LRAB Chapter 1616 is so talented!
Chapter 1616 is so talented!
Only the bedside lamp was on in the hotel room, casting a dim and ambiguous light.
Zhou Mei leaned against the edge of the bed, one of her high heels kicked off, the other still dangling from her toes. She looked up at Qin Hao, her eyes holding an indescribable expression.
Qin Hao had just come out of the bathroom, his hair still wet, water droplets running down his neck. He grabbed a towel and wiped it off quickly before tossing it onto the back of the chair.
"What are you looking at?"
"Look at you," Zhou Mei said lazily, "you're actually quite good-looking."
Qin Hao chuckled, walked over, and bent down to get closer to her.
Zhou Mei did not dodge.
The two were so close they could feel each other's breath. Zhou Mei's long eyelashes trembled slightly.
Qin Hao reached out, pinched the high heel hanging on her toe, and gently pulled it off to the ground.
Zhou Mei's lips curved into a smile.
Just as Qin Hao was about to approach—
The phone rang.
The two of them were stunned for a moment.
Zhou Mei glanced down at her vibrating phone on the bedside table, and the caller ID on the screen made her raise an eyebrow slightly.
"Lin Zhanqiao".
Qin Hao, supporting himself above her, didn't move: "Catch it."
How am I supposed to respond if you keep pressing me?
Qin Hao rolled over and lay down next to her. Zhou Mei grabbed her phone, swiped to answer, and casually pressed the speakerphone button.
"Hey?"
"You introduced Qin Hao to your parents?"
Lin Zhanqiao's voice came from the other end of the phone, carrying an undisguised surprise and gossip.
Zhou Mei turned her head and glanced at Qin Hao, who was also looking at her. The two exchanged a look.
Zhou Mei asked slowly, "How did you know?"
“It’s all because of your mother,” Lin Zhanqiao said, with a hint of schadenfreude in her tone. “She came to my company, all snot and tears, saying that Qin Hao has corrupted you and that I must persuade you to leave him.”
Upon hearing this, Qin Hao leaned over and shouted, "Lin Zhanqiao, you said this on purpose for me to hear!"
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.
Then Lin Zhanqiao snorted lightly, her tone a little smug: "This isn't what I said, it's what Auntie said. I'm just repeating her exact words."
Zhou Mei reached out and pushed Qin Hao's face: "We're best friends having a private talk, what are you eavesdropping on? Go take a shower."
Qin Hao sat up, looked at her, and grinned mischievously: "Want to come along?"
Lin Zhanqiao's protest immediately came from the other end of the phone: "Can you two behave yourselves in front of me!"
"No." Qin Hao ignored her protest and got up to walk towards the bathroom.
The bathroom door closed, and the sound of water resumed.
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.
Then Lin Zhanqiao suddenly sighed.
Zhou Mei leaned against the headboard, turned off the speakerphone, and held the phone to her ear: "What's wrong?"
"It's nothing." Lin Zhanqiao's voice lowered a few decibels: "I just didn't expect that you and Lao Qin would actually get ahead of me and He Han."
Zhou Mei laughed, playing with the room key on the bedside table: "What can we do? Who told you to dawdle like that with He Han?"
Lin Zhanqiao gave a wry smile: "You know He Han's family situation. He's never had much confidence in marriage."
"how about you?"
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.
“Actually, it’s not just him,” Lin Zhanqiao said. “I don’t have many expectations for marriage either.”
"Because of your parents?"
“Hmm.” Lin Zhanqiao’s voice was very soft: “What I fear most is that He Han and I will end up like my parents. No arguments, no communication, not even on holidays. Just like… the most familiar strangers.”
Zhou Mei turned over and lay on her side, with her phone between her ear and the pillow.
“Actually, you don’t need to be so pessimistic,” she said. “You and He Han get along quite well. Don’t scare yourself.”
Lin Zhanqiao gave a soft "hmm," then changed the subject: "By the way, what's Lao Qin been up to lately? After finishing Ghost Blows Out the Light, has he started a new book?"
"What are you doing? Gathering intelligence?" Zhou Mei teased.
“Of course.” Lin Zhanqiao said matter-of-factly, “It would be such a waste not to use an inside man like you.”
Zhou Mei thought for a moment: "It seems like she's started a new book, which is also about tomb raiding."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.
"Tomb raiding themes?" Lin Zhanqiao's voice turned serious: "Old Qin, are you really planning to continue with physical publishing?"
Zhou Mei blinked: "What do you mean?"
