Chapter 36: The Butterfly Adoring the Flower and the Plum Blossom in Snow

"Did you write this?" Ning Cai asked.

Shen Xian nodded. "Yes, I did."

Ning Cai continued, "These should be two poems. Could you write out the complete versions for me?"

"Of course," Shen Xian agreed readily.

The two soon arrived at the hotel. Ning Cai said, "Come, let's go to my room. I have paper and pen there."

It was already late. For a man and a woman to be alone in a room was hardly appropriate, especially now during the show's airing period, with who knows how many paparazzi lurking in the hotel. He himself didn't care, but Ning Cai's reputation could be affected.

Sensing his hesitation, Ning Cai said, "I know what you're worried about. Do you think I'm afraid of gossip?"

Shen Xian thought so too. Neither he nor Ning Cai cared about the opinions of others.

Inside the room, Shen Xian picked up a fountain pen and first wrote "Butterflies Among Flowers":

Leaning quietly on the high balcony, the breeze is gentle,
My gaze stretches to the horizon, spring melancholy softly rising.
In the hazy light of dusk, grasses and smoke mingle,
In silence, who could understand the longing at the balustrade?
I wish to drown my restlessness in wine,
Singing amidst the cups, but forced gaiety brings no comfort.
My belt grows loose, yet I do not regret,
For your sake, I have pined away.

Then he wrote "A Twig of Plum Blossom":

The scent of lotus fades, jade mat chills in autumn.
Lightly I slip off my robe, board the orchid boat alone.
Who, among the clouds, will send a brocade-letter?
When the wild geese return, the moon fills the western chamber.
Flowers drift as water flows.
A kind of longing, two hearts apart, sharing idle sorrow.
This feeling has no cure,
Just faded from my brow, it rises in my heart anew.

Ning Cai studied the poems intently, her eyes filled with astonished admiration.

She had once been the top scorer in Chinese literature, achieving an extraordinary 145 points in the college entrance exam. With her keen appreciation for classical poetry, she felt that not a single contemporary poet could match these two works of Shen Xian.

"I never expected you could write verse," Ning Cai said with some amazement. "There are only two people I truly admire now—one is the Postman, and the other is you!"

"Mid-Autumn Festival is coming soon. Come with me to Beijing to meet my parents," she added.

Shen Xian nodded. "I’ll head back now. Get some rest early."

Left alone in the room, Ning Cai held the poems, lost in thought.

Shen Xian’s handwriting was delicate and pleasing—it brought her aesthetic joy.

After some hesitation, she sent a message to Zhou Wan: "Wanwan, are you still awake?"

Zhou Wan replied immediately: "Not asleep yet. What’s up?"

"You were president of the university literature club. Help me take a look at two poems." Ning Cai sent photos of the poems.

After reading them, Zhou Wan was stunned. "Such high caliber! They rival the greatest poets of antiquity. Who wrote them?"

"Shen Xian," Ning Cai replied.

"A very talented person," Zhou Wan responded. "It’s late. Go to sleep soon."

That night, Zhou Wan lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. She read and reread the poems, entranced by their beauty.

Some poetry is like that—one glimpse, and you’re captivated.

Zhou Wan couldn’t quite describe how she felt. She had thought she could move on from Shen Xian’s shadow, but lately, not only had she not escaped it, he kept appearing before her.

It left her confused and, eventually, sleepless.

She was not the only one. Ning Cai, Liu Ruyun, Chen Feng, and Wu Fan also lay awake.

"Have you gotten in touch with the Postman?" In their hotel room, Liu Ruyun asked Chen Feng.

The two no longer concealed their relationship.

Chen Feng, frustrated, smoked a cigarette. "No. He doesn’t reply to private messages. I saw his post on Music Base—he’s indeed sold quite a number of songs."

The Postman’s thread had once been buried among countless others, but now it was pinned to the top, with tens of thousands of comments below.

"Let’s collaborate!"

"Offering a large sum for a song. Postman, please respond!"

"I’m the Executive Director of Yulong Entertainment, Postman, please contact me!"

"I’m Chen Feng from Queen Entertainment, Postman, please respond."

"DM me, there are perks, Postman!"

There were all kinds of comments.

But since posting, the Postman had been silent, and all private messages remained unread.

Zhou Wan’s phone was also bombarded with calls.

On the short video platform, the Postman’s account saw the song "Wait a Minute" reach an astonishing eight million shares, over thirty million likes, and a million comments!

It was one of the most liked, shared, and commented-on short videos in the history of Douyin.

As for private messages, Shen Xian had already disabled them.

"Shen Xian is really lucky—he actually bought a song from the Postman. If only I had gotten 'Promise'!" In private, Liu Ruyun had tried singing "Promise" and was amazed—it perfectly suited her voice.

The copyright, however, was still in the Postman's hands.

The Postman could choose whoever he wanted to sing his songs.

Now, with Wang Tianqi’s popularity, if she could cover the song, she’d easily take first place on the Golden Songs chart—both for the year and the annual rankings.

How could Liu Ruyun sit still?

"I got the Postman’s number!" Suddenly, Chen Feng received a message, his spirits lifting.

Liu Ruyun was overjoyed. "How did you get it?"

"Our people went to the Beijing headquarters. The Postman’s account was linked to a phone number. They only gave us the number—no other info, strictly confidential, and they can’t access more," Chen Feng explained.

He then gave Liu Ruyun the number.

She called. It rang a few times, then was hung up. The number felt oddly familiar.

It was a number Shen Xian had used three years ago, and though Liu Ruyun knew it, she hadn’t saved it under a name.

So Liu Ruyun sent a message: "Hello, Postman, I’m Liu Ruyun, an artist with Queen Entertainment. May we talk?"

When Shen Xian received the message, he was incredulous—Liu Ruyun truly had her ways, managing to get his number.

"About what?" he replied.

Liu Ruyun called again, only to be hung up once more.

With no other option, she continued via text: "You hold the rights to 'Promise.' May I cover it? This song is truly exceptional. If I record it, I’m sure to win countless awards. I’ll share the copyright earnings with you, and your profits will soar!"

Shen Xian couldn’t resist teasing: "Sorry, Ms. Liu, the copyright isn’t with me—it belongs to Xianyun Studio. I’ve given full authorization to Shen Xian at Xianyun Studio. If you want to cover the song, you’ll have to contact Shen Xian at Xianyun Studio."

The moment Liu Ruyun read the message, she felt as if struck by lightning.