Chapter 8: Pipa

At the entrance of Starlight Entertainment’s main building.

A luxurious Bentley came to a stop.

When the doorman saw the license plate, he immediately stepped forward to receive the guests. The top name on the VIP list was the person sitting in that Bentley. Though he rarely came, he was unmistakably recognizable.

The rear door of the car opened. The doorman took a step back and bowed slightly: “Mr. Cen, hello.”

Cen Han, dressed sharply in a suit and leather shoes, swung his long right leg out of the car. He adjusted his lapel, his gaze fixed on the interior of the vehicle.

The doorman realized there was another guest. As he was about to greet, a section of snow-white, soft trouser leg entered his sight.

Such attire was extremely rare, making it hard to tell if the person was a man or a woman. He couldn’t help but look up and met a pair of glass-like eyes.

Lin Qinghe’s voice was gentle: “Thank you.”

The doorman suddenly stammered: “It… it’s my pleasure, sir.”

Cen Han had always been a man of action. On the last day of the work week, he brought Lin Qinghe to Star.

The first-floor lobby was resplendent, bustling with people. Everyone was dressed in bright, stylish clothes, radiating a modern atmosphere.

“Good morning, President Cen.”

“Good morning, President Cen.”

…

The men and women around all greeted Cen Han in succession. Then, their curious gazes unanimously fell on Lin Qinghe, who was behind him.

Both Lin Qinghe’s attire and his ink-black hair seemed somewhat out of place. His appearance, and especially his relationship with Cen Han, sparked all kinds of speculation.

Because everyone at Star knew who the company’s real decision-maker was. For Cen Han to bring someone like Lin Qinghe here probably meant he was a new artist they were signing.

The elevator doors opened and closed, blocking out those curious eyes.

In his previous life, Lin Qinghe had exchanged sharp words with hundreds of officials, back and forth, and had been loved and supported by the people on the streets. So, despite being the center of so much attention, it wasn’t enough to stir his emotions as much as the elevator did.

Probably having discovered another fascinating thing, he stood in a corner, looking around.

“Chen Dong’s office is on the sixteenth floor. Next time you need to find him, you can just press the button for floor sixteen.”

Cen Han caught sight of his movements out of the corner of his eye and had to add a few words.

Lin Qinghe was quick to learn and apply. He spoke up: “So if I want to go to the fourth floor, I press the button for four?”

Cen Han nodded: “Mm.”

Lin Qinghe made an OK gesture to show he understood.

This was a little social trick the teacher had taught him yesterday.

The elevator soon reached their floor.

As they walked down the corridor, someone was just coming out of Chen Dong’s office.

“Brother Cen?” Zhong Yu’s voice carried a hint of surprise.

Cen Han rarely showed up at the company. He hadn’t expected to run into him here. After greeting, his gaze shifted to Lin Qinghe and paused for a second.

Was the company about to sign a newcomer?

Xu Anyu hadn’t been seen at the company for days. He had taken a major fall this time, not only causing the company significant losses, but also losing the male lead role in Dream of the Blue Moon Night.

Seeing Xu Anyu down and out made Zhong Yu feel an immense sense of relief. That guy really put on too much of an act, and the sight of it made him sick.

He and Xu Anyu had acted in the same TV drama before, but he was the male third lead, while Xu Anyu was the male lead.

During the filming, Xu Anyu had openly and secretly suppressed him. Once, it was even worse. After shooting a particular scene, Xu Anyu deliberately told the director that he wasn’t going back with the group. So by the time Zhong Yu packed up and returned to the filming location, there wasn’t a single person in sight.

It just so happened that a heavy rain started. Out in the suburbs, he couldn’t get a taxi. By the time he got home, he was so soaked that water could be wrung out of his clothes. Unsurprisingly, he ended up in the hospital.

After that, the other actors noticed the bad blood between them and began to avoid him. That’s just how the industry is—if you’re not famous, you have no place to stand.

It wasn’t until last year’s company annual party that he realized where Xu Anyu’s malice towards him came from.

