Frivolous - Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Currently, Yu Lanzhou was sitting in Yu Tingzhou’s spacious office, feeling a bit of regret over her previous generosity. She shouldn’t have handed Fengjin over to her.

The contract for Ode was held by Fengjin. Yu Lanzhou had merely requested that Yu Tingzhou get the band onto a variety show, but her sister had started bargaining with her.

Yu Tingzhou said, “Sister, I’m a businesswoman. I have nothing to do with philanthropists or artists. I’m the type who doesn’t get out of bed without a profit motive.”

“The first two seasons of that variety show did so well; for the third season, they’ll definitely want bands that already have a name. I had a bit of a falling out with that producer last time.”

“If I’m going to force Ode in there, what am I relying on? My own dignity, or Chen Ran’s vocal skills, or their fame? Besides, filming is about to start. Isn’t this blatant nepotism? And the person I’m stuffing in is…”

Yu Lanzhou was getting annoyed listening to her. She interrupted and patiently offered a deal: “That extra performance you mentioned before? I agree to it.”

Yu Lanzhou held countless international awards. Her last performance in Pingjing had triggered a chain reaction; search volumes for Yu Lan and Fengjin spiked, dragging the stock price of Yu Deep up with them.

“One show isn’t enough,” Yu Tingzhou said honestly. To swallow her pride and negotiate with that “shitty producer,” the mental anguish would be irreparable.

“Three shows. And bring them on three more variety shows. Once their fan count builds up, organize follow-up performances immediately,” Yu Lanzhou declared with finality.

Watching from the side, Xu Wan looked worried. The wound on Yu Lanzhou’s arm beneath her long-sleeved shirt hadn’t fully healed yet.

“Boss Yu, Conductor Yu’s arm…” Her voice trailed off, the rest of her words forced back by the sharp look Yu Lanzhou gave her. Xu Wan shut her mouth instantly.

Yu Tingzhou wanted to say more, but Yu Lanzhou looked displeased and said coldly, “If you can’t do it, sign them back to Yu Lan. I’ll go talk to the producer myself.”

“Fine, fine, fine. I get it. I’ll use the full power of Fengjin to develop Ode. Happy now?”

Yu Lanzhou retracted her gaze.

After finishing their business, Yu Tingzhou leaned over, her hand resting on the back of the sofa behind Yu Lanzhou. “Sister.”

Yu Lanzhou ignored her.

The phone on the desk rang. Yu Tingzhou picked up. “Mhm, Mom? What’s up?” After chatting for a bit, she circled around and leaned into Yu Lanzhou’s lap, relaying the message while lying on her: “Mom’s asking when you’re coming back to Hanglin.”

“Don’t you know when I’m going back?”

Yu Tingzhou gave a mischievous smile and replied to Yu Jijie over the phone, “Mom, my sister is staying for at least three months.”

Yu Lanzhou returned from Fengjin to her home in Pingjing. The massive house felt empty, echoing Xu Wan’s earlier reminder: “Auntie Lin’s son is getting married; she’s taking two days off. Is there anything you want for dinner? I can prepare it for you.”

“No need. You can head home.”

“The wound hasn’t fully closed yet. Please be careful.”

“I will.”

Xu Wan closed the door for her.

By 10:00 PM, Yu Zhou called to check on her health. Yu Lanzhou rubbed her brow, her tone weary. “I’m fine. You, on the other hand—take care of yourself. Auntie Zhao said your chest felt tight again, is that right?”

“I went to the hospital for a checkup. It’s nothing serious.”

“Mhm.”

As mother and daughter in name only, their conversations consisted of either one asking about the other’s health. It was a somewhat helpless routine.

Yu Lanzhou suddenly remembered something. “You and Chen Ran… how long has it been since you last spoke?”

“You found out…” Yu Zhou’s voice sounded dejected.

“Mhm.”

“Two years. It was because I said the wrong thing and did the wrong thing that Big Sister stopped talking to me.” Yu Zhou had indeed been impulsive back then; she admitted she was wrong. But even if she were to do it again today, she still wouldn’t agree with Chen Ran.

“Aren’t you worried about her?” Yu Lanzhou asked on a strange impulse, though it felt like she was asking her past self.

