Shu Xue Mu returned in the evening.

At that moment, Chunan and Xiaohan were practicing songs in the living room.

Chunan had already written the remaining four songs, but he hadn’t told He Dong yet. They needed to wait until Xiaohan was a bit more proficient—after all, she had to memorize the lyrics first, right?

To be honest, Xiaohan had quite a talent for this. As long as she remembered the lyrics and melody, her singing was already seventy to eighty percent like what Chunan recalled.

…Or perhaps it was the bonus from this body?

After all, in his memory, Xiaohan hadn’t been this skilled originally.

Of course, he’d never get an answer to that question.

Just as a song ended, sudden applause came from the entrance. They looked over and realized a girl had been standing there unnoticed.

She was stunningly beautiful, looking even younger than Chunan. Strangers might mistake her for a college student, but… nowadays, few wouldn’t recognize her—the currently rising star, Shu Xue Mu.

“That sounded really nice,” Shu Xue Mu said warmly. Though a popular idol, she showed no airs, feeling like a neighborly little sister with a hint of praise and curiosity. “Is this a new song for Xiaohan?”

Xiaohan, clutching her guitar, stared at her for a few seconds, blushing slightly.

She wasn’t a hardcore fan, but she knew the celebrity world. Seeing someone she’d only ever watched on screens suddenly appear felt surreal.

Of course, her blush mostly came from singing for someone other than Chunan.

—After all, it had taken her ages to stay calm while singing just for him.

Chunan shot her a sideways glance, feeling a bit annoyed.

She’d never been this shy grabbing the mic in front of classmates at KTV. Why so timid now?

He didn’t dwell on it. Standing up, he greeted Shu Xue Mu and introduced himself and Xiaohan—even though she likely knew them already, manners mattered.

Shu Xue Mu smiled. “That’s too formal. For the next month, we’re housemates. Let’s keep it casual for comfort, okay?”

Chunan gave a noncommittal nod. “As you say, senior.”

“Don’t call me senior. Just use my name,” she shook her head lightly, chuckling. “I probably don’t need to introduce myself, right?”

This was her quiet confidence.

Chunan nodded. “We know you well, senior. Please look after us during this time.”

“I told you not to call me senior. It makes me sound ancient.”

“…Okay.”

Shu Xue Mu didn’t press further. She sat on the nearby sofa, smiling. “Was that a new song you were singing?”

“Yes,” Chunan admitted plainly. “Uncle He said debuting with an album builds better hype. I’m having Xiaohan prepare five songs.”

“Including the earlier one, ‘The Leap’?”

“Mm.”

Shu Xue Mu’s eyes flickered. “Did you compose all these alone?”

“Mm.” Chunan didn’t deny it or show false modesty.

Only here did he believe in going all out—high visibility earned respect and more opportunities.

Besides, he had the talent to back it up. Humility would be stupid.

Shu Xue Mu paused slightly.

She’d heard “The Leap” and knew its polished potential. That’s why she’d agreed instantly when He Dong proposed cohabitation.

Like him, she wanted to meet the creator behind that song.

And hearing Xiaohan’s performance just now confirmed her decision was right.

That unnamed track matched “The Leap” in both lyrics and melody. Both celebrated youth, but unlike “The Leap”’s innocent crush, this one captured pure middle-school friendship from a girl’s view—a clean, uncomplicated bond that left listeners smiling warmly.

Everyone had youth; most cherished such memories. Undeniably, both songs resonated deeply. She was certain Xiaohan’s album, with just these two tracks, would do well even if not a smash hit.

But she was more intrigued by their creator.

Her own album was nearly ready, missing only a heavyweight title track. The senior songwriter meant for her had left Jiujiang due to family issues, not returning until after New Year. Her release couldn’t wait.

The company was finding replacements, but she wouldn’t stay idle. He Dong’s offer was a chance—whether she got a perfect song or not, bonding with Chunan might build future connections.

She wouldn’t dismiss him for being new. Music cared nothing for seniority; the industry overflowed with raw talent. The real skill was spotting gems before they shone and forging ties early.

Helping in hardship left a deeper mark than easy favors. Debts from the former weighed far heavier.

Shu Xue Mu was smart; she knew this.

And from Chunan’s two songs, she saw his potential to become a true pearl.

“Could I hear that song again?” she asked softly, snapping back to the moment.

Xiaohan froze, flustered.

Chunan glanced at her. “Sing.”

If she aimed to be an idol, she’d face crowds eventually. If she crumbled with just two listeners now, what then?

She clearly needed special training.

Xiaohan hesitated, reluctant. “…I’ve sung for ages. My throat’s dry. Can I rest?”

Chunan immediately poured her tea. “Drink it. Then sing.”

Xiaohan: “…”

After a beat, she mumbled, “I forgot the lyrics.”

“I’ll hold the sheet. Sing from it.”

“…Must you make me?”

“What? Shy?”

“Of course not! But can’t I rest a minute?”

“Rest at night. If you want to debut as an idol, work hard now. When else will you record?”

“…”

It’s not like she’d chosen this idol path!

Shu Xue Mu watched them from the side, a smile playing on her lips.

These two… their bond was genuinely strong…