HDRDTH -Chapter 98 This Is Not Even Staff Notation

Yu Xian stared fiercely at the word “Sister Chen” flashing on his phone screen. His thumb hovered over the hang-up button, the corner of his eye twitching violently.

Answer… or not answer?

With his fifty-five years of experience from his previous life, this call was definitely bad news. Either he’d be dragged to some ridiculous press conference, or forced to accept some meaningless award. But if he didn’t answer, those entertainment-industry lunatics would probably ring the doorbell at Jinshui Bay until it melted.

With a dark face, Yu Xian pressed answer.

Before he could speak, a wailing cry came through the phone.

“Mr. Yu! Please control Sister Fei! The sky is falling!”

“What now?” Yu Xian moved the phone away, picking his ear in disgust. “Sonic Entertainment sending another lawyer letter? Let them send it! I’ve been looking for somewhere to fish anyway…”

“It’s not Sonic! It’s Sister Fei herself—she’s gone crazy!”

Sister Chen’s voice was trembling.

“Tonight is the Ministry of Defense and Broadcasting Authority’s joint ‘Open the Door and See the Mountain’ awards gala—live nationwide! Hundreds of cameras! Dozens of generals in the audience! But Sister Fei… she cut up all the Chanel-sponsored haute couture dresses!”

Yu Xian paused. “Cut them for what? Rags?”

“She used them as drum padding!”

Sister Chen was nearly breaking down.

“She says those clothes are too fake and don’t match the song’s spirit! She insists on wearing a faded grey T-shirt and… and plastic slippers worth ten yuan for three pairs on stage! She says this is ‘Great Dao simplicity’—the highest artistic realm you taught her!”

Yu Xian’s breathing stopped for two seconds.

He looked down at his own slightly yellowed plastic slippers and his worn grey shirt.

Great Dao simplicity my ass.

I wear this because it’s breathable and doesn’t get fish slime stuck on it!

You’re a world-class diva and you’re going to perform in front of the Ministry of Defense like that?!

“Mr. Yu, please talk her down! The station director is turning green!”

“Talk her down my ass!” Yu Xian snapped, exploding into the phone. “She can wear whatever she wants! She could go on stage wrapped in a sack for all I care! Don’t call me for this nonsense again! I’m going fishing! Anyone bothers me again, I’ll throw them into Thousand-Island Lake to feed the turtles!”

Click.

He hung up, powered off the phone, and threw it onto the sofa.

“Dafu! Grab that nine-yuan fishing rod! We’re leaving! Nobody is stopping me from being a pure fisherman today!”

Xinghuang Entertainment Tower, VIP Lounge

Dozens of executives, brand representatives, and broadcasting officials stood stiffly against the walls, barely daring to breathe.

In the center, on a leather sofa, Wang Fei sat quietly.

No makeup. Bare face. A grey worn-out T-shirt. Plastic slippers with rough edges.

Sister Chen walked in holding the phone.

“Fei… Sister Fei… Mr. Yu said—”

“What did he say?” Wang Fei looked up. Her eyes were bright, almost transcendent.

“He said… wear whatever you want. Even if you go on stage wrapped in a sack, it’s your choice.”

A sharp intake of breath filled the room.

Even the brand executives swallowed their objections immediately.

That wasn’t casual support.

That was Yu Xian publicly backing her.

A sack on stage? That was a declaration: Wang Fei no longer needed any packaging at all.

“Did you hear that?” Wang Fei stood up.

Her cheap plastic slippers clicked against the luxury Persian carpet.

“Music doesn’t need packaging. Mr. Yu taught me—open the door, see the mountain. Your fake gowns and makeup only hide the real power of this song. Tonight, I’ll wear this.”

The station director wiped his sweat frantically.

“Absolutely correct! This is returning to simplicity! This is the true spirit of our soldiers!”

“Clear the room,” Wang Fei said calmly. “I need to find the diaphragm-impact state Mr. Yu talked about.”

Everyone retreated in relief.

Backstage Corner

A young girl in a cleaner’s uniform walked in holding freshly brewed black coffee.

It was Li Yao.

She placed the cup down.

“Fei-jie, your coffee.”

Wang Fei glanced at her. “Sit.”

Li Yao sat carefully.

As a top agent of the Japanese Empire, she was currently in an extremely humiliating position—forced into a ten-year contract and assigned to menial work while trying to infiltrate Yu Xian’s circle.

“This song is incredible,” Li Yao said carefully. “Especially the drum intro. How did Mr. Yu come up with it?”

Wang Fei paused.

“He didn’t teach me,” she said slowly. “He just held a guitar and casually hit the resonance box twice.”

Li Yao’s pupils contracted violently.

Twice?!

That was the classified sonar self-destruct frequency of “Sea Wolf Seven”!

“And your outfit…” Li Yao pointed at the slippers.

“You don’t understand,” Wang Fei said softly. “I didn’t either—until I saw Mr. Yu standing in these slippers in his backyard, next to a concrete-sealed pit.”

“He said: roads in this world are slippery. If you dress too finely, you can’t walk steadily. When you wear this, your feet directly feel the earth’s vibration. Only by sensing the earth’s frequency can you produce truly moving sound.”

Li Yao’s mind exploded.

Earth’s frequency!

Earth’s vibration!

So the destroyed submarines in the East China Sea weren’t from sonar interference at all—they were being disrupted by continental plate resonance patterns!

Those cheap slippers… were geological frequency sensors!

“Fei-jie…” Li Yao’s voice trembled. “Does Mr. Yu have any further instructions?”

Wang Fei pulled out a wrinkled sheet of paper from a worn canvas bag.

“I found this in his study trash bin this morning. He locked himself in all night drawing naval maps. I think this might be the melodic core of his next battle anthem.”

She carefully flattened it on the table.

Li Yao’s eyes landed on it.

Only one glance.

Her pupils shrank to the limit.

Her breathing stopped completely.