4: Chapter 4 Others sing for money, he sings for his life.

Yang Lele's round eyes were wide open, staring fixedly at Xu Qingya's face.

Xu Qingya tossed her Hermès bag onto the sofa.

"Are you mute? What happened with the brand sponsors?"

Yang Lele finally snapped out of it and took two quick steps forward: "Sister Qingya! Where did you go last night? Your skin..."

She circled halfway around Xu Qingya, her eyes filled with disbelief.

"Did you secretly get the latest hyaluronic acid injections? Or did you use some secret miracle potion? This complexion is absolutely amazing! I can't even see your pores!"

Yang Lele reached out to touch her, then pulled back, her tone full of envy.

"Sister Qingya, you didn't even wear foundation today, right? This state is even more youthful than when you first debuted!"

Xu Qingya avoided her assistant's gaze.

She casually opened a document to hide the emotional fluctuations in her eyes.

"I rested well last night. Stop talking nonsense, let's talk business."

"Oh, oh..." Yang Lele still hadn't recovered from her shock, muttering quietly as she handed over the documents.

"What kind of skincare product is so miraculous that one night's sleep can make you look this rejuvenated? It's like you've changed your skin entirely..."

The fingers Xu Qingya used to hold her pen tightened involuntarily.

The image of that security guard involuntarily surfaced in her mind.

In just one night, he had not only cured her severe insomnia but also made her exhausted body feel incredibly light.

This could absolutely not be a coincidence.

What exactly did that little security guard do to her?

...

After leaving Tianyu Entertainment, Jiang Fan went straight to the north of the city.

He spent the afternoon finding a single room with a monthly rent of 1,200.

After paying three months' rent and the deposit, the landlady tossed him the keys and left.

Jiang Fan locked the door and sat on the edge of the bed.

He closed his eyes and let his consciousness sink into the system panel.

The system store interface unfolded, with a shockingly large amount of information.

The music section alone had tens of thousands of songs, neatly arranged by era, genre, and language.

Jiang Fan first looked at the pricing system.

The exchange price for the lyrics, composition, and Arrangement of a complete song ranged from 100 to 300 Lifespan Value, depending on the original work's influence on Earth.

A movie script cost at least 1,000 points, with top-tier ones costing over 10,000.

Novels were priced by word count and quality; a complete full-length novel cost as little as a few hundred points to several thousand.

The costs for skills were even steeper.

Beginner-level skills cost 500 points, Master-level 5,000, and God-level 50,000.

Jiang Fan stared at these numbers and did some math.

A deep interaction with Diva Xu only gave 1,000, but exchanging for a God-level skill required...

Jiang Fan supported his waist, feeling that the road ahead was long and arduous.

He currently had 2,000 Lifespan Value remaining.

If he wanted to exchange enough items from these massive resources to open up the situation, this number wasn't that generous.

Jiang Fan didn't dwell on it.

He had already figured it out when he left the security room.

Life is meant to be spent; if you don't spend it, you just wait for it to hit zero.

The question now is, how to spend it most effectively.

For an admission ticket to the entertainment industry, he needed to choose the path with the fastest results.

Acting?

With no acting experience, no talent agency would be willing to sign an unknown amateur.

Writing novels?

The cycle is too long; from writing to publishing to market feedback, it would take at least half a year, and he couldn't afford to wait.

Music.

Jiang Fan barely hesitated.

The music scene of this era is currently in a transitional phase.

Talent shows are everywhere, traffic idols are ubiquitous, but good songs that can truly be passed down are becoming fewer and fewer.

Furthermore, a hit song can go from release to popularity in as little as one night.

But having songs alone isn't enough.

He needs a stage, a place where people can hear him.

Jiang Fan took out his phone, opened the search engine, and typed in "Kyoto live singing venues."

After browsing for twenty minutes, he locked onto a place.

Houhai, Blues Bar.

One of the most famous live music bars in Kyoto.