“Given the current censorship standards for online novels, it’s very difficult for tomb raiding stories to be serialized online,” Lin Zhanqiao said. “If he continues to write tomb raiding stories, he’s basically aiming for a physical book.”
"I think so," Zhou Mei said. "The contracts have already been signed."
"Who did you sign it to?"
"How would I know? He didn't tell me." Zhou Mei yawned. "Why don't you just ask him?"
"If I ask him, will he answer?"
“That’s true.” Zhou Mei laughed: “You can’t get anything out of him if he doesn’t want to talk.”
The sound of water in the bathroom stopped.
Zhou Mei glanced in the direction of the bathroom and said in a low voice, "Alright, he's out. Let's not talk about it for now."
"Alright." Lin Zhanqiao paused, her tone carrying a hint of meaning: "Take it easy and don't squeeze Lao Qin dry. There are still many readers waiting for his new book."
"roll."
Zhou Mei hung up the phone and tossed it aside.
Qin Hao came out of the bathroom, his hair wet again. This time, he simply ran his hand through his hair, revealing his forehead. He glanced at Zhou Mei's expression: "Finished talking?"
"Hmm." Zhou Mei leaned against the headboard, her hands behind her head, and looked at him. "Lin Zhanqiao said I've corrupted you."
"Isn't that the truth?"
Zhou Mei grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.
……
Meanwhile, the physical copy of the sixth volume of "Ghost Blows Out the Light," titled "The Return to the South China Sea," is selling well in bookstores across the country.
It sold three million copies in just one month after its release.
In the context of the declining physical publishing industry, this achievement is simply defying the odds.
It's worth noting that many physical books are considered bestsellers if they sell over 100,000 copies a year. Three million copies—that wouldn't have been bad ten years ago, and it's an astonishing number today.
Moreover, this is not even the best-selling volume of "Ghost Blows Out the Light".
The best-selling book was the first volume, *The Ancient City of Jingjue*, which sold over five million copies within three months of its release. The second volume, *The Lost Caverns of Longling*, saw a slight decline, but still reached 4.5 million copies. The third volume, *The Insect Valley of Yunnan*, rebounded to 4.8 million copies. The fourth volume, *The Kunlun Shrine*, continued its upward climb, surpassing five million copies.
The only low point was the fifth book, "The Yellow Weasel's Grave," which saw sales drop to four million.
Even so, the total sales of the first five volumes have already exceeded 20 million copies.
Those in the publishing industry privately agree: "He who controls the general manager controls the world."
Suddenly, requests for manuscripts poured in. Some wanted to sign him for a new series, some wanted to collaborate on new themes, and some even wanted Qin Hao to write his autobiography.
Uncle Fan saw this and was very anxious.
The immense popularity of "Ghost Blows Out the Light" spawned a host of pirate websites that directly copied the content of the physical book online, making it available for free and attracting many readers.
On the contrary, legitimate online literature platforms like Dingqi.com could only watch helplessly as this massive influx of traffic slipped away.
Uncle Fan was so anxious that he developed blisters on his lips.
These days, traffic equals money. The IP value of "Ghost Blows Out the Light" is undeniable, but Dingqi.com doesn't earn a single penny from it.
That afternoon, Uncle Fan finally found an opportunity.
Film and television companies wanting to purchase the adaptation rights to "Sword Comes" need to meet with Qin Hao in person. Uncle Fan, representing the "platform," arranged the meeting at Dingqi.com's conference room.
Qin Hao arrived on time.
He was wearing a black T-shirt with a dark gray shirt over it, looking casual but clean. As he entered, he glanced at the people in the conference room—Uncle Fan, Editor-in-Chief Zhou, the head of the film company, and the music director, a total of four people.
"Wow, quite a big entourage." Qin Hao pulled out a chair and sat down.
The head of the film company was a middle-aged man in his forties surnamed Wang. He wore frameless glasses and looked very refined. He smiled and extended his hand: "Teacher Qin Hao, it's an honor to meet you."
Qin Hao shook hands with him: "Mr. Wang, you're too kind."
After exchanging a few pleasantries, the conversation turned to the adaptation of "Sword Comes".
Mr. Wang's meaning was clear—his company was very optimistic about the IP value of "Sword Comes" and was willing to pay a high price for the film and television adaptation rights. But there was one condition: he hoped that Qin Hao could provide some creative support during the adaptation process, such as a script consultant role.
After listening, Qin Hao nodded: "That's no problem, as long as the time can be arranged."
