song lying in his inventory, his expression inexplicably complex.

Do I feel like I’ve been tricked? How did my pockets empty in the blink of an eye again?

Forget it. It doesn’t matter. I can’t be bothered to overthink it.

Once he obtained the song, he registered the copyright. After an electronic review, he received the copyright certificate in less than three hours.

In the current digital era, AI models directly interfaced with the copyright database. Data uploads for comparison were very fast; an initial copyright certificate taking a few hours was considered slow, likely due to queuing.

The electronic review issued a preliminary certificate, and a manual review would later issue the formal copyright certificate. This was standard operating procedure, and generally, there were no major copyright issues.

Changes would only occur if a problem was found during the manual review, which would involve a traceback and thorough examination to confirm the issue. However, the probability of this was very small.

After obtaining the certificate, Chu Tian downloaded a copy, filled out various forms and authorization documents, and found time to go downstairs and print them out.

In the evening, he strolled leisurely into the office, placed the documents on the desk, and casually departed with a wave of his hand.

In theory, now that I have money, I could completely leave this place and live the life I’ve always wanted—

traveling, renting a cruise ship to enjoy the sea breeze, or visiting foreign countries to explore different cultures and local customs.

But for some reason, I always feel uneasy the moment I step outside; it’s not as reassuring as staying here.

He had grown used to the people around him, accustomed to seeing his de facto boss, Xu Qingqiu, and her two main associates always bustling about and occasionally flustered, and he couldn’t simply bring himself to leave them to it.

Moreover, I could even walk up to Xu Qingqiu right now and tell her I’m Youmeng without any problem. I’ve earned the right to refuse anyone’s unreasonable demands.

But I’ve asked myself several times: could I really do it?

If I think about Xu Qingqiu looking at me pitifully... and what if she found out I could write songs? Wouldn’t she work me to the bone?

I still want a few more days of peace. Just revealing a bit of my arranging and vocal coaching abilities has already made it hard to extricate myself. What would happen if I revealed everything?

As for refusing her? Forget it. I just can’t bring myself to do it, especially with Xu Qingqiu. Is it the original owner’s emotions at play?

Or is it because I feel guilty and can’t say no?

It certainly wasn’t because I have feelings for her and therefore don’t dare to refuse.

Definitely not that. It must be because I’d be too embarrassed. After all, I have my pride and, you could say, a bit of a moral cleanliness obsession; I’d never allow myself to feel burdened by guilt.

Or maybe there *is* something impure at play here!