Chapter Sixty: The Perfect Yaya

Taking the pen and paper from Yang Feifei, Su Tong sat down at the piano. Some songwriters like to use a guitar or other instrument as an aid when composing, searching for inspiration and crafting melodies. In Yang Feifei’s eyes, Su Tong was exactly that kind of creator.

He pressed a few keys, and a series of melodious notes rang out. Yang Feifei was surprised. “You know how to play the piano?”

“You think you’re the only one who can?” Su Tong had already withdrawn his hand and was twirling the pen between his fingers.

Yang Feifei shot him a glare, about to retort, but Su Tong’s next words left her speechless.

“I’m composing. Don’t disturb me.” Su Tong uncapped the pen.

In his mind, however, he was already communicating with the little demon.

“Little demon, exchange for me that song ‘Invisible Wings’ by Angela Chang,” Su Tong instructed. This was an inspirational song.

He could sing some of the lyrics to “Invisible Wings,” but to write it out in full was impossible without listening to it. He needed to write as he listened.

“No problem.” The little demon used five thousand points to exchange for the complete version of the song, original vocals included, because Su Tong didn’t remember all the lyrics, and it wouldn’t do to fill in the words himself without comparing them to the original.

“The price is rising so fast. The system really has no pity for me,” Su Tong lamented. Just over a month ago, a little over a thousand points would have been enough for a complete song or accompaniment; now, the price had multiplied several times.

Still, he dared not complain openly about the system. Even now, that one centimeter that had been shortened hadn’t grown back.

“Don’t worry. Since the live broadcast, your base value has already increased by thirty thousand. After midnight, when ‘Panlong’ is released with its update, you’ll probably complete your task. Not only will you regain that centimeter, you’ll gain an extra one,” the little demon consoled him.

“Alright, let me hear it,” Su Tong said to the little demon.

The little demon’s assistance had grown stronger; previously, it couldn’t play music directly into Su Tong’s mind, but now it could.

As “Invisible Wings” played in his mind, Su Tong set aside the pen and paper, placing both hands on the piano keys.

Familiar with the song, Su Tong found that as soon as the music began, his musical intuition returned at once. He played fluidly, only hesitating occasionally.

Yang Feifei stood behind him, utterly dumbfounded.

Was this really happening?

It felt as though he were performing a song he’d known for years, not composing it on the spot.

He listened to the song once through, and with his memory, felt confident he’d memorized it. To be sure, he played it once more from beginning to end, this time even more smoothly, with a performance that mesmerized Yang Feifei.

What a song!

An absolute masterpiece!

Yang Feifei watched with her own eyes as a classic was born in front of her; the process was simply incredible.

Some composers can write a song in half an hour, but the result is never complete, requiring further adjustment and refinement.

But Su Tong was flawless in a single take, not a hint of imperfection.

Yang Feifei couldn’t stay seated; she was bursting with questions for Su Tong.

Was this even fair? It was as if she’d asked him to build a house on a plot of empty land. She’d expected to watch him lay each brick, or assemble the structure piece by piece, but instead, Su Tong simply tossed over a fully built house.

And it was finished!

With both melody and lyrics ready, Su Tong quickly wrote everything down.

As for the system’s full version or accompaniment, he would never hand that directly to Yang Feifei. How could he explain it if she asked? At home, no one questioned where he got his accompaniments or which band he’d hired, but things were different now. To Yang Feifei, he would only provide the score and lyrics. As for arrangement, he could offer guidance, or leave it to her team.

“It’s done. Take a look,” Su Tong handed the paper to Yang Feifei, glancing at the time.

Ah, it was nearly half past eleven. He wouldn’t make it in time for the midnight update of “Panlong.”

“You… Are you sure you didn’t write this beforehand?” Yang Feifei still found it hard to believe. His handwriting was beautiful, but what truly astonished her was that he’d written a flawless, classic song in under half an hour.

“What do you think?” Su Tong couldn’t be bothered to argue, leaving the piano to sit at the computer.

Yang Feifei was utterly taken with the song, unable to put it down—it was her own song, after all. She hurried to a corner to quietly hum the melody, paying no mind to Su Tong.

Just then, Sister Yaya entered, wearing a purple nightgown. With elegant brows and eyes, a cloud-like beauty, and a graceful figure, she radiated class, though her cool demeanor made her seem a bit aloof. Spotting Feifei in the corner, clutching a piece of paper and humming softly, she asked in surprise, “Su Tong finished the song so quickly?”

Su Tong quickly stood up. “Just finished. Feifei is looking it over.”

“That was fast. No wonder Feifei kept telling me she wanted your help writing a song,” Yaya said warmly. “I thought you’d be up late working. Su Tong, I’ve prepared the guest room for you—you don’t need to go home tonight. Tomorrow morning I’ll drive you to school. Go shower now; I’ve got a new set of pajamas ready for you. After your shower, just change into them. I’ll wash your clothes later—after a spin in the washer and a night to dry, they’ll be ready.”

She turned to Feifei. “Feifei, go shower first. The song isn’t going anywhere.”

Feifei was in high spirits, cheerfully grabbing Yaya’s hand and giggling, “Sister Yaya, the song Su Tong wrote is amazing! I’m so glad I prepared all this streaming equipment for him.”

“Hurry up and shower—go back to your room,” Yaya said, pushing Feifei out the door. She’d assumed that with so little time, the song’s quality would be lacking, but Feifei’s praise made it clear it was exceptional.

“Su Tong, I’ll show you to the bathroom.” After shooing Feifei away, Yaya turned to Su Tong again.

Su Tong hurried to follow. If he finished quickly, there might still be time before midnight.

Yaya was truly perfect. Of all the women he’d ever met, Su Tong felt she was one of a kind—the very model of a virtuous wife and devoted mother, someone who took care of everyone around her.

“Feifei may be older than you, but she’s childish and a little thoughtless. She kept you up so late to help her write a song. Don’t take it to heart. She can be a bit willful, but she’s very kind,” Yaya said, apologizing on Feifei’s behalf.

“Not at all—I wouldn’t dare. Feifei treats me very well, preparing all this streaming equipment and a place to work. I haven’t even thanked her properly yet,” Su Tong answered respectfully. He could hardly imagine that such a gentle, capable Yaya was also a top expert—far stronger than Da Long.

As for Feifei’s apartment, Su Tong didn’t know if it was rented or owned, but it was incredibly spacious: four bedrooms, two living rooms, and two bathrooms. The master bedroom had its own ensuite, with a second bathroom for guests.

The master was Feifei’s, while the other two bedrooms belonged to Yaya and served as a guest room. The last room, where Su Tong did his streaming, was once the music room.

“If only Xiaoyu and Xiaoxiao could live in a place like this—they’d be so happy,” Su Tong thought as he showered.

Suddenly, a surge of delight overwhelmed him, and he nearly laughed out loud with reckless abandon.