Every Friday is Open Mic Night, where anyone can sign up to go on stage and sing a song.

No connections needed, no background required, just a voice and a song.

It just so happens to be tomorrow.

He re-entered the system store and began choosing a song in the music section.

This selection took two hours.

It wasn't that there were no good songs.

It was that there were too many good songs.

He needed to find a song that fit current market aesthetics and could generate the maximum impact in a bar environment.

Finally, he spent 200 Lifespan Value to exchange for a song.

The moment he confirmed the payment, the complete lyrics, composition, Arrangement, and singing techniques were all poured into his memory.

But this wasn't enough.

Immediately after, he gritted his teeth again.

Opened the skill section.

Beginner Singing, 500 Lifespan Value.

Beginner Guitar, 500 Lifespan Value.

Watching his Lifespan Value drop directly from 2,000 to 800, Jiang Fan admitted that his heart rate accelerated.

Other people spend money; he spends his life.

The feeling of the skills being poured in was different from the song.

It wasn't the writing of memory, but more like his body had been recalibrated.

The dexterity of his fingers, the use of his vocal cords, and his breathing patterns were all reconstructed within seconds.

Jiang Fan flexed his fingers and felt that every joint was much more agile.

But he also knew that beginner is just beginner.

It could only be said to be just enough.

If he wanted stronger skills, he had to earn more Lifespan Value.

If he wanted to earn more Lifespan Value, he had to interact with more high-compatibility targets.

If he wanted to interact with more targets, he had to first have sufficient social status and exposure.

All paths ultimately pointed in the same direction—get famous first.

The next day, 8:00 PM.

Jiang Fan arrived at the Blues Bar in Houhai.

A bald man was standing at the registration entrance.

He looked Jiang Fan up and down.

Black T-shirt, jeans, empty-handed, without any musical instruments.

"Have you sung before?"

"No."

"Name?"

"Jiang Fan."

"What song are you singing?"

"Original."

"Original?"

The bald man looked up at him, his tone impossible to distinguish between curiosity and sympathy.

"Did you write it yourself?"

"Yes."

"Alright, you're number sixteen. If the people before you are quick, it'll be your turn by eleven."

Jiang Fan found a seat in a corner and ordered the cheapest lemonade.

Time passed little by little.

Different people rotated on stage; there were guitar singers, duets, and the skill levels were uneven.

Most sang covers, and occasionally there were one or two originals, but the quality was mediocre.

By the thirteenth act, a third of the people in the bar had already left.

Number fifteen finished singing and stepped off the stage.

The bald man at the bar shouted toward the corner:

"Number sixteen, Jiang Fan."

Jiang Fan stood up and walked through the tables and chairs toward the stage.

When passing a table in the front row, he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye.

In the middle sat a man in his early forties, with a buzz cut, a gold chain around his neck, and a cigar between his fingers.

When he entered, he had heard people next to him say that this was the owner of the Blues Bar, Zhou Hai.

Sitting at the same table with Zhou Hai was a man in a suit.

The two were whispering something, and neither looked up at him.

Jiang Fan went up on stage.

The warm yellow lights fell down.

There were only a few dozen people scattered below the stage, most of them looking down at their phones or chatting together.

No one cared about the sixteenth unknown amateur to take the stage.

Two girls in the corner were already packing their bags, preparing to leave.

Jiang Fan picked up the bar's communal guitar from the rack on the side of the stage.

It was an incredibly old folk guitar, with the paint on the neck worn off.

He tested the strings.

The moment his fingers plucked them, muscle memory automatically took over.

The third string was half a note flat; he twisted the tuning peg and tuned it.

The whole process took no more than five seconds.

The man in the suit chatting with Zhou Hai glanced at him with surprise.

After tuning the strings, Jiang Fan lowered the microphone a bit.

"This song is called 'sorrow relief'."

No unnecessary self-introduction.

His right hand struck the strings.

When the prelude began to play, the two girls who were about to leave stopped packing their bags.