PDLP Chapter 304 Recording Songs
Chapter 304 Recording Songs
After breakfast, Shen Yuege drove Lu Ran to Xingyue Studio.
As the car drove out of the residential area, the morning light of Shanghai had just begun to spread across the streets. The plane trees along the roadside had already shed most of their leaves, and the bare branches looked particularly desolate in the thin winter mist.
But Lu Ran was in a good mood. He leaned back in the passenger seat, tapping his fingers lightly on his knees, the melody of "The Lone Warrior" still playing in his mind.
"How are you feeling today?" Shen Yuege glanced at him, a hint of worry in her voice. "You've been having so many meetings and staying up late lately, is your throat taking it?"
"Don't worry." Lu Ran smiled. "My voice is made of iron."
"Even the strongest person can't withstand this kind of abuse," Shen Yuege said. "After recording this song, take a few days to rest. Don't keep thinking about work; your health is your own responsibility."
"Okay, okay." Lu Ran waved his hand.
Shen Yuege glared at him, but couldn't help but curl her lips into a smile.
The car stopped downstairs at Xingyue Studio. Shen Yuege took out a folding wheelchair from the trunk, unfolded it, and pushed it to the car door.
Lu Ran moved from the passenger seat to the wheelchair, a move he performed with considerable skill.
Shen Yuege squatted down to cover his legs with the blanket, checked it again, and stood up only after confirming that everything was alright.
"Let's go."
She pushed Lu Ran into the building. The young receptionist saw them and quickly stood up to greet them: "Hello, President Shen, hello, President Lu. The recording studio is ready, and Teacher Wang is waiting."
"Thank you for your hard work." Shen Yuege nodded and pushed Lu Ran toward the elevator.
The recording studio of Star Moon Studio is on the fifth floor, and it is the most meticulously decorated place on the entire floor.
Soundproof walls, monitoring equipment, microphones, mixing consoles—all the equipment was personally selected by Lu Ran. Although they weren't the most expensive, they were all the most cost-effective.
In Lu Ran's words, "It's good enough, it's not like we're using it as a space shuttle."
The recording studio is divided into two rooms: the outer room is the control room, and the inner room is the recording studio.
The control room contained a row of monitor speakers and several monitors, while the numerous knobs and faders on the mixing console gleamed metallically under the lights.
The recording studio was on the other side of the glass window, with sound-absorbing cotton on the walls and a dark carpet on the floor. A condenser microphone stood in the middle, like a quiet plant.
Sound engineer Mr. Wang was already waiting in the control room.
He was a middle-aged man in his forties with thinning hair, wearing black-rimmed glasses and a faded denim jacket.
Having worked in the industry for over a decade and handled countless albums, Shen Yuege had to put in a lot of effort to poach him from a major company.
"Mr. Lu, Mr. Shen," Master Wang stood up and shook hands with them. "The equipment is all set up and ready for you."
"Thank you for your hard work, Teacher Wang," Lu Ran said.
"No trouble at all," Master Wang waved his hand, pointing to the rows of faders on the mixing console. "I've already looked at the sheet music for the song we're recording today. The arrangement is also done according to your requirements. Please listen to it first, and we'll make any adjustments you need."
He pressed a button, and the accompaniment to "The Lone Warrior" played from the monitor speakers.
The piano prelude begins, quiet and restrained, like a person wandering alone in the dark.
Then comes the strings, layer upon layer, as if setting the stage for the beginning of a story.
The drumbeats join before the chorus, gradually increasing in intensity, like a heartbeat gradually accelerating.
Lu Ran listened to it once with his eyes closed, then nodded: "Okay, record it like this."
Master Wang breathed a sigh of relief and pointed to the recording studio door: "Then please go in. Let's record a vocal track first to test it out. Mr. Shen, please listen outside and let me know if you have any questions."
Shen Yuege nodded, sat down in front of the mixing console, and put on her monitoring headphones.
Lu Ran pushed the wheelchair into the recording studio, stopped the wheelchair in front of the microphone, and adjusted the height of the microphone so that it was just right in front of his mouth.