Mr. Wang was overjoyed and was about to continue speaking when Uncle Fan interrupted.
He cleared his throat, a smile plastered on his face, and rubbed his hands together: "Ahem, Mr. Qin Hao, it's been almost two years since 'Sword Comes' ended, and readers and fans are eagerly awaiting your new work. Could you perhaps share some details about the writing process..."
Qin Hao glanced at him.
That look made Uncle Fan's heart skip a beat.
But the words were already spoken, and there was no going back. Uncle Fan forced a smile and continued, "Of course, I'm not pressuring you, it's just... you know, the readers are really pushing us, so I need to have something to say, right?"
Qin Hao leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and looked helpless. "President Fan, it's not that I'm being lazy. It's just that I just finished writing 'Ghost Blows Out the Light,' and the publisher is urging me to finish it. I really can't be in two places at once."
Uncle Fan could naturally tell that this was an excuse.
“Teacher Qin Hao,” he changed his tone and lowered his voice, “the publishing house isn’t in a hurry. It’s normal for them to release a book every few years. On the contrary, the popularity of online novels is declining sharply. If we want to sell the adaptation rights of ‘Sword Comes’ for a high price, we still need to improve the data in all aspects before we can negotiate.”
Qin Hao smiled but didn't respond.
Seeing that he was unmoved, Uncle Fan gritted his teeth and continued, "Teacher Qin Hao, how about this—you start a new book, nothing too long, just three to five thousand words a day. That way, you'll have something to show your readers, and the readership for 'Sword Comes' will also improve..."
"There are many ways to pull data," Qin Hao interrupted him. "There's no need to fixate on the new book, is there?"
Uncle Fan was taken aback.
Mr. Wang was also taken aback for a moment, then became interested: "Teacher Qin Hao, do you have any other ways to boost the popularity of 'Sword Comes'?"
Qin Hao picked up the water glass on the table, took a sip, and then slowly said, "How about I write a theme song for 'Sword Comes'?"
The meeting room was silent for a full three seconds.
Mr. Wang stared with his mouth agape, blinking as if he had misheard.
The music director adjusted his glasses, his expression somewhat subtle.
Uncle Fan's reaction was the most direct—his eyebrows almost flew up to his forehead.
"Mr. Qin Hao," President Wang spoke first, his tone tinged with obvious uncertainty, "You...you can also write songs?"
Qin Hao put down his water glass: "I know a little."
“This…” Mr. Wang glanced at the music director, and the two exchanged a look.
The music director was a man in his thirties with long hair tied in a small braid, who looked quite artistic. He coughed lightly and said tactfully, "Mr. Qin Hao, songwriting is quite different from writing novels. It's like comparing apples and oranges."
He spoke very politely, but everyone could understand what he meant—what good songs could someone who writes online novels possibly write?
Qin Hao didn't mind and smiled, "I'll make a demo later. If you think it's good, you can use it. If you don't think it's good, there's nothing to lose, right?"
After thinking about it, Mr. Wang felt that there was nothing wrong with what he said.
Since it doesn't cost any money, there's no harm in listening.
"Okay, then I'll trouble you, Mr. Qin Hao," said President Wang with a smile, his tone implying that he was "giving you face."
After the meeting, Uncle Fan didn't leave.
He held Qin Hao's hand and patiently persuaded him for a long time. From "online literature is your root" to "readers are waiting for you to come back", from "Dingqi.com needs you" to "you can't let your fans down" - he reasoned with him and appealed to his emotions, almost to the point of shedding tears.
Qin Hao smiled throughout, nodding and responding politely, before finally saying, "President Fan, I'll think about it," and then slipped away.
As Uncle Fan watched him leave, he felt something was off, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
three days later.
In the film company's office, President Wang was discussing the theme song for another project with the music director.
The landline on the table rang.
The assistant answered the phone, listened for a few minutes, then covered the microphone and said, "Mr. Wang, Dingqi.com has forwarded a file, saying it's a demo written by Teacher Qin Hao."
Mr. Wang didn't even look up: "Just put it there."
The assistant placed the documents on the table and left.
Mr. Wang and the music director continued their discussion, and neither of them touched the document.
How good can a song be if it's written by someone who writes online novels in three days?
Isn't this a waste of time?
However, they couldn't directly say no—after all, Qin Hao was the original author of "Sword Comes," and they had to give him face.
That demo file just lay quietly on the table for half a month.
Two weeks later, the film company was about to hold a second round of negotiations on the film and television adaptation rights for "Sword Comes".
