HDRDTH -Chapter 94 When Will This Life Ever End!

The footsteps stopped outside the door.

Bang.

The solid copper door was pushed open.

Manager Chen rushed into the living room, breathless, carrying a folder nearly half a meter thick. Her hair was disheveled, her cheeks flushed bright red from extreme excitement. She was about to shout something when her eyes suddenly landed on Yu Xian, sitting at the head of the dining table in a grey undershirt, calmly drinking fish soup.

Her voice got stuck in her throat. She forcefully swallowed her scream.

“Mr… Mr. Yu.”

She bowed nervously, not even daring to breathe loudly.

She knew exactly what this man had done. Lin Jianguo had dragged the entire legal department of Star Emperor Entertainment out of bed overnight to draft a “free transfer agreement” for five thousand songs and compositions. Lin Jianguo’s hands were shaking so badly when he signed it that he could barely hold the pen.

“What is this? So dusty.”

Yu Xian frowned, waving his hand in front of his nose.

“Put it at the entrance. Don’t bring it over here. It’s affecting my soup.”

“Yes! Yes!”

Manager Chen hurriedly placed the priceless copyright documents on the shoe cabinet, terrified of even stirring a speck of dust.

At that moment, Wang Fei came downstairs.

She had changed into a sharp black windbreaker, holding the black USB drive Yu Xian had given her, a Martin guitar strapped on her back.

“Chen Jie, let’s go to the recording studio.”

Her voice was slightly hoarse from vocal practice, but her eyes were bright and focused.

“Feifei, these copyrights—” Manager Chen pointed at the shoe cabinet.

“Leave them.”

Wang Fei didn’t even look at the documents that could drive the entire Chinese music industry insane.

“Record the songs first. Mr. Yu said the demo must be ready in three days.”

Yu Xian put down his soup bowl and wiped his mouth.

“Go, go, hurry up. All that screaming at home is giving me a headache.”

He shouted upstairs.

“Su Xi! Take your school bag and go to the studio with your Aunt Wang. Stop disturbing my nap!”

“I’m coming!”

Su Xi rushed down like a little rocket, hugging Wang Fei’s leg.

“Aunt Wang, let’s go sing!”

Wang Fei took her hand, gave Yu Xian a long look, then turned and walked out.

Top-tier Recording Studio, Jiangcheng

Inside the control room, the lead sound engineer sat in front of the mixing console, frowning deeply as he looked at the USB drive Wang Fei handed over.

“Fei-jie… it’s not that I don’t trust your team, but this arrangement…”

He pressed play.

From the monitor speakers came raw, gritty drum beats and extremely minimal bass lines.

“This is too bare!” he said immediately. “There’s not even a string layer! No synth pads! In today’s pop industry, listeners will think this is lazy production!”

Manager Chen also looked worried.

It sounded like a rough demo from a 90s underground garage band that couldn’t afford proper equipment.

“We use this,” Wang Fei said firmly.

She stood in front of the microphone and put on her headphones.

“Raise the backing track by two dB.”

The engineer sighed and pushed the fader up.

The intro began—simple, aggressive drum hits like hammer blows against glass.

Wang Fei closed her eyes.

She recalled Yu Xian holding a guitar with one hand, slamming the soundbox.

“Lower your vocal position. Use your diaphragm to hit the vocal cords.”

She inhaled deeply.

She abandoned the airy vocal style she had built her career on for ten years, forcing her breath deep into her abdomen.

Then it erupted.

“Open the door! And see the mountain!”

“I see the mountain—it is the mountain!”

The moment the first line exploded out, the engineer shot up from his chair. His pen dropped to the floor.

Manager Chen felt goosebumps erupt all over her body.

It was terrifying.

Raw. Rough. Violent.

A voice like tearing reality apart.

Any extra instrumentation would only dilute it. This wasn’t sloppy production—this was a sound designed to leave absolute space for the voice to dominate.

“Simple is fine! No need to complicate it!”

Sweat formed on Wang Fei’s forehead.

For the first time, she felt the artistic shackles of ten years—techniques, image, constraints—shatter completely.

That barefoot man stirring a wok with one hand had dragged her into an entirely new dimension with brute force.

When the first chorus ended, the bass-heavy interlude rolled in.

Before anyone could recover—

The studio door opened.

Su Xi walked in with her pink school bag, bouncing happily. Wang Fei lowered the microphone for her.

“Xi Xi, just like Auntie taught you. Sing however you like. Just be happy.”

Su Xi nodded hard and leaned into the microphone.

A pure, childish voice—untrained, unpolished, completely innocent.

“This is the moon~”

“It is just the moon~”

“It is not frost on the ground~”

Silence.

Deathly silence in the control room.

The engineer stared at the waveform on the screen. His breathing stopped.

A finishing blow.

A true finishing blow.

Within the aggressive, violent rock arrangement, a pure, innocent child voice suddenly appeared.

The contrast was so extreme it created a soul-shaking reaction.

Like a single white flower blooming in the middle of a battlefield filled with smoke and ruins.

It didn’t weaken the song—it elevated it.

To a level of artistic impact beyond comprehension.

“A genius… who came up with this arrangement…” the engineer whispered, voice trembling. “This song… will reshape the entire Chinese music industry!”

Manager Chen covered her mouth, tears spilling out.

She understood.

Wang Fei wasn’t just making a comeback.

She was ascending to godhood.

In the studio, Wang Fei removed her headphones and looked at Su Xi smiling beside her.

Her eyes welled up uncontrollably.

“Add some children’s chorus in the interlude. Don’t just sit there doing nothing.”

That casual complaint from Yu Xian echoed in her mind like divine revelation.

Two days later.

Star Emperor Entertainment activated its entire promotional network.

Across Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou, massive LED screens in prime commercial districts all went black at the same time.

Then—

Heavy drum beats struck.

Boom.

“Open the Door and See the Mountain” dropped online with zero promotion.

No preheating. No marketing. No cover art.

Just four black characters on a white background:

OPEN THE DOOR AND SEE THE MOUNTAIN

Within one hour—comment sections exploded.

Within three hours—it hit #1 on every major chart.

Companies that had been preparing to mock Wang Fei fell into dead silence after hearing the song.

What could they criticize?

Her vocal ability? That was a nuclear strike from the diaphragm.

The arrangement? That child chorus had already been declared by top critics as “one of the greatest compositional strokes of the early 21st century.”

Jiangcheng, Jinshui Bay Villa No. 1.

Yu Xian sat in a courtyard rocking chair, staring at the cement-sealed “sea eye” in the yard.

A thermos of goji berry tea in hand.

He sighed deeply.

“When will this life ever end…”

He took a sip.

He hadn’t even dared go fishing these days—afraid he might pull up an aircraft carrier part next.

Ding dong.

The doorbell rang.

Wang Dafu was washing dishes.

Yu Xian had no choice but to shuffle over in plastic slippers.

The copper door opened.

A woman stood outside.