A song called "The You of the Past" has prompted the entire internet to beg me not to leav

The penthouse suite at the George V Hotel.

Lin Yan casually pulled the blackout curtains closed, completely blocking out the somewhat glaring midday sunlight of Paris.

The large room instantly fell into a dim, tranquil atmosphere.

He shuffled lazily to the bar in the soft-soled slippers provided by the hotel and poured himself two glasses of room-temperature Evian.

On the sofa, Shen Qingqiu was flipping through a tourist map of the Alps, her delicate eyebrows slightly furrowed, exuding the aura of a female CEO who commands the world.

"The temperature in Switzerland is below ten degrees Celsius right now." Shen Qingqiu circled an area on the map with his pen.

"If you insist on fishing for wild alpine salmon in the frozen lake, we'll need to buy two sets of professional polar cold-weather clothing and a full set of ice fishing equipment."

Lin Yan walked over, placed the water glass in front of her, and then leaned back on the sofa, his head resting precisely on Shen Qingqiu's round and slender thighs.

"No rush, take a nap this afternoon. After you wake up, just let the hotel butler make the arrangements."

Lin Yan let out a long yawn, and a few tears of physiological weariness welled up in the corners of her eyes.

Last night's more than ten hours of international red-eye flight, coupled with being chased and ambushed by Pierre and his group of foreigners in the lobby early this morning, severely depleted the already limited energy of this "retired old man".

Lin Yan's mind was filled with only four words: "I'll fall asleep as soon as I get up."

Shen Qingqiu reluctantly put down the map, gently brushing away the stray hairs on Lin Yan's forehead with her fingertips.

Feeling his warmth, she didn't say anything, but simply adjusted her posture slightly to make him more comfortable.

Just as Lin Yan was about to slip into a deep sleep.

"Thump! Thump! Thump!"

The heavy, carved solid wood door of the suite was smashed with a deafening roar, the violent echo reverberating repeatedly in the quiet corridor.

Lin Yan's brows furrowed instantly.

He didn't even open his eyes, but simply rolled over and covered his ears with a pillow.

Shen Qingqiu patted his shoulder: "I'll go take a look."

Lin Yan grunted but didn't move.

The banging on the door paused for only two seconds, then turned into even more frantic pounding, accompanied by a rapid, broken shout in broken English.

"Father! No, Master Lin! Mr. Lin! I know you're in there! Dean Pierre said you're staying in this room!"

The voice came through the thick door panel, deep, hoarse, and with an extremely frustrated North American accent.

Lin Yan heard the noise, and he suddenly opened his eyes, sat up straight from Shen Qingqiu's lap, and his face visibly darkened.

"David?" Shen Qingqiu raised an eyebrow.

The same Hollywood Universal Music Greater China president who once used a standard rugby tackle to shove Xingyao's CEO Zhao into a garbage can at the back gate of the Xinghai Olympic Center.

Lin Yan, with a sour face, shuffled into the entryway in her slippers.

He ripped the door open.

Outside the door stood David, a burly man weighing over 200 pounds, wearing a tight-fitting, expensive suit.

His clothes were now completely soaked with cold sweat, and his tie was askew.

His face was flushed, and he was panting like an old tractor, his hands clutching a black check with gold trim tightly.

The moment David saw Lin Yan, his eyes lit up with excitement, and he lunged forward, as if he wanted to grab her leg on the spot.

Lin Yan took a half step back expressionlessly, raised his foot, and precisely pressed the sole of his foot against David's misplaced beer belly.

Stand up straight. Speak like a human being.

Lin Yan's voice cooled down drastically, and her morning grumpiness was on the verge of exploding.

David quickly straightened up and swallowed hard.

He held the check above his head with both hands as if it were an ancestral tablet.

"Mr. Lin! Fifty million! Fifty million US dollars! I've already obtained the highest level of authorization from headquarters. This isn't an advance payment, it's the full amount!"

David spoke so fast it sounded like he was rapping, as if he was afraid Lin Yan would slam the door in his face any second.

Lin Yan lowered his eyelids, not even bothering to glance at the paper: "So?"

David was so anxious that he kept stamping his feet in the corridor.

"Master William is going crazy! Hollywood's tyrant director James is going crazy too! Universal Pictures' epic romantic disaster film 'Heart of Ocean,' which cost $300 million this year, is supposed to premiere worldwide next month, but the theme song is still nowhere to be found!"

