"Is that so..." Xu Ming was somewhat disappointed, "Such a good musician, really remarkable, to be able to write such a pleasant song. It’s just the wrong era for him. If it were the present day, with our country’s music industry opened up so much, this song would definitely become a hit."
Of course, Qin Xiangnuan internally agreed, not just become popular, it would practically be a sensation all over the country.
"I’ll take this song," Xu Ming said solemnly, "However, could I ask you for a favor?" At this point, he seemed a bit embarrassed.
Jian Zhiqing guessed something, "Do you want to add your name to the composition?"
"You really know me well," Xu Ming was indeed quite awkward. After all, the composition wasn’t his and by doing this, he wasn’t just taking advantage.
"I..." His voice paused for a moment before he continued, "I want to add my name in the post-production phase. What do you think? If it’s really too much, then forget it."
"Sure," Qin Xiangnuan agreed, "You can also include your name in the composition because we’ll still need an introduction and an ending and other elements."
"Really?" Xu Ming stood up excitedly, constantly rubbing his hands, "Don’t worry, I will make sure the music is perfect. Wait for me, I’ll go right now," he didn’t finish his sentence before he had already run off to find paper and pen.
"Is this guy reliable?" It took a moment before Qin Xiangnuan snapped back to reality.
"Don’t worry, that’s how artists are. Their minds are something we ordinary people can’t understand," Jian Zhiqing stood up, one hand in his pocket.
That’s true, Chun Xiangnuan also felt that an artist’s taste was beyond their understanding.
But then again, it’s good in a way. If he is willing to dedicate himself to art with such noble integrity, then they should be able to get the tape very soon.
Indeed, three days later, Xu Ming contacted Jian Zhiqing saying that the composition was ready and asked who would do the recording.
"You sing," Jian Zhiqing looked at Qin Xiangnuan, his black pupils serious with no trace of jest.
Qin Xiangnuan quickly shook her head.
"Then who will sing?" Jian Zhiqing leaned against the door, his arms crossed over his chest.
Qin Xiangnuan was clueless. Who should sing? Jian Zhiqing? That didn’t seem right either. His voice was too thick, and although captivating, it wasn’t suitable for this type of song.
"Sister, let Taotao sing," at this moment, the little chubby one stood up, hugging Qin Xiangnuan’s leg, blinking his large grape-like black eyes, his little chubby cheeks looking like they were about to fall off. Jian Zhiqing reached out and lifted the little one, unable to help squeezing his cheek, which was indeed rather amusing—no wonder Qin Xiangnuan liked to pinch it.
"What does Taotao want to do?"
"Sing," Taotao puffed up his small chest, saying proudly, "Taotao sings very well, diu, diu, diu handkerchief, gently, um... pick it up, hide it behind, don’t tell him."
The little guy stumbled through the nursery rhyme he just learned from kindergarten, probably not remembering it fully. However, the unique sound of a child’s voice, raw and milk-like, elicited both tears and laughter, and people would only be satisfied after pinching his cheeks fiercely.
And a thought suddenly struck Qin Xiangnuan’s heart.