Chapter Nine: The Most Beautiful Melody

A complete music album typically includes at least ten songs. According to the contract, Xiao Siqi’s album must be finished by the end of this year. After accounting for nearly a month of studio recording and production, Xiao Siqi needs to submit the sheet music, lyrics, and demos of at least ten songs to the record company for review in just over a month. Writing ten songs in one month is almost impossible for Xiao Siqi, but he had been preparing for this album in advance. Aside from the six months of neglect following his car accident, he had accumulated quite a few works over the previous year.

Over the past year, Xiao Siqi had composed more than twenty new songs for this album. However, having faced two consecutive failures, Xiao Siqi was unusually meticulous and demanding about this project. Out of those twenty-plus new songs, only seven met his standards to be included in the new album. So now, in the just over one month left, he only needed to write three more songs of suitable quality for the album—a task that no longer seemed impossible.

After months of studying under Xiao Siqi, Xiao Yao had now grasped the basics of music theory, vocal techniques to expand his range, and the fundamentals of playing three instruments, entering a phase of intense practice. Xiao Siqi’s focus shifting to writing new songs for his album did not significantly affect Xiao Yao.

To give Xiao Siqi an undisturbed creative space, Xiao Yao moved his practice instruments out of the music room and relocated his practice sessions to the living room. Fortunately, their home had good soundproofing, so as long as he didn’t play wildly, it wouldn’t bother the neighbors. He didn’t simply move to the gym, which had become his personal space, because one of the three instruments he was practicing—the piano—was fixed in the living room.

Xiao Yao was currently learning the electronic keyboard, piano, and ukulele. The electronic keyboard was the first and most suitable instrument for his physical condition. After mastering it, he aimed to learn the piano, known as the king of instruments, and the guitar, famed as a charm weapon.

The piano was relatively manageable since its posture and fingerings were similar to the electronic keyboard’s. Although his height didn’t yet allow him to reach the pedals effectively, becoming familiar with the piano’s distinct key feel and tone was beneficial. When his physique caught up, he would naturally be able to play the piano more proficiently.

The guitar posed more challenges. Xiao Yao was shorter than a standard guitar, and his small hands couldn’t fully cover the six strings. Just as he was feeling down and wishing to grow faster, a mention of Hawaii on TV reminded him of the ukulele, also called the Hawaiian four-string guitar. It resembled a guitar in shape and playing technique but was much smaller and had only four strings—perfect for his petite hands. So he asked Xiao Siqi to teach him the ukulele.

As a professional musician, Xiao Siqi was familiar with the ukulele, even if he had never played one. Knowing its size and string count, he understood that Xiao Yao was preparing to learn the guitar eventually. Since the child wanted to learn, he was naturally willing to teach. Being proficient at guitar himself, Xiao Siqi found it easy to learn a similar but simpler instrument like the ukulele and could then teach Xiao Yao.

Xiao Siqi, immersed in his music creation in the studio, had always shared household responsibilities with Xiao Yao. Now, he simply handed over all daily chores to him. For instance, Xiao Siqi’s cooking skills were poor; previously, he would sometimes take Xiao Yao out to eat or order takeout when busy. Now, Xiao Yao handled all three meals by ordering takeout. Xiao Yao didn’t mind—having lived alone in his past life, he was adept at managing household tasks.

Of course, Xiao Siqi didn’t completely isolate himself from Xiao Yao. Whenever he wrote a melody he liked, he would ask Xiao Yao to play it back. Only when Xiao Yao nodded in approval would he continue developing the melody into a complete song. It wasn’t that Xiao Yao’s musical literacy was very high; he could only give simple subjective feedback like “sounds good,” “so-so,” or “not great.”

The reason Xiao Siqi used Xiao Yao’s judgment as a benchmark was that he was deeply impressed by Xiao Yao’s extraordinary reactions. To test his son’s instinctive response to music, he once played all twenty-plus completed songs for Xiao Yao and asked him to rank them by preference. Having listened to music for over a decade in his previous life, Xiao Yao had some music appreciation skills. Interestingly, the seven songs Xiao Yao ranked highest were exactly those Xiao Siqi chose for the album. Believing his son’s taste and aesthetic were accurate, Xiao Siqi regarded him as his first music reviewer.

Though this approach seemed somewhat whimsical, Xiao Siqi’s childlike personality meant that once he was willful, he was truly willful.

Yet, music creation was not something guaranteed by mere effort. After more than ten days, Xiao Siqi still hadn’t composed a song he was satisfied enough to include in the album. Seeing Xiao Siqi grow more and more exhausted, Xiao Yao felt a pang of sympathy. He had seen how hard and sincerely Xiao Siqi had been working. Xiao Yao thought perhaps it was time to activate his own “golden touch” to help him.

