Longing

"Ah, sorry about that, Uncle Wang. I've been so busy lately that I forgot. I'll submit it right now, right now."

Li Changle felt a little embarrassed.

"Forget it, forget it. You brat, just send me the poems you've prepared. I'll submit them for you."

"You must have something ready, right? Send me what you've written, and I'll turn it in for you when the time comes."

Wang Weimin was pretty fond of Li Changle. After all, he thought there was a good chance the boy would become his son-in-law one day.

His wife might not be too keen on the idea, so he had to get things moving first. Otherwise, it'd be difficult later.

His wife was all too easy to read. She liked talented people, and that was how he'd won her over back then.

"Uh, well, Uncle Wang, let me ask you something. What was the theme of that Poetry Competition you mentioned last time? I've forgotten."

Li Changle spoke sheepishly. He'd almost forgotten about it entirely. If Wang Weimin hadn't reminded him, he probably would've missed out on the three hundred thousand.

"You little brat, you haven't even prepared anything? Then what are you entering for? I told you to take this seriously. Is this what you call taking it seriously?"

Wang Weimin was usually good-tempered, but even he was furious. Who could put up with this? They'd agreed on it last time, and the boy had promised again and again. Then he'd gone and forgotten the whole thing.

Today was the submission deadline. Even if he managed to write something, how good could a poem composed in less than a day possibly be? And here Wang Weimin had gone out of his way to remind him.

He'd wanted Li Changle to be able to stand tall in front of his future mother-in-law. Wang Weimin was exasperated with him for squandering the opportunity.

"Emmmm, Uncle Wang, just tell me this year's Poetry Competition theme first. I write really fast, so don't worry!"

Li Changle said confidently. Come on, I don't need to think at all. I can just copy one.

"This time, the theme is longing. There are about eight hours left before submissions close. Put some effort into it, and send me your manuscript on WeChat when you're done."

"Sure, sure. Okay, Uncle Wang. I'll send it to you later."

"Oh, right. How has Siyi been doing lately?"

Wang Weimin took the opportunity to ask how Wang Siyi was doing. She was his daughter, after all.

But lately, Wang Weimin had been deeply troubled. His daughter hadn't called either of her parents even once.

She wouldn't answer his calls or reply to his WeChat messages. He Shumin had even wanted to go down there and confront their daughter, but Wang Weimin had managed to talk her out of it.

Come on, if He Shumin found out their daughter was living with some strange man, Wang Weimin really would have to choose between his wife and daughter. For now, he'd better keep stalling.

"Huh? Siyi hasn't called you?"

"She went to Shanghai. Didn't you know?"

Li Changle was confused. Wang Siyi was always saying she'd tell her dad that he, Li Changle, was bullying her. Yet she hadn't called home even once.

Wow, Wang Siyi.

Li Changle's face darkened. He thought he'd go find her and give her a piece of his mind later.

"What?! Siyi went back to Shanghai? She didn't tell us!"

Wang Weimin's heart sank. It seemed his daughter was serious this time. If she wanted nothing to do with them, then she wanted nothing to do with them. This wouldn't do.

If she really had gone back to Shanghai, he'd have to think about going to see her. At the very least, they needed to talk things through face to face.

"All right, let's leave it there for now. Just remember to take that poetry competition seriously. Send me your manuscript later, and I'll submit it for you. I'm hanging up."

The phone went dead. Before Li Changle could exchange any pleasantries with Wang Weimin, the man had already hung up. Uncle Wang was quite a character. Li Changle shook his head.

He started thinking about which poem to enter in the competition. If he was going to participate, he was aiming for the first-place prize. Otherwise, there was no point.

So he had to come up with a poem that could really hold its own. Li Changle pondered for a moment.

"Longing."

"I've got it!"

After murmuring the word to himself, Li Changle's eyes suddenly lit up. How had he not thought of this poem?

He slapped his forehead. If he entered this poem in the Poetry Competition, he should be a shoo-in, right?

"Ding dong." Li Changle glanced at his phone. Wang Siyi had sent him a message. She didn't say anything, just sent a sticker of a smiling Shiba Inu.

Wang Siyi had become more and more fond of sending stickers. She always managed to find lots of cat and dog stickers, too.

Li Changle followed her example and sent a sticker back. It was the same surprised cat sticker as before.

"What are you doing?"

Wang Siyi saw that he'd started sending stickers like her and felt a little annoyed. But since she'd started the habit herself, she couldn't very well criticize him. She could only use the most common opening line in a chat to ask him.

"Writing a poem."

"What kind of poem?"