Usually, the annual party wasn’t that lively. But Chen Dong revealed that Star had been performing well in recent years, and President Cen would attend to meet everyone. So, whether they were A-listers or Z-listers, they all gathered.

After a few drinks, while on his way to the restroom, he encountered a tipsy Xu Anyu blocking Cen Han’s path. Xu Anyu’s voice was unnaturally steady as he said, “Brother Cen, can I be with you?”

The air froze instantly. Zhong Yu stood rooted to the spot, not daring to move. A few seconds later, he heard Cen Han’s cold reply: “If you’re drunk, have your assistant take you home.”

In the end, Xu Anyu left with an awful look on his face.

Zhong Yu racked his brain, trying to recall a past scene. He remembered that Cen Han had once looked out for him because he was a Star actor. But first, he didn’t remember it as vividly as Xu Anyu did, and second, he had no interest in Cen Han whatsoever, so he was slow to realize that Xu Anyu would make things hard for him because of it.

Lin Qinghe received Zhong Yu’s smile and responded naturally: “Hello.”

Where did this god-like person come from? He seemed so innocent, so untouched by the world.

He was probably just a bit over twenty, fresh out of college. Zhong Yu snapped back to reality: “Hello. Brother Chen’s office is empty. You can go in. I’ll be on my way.”

After saying goodbye to Zhong Yu, Lin Qinghe heard the person in front say: “Zhong Yu is easy to get along with, no bad intentions. In the future, keep your guard up out there. This circle is more complicated than you think…”

Cen Han seemed like he wanted to say more, but in the end, he just turned his head to look at Lin Qinghe, a subtle expression on his face.

???

Lin Qinghe didn’t understand what that look meant. His expression was slightly bewildered, looking very naive.

“Nothing.” Cen Han didn’t intend to explain. “Just reminding you to be careful.”

Was it that hard to guess what a boss was thinking?

Lin Qinghe wondered. Did Assistant Zhang run into this kind of situation too?

In the spacious office, the CEO of Star was sitting on the sofa. Chen Dong had just turned thirty-five, looking in the prime of his life, full of energy.

The moment he laid eyes on Lin Qinghe, he realized that when he had contacted Zhang Hua earlier to ask about the situation, and Zhang Hua had joked that he’d bring him good news—that wasn’t a joke at all.

He had no idea where this treasure had been dug up.

Cen Han usually only drank coffee when he came here. Chen Dong knew his habits, so he asked Lin Qinghe, “Little He, what would you like to drink?”

“Just some hot tea.”

The secretary brought hot tea and coffee and set them on the table.

For a moment, Chen Dong wasn’t sure about Lin Qinghe’s status. After all, Cen Han had brought him personally. Maybe he was a relative or something. He weighed his words and asked, “Qinghe, where are you from?”

Lin Qinghe instinctively glanced at Cen Han before answering, “From… an orphanage.”

Chen Dong thought he had misheard: “Huh?”

Lin Qinghe paused for two seconds, then changed his wording, spitting out two words: “An orphan.”

…

Chen Dong gave a dry laugh.

He didn’t quite believe it.

Lin Qinghe didn’t look like someone who had suffered any hardship.

Cen Han leaned back into the sofa. He could see a hint of subtle resentment in Lin Qinghe’s expression. The aroma of coffee lingered on his lips and teeth, and he spoke up to help: “Ask something else.”

The employer was really getting impatient these days. Chen Dong changed the subject and got straight to the point with Lin Qinghe: “There are three types of stars who get famous in the entertainment industry. The first type spends five or even ten years struggling at the bottom; their path isn’t easy. The second type has connections and resources backing them, propped up by money. The last type is born with traffic, blessed with both talent and aura.”

He paused for two seconds: “Actually, I think there’s a fourth type: a combination of the last two. But that kind is too rare in the industry. Xi Yan counts as one.”

“Qinghe, your conditions are very good. Do you have any skills you’re good at?” Chen Dong let go of his crossed hands, his tone relaxed.