Yu Zhou replied, “Doesn’t she have your help?” Back when Yu Zhou was adopted, the Yu family had taken over Chen Ran’s tuition and living expenses as well.

Yu Lanzhou was momentarily speechless.

That day, when Chen Ran said she had kissed her while “being muddled,” Yu Lanzhou had been angry. So, when her secretary asked whether to continue sponsoring Chen Ran’s studies, she had said no.

Yu Lanzhou blinked her lashes and didn’t reply to Yu Zhou. “I’m hanging up now.”

After hanging up, she belatedly realized she was hungry. Xu Wan had offered to hire another maid for these two days, but Yu Lanzhou wasn’t used to strangers in her home, so she had refused. She didn’t want to drive out, and as she browsed her apps, she remembered the roast duck from that night. She hadn’t eaten much of the portion Chen Ran packed for her then, but now she craved that flavor.

The delivery was long overdue. Yu Lanzhou could have eaten something else to tide her over, but she stubbornly refused. She was content to be the “first person to die of hunger.” The emptiness and irritability weren’t just in her stomach. Perhaps she simply didn’t want to endure this silence anymore, fighting back with a sense of helplessness.

August 6th, 9:00 AM. Ode’s self-titled album went live on all platforms.

The band’s logo was designed by Chen Ran and Su Ping’an, with several versions prepared.

1. 1. The words “Ode” in black and white calligraphy by Chen Ran (who had practiced calligraphy as a hobby).

1. 1. The number “23”—representing Chen Ran’s past creative handle—written in cursive. The dark blue font had a rise and fall like the waves of the sea.

1. 1. A stylized fusion of a guitar and a tree.

When the final decision was made, Version 2 crushed the others with a 5-0 vote. Chen Ran’s label as the independent musician “23” already carried its own aura; the tracks in the Y album were perennial chart-toppers on the rock lists. Combined with Fengjin’s promotion, the lead single Mocking Lyrics climbed to third on the rock charts in no time.

The lyrics were pretentious yet poignantly broken: It was pain that forged me; I exist because of it. This moment of pain constitutes my entire glass universe. A universe ready to shatter at any time. From now on, through mountains, waters, valleys, and rivers, everywhere is my pathless home. I struggle and seek on the desolate road…

Long Remember the Wind and Flowers followed close behind. Among the twelve meticulously selected songs, five were in the top fifty of the charts.

Yu Lanzhou was busy preparing for her next concert, so she didn’t pay attention the moment the album went live. After finishing a rehearsal, she asked Xu Wan, “How are the streaming numbers?”

Xu Wan showed her the data. “Almost all of them are at the top of the charts. Fengjin has also started promoting on short-video platforms.”

Yu Lanzhou knew that many of Chen Ran’s works had catchy, outstanding melodies. Combined with her unique voice, style, and diction, it would be hard for her not to be a hit. She had always been confident in her own musical taste.

As she scrolled through the screen, she noticed Deep Sea wasn’t on the charts. Yu Lanzhou frowned slightly. Regarding Deep Sea’s failure to chart, she thought to herself: No taste.

There were also negative comments on the platform:

“The lead singer sounds so depressing. If I don’t listen, I can’t sleep; if I do, I stay awake all night.”

“Whenever you think you’ve stepped out of the shadows, Chen Ran’s voice comes on and sends you right back”

“Was Chen Ran an undertaker before? Why is she so gloomy?”

Xu Wan didn’t show these comments to Yu Lanzhou.

A week later, as the captain of Ode, Chen Ran received an invitation from the producer of the country’s hottest music variety show, Live Rolling Sound, delivered by their manager Ge Chao. This show rarely invited young bands; none of the other bands at Fengjin had received an invite.

Chen Ran was dazed by the sudden surprise. After the members signed the contract together, Chen Ran flipped through the paper document repeatedly, unable to put it down. She thanked Ge Chao over and over, praising her as a gold-standard manager. Yet, she felt a secret guilt because of her past.

Before long, recording for the first episode began. There were 26 bands in total, starting with one-on-one PKs, followed by overtime rounds. Based on the votes, 10 bands would be eliminated in the very first recording. Like the previous seasons, the show invited 300 live audience members and four celebrity judges from outside the indie circle. In previous seasons, these judges included Best Actor and Best Actress winners.

