Chapter 91: Requesting a Song

After Zhou Ran returned from the Chinese Golden Melody Awards, the entire film crew shifted into full-speed filming mode. Thanks to over a month of earlier collaboration, the team had already gelled well, so naturally, the pace of shooting accelerated significantly.

In a little over a month, the film was almost entirely finished—only the last one or two wrap-up scenes remained to be shot. By all rights, Director Huang should have been delighted with this situation, since they were ahead of schedule and this would leave Huang, the chef-turned-director, plenty of time for editing and publicity.

But there was little trace of a smile on Huang’s face. Lately, he’d been troubled by one particular issue: the film’s promotional song. Chef Wang had approached numerous musicians to compose a theme for “The Drummer.”

Yet none of their works met Huang’s standards. While the musicians’ compositions were all of decent quality and the artists themselves were well-known in the industry, none of the songs quite struck the chord Huang was seeking. There was something missing, some elusive flavor he couldn’t quite articulate. The feeling was simply odd—strangely unsatisfying.

For days now, this problem had weighed on Huang, sapping his energy on set. After all, a film’s theme song can have a profound impact. There are many examples of a great song elevating a film to unexpected heights—even if the film itself is weak, a hit song can attract attention. As the saying went in his previous life, “bad films have divine theme songs.” Listeners drawn in by the music are often tempted to check out the movie as well.

The lack of a suitable song left Huang distracted and spiritless during filming. He had the nagging sense he was forgetting something, but it wasn’t until he watched Zhou Ran act today that realization dawned: he had a hidden treasure right under his nose, yet he’d completely overlooked him.

Slapping his thigh, Huang exclaimed, “How could I have forgotten about Zhou Ran!”

The moment he set eyes on Zhou Ran, all his doubts vanished. For some reason, Huang had subconsciously skipped over Zhou Ran as a potential songwriter—even though he knew Zhou Ran was an excellent singer, he hadn’t paid much attention to his talents as a composer.

Once he realized this, Huang berated himself for his foolishness. Why search far and wide when a genius songwriter was right beside him? Fortunately, it wasn’t too late. There was still time to approach Zhou Ran and commission a song.

With this in mind, Huang decided to wrap up today’s scenes quickly so he could have a proper conversation with Zhou Ran.

As for the fee, that was a minor issue. Huang knew that with Zhou Ran’s current status, the price for an original song could easily be astronomical—close to nine figures, perhaps. Still, since it would only be used as a promotional theme, seven or eight figures should suffice.

...

“Director Huang, you wanted to see me?” Zhou Ran had been filming as usual when Huang suddenly called him over. He was told to visit Huang’s room after work, as there was something important to discuss.

Zhou Ran felt a bit uneasy at the unexpected request, but didn’t dwell on it. After work, he went to see Huang as instructed.

“You’re here! Zhou Ran, please, have a seat.” Huang had been waiting in his room for some time, anxious to settle the matter as soon as possible.

“Ah, okay.” Zhou Ran was a little surprised by Huang’s unusually courteous demeanor. It wasn’t like the director’s normal attitude toward him, and Zhou Ran sensed that Huang had something significant in mind.

After Zhou Ran sat down, Huang regarded him with such hopeful intensity that Zhou Ran felt chilled to the bone—it was a bit unnerving.

“Director Huang, is there something you need from me?” Unable to endure the look any longer, Zhou Ran asked directly.

“Well, it’s like this. The shoot is almost finished, but we still haven’t found a suitable theme song. I’ve searched high and low with no luck, so I decided to come to you.”

...

“What I hope is that you can create a song that truly fits our film. After all, you’re also the lead actor—you must have a deeper understanding of the feeling we want to convey.”

Originally, Huang had intended to chat and ease into the subject. But since Zhou Ran was so straightforward, he decided to be direct as well.

“Oh, so that’s it!” Zhou Ran had half-expected Huang to ask him for something shady, and was relieved to discover that it was simply a song request.

He’d been preparing himself for how to tactfully decline if things got awkward, but in the end, it was just a commission for a song.

“That’s no problem at all! Leave it to me, Director.” Zhou Ran agreed readily, as this was no difficult task for him—he already had plenty of ideas for songs of this type.

In fact, he’d just thought of a piece that fit the spirit of their crew perfectly. This was the perfect opportunity to write and present it.

At the same time, he could use this favor to earn some goodwill from Huang. After all, society runs on relationships and mutual favors.

“Really? That’s wonderful—you have my thanks!” Huang was genuinely surprised by how quickly Zhou Ran agreed. He’d thought Zhou Ran would be hard to persuade, given his current status, but Zhou Ran accepted without hesitation.