Chapter Thirty-Five: The Subscription

The meeting place was inside a tea house with an air of ancient elegance. Outside the window stretched a beautiful landscape—emerald waters shimmering, artificial hills rising here and there. At first sight of this scene, Liao Yuan was inexplicably reminded of the poetic image of Daiyu burying fallen blossoms in “Dream of the Red Chamber.” It was pure poetry come alive.

In early summer, various flowering branches were in full display in the courtyard, their fragrance wafting everywhere. Petals, blown down by the breeze, floated on the water’s surface, while fish darted playfully below. Someone on the pavilion waved gently, scattering fish feed into the air, which fell into the water, sending ripples across its surface.

Liao Yuan distinctly saw a plump carp leap from the water. What a pity there was no Dragon Gate for it to leap. The thought left him faintly melancholic.

The tea house was a private club, not open to the public. After inquiring for a while and giving his name, Liao Yuan waited for a short time before a server arrived to escort him to the designated private room.

“Mr. Liao.”

Inside the room, Zhang Chao eagerly introduced him: “This is my uncle, the most renowned director in today’s film industry. Since his debut, he has launched the careers of countless stars. Many try in vain to meet him even once, yet he journeyed all the way from the western provinces just to see you. From this alone, you can tell how highly my uncle regards your composition.”

Liao Yuan looked at Zhang Yichi. According to public information, Zhang Yichi was already past fifty. But seeing him in person—if one overlooked the salt-and-pepper hair—Liao Yuan thought that in both spirit and attire, the man appeared no more than forty, in his prime.

Zhang Yichi rose, smiling as he shook Liao Yuan’s hand, inviting him to sit and speaking warmly: “I have invited many composers to create music for ‘The Great Emperor of Han Wu,’ but all have failed; not one piece satisfied me. Yet I never expected that Mr. Liao would so effortlessly compose a piece that did. Truly, you are accomplished at a young age.”

Liao Yuan was taken aback by Zhang Yichi’s cultured manner of speaking. He was silent for a moment before replying, “As long as Director Zhang likes it.”

Zhang Yichi smiled. “Like it? I am most taken with it. However, ‘The Great Emperor of Han Wu’ is after all a historical drama. If the score consists of only piano, it risks monotony. If you have the time, I hope you might personally adapt this piece into a concerto, adding more instruments for a grander, more majestic effect.”

“‘Exodus’ was originally a concerto. Only with an ensemble can its essence be fully expressed. The recording was limited by circumstances, so adapting it into a concerto is perfectly reasonable.”

Liao Yuan agreed, “I’ll send you the full score when I return.”

“Ah, so that’s how it is.” Zhang Yichi’s satisfaction was clear. “That would be ideal.”

With that, he personally brewed tea for Liao Yuan. “I heard from Zhang Chao that you’re in urgent need of a Steinway piano?”

Liao Yuan nodded at once. “Yes.”

“Then, in your opinion, how many Steinways is ‘Exodus’ worth?” Zhang Yichi asked.

Liao Yuan was taken aback. “What do you mean?”

Zhang Yichi waved his hand. “No need to overthink it. I simply love this piece so much that I’m curious—what value do you place on it? If our views coincide, wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

At this, following Zhang Yichi’s instructions, Zhang Chao took two document folders from his briefcase and handed one each to Liao Yuan and Zhang Yichi.

“This is the contract. Other than activities related to ‘The Great Emperor of Han Wu,’ ‘Exodus’ won’t be used for any other commercial purposes. If it is, you will be informed in advance and receive additional payment.”

Pointing to a figure on the contract, Zhang Yichi explained, “Originally, I intended to offer one million. But after hearing about your situation from Zhang Chao, I added more. The total is 1.43 million—just enough for you to purchase a Steinway S-277. If you have no objections, you can sign here and fill in your ID and bank account number. The production’s finance team will transfer the funds this afternoon.”

Liao Yuan nodded, carefully reviewed the contract, and then signed his name without hesitation.

Was “Exodus” worth 1.43 million? This was a matter of perspective. For those who truly desired it, even ten times the amount would not be too much; for others, it might be worth nothing at all.

In short, finding the right market was key.

In his previous life, out of social consideration, Liao Yuan would occasionally offer classic songs for industry friends to perform. But even for friends, the starting price was in the millions. Beyond the intrinsic quality of the music, it also carried Liao Yuan’s own popularity. If such a song helped a singer’s album sell out, its value would far exceed a million.

For Liao Yuan in his previous life, was a million much? Certainly not—it was barely worth mentioning. In terms of personal worth, after ten years in the industry, even compared to some of the most popular idols, he was second to none.

Take, for example, a major inspirational music critique show—during his tenure as a mentor on the judges’ panel, Liao Yuan received 2.1 million per episode. Over a whole season, he could easily earn fifty million, including additional fees for behind-the-scenes auditions.

Therefore, when faced with a 1.43 million copyright fee, Liao Yuan showed no sign of elation, even when Zhang Yichi pointed out that the extra 430,000 was a “bonus.” Liao Yuan remained perfectly composed.

This only deepened Zhang Yichi’s appreciation for him.

As a director, Zhang Yichi had his own standards for judging character. He could tell that Liao Yuan truly didn’t care much for that sum. He couldn’t help recalling his own ecstasy upon first receiving a share of box office profits. Compared to Liao Yuan’s calm, humble demeanor, the difference was striking.

Afterward, Liao Yuan and Zhang Yichi chatted for some time, during which they agreed on the piece’s title. The melody of “Exodus” truly was grand and mournful, matching Zhang Yichi’s vision. However, the title “Exodus” felt out of place with “The Great Emperor of Han Wu.” After some discussion, they settled on renaming the composition “Journey Westward from the Frontier.”

Upon leaving the tea house, Liao Yuan didn’t return to the company. Instead, as Zhang Chao requested, he went to the Steinway piano store once more.

This time, he wasn’t there to rent a piano.

“Mr. Liao...” Miao Bizhu, watching him fill out the S-277 Purchase Confirmation, could hardly keep her voice steady. “You... you really want to buy the S-277?”

Liao Yuan looked up. “Why not?”

Miao Bizhu took a deep breath. Under Liao Yuan’s gaze, her face grew warm. She coughed lightly and whispered a reminder: “This piano costs 1.43 million. It’s really expensive. Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?”

Liao Yuan smiled. “I’ve never seen a sales consultant try so hard to talk a customer out of buying.”

“No, no!” Miao Bizhu waved her hands in a fluster. “I’m just thinking of you.”

Without looking up, Liao Yuan continued filling out the form. “Or do you think I can’t afford it?”

“Not at all. The manager already called and said he’d cover the deposit... Alright, I won’t say any more...”

Her voice grew smaller and smaller until, with a quiet sigh, she thought to herself, “Perhaps this is what it means to be truly impressive.”

At that moment, Liao Yuan finished filling out the purchase order. He capped his pen and handed the form to Miao Bizhu. “Deliver it here as soon as it arrives.”