Having lived in this world for over half a year, Xiao Yao was quite familiar with it. Especially after settling into his family and gaining a higher status in the household, he had his own tablet and unrestricted internet access. Naturally, during his music studies, he had learned about the current entertainment industry. He realized that although this world had diverged from his previous one about a century ago, with similar historical trends and events, the people and timelines had changed. The entertainment scene was similar—popular culture and trends evolved in the same way, but the icons and classics that led those trends were different. This meant that the classic music and films he remembered from his past life did not exist here. The culture, trends, and aesthetics were the same, so the classics from his past life would still be classics here. His memory of those works became a private treasure trove.

After discovering his family background upon rebirth, Xiao Yao had felt life had been reset to an easier mode. His voluntary efforts to learn various things and set goals had made life more challenging, moving toward a harder mode. Discovering these classics now seemed to reset life back to an easier mode. To avoid boredom, he hadn’t planned to activate his special abilities so soon. But seeing Xiao Siqi’s miserable state, he thought it might be acceptable to start using his “golden touch” and pull some things out of his hidden stash to help.

Xiao Yao had plenty of classic songs from his past life in mind, but he needed a way to bring them to Xiao Siqi. Xiao Siqi insisted that all songs in his album be his own original creations. No matter who handed him a finished piece, he would refuse it. So Xiao Yao had to find a way for the classics he selected to be “created” by Xiao Siqi himself. This limited the number of songs he could choose.

One day, having finally thought of a plan, Xiao Yao pulled Xiao Siqi out of the music room after he had been struggling there for over an hour and sat him down on the living room sofa. Xiao Yao took his usual seat at the piano.

“What’s there to talk about?” Xiao Siqi smiled wearily.

“Just chat a little,” Xiao Yao said with a smile. “I see you’ve been locked up in the music room day after day. Grandpa taught me a phrase—‘balance between tension and relaxation’—and also said ‘more haste, less speed.’ So I want you to relax a bit, take a break, and clear your mind. Who knows, maybe some new inspiration will come.”

Xiao Siqi understood the wisdom of “more haste, less speed.” Seeing his son’s thoughtful concern, he didn’t want to disappoint him. “Alright, what do you want to talk about? I don’t have your grandpa’s literary talent,” he said, adjusting to a comfortable position on the sofa, clearly ready to relax.

“Tell me about you and Mom,” Xiao Yao said, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Was Mom beautiful?”

“Of course,” Xiao Siqi smiled. “There are photos of her all over the house; you can’t miss them.”

“Is she the most beautiful woman in your heart?” Xiao Yao continued, as his fingers pressed a few notes on the electronic keyboard.

“Absolutely. In my heart, your mom is the most beautiful woman in the world,” Xiao Siqi said, recalling Chen Zilin. Then he suddenly realized something was odd. “What tune were you just playing?”

“Oh, it’s not a tune, just a random little piece,” Xiao Yao said with a smile. “When you said Mom was the most beautiful woman in your heart, I naturally played a few notes.”

“That sounds quite nice. Wait, I have to write it down,” Xiao Siqi said excitedly. “I even have the lyrics already: ‘In my heart, you are the most beautiful.’”

Watching Xiao Siqi eagerly grab blank sheet music and a pencil, Xiao Yao’s lips curled into a small smile. What he had played was precisely the first line of the chorus from Yu Quan’s widely popular song “Most Beautiful” from his past life. As a seasoned musician, Xiao Siqi could clearly recognize the melody’s quality. Even the matching lyrics had sprung from his mouth, cleverly guided by Xiao Yao’s words.

However, Xiao Yao had played only the first two bars of the chorus, far from a complete song. For the song to take shape in Xiao Siqi’s hands, more work was needed. Xiao Yao had no intention of playing the entire song for him, as then it wouldn’t be Xiao Siqi’s original creation. His plan was to casually play a few impressive bars from the verse and chorus, leaving the rest for Xiao Siqi to develop. Many musicians start with a great melody, then gradually add elements to form the verse and chorus, fill in lyrics, and finally complete a song. This creative process was normal.

Watching Xiao Siqi accurately transcribe the melody into notes on paper and add lyrics below, Xiao Yao continued, “Dad, keep talking. Tell me about your first date with Mom. Did you bring flowers? What kind? Roses?”

“Heh, kid, how do you know so much? Well, you’re no ordinary child anyway,” Xiao Siqi said, tossing the pencil and paper onto the coffee table and leaning back comfortably. “Of course I brought flowers on our first date. When you take a girl out, what else but roses or carnations?”

Xiao Yao nodded seriously. “Based on living with you these months, I think carnations suit you better.”

Xiao Siqi was stunned for a moment before realizing what Xiao Yao meant—his lack of domestic skills and that Chen Zilin took care of everything at home, like a mother would for her son.

“Hey, that’s asking for a beating, isn’t it? Who talks to their dad like that?” Xiao Siqi feigned anger.