Skills? Madam Liu, although not the legal wife, was a talented woman in the Western Capital. She was proficient in the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting. When Lin Qinghe had free time after school, Madam Liu would teach him some musical instruments. At first, it was just to pass the time, but later, seeing that he learned well, it became a habit.

Lin Qinghe thought for a few seconds: “Does playing the pipa count?”

“Of course.” Chen Dong nodded. Artists usually have some sort of talent, be it guitar, violin, or pipa, which is also quite common.

“If I may ask, what level would you say you’re at?”

Lin Qinghe didn’t answer that question right away. His hesitation made Chen Dong think he was too modest to say because he wasn’t that proficient. Knowing something was better than knowing nothing at all, Chen Dong comforted him: “It’s okay, we can develop it slowly.”

Cen Han hadn’t joined the conversation, but he had been paying close attention to their exchange: “Find him a pipa and let him try.”

The ninth and tenth floors of the company were specifically set aside for artists to practice dance or basic skills. Generally, the tenth floor was more private, with individual studios, reserved for artists with a bit more potential in the industry.

In the large music room on the ninth floor, there were only a few people. They had just finished their training and were gathered together chatting happily. When they saw Chen Dong bring someone in, they straightened up and greeted him.

Chen Dong casually asked, “How’s it going? Feeling confident about next week’s qualifiers?”

One of the teenagers, wearing a baseball cap, glanced at Lin Qinghe and smiled: “Not bad, but we can’t let our guard down. We’re planning to run through it a few more times. Bro Chen, do you need the space? We can leave first.”

“No, go ahead.” Chen Dong waved his hand and said to Lin Qinghe, “Qinghe, see which one you think fits. The pipas on the stand aren’t top-tier, but they’re still pretty good.”

Lin Qinghe gave a slight nod, stepped forward, and compared them one by one. He tested the sound briefly, and finally chose one he liked.

After a moment, when he was ready, he adjusted his sitting position while holding the pipa and slowly announced the name of the piece: “Song of the Returned Wanderer Beyond the Frontier.”

It was a name none of them had heard before. Chen Dong was a bit curious and motioned for him to start playing.

Actually, not only had Chen Dong never heard it, but the trainees hadn’t either. They had initially planned to leave the space for the unfamiliar face, but now they didn’t really want to go.

Lin Qinghe didn’t mind. His sleeve swept over the pipa, and his posture had an ethereal, otherworldly grace.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze falling on the distinct strings. Then, beneath his fair, slender fingers, a clear and pleasant melody gradually arose—light as a dragonfly skimming the water, smooth as delicate silk.

…

Soon, the tune turned melodious and lingering. A soldier long away from home, unable to return from the frontier, drank wine under the moon, his melancholy telling of his homeland, as a clear cup entered into sorrow.

Drums startled the dreamer. Lin Qinghe struck a string heavily.

Then came the sound of large and small pearls falling onto a jade plate. The music echoed urgently within the room, its momentum vast and magnificent—like ten thousand horses galloping, the flash of blades and shadows of swords, a surging river, unceasing and endless. His lively finger work never paused for a moment. Lin Qinghe’s expression was calm as he plucked the strings with ease.

In no time, people from around the music room were drawn by the sound. They poked their heads in to listen, their expressions lost in the music.

The melody was nearing its end. The force of his fingers softened. The sun was setting in the west, and the yellow flowers on the frontier exuded a faint fragrance. The wind blew comfortably. The army marched leisurely, chatting and laughing amidst a patch of orange red, at ease and carefree.

The final note faded away.

The lingering sound circled the rafters, a continuous thread of music.

Lin Qinghe held the pipa and stood up to bow. The onlookers were still in a daze; no one said a word.

Until a sudden, leisurely applause broke the silence. Like a pebble thrown into a pond, rippling outward, the applause spread.

Lin Qinghe looked at Cen Han, who had just ended a call and was returning to the doorway, leading the clapping. He felt reassured. Since the boss had shown his approval, it meant he had been acknowledged.