The conference room was full of people. General Manager Wang sat in the main seat, flanked by several senior company executives, the music director, and a representative from the legal department.
Before the negotiations began, Mr. Wang suddenly remembered something.
"By the way, didn't Teacher Qin Hao send over a demo before? Would you like to play it and listen to it?"
A vice president standing nearby frowned: "Is this necessary?"
"After all, it's the theme song for 'Sword Comes,' so we have to show some respect for it," said President Wang, instructing his assistant to retrieve the document.
The assistant searched for a long time before finally finding the demo among the pile of files on the table.
"Let it go."
The assistant plugged the USB drive into the computer and opened the file.
The speakers in the conference room started playing.
The intro is a guitar, with just a few simple chords, giving it a cool and detached feel. Then comes a male voice, not particularly high-pitched, but very distinctive, with a classical Chinese charm.
Moonlit evening, river ripples with autumn waves
A boat full of sweet dreams presses down on the Milky Way
But there are only nightingales, no one to sing mournful songs…
Everyone in the conference room stopped moving.
Mr. Wang's hand, holding the teacup, hovered in mid-air, the tea inside swaying slightly.
The music director's expression was the most interesting—he first frowned, then his brows slowly relaxed, and his mouth opened slightly, as if he were breathing along with the melody.
The song ended.
The meeting room was completely silent.
No one spoke, no one moved, and you couldn't even hear them breathing.
A full half minute passed.
The music director slapped his thigh, his voice booming in the quiet conference room: "This song is great!"
Mr. Wang was startled by the slap, nearly spilling his tea. But he didn't bother wiping it away, turning to the music director: "What do you think?"
"What do you mean, 'how is it'?" The music director's eyes lit up. "This song isn't just 'okay,' it's fantastic! The lyrics are great, the melody is great, and the singing is great! This Qin Hao, is he really a web novelist?"
Mr. Wang paused for a moment, then laughed: "You think it'll work?"
"Can it be used?" The music director almost stood up: "It's more than just usable. Let me tell you, this song will add a lot of color to our show. It's definitely going to be a hit!"
The people in the conference room looked at each other, their expressions changing from initial indifference to surprise and agreement.
"Should we find a professional singer to record it again?" Mr. Wang looked around.
"He sang very well, his voice is very distinctive, and his emotions were spot on." The music director said, "Even if we found a professional singer, they might not be able to capture his essence."
After thinking for a moment, Mr. Wang nodded: "Alright, let's talk to Teacher Qin Hao."
It was 3 PM in the conference room of Dingqi.com.
Uncle Fan was sitting at his desk with several documents spread out in front of him, all of which were preliminary offers from various film and television companies for the adaptation rights of "Sword Comes".
He was figuring out how to negotiate a higher price.
Just then, there was a knock on the office door.
"Please come in."
The door opened, and the music director of the film and television company walked in.
Uncle Fan stood up and greeted him with a smile: "President Li, what brings you here?"
"Mr. Fan, I'm here to see Mr. Qin Hao." The music director said with a smile, "We've all decided to use the song he wrote as the theme song for 'Sword Comes.' And—we hope that Mr. Qin Hao himself will record the official version."
Uncle Fan was stunned.
"Wait... what song?"
"You don't know?" The music director was taken aback. "It's the demo that Teacher Qin Hao sent us. It's really good."
Uncle Fan's expression was as if he had been fed a mouthful of wasabi.
When Qin Hao first mentioned writing a song, I thought he was just joking.
As a result, people from the film and television company came specifically to ask him to record the official version?
"Um... is the song really that good?" Uncle Fan couldn't help but ask.
The music director looked at him and smiled meaningfully: "Mr. Fan, you haven't heard of it yet, have you?"
"without……"
“Then I suggest you give it a listen.” The music director patted him on the shoulder: “Teacher Qin Hao is truly incredibly talented.”
A week later, Uncle Fan received the official version that Qin Hao had recorded in the recording studio.
He put on his headphones and pressed play.
He didn't feel anything when the intro started.
But when Qin Hao's voice came through the earphone, Uncle Fan's fingers hovered in mid-air, and he froze.
The song ended.
Uncle Fan took off his headphones, leaned back in his chair, and remained silent for a long time.
After a while, he picked up his phone and sent a message to Qin Hao:
"Teacher Qin Hao, is there anything you can't do?"
A few minutes later, Qin Hao replied with three words:
"Having a baby".
-
(End of this chapter)