The the Tianlai Zhi Sheng orchestra tour would begin in four or five months.
By then, she would need a formal performance gown—the kind fit for the stage of a top-tier concert hall.
Such gowns started at fifty thousand apiece.
And her violin needed regular maintenance too.
This violin had been custom-ordered from Italy by Father Shen when the original owner was fifteen. It was worth a fortune, and a single servicing cost several thousand.
There were also all sorts of living expenses to consider.
For her, a hundred thousand wouldn’t last long.
What to do, then? Relying on the Shen family—that road had already been sealed off with cement by the original owner.
Rely on Su You? Su You would help her, but Shen Qinghuan couldn’t accept that with a clear conscience.
She was occupying the original owner’s body; she already owed Su You far too much.
Shen Qinghuan thought that, just like in her previous life, she had to rely on herself.
She had to make money, had to seize every opportunity to earn money, gain resources, and solidify her reputation as a musician.
Shen Qinghuan stood up from beside the flower bed and headed back toward school with her bag.
Her mind raced, calculating what kind of job to look for.
Performing at restaurants? A resident violinist at a top restaurant might make ten to twenty thousand a month.
Private tutoring? A student from a top music academy working as a tutor could charge three to five hundred an hour—a fully booked month would bring in a little over ten thousand.
But it still wasn’t enough.
Her phone suddenly buzzed.
Shen Qinghuan took out her phone and saw that the school group chat had exploded.
The pinned message was an official notice, forwarded by a teacher from the academic affairs office, marked in red as “Important.”
“Notice: On-Campus Auditions for the National Top Music Competition Variety Show Sheng Yao Dian Feng—”
Sheng Yao Dian Feng? Shen Qinghuan instantly remembered—in the original novel, there was this variety show.
The female lead, Bai Anqi, had seemingly risen to fame precisely on this show, where she met renowned mentors and superstar musicians, amassed millions of fans, and ultimately reached the peak of her life.
And the original owner?
The original owner had thought highly of herself, believing that as a daughter of a prestigious family, how could she appear on such a live-streamed variety show, to be watched and scrutinized by a crowd of idle netizens?
Shen Qinghuan read the notice in the group carefully.
“Sheng Yao Dian Feng will be live-streamed in its entirety, with nationwide exposure. It uses a promotion-based assessment system, with corresponding prize money for each round advanced!”
“The champion will receive a prize of one million yuan, direct entry to the satellite TV’s annual gala stage, and the opportunity to sign with a top music company!”
“On-campus audition location: the conservatory’s small concert hall. Audition time: this Friday at 2 p.m.”
The school group chat was already in an uproar.
“One million? Am I seeing things?”
“A live variety show? Doesn’t that mean the whole country can watch?”
“A violin-focused variety show? I’ve never seen anything like this! Why is there no track for us piano majors?”
“Who’s going? I’m signing up anyway—what if I get famous?”
Shen Qinghuan stood by the roadside and read the notice from beginning to end once more.
One million.
The number spun around in her head twice.
She did the math: a gown at fifty thousand, violin maintenance twice a year at ten thousand, living expenses of fifteen hundred a month.
One million would let her get by for several years even without working.
But the money wasn’t the most important thing.
The most important things were—direct entry to the satellite TV stage, signing with a top music company, nationwide exposure.
These were resources, connections, a springboard for her career.
When Shen Qinghuan died of illness in her previous life, she was already a violinist of some renown. She knew just how important opportunity was.
She tucked her phone into her pocket and quickened her pace without a moment’s hesitation.
Forget it—she wasn’t the original owner. Skipping a top-tier variety show like this would be idiotic!
Shen Qinghuan went straight to the conservatory’s teaching building.
On the ground floor, a registration board for Sheng Yao Dian Feng had already been set up, with a few students gathered around filling out forms.
Shen Qinghuan walked over and took a registration form from the table.
Name, student ID, major, age—she filled it all out in one smooth go.
When she handed it in, the student council clerk in charge of registration looked up at her, eyes visibly brightening.
“Shen Qinghuan, you’re signing up too?”
Shen Qinghuan nodded. “Mm.”
The clerk took the form and couldn’t help adding:
“I watched the video from the tour audition day. It was incredible. If you compete, you’ll definitely go far.”
Shen Qinghuan smiled. “Thank you.”
She turned and walked out of the building, and her phone buzzed again.
It was a message from Su You.
“I’m home. That takedown of Lin Chen today was satisfying. When I relayed it to Gu Nian, she kept a straight face, but she was definitely laughing on the inside.”
The corners of Shen Qinghuan’s mouth curved. She put her phone away, planning to buy some instant food at the supermarket and then hole up in her dorm to practice.
The afternoon sun gilded the teaching building’s glass facade, and warm light blanketed the whole of Ginkgo Avenue.
She stood on the steps, gazing at the small concert hall not far away.
Live-streamed auditions, a million-yuan prize, a signing opportunity, a TV network stage…
Even though her ultimate goal in life was to lie flat, reality wasn’t quite allowing it yet.
This path—she was walking it, no matter what.
Bai Anqi had been having a rough time lately.
After her midterm disaster, she’d been mocked on the campus forum for days.
“Clout-chasing a genius,” “Humiliating herself,” “Hardworking persona shattered”…
Those phrases clung to her like stubborn burrs.
The rumors she’d privately spread through senior students and teachers had been shut down too, without even making a splash.
Anyone else would have hidden in their dorm, afraid to show their face.
But not Bai Anqi.
She went to class as usual, practiced as usual, ate as usual—she just stopped crowding into busy places and stopped striking up conversations with people.
Strangely, she noticed that over these past few days, though the looks cast her way on campus were complicated, they weren’t all mockery.
Some of those gazes even carried a trace of sympathy.
“Isn’t she the Bai Anqi who got crushed by Shen Qinghuan? Kind of pitiful, honestly—she works so hard.”
“Geniuses can just casually practice a bit and trounce ordinary people. Anqi’s already doing remarkably well.”
Bai Anqi overheard these whispers. Her face betrayed nothing, but she quietly took note.
Shen Qinghuan was too aloof and untouchable—of course she wasn’t as likable as a gentle, modest girl like herself.
That weekend, Bai Anqi signed up for a university charity event, volunteering at a welfare home in the suburbs.
She made a point of inviting Lin Chen along.
“Lin Chen, could you take a few photos for me? You don’t need to get my face—just me doing things.”
Lin Chen understood immediately, raised his phone, and pretended to snap a few casual shots.
In the pictures, Bai Anqi crouched on the floor drawing with the children, the sleeves of her plain shirt rolled to her elbows, hair slightly mussed—focused and gentle.
The photos went online with a simple caption: “A fulfilling weekend at the welfare home.”
There was no deliberate promotion at all, but people in the comments quickly recognized her.
“Isn’t that Anqi from Jingda Yinyue Xueyuan? She’s doing volunteer work? So kind-hearted.”
“I remember the online hate she got last time. Honestly, she didn’t really do anything wrong, did she? She was just trying to seize an opportunity.”
“A hardworking girl shouldn’t be mocked. I support Anqi.”
Several highly upvoted comments rose to the top, their tone gentle and reasonable—behind every account was Lin Chen.
Bai Anqi scrolled through her phone, the corners of her mouth curving up slightly.
She didn’t reply to any of the comments, as if she had never defended herself or played the victim—she simply worked quietly.
This one-two punch had worked surprisingly well.