Chapter 688 03-25 - Chapter 688: Meet at 273, out of the mountain _3

Chapter 688: Meet at 273, out of the mountain _3

“Furthermore, I will definitely recommend your composition to Dean Jian,” Jiu Yinghui smiled, “and let him personally arrange it for you.”

As a Guzheng Heir, Dean Jian’s reputation in Jiangyin was well established, to say the least.

In the recent six months, as Yan Lu’s master arranger, he had far surpassed others in the art world.

Shuo Qingyu himself was not inept at arranging music, but not to mention that Dean Jian’s skill level was above his, having the words “Dean Jian” on his work would also add a different value to it.

He returned home with the business card, beginning to ponder over this matter.

He had always been aware of the old theater’s dean canvassing for a theme song, and had even had someone get a copy of the script “Blossoms on the Tree.”

…

The Jiu family had been involved in theater for generations, with his grandmother being a Peking Opera Heir, holding significant weight in the art industry.

Gao Shu may not have had such a profound heritage, but… she was a member of the Gao Family.

Shuo Qingyu had hesitated between the two, certain that he had to compose this piece and confident of triumph. It was just a matter of which side to choose, knowing that it would inevitably offend one of them.

At his age, no one did not want to climb higher; he was no different, with a strong sense of utilitarianism.

Not only had Jiu Yinghui discovered his son’s issues but also made a promise about Dean Jian; each action was a display of his power. Shuo Qingyu laid the business card on the table, a decision already forming in his mind.

**

Source: Webnovel.com, updated on ɴονǤᴑ.с0

Shanhai Apartment.

When Bai Lian returned, Zhang Shize, Tang Ming, and Ning Xiao were doing their homework in Room 303. Pu Xiaohan and Jiang He sat on the carpet playing with jigsaw puzzles,

In her hand was a fresh rose, with dewdrops still clinging to the crimson petals.

“It’s next Saturday.” Bai Lian entered the study, where the desk was decorated with trinkets, and beside the black computer, there was a new celadon vase.

Ming Dongheng had brought it back several days before.

In the vase, a few roses were carelessly inserted at different times; some were in full bloom, others were wilting. Bai Lian slowly added the rose in her hand to the celadon vase.

Jiang Fulai lounged by the desk, looking down at the roses in the vase and said casually, “At the Mu Family’s place?”

“Right.” Bai Lian sat in front of the computer, powered it on, pulled up Ma Institute’s email from her inbox, printed it out, then opened Xiaoqi’s email detailing the latest developments with Wen Zhixia.

She scanned through it, opened WeChat, and began messaging Xu En.

The Wen Family was an established family of Jiangjing involved in the electronics industry.

Scrolling down, she saw a message from Dean Jian—just one file—

“Blossoms on the Tree”

Bai Lian, with her good memory, recalled that this was the play Dean Jian had mentioned to her before.

She clicked to receive the file and connected to the printer, printing it out as well.

Jiang Fulai grabbed the printed thesis she had produced, neatened the pages with a stapler, and secured them together—”I’m free on Saturday.”

After the thesis was printed, “Blossoms on the Tree” followed shortly.

Jiang Fulai again took action, binding the entire drama script together.

He had no interest in drama, merely glancing over it.

Bai Lian didn’t start by reading the printed playbill; she first went through the documents Ma Institute had sent, translating them swiftly. By the time she finished, it was nearly midnight.

She sent the translated documents to Ning Xiao’s email.

As she stood up from the desk, she saw “Blossoms on the Tree” beside her. She looked down at the cover for a moment, then sat back down and began to read under the study’s light.

The script of forty-some pages wasn’t long.

Bai Lian read quickly, skimming ten lines at a time.

“Blossoms on the Tree” was derived from military strategy.

The script told a similar story, using strategy to make a small force seem large, cleverly employing a battle devised by Chen Ye to create a dramatic tale. Chen Ye was a disciple of Bai Zhongyu, who was adept at using this tactic.

It took her no more than five minutes to finish reading the script.

Her fingers resting on the keyboard, she replied to Dean Jian—

[The story is good.]

Nearing midnight, Dean Jian hadn’t gone to bed—as if he had been waiting specifically for her response: [Now, are you interested?]

Bai Lian leaned back, her pale fingers on the keyboard, and after a few minutes of thought, she replied: [I don’t have much time.]

The Tongfeng class schedule was intense and she was also studying for the Boyuan class. Physics was based on mathematical foundations as well, so tackling Wang Xu’s problems also served to improve her own skills.

Ma Institute didn’t relax his demands on her either, seeming quite urgent.

Bai Lian really didn’t have much time and, she thought, for such an art form… she was too young. Even if Dean Jian trusted her, the theater’s people probably wouldn’t, she guessed.

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