Little Brat

It wasn't just the music itself—the déjà vu also gave Ryan other information, including the track name "Tremor," the single cover, two credited authors, and a series of music video scenes composed of visuals. The single cover featured the words "Spinnin' Records," clearly the label releasing the track.

The music video was edited from two parts. One part was rather mediocre, focusing on a female model in a black bodysuit; these shots didn't convey much information, just a straightforward display of the model.

The other part, however, was spliced together from a series of live footage. Aside from close-ups of the DJ, every frame showed tens of thousands of audience members below the stage, cheering and jumping along with the music, each face brimming with manic joy, men and women swaying to the rhythm like a massive carnival scene.

In an overhead shot, a colossal stage resembling a fantasy castle was surrounded by a sea of people—conservatively estimated at over a hundred thousand—and there wasn't just one such stage; over a dozen different ones appeared in succession. Three DJs were featured: a duo and a solo DJ, matching the credited authors in his memory.

Clearly, this was tour footage from the dance music producers. Could it be that in the near future, DJs would become as massive as pop stars? Surprised and intrigued, Ryan began to analyze.

He figured that even Taylor Swift, the CMA Best New Artist from that afternoon, didn't have such terrifying box-office appeal right now.

They laughed at my lack of talent today—tomorrow, I'll make your jaw drop!

·

With a slam of the door, Ryan returned to Aunt Trey's house.

On the table by the entrance sat keys, a vase, and other odds and ends, along with a photo of Trey and a little girl. In the picture, Trey was younger, and the girl—around twelve or thirteen—looked just like her.

This was Trey's daughter. If she hadn't died in an accident, she'd be about Ryan's age now.

Since losing her daughter, Trey had lived alone, until Ryan moved in a while back.

From the kitchen came clattering sounds and Trey's curses—she was clearly wrestling again with store-bought pre-made patties and frozen vegetables.

She could coordinate a dozen-person music video crew to shoot in a single day, but she always ended up flustered in the kitchen. As usual, Ryan put on an apron and hurried in...

"Ryan, your cooking keeps getting better!" Trey scraped up the last bit of sauce, raised her wine glass, and downed the red wine in one gulp.

"All the paperwork's done. You can report to school on Monday." After saying that, Trey asked where Ryan had gone that afternoon.

Sticking to the "deal" with Taylor, Ryan didn't reveal his real whereabouts. Then he silently cleaned up, washed the dishes, and wiped things down. During his stay at Trey's, it felt less like she was taking care of him and more like he was taking care of her.

After finishing, Ryan went to Trey's study, turned on the computer, and was greeted by a Vista desktop cluttered with files—MV scripts, storyboard drafts, half-finished editing projects, behind-the-scenes footage.

Ignoring all that, Ryan opened the browser and searched for the two songwriters. But neither the duo "Dimitri Vegas & Like Mike" nor Martin Garrix left any trace on the internet.

The original Ryan had taught himself music theory and could compose country songs, but he knew nothing about electronic music. Fortunately, YouTube had videos to help him get started quickly. After spending about two hours learning the basics, Ryan followed the video guide to download and install a program called "Ableton Live," a DAW (Digital Audio Workstation).

But before the software even launched, a huge payment link popped up—from the basic Intro version at a few dozen dollars a month, to the Standard at a few hundred, to the priciest Suite edition. The various feature restrictions and technical jargon left Ryan baffled in no time.

With no other choice, Ryan grabbed Trey's bank card from the drawer and paid for the most expensive Suite version.

But he soon regretted it. The "full" software had far more features than he'd imagined—a dazzling array of buttons and functions that made his head spin. He had to follow the tutorial step by step, learning the basics: creating files, adding tracks, swapping instruments.

Time ticked by. Frowning and fiddling with the software, Ryan didn't hear the approaching footsteps.

"It's so late, why aren't you asleep?" Trey yawned as she pushed the door open.

Though he had only a split second to react, it was enough for Ryan to save, close the software, and switch to a pre-opened prep course website.

Strange—why was he so smooth at that? Ryan was puzzled.

Trey saw him earnestly studying his prep materials, then glanced up at the clock. Realizing it was already past midnight, a weird smile crept across her face.

"Don't overdo it, alright? You're young, but you still need to watch your figure." Trey smirked.

What are you even talking about? Crazy!

Ryan forced a stiff smile as he watched Trey, in her one-piece pajamas, turn and leave. Her curvaceous back made him unconsciously compare her to Taylor from earlier that day.

After Trey was gone, Ryan tried to recreate the electronic music in his head on the computer. But the software had a steep learning curve, and some sounds—like the climax—he simply couldn't replicate. After an entire night of tinkering, he had only a half-minute demo. When he played it back, he felt it was only about fifty percent accurate.

To get decent results in a short time, he'd need professional guidance. But Ryan had no idea where to find such a "professional."

Then he remembered his appointment with Taylor tomorrow, and an idea popped into his head...

·

The next day, outside Blackbird Studio.

As agreed, Taylor handed Ryan a plastic bag. Inside were a stack of green bills and a USB drive.

"Consider this payment for your hard 'work' yesterday. You're worth that much anyway." Taylor flashed her signature sweet smile—the same one she used on camera—but it was clearly a dig.

"Also, that USB has a demo called 'Dog Day Afternoon.' Consider it a little extra from me. Don't thank me."

The title could be elegantly translated as "Hot Afternoon" or crudely as "Dog of an Afternoon."

Ryan's eyebrow twitched. He never expected that offhand comment would actually make her write a song. He didn't know whether to praise her songwriting skills or marvel at her bizarre train of thought.

"I've got a little extra for you too." Ryan opened his palm, revealing another USB drive containing the demo he'd made last night.

"You didn't actually write something, did you?" Taylor frowned.

"It's a different song. I want your producer to hear it." Ryan made a new request.

Besides Trey, this was the only "industry insider" he could think of.

"Introduce you to my producer? Don't be ridiculous." Meimei shook her head immediately, assuming Ryan still hadn't given up on his own song and was trying to get to her producer through her. She flat-out refused.

"Just let him listen. That's all. It's a small favor for you, but it could change someone's life." Ryan's tone was utterly sincere.

To get Ryan off her back, Taylor reluctantly took the USB and verbally promised to pass it to her producer.

"I need to go in with you." Ryan looked uneasy.

That made Taylor a little irritated. "I have to reiterate: between you and me..."

Halfway through her sentence, Taylor noticed the bloodshot eyes on Ryan, clearly from a sleepless night.

She then realized that Ryan had most likely been working through the night to finish it.

This made Taylor think of herself—though she was somewhat fickle in love, when it came to music, she was extremely serious and had also stayed up all night creating many times.

At that thought, Taylor couldn't help but soften.

Forget it...

Taylor looked around, then whispered to Ryan, "Come inside with me. Play it and then leave. And one more time..."

"This is the last time," Ryan cut in.