Entertainment: A whirlwind marriage with a fairy-like mother at the start!

A transoceanic flight that takes more than ten hours.

Liu Qianqian kept looking at the wrap-up photos on her phone the whole way. She twisted and turned in the spacious airline seat, sometimes zooming in on Meryl's face, sometimes examining her own stills.

"Dad, do you think David might nominate me for an Oscar for Best Supporting Actress or something?"

Yu Le simply slapped a steam eye mask onto her face.

"It's not even dark yet, and you're already dreaming."

Liu Qianqian defiantly ripped off her blindfold and muttered under her breath, "My acting skills are now personally approved by Meryl Streep, okay!"

Yu Le pulled the blanket over her, covering her kicking legs, her voice flat and emotionless:

"What Aunt May recognizes is your potential, not that you're already good enough."

........

As the plane landed, the city lights were already on in Beijing.

Yu Le pushed open the door and a warm breeze, a mixture of the aroma of food and the fragrance of winter plum blossoms, rushed in, instantly dispelling the chill and fatigue that had gripped her.

In the living room, Liu Xiaoli was wearing a plain cotton and linen loungewear. She didn't look at the two people who came in, but was focused on pruning a newly blooming wintersweet in the entryway with a small pair of silver scissors.

The posture was as if he were not pruning flowers, but sculpting a work of art, his temperament still aloof, with an ethereal elegance that seemed untouched by worldly concerns.

The elegant backdrop is a mess on the sofa—Yu Muchen, who is not yet two years old, is using a red marker as a magic paintbrush, creating his own abstract masterpiece on the expensive imported leather sofa.

"Mom! I'm home!"

Liu Qianqian didn't even change her shoes; like a fledgling returning to its nest, she rushed inside.

Liu Xiaoli put down the scissors and reached out to pat the chill off Liu Qianqian's body.

Her eyes softened: "It's good to be back. You must be tired from the journey."

She then helplessly pointed to the "crime scene" on the sofa and the oblivious "little painter".

"If you two don't come back soon, this little devil will tear the house apart."

When Liu Qianqian saw the "masterpiece" on the sofa, she was immediately furious. She took a few steps over and grabbed Yu Muchen by the back of his collar.

The little one flailed through the air, using both hands and feet, babbling, "Let...let go..."

Liu Qianqian put him on the carpet, put her hands on her hips, and imitated Yu Le's usual way of disciplining him, putting on a stern face.

"Yu Muchen! Don't move! Stand against the wall as punishment!!"

Yu Muchen glanced at her sulking older sister, then stole a look at Yu Le, who was standing next to her with her arms crossed and a forced smile on her lips. She instantly understood the situation, pouted, and became obedient.

He stood obediently against the wall with his short legs, his little head drooping, looking extremely aggrieved.

Watching this scene, Yu Le couldn't help but sigh that everything has its counter.

......

At the same time.

Shanghai, more than a thousand kilometers away.

A strong cold front moved southward, and fine snowflakes began to fall from the sky.

The snow in Shanghai is not as crisp and dry as that in the north; it carries a bone-chilling, damp, and magical attack.

Xue Zhiqian, wrapped in a long military green down jacket, squatted on the curb.

He held a roasted sweet potato he had just bought from the old lady on the street corner; it was his only solace that day.

Steaming hot, with a delicious, caramelized aroma.

My hair was a mess from the wind.

With the end of the year approaching and no more announcements or performances planned, he went straight back to Shanghai to spend the Lunar New Year with his father.

But he has no mood for the New Year at all right now.

The boss hasn't spoken to him for a very, very, very, very long time.

He hasn't released a new song in quite some time.

He is, after all, just a singer, not a celebrity who's constantly trending on social media.

His popularity gradually declined over time, and he could only maintain it by posting jokes every day.

However, what he cares about is not the popularity.

He really wants to sing a new song.

Xue Zhiqian tore open a piece of charred sweet potato skin, revealing the golden flesh inside.

He took a bite, and it was so hot that he gasped for breath.

"Damn it!" Xue Zhiqian chewed on the sweet potato angrily.

"The boss is biased!"

"I took Sissi to Hollywood for all the good food and drinks, and even wrote an English song for her!"

"That's fine, after all, she's their own daughter. Even Shu Chang has movies to act in."

"I'm left all alone in Shanghai, starving!"

He got angrier the more he thought about it.

The more I think about it, the more bitter I feel.

The loudspeakers of the nearby music store were playing the cheerful song "Santa Tell Me" on a loop.

"Santa tell me if you're really there——"

To Xue Zhiqian, that sweet voice was nothing short of a 360-degree, unadulterated mockery.

Under the streetlights, the snowflakes fell heavier and heavier.

It was in a flurry of activity.

It landed on his military green down jacket.

It's rare for Shanghai to get this much snow.

When was the last time it snowed?

Xue Zhiqian was stunned.

The sweet potato in my mouth suddenly didn't taste sweet anymore.

A melody suddenly flashed through my mind.

That's the ultimate resentment of a single person in the dead of winter, watching others in pairs while they can't even get the pie in the sky that their boss is offering.

He threw away the sweet potato peel.

He bounced up from the ground.

"Got it!"

Xue Zhiqian took off running towards the rented room.

The hem of the down jacket fluttered loudly in the wind and snow.

He rushed into the house.

The air conditioning wasn't on.

It's colder inside than outside.

Xue Zhiqian didn't care about any of that.

He grabbed the guitar that was leaning against the headboard.

My fingers were frozen stiff, and the sound of plucking the strings was somewhat muffled.

He cleared his throat.

"The snow is falling so deep..."

He snorted.

wrong.

The emotions weren't tragic enough.

It doesn't hurt enough.

He closed his eyes and imagined Yu Le drinking champagne in Hollywood while he ate a sweet potato on the roadside.

The resentment instantly reached its peak.

He suddenly swept the strings.

"The snow fell so deep, so earnestly—"

"It reflects the scars I bore while lying in the snow—"

correct!

That's it!

He frantically took notes in his worn-out notebook.

His handwriting was so illegible that even he himself could hardly recognize it.

It lasted a full three hours.

The sound of a guitar echoed in the cramped rented room.

He finished writing.

A pure, mournful, and uniquely vibrato-infused song for the "backup plan" genre.

—"Serious Snow".

Xue Zhiqian threw his guitar down.

Turn on the desktop computer and plug in the microphone.

I recorded a demo with rough guitar accompaniment.

He opened the Penguin app.

Find the profile picture labeled "The Evil Capitalist Boss".

Click to send file.

The file transfer progress bar crawls slowly.

Xue Zhiqian clasped his hands together and bowed to the computer screen.

"Boss, please, I've been freezing all day, go and look after the kids!"