I Became an All-round Artist

Lin Yuan curiously asked, “By the way, system, what do you plan to do with the money I used to commission the song?”

Could the system be using the money to upgrade itself?

The answer, however, was unexpected: “I’m donating it to those in need in this world.”

So, it was for charity. Lin Yuan nodded, not asking further.

The following days passed uneventfully until April 18th, a weekend. Lin Yuan finally called Sun Yaohuo: “Come to the company, we’ll start recording today.”

“I’ll be right there!”

Sun Yaohuo had been on his way to meet his girlfriend, but as soon as he got Lin Yuan’s call, he immediately turned his car around and sped toward the company.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

Lin Yuan, waiting outside the recording booth, noticed Sun Yaohuo arriving breathless, as if he had been running.

“No... I’m fine,” Sun Yaohuo swallowed hard, forcing a smile. He wasn’t about to admit that he had sprinted to the company just to avoid making Lin Yuan wait.

“Have you practiced enough?”

Lin Yuan asked. A few days ago, he had sent Sun Yaohuo the demo of the song “Red Rose.” By now, he should have had enough time to practice.

“I’ve memorized it completely,” Sun Yaohuo replied seriously.

Ever since he received the lyrics, music, and demo, he had only one thought after listening: As expected of Xianyu!

With a song this good, if he couldn’t make it a hit, he’d never sing one of Lin Yuan’s songs again—he wouldn’t deserve to.

Lin Yuan nodded and entered the control room. The staff were ready, and he put on his headphones.

Through the glass, Sun Yaohuo in the recording booth gave Lin Yuan a nod. Once the equipment was adjusted, he began his first take:
“In dreams that I can never wake from, tangled in a red thread, imprisoned… All that remains is the weariness of pain, no longer feeling anything…”

Lin Yuan didn’t interrupt him. Only after the first full run did the sound engineer provide feedback, while Lin Yuan added some of his own thoughts: “You’re familiar enough with the song, but your voice is too open. This song’s overall tone is more subdued. Sadness alone isn’t enough—try to hold back a bit more. Let’s do it again.”

Sun Yaohuo nodded.

In the second take, he restrained his voice more, but Lin Yuan still stopped him: “This song has layers to its emotion. The beginning should feel more like sorrow, almost like a lament.”

“Sorrow?” Sun Yaohuo nodded again.

When he reached the chorus, Lin Yuan gave further direction: “The line ‘What is unreachable always stirs desire, while the favored one is ever fearless,’ reflects the second layer of repression—it's a sigh of regret after the initial sorrow.”

Some of these instructions came from the system, while others were Lin Yuan’s personal interpretations. He didn’t expect Sun Yaohuo to mimic the original version perfectly. Everyone has their own way of singing, and in this case, he wanted Sun Yaohuo to find his own style, much like how Zhang Bichen had reinterpreted “Red Rose” in the previous world. Though her rendition was different from the original, it was equally beautiful.

Similarly, while Sun Yaohuo’s voice matched the original singer’s range, Lin Yuan didn’t need him to imitate.

For the rest of the recording session, Lin Yuan and the sound engineer continued to offer feedback. Sun Yaohuo kept adjusting, honing his performance. Recording in the studio is very different from performing live. The final version that would be released was the studio recording, so every detail mattered.

“Now, focus on the third layer of repression,” Lin Yuan advised during one take. “When you sing the line, ‘When I hold you from behind, I picture her face,’ the emotion is a mix of melancholy and a subtle sense of self-mockery. It doesn’t need to be intense—keep it light. This will help you manage your breath control as well.”

“Don’t overuse technical skills,” he added. “Most songs require you to use your voice first and emotions second. But for this one, it’s the opposite—let the emotions lead, and your voice should follow. The transition from soft to strong shouldn’t involve raising your pitch too much. Instead, let it transform from a soft lament into a desperate cry.”

At first, the sound engineer provided more of the technical suggestions, but as the session went on, it was mostly Lin Yuan guiding the emotional delivery. The sound engineer focused on objective adjustments, while Lin Yuan’s direction was subjective, but critical. Sun Yaohuo found Lin Yuan’s approval the hardest to win.

“Missed again…”
“Fell short again…”

Lin Yuan also occasionally demonstrated parts of the song. While his vocal issues prevented him from becoming a professional singer, he could easily guide Sun Yaohuo through this track.

After a quick demonstration, Lin Yuan said, “Notice how I manage my breath before each phrase. You need to control your breath, bringing it down before singing. You can pause after each line to adjust your breathing. If your emotion is strong enough, slight imperfections in breath control won’t matter.”

All Sun Yaohuo could do was nod.

Most composers aren’t as strict as Lin Yuan. Normally, singers only need to listen to the sound engineer, but Lin Yuan was different. He had studied vocal performance for years and, if not for his vocal cord issues, would have been an exceptional singer himself. His knowledge of singing far surpassed that of most composers.

In a way, the recording studio was full of “supporting actors.” A composer like Lin Yuan, who could handle lyrics, composition, arrangement, and was also well-versed in singing, was a rarity. If every composer were like Lin Yuan, many sound engineers might find themselves out of a job.

“We’ll stop for now,” Lin Yuan finally said after several hours. Sun Yaohuo still hadn’t delivered a version that met Lin Yuan’s high standards, but that was expected. “Practice some more over the next few days.”

“Got it,” Sun Yaohuo responded, ready to start "grinding" in the studio.

Grinding meant spending long hours in the recording booth, practicing. While it was possible to practice at home, nothing compared to the feedback provided by studio equipment and monitoring professionals.

Lin Yuan left, deciding not to oversee the rest of the recording process for now. The final version wouldn’t be recorded until Sun Yaohuo fully mastered the song. Lin Yuan was in no rush.

Meanwhile, as the month came to a close, the short story competition featuring thirty writers on the Tribe platform was drawing to a close.

Some were calling it “the moment when kings would reveal their true faces.”

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