Chen Dong gave a thumbs up, delighted: “Amazing, Qinghe! This piece really made one feel like they were there, right in the middle of it. So you were being modest earlier.”

He knew a few masters of the pipa, and was even good friends with one of them. When they occasionally got together, that friend, when in high spirits, would play a few tunes. He never expected Lin Qinghe to be so unassuming, yet his skill was in no way inferior to the best in the music world. What was even more shocking was how young he was.

What kind of family background could produce such a young man? Chen Dong couldn’t figure it out.

Lin Qinghe smiled gently: “You flatter me.”

One of the trainees chimed in: “I can play the pipa a little too, but I’ve never heard this score. Did you compose it yourself?”

Lin Qinghe: “Sort of. I figured it out in my spare time.”

Actually, his mother had composed the piece, but he couldn’t say that publicly due to her status.

Everyone fell silent for a moment. Figuring it out in his spare time, and reaching such a level of mastery—there was no doubt it was talent.

The entertainment industry was a place where dragons and fish were mingled, and also a place where hidden dragons and crouching tigers lay. Maybe one second you’re posing for someone, and the next you don’t even know how you disappeared.

Those who could survive in this circle were all sharp cookies. Chen Dong’s attitude, coupled with Cen Han’s approval, told everyone present that Lin Qinghe was not someone to be casually slighted.

Chen Dong was in a great mood. If this guy joined Star, he would definitely bring considerable profit to the company. Cen Han truly had an eye for talent. If he could, he wanted to sign him right now: “There are always people better than you, and skies beyond skies, as they say. I’ve seen enough. No problems, let’s go upstairs and discuss the details.”

As the crowd dispersed, murmurs gradually spread.

“Damn, is this a new artist the company is signing? I guarantee he’s going to blow up.”

“You don’t need to guarantee it. The top brass from behind Star showed up in person. Not something we can envy.”

“With a face like that, he’s definitely in the right industry. It’s rare to find artists with such a distinctive look in the entertainment business.”

“Wait until Xu Anyu comes back. He’s going to be pissed.”

“Hahahaha, he’s always been the center of attention. Of course he won’t be happy about this.”

…

Signing the contract took quite a while. Most of the content was hard for Lin Qinghe to understand. Out of caution, Chen Dong had to explain several things on the spot. After all, they were all working for Cen Han, so he didn’t put on any airs at all.

But he couldn’t help being surprised again when he saw that Lin Qinghe was an orphan. So it really wasn’t a joke.

Lin Qinghe signed his name on the black and white contract, making it immediately effective—a seven-year term.

“Welcome to Star.” Chen Dong stood up and said.

“Thank you.”

“In the near future, I’ll find someone to develop a career plan based on your situation. So you’ll need to come to the company a few times.”

Lin Qinghe nodded: “No problem.”

Adhering to the principle of speaking less to make fewer mistakes, Lin Qinghe was brief when talking to others. The reason was that he didn’t want to cause trouble for Cen Han, which gave Chen Dong the impression that he was reserved.

In the back seat of the Bentley, Cen Han told the driver to go to Fengrui first, then send Lin Qinghe back to Xiangtan.

He had thought that the person he had picked up only had his looks as an advantage, with no other merits. But it turned out he was a bit more than that. It was quite unexpected.

Cen Han said: “Your pipa playing is elegant and refined. I thought you might be related to the nobility.”

Although the Lin family wasn’t connected to royalty, they were still a prominent family in Tranquil City, especially with a beloved figure like Lin Qinghe.

Lin Qinghe was gentle as jade: “Not quite nobility. I once received an enfeoffment ceremony at the Golden Palace.”

“Oh?” The latter part was too historical; Cen Han was rarely this curious. “What kind of enfeoffment ceremony?”

“The awarding of the Tanhua (Third Place Scholar).”

No wonder he had that bookish aura.

The car drove along the main road. Dense shade blocked the sunlight, and fragmented, mottled shadows passed over the eagle emblem, displaying its luxurious brilliance.

Cen Han’s tone was intriguing: “Tanhua, the Tanhua. Very impressive.”