Then he picked up the headphones that were next to him, put them on, and gave Shen Yuege and Master Wang an OK sign through the glass window.
Master Wang pressed the call button: "Mr. Lu, the accompaniment is ready, you can start anytime."
Lu Ran took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
The studio lights were soft, and the sound-absorbing cotton blocked out all external noise, making it seem as if the whole world consisted only of him and the microphone.
He could hear his own breathing, hear his heart pounding in his chest, and feel the blood rushing through his veins.
He recalled the days in his past life when he listened to this song late at night, the nights when he walked alone on the streets of an unfamiliar city, and the moments when he was very tired but dared not stop.
He also recalled everything he had experienced in this world over the past year—from a penniless transmigrator to the founder of Tutu Technology and the creator of TUTU.
Those moments of doubt, those moments of encirclement, those moments of walking alone in the darkness.
Those moments were all worthwhile.
The accompaniment started playing in my headphones; the piano prelude was like water droplets falling onto the surface of a still lake.
Lu Ran started singing.
"They were all brave—"
"The wound on your forehead, yours, is different, the mistake you made—"
...
His voice was soft, as if he were telling a story only he could hear. But the power emanating from the music itself was more impactful than any scream.
In the control room, Shen Yuege wore headphones, her eyes fixed on Lu Ran through the glass window.
She had seen Lu Ran in many different ways—the way he frowned in front of the computer in the office, the way he discussed plans with his team in the conference room, the way he sang "Tomorrow Will Be Better" on stage, the way he was covered in sweat while moving supplies in the disaster area, and the way he was unconscious in the hospital bed.
But this was the first time she had seen Lu Ran in the recording studio.
He sat in a wheelchair with his right leg in a cast, his body slightly leaning forward, his hands holding headphones, his eyes closed, and his lips only a fist's distance from the microphone.
His expression was calm, but his brows would occasionally furrow slightly, as if he were gripping something tightly.
Shen Yuege knew that he was grasping those emotions.
Those emotions that only he knew and had never told anyone.
A top-tier singer needs to immerse themselves in the emotions of a song to deliver a perfect performance.
Lu Ran, however, has already become fully immersed in the experience.
"They said we should carry the light and tame every monster—"
...Who says someone covered in mud isn't a hero?
When he sang the chorus, Lu Ran's voice finally opened up.
"I love you walking alone in the dark alleys, I love the way you refuse to kneel—"
"I've faced despair with loving you, yet I refuse to shed a single tear—"
...To the sobs and roars in the darkness, who says only those standing in the light are heroes—
It wasn't a heart-wrenching scream, but a powerful sound bursting from the chest.
It was as if someone had lit a fire in the darkness; the fire wasn't big, but it was enough to illuminate the path ahead.
Shen Yuege's eyes suddenly reddened.
She had heard the demo of the song and knew what the lyrics were about.
But when Lu Ran actually sang it in front of her, the shock was completely different.
She heard more than just a song; she heard Lu Ran himself—his persistence, his loneliness, his unwillingness to accept defeat, and his courage.
The things he would never say aloud are all in the songs.
She recalled the days Lu Ran went to the disaster area, while she was alone in Shanghai, staring at her phone every day waiting for his message.
Sometimes the signal is bad and she can't get in touch with anyone all day. She just sits on the sofa in a daze, her mind filled with all sorts of bad thoughts.
She remembered the night the video suddenly cut off, the huge impact, and the despair of frantically dialing the phone but no one answering.
During those moments, she felt like she was about to break down.
But Lu Ran held on.
He returned from the disaster area, covered in injuries, but his eyes still shone with light.
Just like the song says—"Who says only those who stand in the light are heroes?"
In her heart, Lu Ran was a hero.
He is the kind of hero who rushes to the front without hesitation in the face of disaster; the kind of hero who could be resting in the hospital but insists on coming to the company meeting in a wheelchair; the kind of hero who hides all the pain in his heart and only shows the best side to others.
