Chapter Twenty: Prefer Softness Over Force

With an attitude like that, what else is there to say?

The production team was instantly relieved after seeing the lyrics Yu Wei had written. They stopped pressuring him to do anything else, deciding to let him do as he pleased. They didn't know much about music, but it was clear that these few lines were far from simple, proving that Yu Wei’s creative process was genuine. Since he had taken on the job of an artist and was actually doing an artist’s work, he was fulfilling the program's requirements; forcing him to stop would have been unreasonable.

The director, however, was thinking on a deeper level. He had originally wanted Yu Wei to socialize for the sake of the show’s entertainment value. But if Yu Wei actually produced a song on the show, the impact would far exceed any mere "program effect." A song debuting on a variety show, if it were good, would generate real, tangible popularity. There was no need to put the cart before the horse. Taking a step back would broaden the horizon; even if Yu Wei joined in, the entertainment value wasn't guaranteed to improve, so it was better to let him tinker on his own. If he succeeded, the show would share in the glory; if he failed, it wouldn't hurt the program.

While the production team viewed it from the perspective of profit, the other guests were clearly intrigued. Several of them were musically inclined. Yu Wei’s lyrics had a profound atmosphere; despite being only a few lines, they suggested a grander scale, and even if he only finished a portion, it would surely be a quality piece. What was wrong with him staying behind closed doors? Creating something substantial was far better than jumping around like a clown on a variety show. Their work on the show was a farce, but Yu Wei was truly living as an artist.

Beyond surprise, the guests also realized something simultaneously: Yu Wei writing "Heart Wall" had not been a fluke. Many singers were one-hit wonders because their talent dried up, but these few lines proved that if he could write one hit, he could write another. Having written a golden track and being capable of consistently writing them were two entirely different things. It seemed they had been far too reserved in showing their interest in him.

"These lines are truly excellent. I’m starting to look forward to this."

How could they not be? These were the lyrics to "Far Away," though the rap section in the middle wasn't as famous as the iconic "sending you away thousands of miles." Yu Wei had anticipated this might happen, and it was fortunate that he had scribbled down the lyrics before coming downstairs, or things might have turned awkward.

"It’s fine. I think I’ll take the dog for a walk. I’ll be back soon."

This was enough to save face for the production team. In truth, with this card played, he could really lock his door and focus solely on his creation without further interference. Yu Wei did intend to do just that; one shouldn't be too lacking in social intelligence. Regardless of anything else, he was on their show, so he had to cooperate at least a little. He couldn't give people any reason to criticize him. There were plenty of people who had been unfairly maligned after appearing on variety shows; one had to maintain a good public image.

"A change of scenery might help me find some inspiration," Yu Wei added to keep them from overthinking. It was the truth; he was experiencing writer's block, and getting out for a stroll was the perfect way to clear his head.

Compared to the other two female guests, Zhou Mumu was much more well-behaved. She lacked those hidden agendas, and having her as a companion wouldn't be so exhausting.

"You can clear your head at home too, maybe by watering the plants or something?"

Tong Yulu still didn't want to give up. Yu Wei had been there for most of the day, and she hadn't managed a single meaningful conversation with him. How was she supposed to build a connection? She didn't have any ulterior motives; she just wanted to make a friend.

"It's quieter outside. It's easier to relax your mind." Before Yu Wei could respond, Chi Leying, who had been washing dishes in the corner, chimed in to help. She was just as eager to build rapport, but her mind was sharper than Tong Yulu’s. Instead of trying to force a connection, she preferred to nudge things along. Had she said this directly, it might have sounded like she was just echoing him, but by following up on Tong Yulu’s words, she sounded much more empathetic.

Tong Yulu realized instantly that she had been played by Chi Leying; she had been used as a negative example to show off Chi Leying's own thoughtfulness. Tong Yulu kept her composure, deciding to stay on guard. Having clawed her way out of a girl group, she had learned her lessons well.

Sensing the tension, Yu Wei didn't dare linger. Once it cooled down a bit, he headed out with Zhou Mumu. The cameraman followed along, clearly hoping to capture some of the rare footage of Yu Wei.