"Your dad told me to submit something for the Poetry Competition. He said there's a prize if I win first place, so I agreed."

Thinking of Wang Weimin made Li Changle annoyed. That woman sure knew how to use her father's authority to throw her weight around.

"You can write classical poetry?"

"Have you never read my novels? There are poems in them all the time. I wrote them myself. Why is it so strange that I can write classical poetry? eye-roll"

Li Changle even added an eye-roll sticker.

"That's different. The poems in your novels are pretty average. You won't place in the Poetry Competition with those."

"You have that little faith in me?"

Li Changle was exasperated, so he immediately sent Wang Siyi the poem he planned to submit.

"Red beans grow in the southern lands. How many sprigs come with spring?

I wish you'd gather them in abundance; this is the thing that most speaks of longing."

Wang Siyi had been about to mock Li Changle for overestimating himself. Then she saw the poem he'd sent and froze.

"Red beans grow in the southern lands. How many sprigs come with spring?"

She murmured the line to herself. The poem seemed simple, but the longing conveyed by its words was more intense than that of an essay thousands of words long.

"What's this poem called?"

"Just 'Longing.' What do you think? It's not bad, right?"

Li Changle smugly teased Wang Siyi, then sent her another sticker.

But this time, Wang Siyi didn't reply. She was at a recording studio in Shanghai, waiting for Yang Caiqian to arrive. That was why she'd had time to chat with Li Changle.

But now the poem "Longing" had stunned her. How could this guy be so good?

And she couldn't help wondering if the poem called "Longing" had something to do with the "Red Bean" song he'd written for her.

"How did you write this poem?"

You should ask Wang Wei. How would I know?

Li Changle didn't know how to answer. He couldn't exactly say he'd copied it, even though that was exactly what he'd done.

But Wang Wei didn't exist in this world. Since Li Changle was the first person to recite the poem, that meant he'd written it. How could you call it plagiarism when it came to a scholar's work?

"It just came to me in a flash of inspiration. What do you think? Could this poem win first place in the Poetry Competition?"

"How would I know? Ask my dad."

"The producer's here. I have to go record."

After that, Wang Siyi didn't reply to Li Changle again.

Li Changle knew she really was busy, so he didn't message her again. He forwarded the four lines he'd sent her to Wang Weimin.

Wang Weimin's phone buzzed with a WeChat notification. He picked it up and saw that Li Changle had sent him a message. He didn't open the chat right away.

He assumed Li Changle hadn't quite understood how to write a poem about longing and was asking him for advice.

Planning to give him some pointers, he opened the chat. Instead, a five-character quatrain appeared before his eyes.

Red beans grow in the southern lands. How many sprigs come with spring?

I wish you'd gather them in abundance; this is the thing that most speaks of longing.

"This..."

At first glance, Wang Weimin thought the five-character quatrain looked simple.

But after reading it once, he realized it was a fine poem, the sort that could be passed down for centuries. At the very least, he couldn't produce poetry of this caliber.

"Damn it, how am I supposed to give him advice? This kid really does have some talent."

He chuckled to himself, then read the poem once more and realized how remarkable it was. The poem expressed longing, yet every line revolved around red beans.

It cleverly used the red bean's other name, "love pea," to connect it with longing. The language was simple, yet rich in imagination.

Then the poet addressed the beloved through a question, entrusting his feelings to the words with profound meaning. The third line hinted at cherishing friendship. On the surface, it seemed to urge the other person to yearn for him, but beneath that lay the depth of his own longing.

The final line worked on two levels: it fit the subject while also echoing the poem's emotion. It was a brilliant, moving touch.

The whole poem had a graceful, uplifting mood, its yearning full and fervent. Its language was plain and unadorned, and its rhythm harmonious and gentle.

Even after all these years of the Poetry Competition, poems of this caliber were rare.

Wang Weimin wondered if it was a waste of talent to enter this poem in the Guangfu Competition Area.

This was the sort of poem that could be passed down for centuries. Too bad the national competition might not have longing as its theme. Never mind. He'd submit the poem for this brat first.

He still hadn't asked what it was called. He'd better find out.

"What's the name of your poem? I'll submit it for you."

"It's called 'Longing.' What do you think, Uncle Wang? Is it any good?"

When Wang Weimin saw the words "any good," his mustache twitched. Any good?

If this poem wasn't good, then nothing was. But he couldn't praise it too much. He had to be tactful, or the kid might get conceited.

Wang Weimin found himself liking Li Changle even more. He was a man of letters, after all, and had always admired talented people.