He frantically pulled out a handkerchief and hastily wiped the cascade of sweat from his forehead.

"That madman James destroyed the hard work of thirteen Grammy-winning producers! Master William spent several sleepless nights writing three songs, and he smashed the sheet music in front of everyone. He said there wasn't a single song in the world that could match the epic feel of a sinking ship and the fatal sense of separation between the male and female protagonists!"

David stared intently at Lin Yan, his eyes burning with fervor as if he had seen a savior.

"Master William cracked James's skull open with an ashtray right there in the conference room! Then he pointed his finger at the nose and told all of Hollywood that only his 'Father' Lin Yan could write this piece!"

Lin Yan listened to him finish this farce with a blank expression.

He looked at David, whose face was practically begging for help, and parted his thin lips slightly, uttering four words: "None of my business."

David was completely stunned. His hand, holding up fifty million dollars, trembled violently in mid-air.

"No... Mr. Lin, this is a global blockbuster with a $300 million investment! As long as your name is credited on this song, you will be an absolute god in the global music scene."

"I'm reiterating this for the last time. I'm retired. I'm on my honeymoon now. My schedule consists of only my wife, sleeping, and fishing."

Lin Yan gripped the brass doorknob with his other hand.

"But……"

"No buts. If you dare to bang on my door again, I guarantee I'll stuff you into the bottom of the Seine's garbage bin."

"Bang!"

David was met with a loud slam of a door slamming shut, accompanied by a gust of cold air, and the corridor fell into a deathly silence.

David stood outside the door like a stone statue, still in that comical pose of holding up a check. He stiffly turned his head to look at his trembling assistant behind him.

"He...he just rejected fifty million dollars and the keys to dominating Hollywood like trash?"

David muttered to himself, wondering if he was still dreaming.

The assistant's lips twitched violently, and he could only nod with a wry smile.

Inside the suite.

Lin Yan strolled back to the living room, plopped down on the sofa again, and skillfully buried her face in the cushions.

"Those Americans are so crazy, so annoying." A muffled grumble came from under the cushion.

Shen Qingqiu sat elegantly on the single sofa, picked up the cup of water on the coffee table and took a sip.

She heard every single word David wailed at the door.

Fifty million US dollars, equivalent to nearly four hundred million Chinese yuan, just to buy a movie theme song.

Shen Qingqiu knew better than anyone what this immense wealth meant.

This has long transcended the realm of money; it's a decisive blow that firmly nails the name "Lin Yan" to the throne of the Hollywood Hall of Fame.

She put down her water glass, stood up, walked to the sofa, and stretched out her slender fingers to pinch Lin Yan's ear.

It spun half a circle, neither too hard nor too soft.

"Hiss, wife, what are you doing?" Lin Yan raised her head like a spring, her face full of innocence.

"Get up." Shen Qingqiu looked down at him, her tone calm and composed.

Where are you going?

"Go open the door. Let me in that two-hundred-pound money tree from outside."

Lin Yan's eyes widened, her face full of resistance: "Stop it, I haven't taken a nap yet, I'm so sleepy I could die. I'm already a useless person who has lost all worldly desires."

Shen Qingqiu crossed her arms and narrowed her beautiful eyes: "I've already paid the 1.5 billion dowry for the building, and now you dare to refuse the 50 million US dollars that's being handed to you? Lin Yan, I can tolerate you not wanting to wash the dishes at home, but you can't not even earn money. Even capitalists would shed tears if they saw you."

Lin Yan still tried to make a last-ditch effort: "But I really..."

"No buts." Shen Qingqiu made the final decision. "Finish writing this song in ten minutes, and you can fish for Swiss alpine salmon as much as you want, and buy as many fishing gear sets as you like. Otherwise, you'll be sleeping on the floor in your guest room for the next three days."

"Okay!"

Lin Yan's body seemed to be infused with some mysterious Eastern power, and he instantly launched himself forward.

His movements were so nimble that he showed no sign of being sleepy.

He hastily straightened the collar of his pajamas, strode back to the entrance, and yanked the door open.

Outside the door, David was dejectedly preparing to press the elevator button when he heard the noise and turned around abruptly.

Lin Yan leaned against the door frame and impatiently raised his chin at David, whose eyes were full of hope.

"Get in here." Lin Yan curled her lip. "Bring your checks with you."