Compared to the other two who were constantly making a scene, Zhou Mumu was a different breed. She spoke very little and rarely took the initiative to communicate. Though they were supposedly walking the dog together, they walked one after the other, barely exchanging polite formalities like "where are we going" or "where are we at." This drove the accompanying cameraman crazy—with no interaction between them, how was he supposed to film anything?

Yu Wei followed silently, staring at the dog’s wagging tail as he continued to contemplate his plot. At least the goal of clearing his mind was being met. Any song would work for the selection, but the issue was how to arrange it. He couldn't just have the protagonist randomly start singing at a talent show audition. Wei Yu was a judge this time, so the singing segment needed to be as logical as possible—ideally with some dramatic conflict to stir the readers' emotions and maximize the satisfaction of the scene.

Yu Wei’s mind was a mess, and he couldn't figure it out for a moment, so he decided to look for some amusement to shift his perspective.

"Coconut Milk—that’s a great name."

"It would be a pity to call it 'Coco' or 'Granny'."

The little white dog being named Coconut Milk was normal enough; it looked cute and fit the vibe, but it was just awkward to use diminutives. Zhou Mumu, holding the leash, smiled with a rare curve to her eyes. It was a pretty dry joke.

"Why did you come on this show?" she asked, sitting down on a park bench and looking at Yu Wei with genuine curiosity. "I feel like if you want to write songs, you could do it anywhere."

Every guest had been thinking this, but Zhou Mumu was the first to ask. She didn't have many ulterior motives or taboos; she simply sensed that Yu Wei had no real interest in the show, so she asked.

"To broaden my horizons. I’d never been on one before, but now that I’m here, it feels just like that..." Yu Wei didn't shy away from the camera at all and retorted, "What about you? You’re a successful actress, why come on a show like this?"

Zhou Mumu had been acting since she was a child. She had fame, talent, and her own representative campus drama. She was arguably the only one here who could outshine him. Unfortunately, she was too indifferent, lacking presence on the show. It was clear she didn't enjoy it either. To be honest, appearing on too many variety shows had a significant negative impact on an actor; not only did the audience find it hard to separate them from their personas, but their acting skills were prone to stagnation. Many good actors had simply faded into mediocrity after doing too many variety shows. If she liked it, that would be one thing, but to come and record a show she disliked seemed like self-inflicted misery. Yu Wei was genuinely curious.

"I..." Zhou Mumu hesitated, glancing at the cameraman carrying the equipment nearby.

"Turn it off for a second." Yu Wei tapped the camera. It was rare to find someone on this show willing to have a sincere chat, and he didn't want this piece of junk to ruin it.

"Understood."

The cameraman was sensible. He didn't just turn off the camera but ran off to find shade under a tree, clearly giving them a chance to be alone.

"It’s just... my agency made me come."

An unsurprising answer. Even if Zhou Mumu hadn't said it, Yu Wei could have guessed it was the company's doing. Especially after seeing her look at the camera, it was clear that this was a situation she couldn't speak about openly. Anyone who could make her that cautious was likely her own agency.

"They forced you?"

"No, no." Zhou Mumu waved her hands hurriedly. In her haste, the dog leash slipped from her grip. Coconut Milk, like a prisoner gaining freedom, bolted instantly, its short legs kicking up dust. Before Yu Wei could react, the cameraman in the distance had already taken off in pursuit, shouting for them not to worry and to keep talking. He really deserved a bonus; he was working hard for this show.

"Not forced, I came voluntarily. It’s just... they said the company has helped me so much, and this time, they wanted me to help the company in return."

"Moral blackmail, isn't it?"

Many young people were like this—they responded to kindness but resisted force. Forcing them wouldn't work, but appealing to their emotions and playing the soft card was effective. It used their sense of responsibility and guilt to achieve a goal. Zhou Mumu’s company was clearly using that classic tactic: "We raised you, can't you do something for us?"

Sigh.

Yu Wei watched the chase between the man and the dog in the distance, his mood complex. He suddenly knew how to write the next part of his story.