After meeting Li Changle in Yangcheng, he'd thought the young man was a good person. Now he'd discovered that Li Changle was brimming with talent, and he couldn't have been happier. He'd decided this was the son-in-law for him!

Grinning, he submitted Li Changle's poem to the Guangfu Poetry Association for review. The proper process still had to be followed.

Even though he'd been invited to serve as a judge this time, he couldn't make the decision all by himself.

Besides, a poem of this quality couldn't possibly go unnoticed. At the very least, it would leave those old fellows astonished.

He was secretly pleased. This is my future son-in-law, after all. What a remarkable kid.

The next time he saw his daughter, he'd have to tell her to keep a tight hold on this boy. She couldn't let him get away.

Shanghai, inside a high-end recording studio.

Chen Baozhu and Wang Siyi saw Yang Caiqian arrive late and hurried over to greet him.

"Oh, Teacher Yang, you're here. We really appreciate you agreeing to produce this album for Wan Jun. Thank you. This is Wan Jun; you two should already know each other pretty well..."

When Chen Baozhu saw Yang Caiqian come in, she stood up with Wang Siyi to welcome him.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. There was a bit of a traffic jam, so I'm a little late..."

Yang Caiqian hurried in and apologized.

"Oh, it's fine. We only just got here ourselves."

Chen Baozhu beamed at him, not showing the slightest sign of annoyance. New Art had taken the song he wrote, so they were in the wrong. It was already a lot to ask him to help them. What more could they demand?

"Teacher Yang, I'm really sorry about what happened last time. We didn't know the executives at New Art Entertainment would do something so outrageous..."

Wang Siyi felt a little embarrassed as she offered Yang Caiqian an apology.

"It's fine, it's all in the past. If it weren't for that, I wouldn't have heard such a great song. That song you found somewhere is much better than the one I wrote. Whoever wrote it is incredible..."

Yang Caiqian was clearly a generous man. He also had tremendous admiration for Li Xiaoyao, who had written "Red Bean."

"All right, enough chatter. It's my honor to produce a song like 'Red Bean.' Wan Jun, get ready. Let's get started..."

Yang Caiqian could hardly wait. He had to do this song justice.

As someone in the music business, he had always been able to read the market with remarkable accuracy. He had a hunch: this song would be a hit!

Producing a song like this could only benefit him. The group went into the recording studio and began working on the backing track.

The backing track wasn't difficult to arrange, because Li Changle had told Wang Siyi which instruments to use and where.

All they had to do was bring the ideas in Li Changle's mind to life.

After half a day, they had a rough version of the backing track. Wang Siyi began a vocal test, while Yang Caiqian stood outside the recording booth.

As he listened to Wang Siyi sing "Red Bean," he sighed to himself. The song seemed tailor-made for her. It suited her perfectly.

The arrangement worked beautifully, too. There was almost nothing he could improve. All he could say was that the person who'd made the song was incredibly talented.

He was considered one of the more prominent people in the music industry, yet he'd never heard of anyone called Li Xiaoyao. It really was true that each new generation surpassed the last.

After listening to Wang Siyi sing the whole song, Yang Caiqian was mostly satisfied. But the emotion was still a little lacking, so he told her to record it again.

Wang Siyi didn't object. Recording a song was never simple. You couldn't expect to get the perfect take on the first try.

This was the album's lead single, so they had to treat it with care.

After several takes, Wang Siyi was getting tired of singing, but Yang Caiqian still felt the emotion was a little lacking.

However, he could tell from the look on her face that if she kept going, she'd lose her momentum. So he suggested they take a short break.

"Wan Jun, I've given 'Red Bean' some thought. The song needs to convey a sense of longing, but also a longing that holds hope for the future."

"For example, you love someone, but circumstances force you apart. Even so, you have to believe that things will work out for the two of you in the end..."

Wang Siyi blushed a little. Wasn't he describing her?

She thought again of the poem Li Changle had sent her that morning and fell silent.

"All right, take a break for now. We'll continue in a bit..."

"No need, Teacher. I think I know how to sing it now. Let's start again."

Thanks to Mingkit Ming and fellow reader Kakodipo for your generous tips!

The book finally got a recommendation. A trial recommendation! I'd just said yesterday that I hadn't gotten one, and then Qidian immediately proved me wrong, hahaha.

Long-time readers know the drill: trial recommendations are basically a rite of passage for authors whose books aren't taking off. I may be a struggling author, but I'm a struggling author with dreams. Keep going! (>_<)

This struggling author with dreams is still asking for recommendation votes, follows, and monthly tickets.