The heavy-hitter invited for this season was the Movie Queen, Qu Bai. She had won every major domestic and international award, and her name was frequently in the tabloids. Chen Ran had seen videos of her: at international film festivals, wearing a bright red off-the-shoulder gown with butterfly-shaped jewelry. At first glance, she looked like a butterfly perched on white moonlight, swaying elegantly among a sea of beauties, shining brightly. She was like a red rose—bright and generous, playing to the cameras in every direction. It was a stark contrast to her usual gentle and dignified persona. That scene had been recorded as a classic red-carpet moment.

Offstage, Chen Ran looked at her curiously, wondering what the difference was between the Movie Queen who owned the red carpet and the Qu Bai currently sitting poised and gentle on the stage. Her gaze was caught by the other woman, and Chen Ran looked away.

During the recording, every time the camera swept past Chen Ran’s face, the crowd grew restless. It was a face of textbook perfection—thin skin clinging to the bone structure, flawless in both form and feature. Her ink-black hair was draped over her shoulders in a seemingly casual way; the look was so natural and elegant that it was hard to tell if it had been meticulously styled. A faint redness tinged the corners of her eyes, like the delicate tip of a water lily. It was a contradictory, exotic look—like a little fox.

Ode was pitted against Time Pickers, a band famous for their looks. None of the four members were anything less than stunning. But Chen Ran had heard them live; the lead singer’s vocals were four levels below hers. The only member with commendable skill was the female drummer, Shi Qi. With short curly hair, she gave off a grounded vibe; her drumming was steady yet unrestrained, and she was a veteran in the scene.

Beside her, Qiu Fang drank sponsored water to soothe her nerves, joking, “I’d only heard rumors, but this group’s looks are truly indisputable.” She looked at her own members and laughed, “If we kicked out Shi Muyang, our band would be a visual team too.”

Just as Qiu Fang finished speaking, the lead singer of the opposing band started singing and immediately went off-key. The people sitting below looked at each other, pinching their thighs to keep from laughing. The lead singer finished the performance with a bright red face, out of breath and out of tune. As they left the stage, the audience gave them encouraging applause. But everyone knew that with ten bands being eliminated, this group wouldn’t get a second chance.

Next up was Ode. The host introduced them: “Both of these bands are visual powerhouses. Especially Chen Ran—she’s raised the average looks of the entire rock scene.” Then they added, “And with Teacher Qu here, our show has never had such an abundance of beauty.”

The cameras gave individual shots to Qu Bai and Chen Ran. Qu Bai, hearing this, met Chen Ran’s eyes and smiled. “You flatter me. My looks are still up for debate, but the one holding the guitar is truly peerless.”

Suddenly being named by the Movie Queen, Chen Ran inevitably felt shy and nervous. She stopped looking at Qu Bai and gave a faint smile. The audience erupted in “wows.”

When it was time for the band to give their declaration, Chen Ran, as the captain, answered with a touch of passion: “In my heart, music is incredibly great. So we hope to share and experience that greatness with everyone on this stage.”

It sounded naive and a bit arrogant, as if she were boasting about the greatness of her own music. Whispers broke out among the other competing bands—it was unclear if they were mocking her. Looking at Chen Ran now, the audience saw her as a bit of a “clueless beauty.”

Whether praised or criticized, Chen Ran ignored the attitudes of others. She shared a look with Su Ping’an and focused on the upcoming performance of Mocking Lyrics as the lights dimmed.

When the stage lights came up, Chen Ran lowered her head and entered with the rhythm. Her voice was low-pitched, like polished metal—rich and sexy. From the moment she opened her mouth, the song had texture. She used a gradually rising tone and tugging emotions to sing out her reflections and struggles.

The provocative lyrics echoed through the stage. The audience swayed along with the rhythm. At the end, a sacred white light shone on Chen Ran, giving her a wild yet gentle aura. The band’s coordination was much smoother and more telepathic than during their street performances or auditions, thanks to their recent frantic extra rehearsals. It was a miracle Chen Ran hadn’t lost her voice.

As the lights dimmed again, Chen Ran heard the entire venue shouting the name “Ode.” While waiting for the voting results, Su Ping’an squeezed her left hand. Chen Ran squeezed back.

She was confident. Confident that they wouldn’t be eliminated.

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