Chapter 25: Thought He Was Just a Nobody
Resting the violin on his left shoulder, Lu Zhou swiftly adjusted the tone he wanted and at once entered recording mode.
He had written the score himself, memorizing every segment by heart. So when he played, he was in full performance mode, not once glancing at the sheet music for cues.
The first violin accompaniment—one take.
The second violin accompaniment—one take.
The third violin accompaniment—one take.
...
Outside in the monitoring room, Pan Chengyi and the sound engineer watched in stunned silence.
They had expected some amateur playing around, but this looked more like a master borrowing their instruments rather than a novice seeking a chance.
Pan Chengyi hurried to the console, pulled up the full arrangement that Lu Zhou had just provided, quickly scanned through it, and located the segment Lu Zhou was currently playing. To his surprise, Lu Zhou played exceptionally well; every note landed precisely on beat, with no missed or wrong notes, each phrase flowing seamlessly and smoothly.
To achieve this level, his violin skills had to be top-notch, and he must have practiced the score countless times beforehand; otherwise, such fluency and precision would be impossible.
What intrigued Pan Chengyi even more was that the arrangement Lu Zhou provided was quite interesting. It involved only two simple instruments—violin and drum kit—with the main melody carried by the violin.
Therefore, just by listening to Lu Zhou’s violin part, Pan Chengyi could basically judge the quality of the entire piece!
Inside the recording booth, Lu Zhou’s violin reached the climax, setting the whole piece ablaze with energy, making the listener unconsciously start nodding and swaying to the rhythm.
The four young men who had been lounging on the sofa playing games were all drawn over to watch.
“What song is this? I like it.”
“I like this style too. The melody is catchy, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before?”
“Who is he?”
“Is he a celebrity? Or a violinist?”
“No idea, but he seems pretty professional. Probably a violinist.”
...
Pan Chengyi noticed the four young men whispering and turned to say, “He’s just like you guys—an idol trainee.”
The four youngsters: “...”
Is this how competitive things have gotten these days?
“No way, right? He doesn’t look like a trainee.”
“I agree, he looks more like a professional musician.”
They muttered quietly among themselves.
In the studio, Lu Zhou recorded multiple tracks of violin accompaniment, almost always in a single take. Only for two or three sections, where he felt the transitions weren’t perfect, did he re-record them.
After finishing, Lu Zhou stepped out of his performance state, raised his violin, and beamed at the people watching outside the booth. “You guys have excellent violins here!”
The sound engineer’s lips twitched: “...”
So the maestro came to indulge his passion, then compliment the equipment?
Lu Zhou didn’t linger. He walked to the drum section and began recording the drum parts.
“He’s going to record the drums himself too?” Pan Chengyi couldn’t help but be taken aback.
“Yes, he just said he wanted to do the drums himself.”
“...”
A jack-of-all-trades? That can’t be!
Impossible, right? Or is it...?
But listen—the drums in the booth had already started.
The posture Lu Zhou had just taken with the violin now shifted into another realm of professionalism as he played the drums.
Cool and confident, every beat landed perfectly in time.
The four young men exchanged silent, disbelieving glances. Which company’s idol trainee was this? Are the basic skills this intense these days?
They wondered if he could sing and dance. Maybe he was focusing on instruments because he wasn’t good at singing or dancing?
That must be it! Otherwise, there’s no way someone his age would still be a trainee—it had to be because he couldn't sing or dance.
What a pity. These days, young girls aren’t into idols who play violin or drums; they only like those who can sing and dance...
But to their astonishment, after Lu Zhou finished recording all the violin and drum tracks, he immediately began recording the vocal parts.
The very first line he sang into the microphone made the four young men once again doubt everything they knew.
Goodness, that voice? He definitely doesn’t sound like someone who can’t sing!
Sure enough, Lu Zhou finished recording the vocals in just two takes, and the result left the sound engineer with nothing to criticize.
Most exciting of all, the song was genuinely good!
After laying down the harmony tracks, Lu Zhou finally emerged from the recording booth.
Everyone stared at him in disbelief.
Why?
Because Lu Zhou had completed all the violin, drum, and vocal sections for the entire song in just one hour! Covering almost all components of his piece.
The speed was simply astounding!
The sound engineer thought to himself: If everyone who came to record here worked as efficiently as Lu Zhou, the studio wouldn’t even need to make money...
“In a hurry? Why so fast?” Pan Chengyi teased Lu Zhou.
Lu Zhou glanced at his phone, smiled helplessly, and replied, “I really am in a bit of a rush. I should head off now.”
Pan Chengyi: “...”
Lu Zhou asked the sound engineer to copy his recorded tracks, preparing to rush back to the Pink House.
“Your violin playing was unexpectedly impressive. To nail those parts in one take is a high standard,” Pan Chengyi said, trying to make conversation as he stood next to Lu Zhou.
“It’s mainly because I practiced thoroughly at home. That’s the only reason I could do it. Plus, today I was pressed for time, so I didn’t bother fussing over the tiny details,” Lu Zhou replied humbly, refusing to boast about his own playing.
“With playing like that, there’s hardly any detail left to fuss over,” Pan Chengyi remarked quietly.
Lu Zhou: “...”
Well, it seems humility is hard to maintain.
“The song is well-written. Who helped you compose it?” Pan Chengyi asked before Lu Zhou could respond.
“I wrote it myself,” Lu Zhou answered.
Pan Chengyi: “Hm???”
The air hung silent for several seconds.
The young men nearby looked on in shock—this level of skill, and still just a trainee? Are you kidding?
Gradually, Pan Chengyi confirmed he hadn’t misheard, and, steadying his inner turmoil, tried to look calm.
“You wrote it?”
“Yes.”
“Was it the composition, the arrangement, or the lyrics?”
“All of them. I wrote everything.”
“?!”
Pan Chengyi fell silent.
Trainees nowadays could write songs of this caliber? Did he misunderstand the word "trainee"?
He began to doubt his own professional standing. Was he falling behind the times?
It didn’t make sense...
After a long pause, Pan Chengyi finally collected himself, threw an arm around Lu Zhou’s shoulders, gave him two firm pats, and, with mixed feelings, praised him:
“Haha! Well done, brother! Not bad at all—really impressive!”
“Your company is lucky to have signed you!”
Lu Zhou rubbed his shoulder where he’d been slapped, chuckled, “I don’t have a company.”
Pan Chengyi paused, surprised, “Huh? No company? But Nan Qiao told me you were a trainee at Jinhua Entertainment.”
Lu Zhou looked a little embarrassed and admitted, “I was... but things didn’t work out, so we terminated the contract.”
Didn’t... didn’t work out?!
With this level of skill?
He must have offended someone.
Thinking this, Pan Chengyi’s eyes lit up. “So you’re an independent musician now?”
Lu Zhou nodded, “You could say that.”
“I see...” Pan Chengyi stroked his chin, deep in thought.
By then, the tracks had been copied. Lu Zhou glanced at the time—he really couldn’t stay any longer. He patted Pan Chengyi on the shoulder and said his goodbyes:
“Brother Yi, let’s talk more another day. I have to record a show tonight—if I don’t hurry, I’ll be late. I’ll treat you to dinner next time.”
“Alright, dinner it is,” Pan Chengyi agreed, having no choice but to let him go. After a moment, he added, “If you can’t find anyone suitable for mixing and mastering, come to me.”
Lu Zhou smiled, “Sure.”
Watching Lu Zhou leave, Pan Chengyi muttered to himself, “If someone like him can’t make it big, there’s no justice in this world!”