Shen Yuege took off her headphones, wiped her eyes, then put them back on and continued listening.
Master Wang sat in front of the mixing console, his expression focused, his fingers moving lightly on the faders, adjusting the recording parameters.
He has worked in the industry for over a decade and has heard countless singers perform, some good, some bad, some professional, and some amateur.
But Lu Ran's voice gave him an indescribable feeling.
It's not a matter of technique—Lu Ran's technique is indeed good; his breath control, resonance, pronunciation, and emotion are all handled very well.
But what truly moved him was not the techniques, but the authenticity in the voice.
This young man really has a story to tell.
It's not the kind of story made up for the sake of writing a song, but a story that I've truly experienced, felt, and processed.
Those stories didn't need to be spoken aloud, because they had already grown into his voice and become a part of him.
Master Wang recalled the first time he entered a recording studio when he was young.
At that time, he didn't understand anything. He just thought that the recording studio was a magical place that could turn people's voices into something that could be preserved forever.
As time went on, the sense of wonder gradually faded, replaced by a kind of professional numbness.
Every day I listen to different singers singing different songs, but most of the time, those songs are just sounds, without soul.
Today is different.
Lu Ran's voice has a soul.
The chorus ends, and the interlude begins.
Lu Ran took off his headphones and glanced out the window. Shen Yuege gave him a thumbs up, he smiled, put his headphones back on, and continued singing.
In the second verse, his voice was more stable than in the first verse, as if he had found the feeling and was completely immersed in it.
"Go? Are you worthy? That tattered cloak—"
"War? Then fight! With the humblest of dreams—"
"To the sobs and roars in the darkness—"
"Who says only those who stand in the light are heroes?"
When he sang the last line, Lu Ran's voice trembled slightly.
It wasn't nervousness, it was emotion.
Those emotions that had been suppressed for so long finally found an outlet at this moment, flowing out with the sound, captured by the microphone, recorded by the recording equipment, and becoming something that can be preserved forever.
As the last note faded, Lu Ran remained lost in thought for a long time.
No wonder this song dominated the charts for so long when it was first released in my previous life.
In his past life, he was a complete novice when it came to singing. He didn't understand the meaning behind the song; he just thought it was impressive and pleasant to listen to.
But in this life, his understanding of the song is much deeper, and he also experiences the emotions conveyed in the song's performance.
Lu Ran took off his headphones, let out a long breath, leaned back in his wheelchair, closed his eyes, as if processing the emotions of that moment.
In the control room, Shen Yuege took off her headphones and turned to look at Master Wang. Master Wang also took off his headphones, and the two looked at each other and nodded simultaneously.
"Mr. Lu," Master Wang pressed the call button, his voice tinged with excitement, "this time, it's a success."
Lu Ran opened her eyes, a slight smile playing on her lips: "Let's do it again. I think the emotion in the second chorus could be a bit more intense."
Master Wang paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "Okay, whatever you say."
So Lu Ran sang it again.
Then a third time.
Fourth time.
Each time was better than the last, with adjustments made to the details—the articulation of a word, the breath control of a phrase, the dynamics of a note.
Master Wang was working hard at the mixing console, sweating profusely, but he always had a smile on his face.
He likes people who are meticulous; the more meticulous they are, the better their work will be.
Shen Yuege sat quietly to the side the whole time.
She heard Lu Ran's voice change from initial restraint to later release, and finally to composure.
It's like walking a road, starting in darkness, struggling in the middle, and ending in light.
She didn't know what Lu Ran was thinking while he was singing, but she could sense that he was having a conversation with himself through the song.
By the fifth time, Lu Ran was finally satisfied.
"This is the version we'll go with," he said in the recording studio, his voice a little hoarse but his tone firm.
Master Wang pulled up the recorded audio track and played it from beginning to end.
Through the monitor speakers, Lu Ran's voice possesses a unique charm that captivates the listener.
After listening, Shen Yuege said decisively, "This song will be a hit."
...