The Cannon Fodder Alpha Who Made the Heroine Pregnant - Chapter 38

38:

Zhou Lan has been in a good mood lately. Her career was progressing smoothly, with people reaching out through Hua Qiao to commission songs.

She boldly priced her work at “a thousand gold per word” for a newcomer, scaring off many potential clients.

But there were still takers.

The Rolling Eggs band was preparing for a variety show—This Is Band—with twelve episodes requiring seven songs.

They planned to use their most popular song as their opener, followed by a rearranged second piece.

The third song was crucial, it would determine whether they advanced to the semifinals.

They chose one of Zhou Lan’s compositions to secure their spot.

For the fourth and fifth songs, they wrote original material—what kind of band couldn’t compose their own music?

Zhou Lan found them decent, mid-tier but serviceable for non-elimination rounds.

Reviewing the competitor list revealed many heavyweight bands.

Originally aiming just for the semifinals, The Rolling Eggs band suddenly decided to push further—not necessarily for the championship, but to make an impact.

Knowing their limitations, they returned to Zhou Lan.

She suggested a rock song that suited them—a departure from their usual soft, indie style.

During rehearsals, the band was thrilled, especially discovering that their bassist, the female Alpha “Silly Ghost,” had an ideal rock voice.

But this meant changing lead singers, a risky move that could fracture bands.

Zhou Lan offered alternatives in their signature style, but The Rolling Eggs band had stagnated in the second tier precisely because they never evolved.

Critics often said their songs sounded identical, only distinguishable by lyrics.

While Chinese audiences prioritized lyrics over melody, excessive uniformity bored listeners.

Ironically, their later works closely resembled their one hit, earning accusations of milking fans—though in truth, they’d simply boxed themselves in creatively.

Ranked at the bottom of second-tier bands, they relied heavily on their idol-like visuals to maintain relevance—an unfulfilling existence for serious musicians.

To Zhou Lan’s surprise, the lead singer immediately agreed to step aside—their decades-long friendship transcended ego.

They purchased the rock song for their sixth performance, reserving their seventh (a mandatory original) for the finals.

Zhou Lan also polished their self-composed finale entry, elevating it significantly—though likely not enough to win.

With two full compositions and one co-writing credit across seven songs, The Rolling Eggs jokingly called her their “unofficial fourth member.”

Zhou Lan genuinely liked them—skilled instrumentalists with great chemistry, just lacking in songwriting. They’d become rare friends in this world.

Now in filming (with episodes airing weekly), Hua Qiao teased after hearing their tracks: “The Rolling Eggs is about to blow up.”

“Charging just ‘a thousand gold per word’ now? After this show, that’ll seem cheap.”

Zhou Lan simply smiled. Having lived through these songs’ success in her past life, she felt no particular excitement.

Overall, her career launch went smoothly. Once Jiangning’s affairs concluded, she could live freely as a musician—traveling or lazing as she pleased.

The thought energized her.

Yet Chu Zhao’s behavior since her return perplexed her—not hostile, just fluctuating between warmth and aloofness.

Today, despite being Saturday, Chu Zhao was nowhere to be seen.

In better spirits, Zhou Lan moved her sketchpad to the living room, doodling the view outside.

Self-taught in still life, her skills were mediocre—though the original host’s childhood art training improved them slightly.

Her haphazard strokes somehow coalesced into a decent landscape. On impulse, she added two indistinct figures in the pool before setting down her pencil.

At 3 PM, heading for a snack, she glanced back at the painting—and froze.

So that’s the issue?

The pool figures—a subconscious representation of that incident—hit her like lightning.

She’d known this secret would forever divide them unless confessed. Yet revealing her transmigration risked being labeled insane or monstrous.

Torn, she crumpled the sketch violently. A relaxing activity had soured her mood completely.

The villa contained no musical instruments—unthinkable for a conservatory student, but this was Ling He’na’s decor, tailored to Zhou Xianling’s tastes, not the original host’s.

How pitiful, Zhou Lan thought, the original host’s tragic existence paradoxically lifting her own gloom.

Human nature—others’ misery relativizing one’s own.

With nothing to do, Zhou Lan lay listlessly on the sofa listening to music until The Rolling Eggs’ tracks reminded her: Jiangning was hosting a music festival today.

The band had given her backstage passes. Why not go?

Music festivals had been rare joys in her past life, discovering talented underground artists always inspired her.

Deciding to walk (avoiding attention), she declined the villa’s car service despite the guards’ concern.

Dressed simply in a white tee and casual pants with a crossbody bag, she looked every bit the student as she set out at a leisurely pace, one earbud in, upbeat music setting her stride.

She didn’t see Chu Zhao’s car pull in moments later.

When security mentioned Zhou Lan’s solitary departure, Chu Zhao frowned—walking out here?

A swift U-turn sent her cruising slowly along the road until Zhou Lan’s figure appeared.

From behind, Zhou Lan’s transformed style was striking—gone were the garish shirts, replaced by clean, minimalist outfits.

Like a different person, Chu Zhao mused, an unbidden thought surfacing:

If I had met this version first… would I have fallen?