003 I am a descendant of the Yue Song, a legacy incomprehensible to others—yet do you understand?

Thud. Thud. The twelfth floor. Outside Conference Room 2. Footsteps echoed in the corridor, prompting Su Yunjin to look up.

Outside the door, two men and two women entered one after another. The four appeared to be around twenty-five, each strikingly attractive with upright postures.

Zhang Zhichang stood up. “Yunjin, let me introduce you. This is Zhang Chuchu, Luo Zizhen, Wang Tao, and Shao Xinghui…”

Through Zhang Zhichang’s introductions, Su Yunjin learned their identities—each was a star at the height of fame. Especially Wang Tao and Shao Xinghui: one a street dance master, the other a king in the music world, an original singer-songwriter. Both were recognized for their talent. Luo Zizhen, a bit less so, relied mainly on her looks and was here to boost her popularity. As for Zhang Chuchu, she had nothing to do with the stage at all—she was purely an actress!

“Su Yunjin, the center-stage mentor this time, inheritor of intangible cultural heritage,” Zhang Zhichang finally introduced Su Yunjin after presenting the others.

“Hello, hello,” they greeted.

“Intangible heritage? That’s impressive!” Wang Tao and Shao Xinghui, the two male artists, reached out to shake Su Yunjin’s hand.

“Nothing too remarkable,” Su Yunjin replied modestly, extending her hand as well. Three hands clasped, acquaintances made.

But Luo Zizhen and Zhang Chuchu were different. They sized up Su Yunjin with their eyes, scanning her from head to toe. After a pause, Zhang Chuchu spoke languidly, “Intangible heritage? What kind of heritage is that?” Though her words were directed at Su Yunjin, her gaze was askew, conveying a sense of superiority toward Zhang Zhichang.

Zhang Zhichang glanced back at Su Yunjin. Before she could respond, Luo Zizhen interjected, her eyes filled with disdain. “We’re just curious—is it something we’re not allowed to know?”

In the entertainment industry, they’d grown used to handsome men and beautiful women, and equally accustomed to all sorts of dirty tricks. Su Yunjin was a virtual unknown online, and since they were friends with Chenlu, it was natural for them to feel indignant on her behalf. Su Yunjin, with no apparent talent, had secured the center-stage mentor role through backdoor connections. It was infuriating!

“There’s nothing you can’t know. I am the 447th successor of the Yue Folk Song.” Though Su Yunjin sensed the animosity from Luo Zizhen and Zhang Chuchu, she remained calm, simply explaining her heritage. Of course, it wasn’t her only inheritance.

She had many identities, but since the center-stage girl group was a song and dance program, Su Yunjin chose to present herself as the successor of the “Yue Folk Song”—a less conspicuous lineage. After all, folk songs were a form of intangible cultural heritage in China, but at their core, they were songs expressing the emotions of the working people. Even though historical records trace them to the Yue Folk Song, in reality, the tradition had faded.

She had grown up with her grandparents in the Seven Ancestral Mountains, developing the habit of singing folk songs. Unlike modern folk songs, however, the ones she sang with her elders followed ancient tunes—the “Zhou Melody.” This was truly a tradition passed down from the Shang and Zhou dynasties. By generational count, the Yue Folk Song was like a great-grandchild among musical traditions.

“Ha, just say folk song. Why embellish it as Yue Folk Song? Always looking to gild your own face.” Luo Zizhen shot Su Yunjin a vicious glance, then looked coldly at Zhang Zhichang. “Producer Zhang, are you out of money? You’re inviting a folk singer now?”

“Ms. Luo, folk songs are part of our intangible cultural heritage. Are you belittling our national culture?” Zhang Zhichang retorted sharply.

Luo Zizhen was overbearing but hardly a fool; she’d risen to her position for a reason. When Zhang Zhichang placed such a heavy accusation on her, she was momentarily stunned, mouth agape and speechless.

At that moment, Zhang Chuchu spoke. “Producer Zhang, don’t blame Zhen. She’s just straightforward. She’s only concerned that bringing a folk singer onto our show might invite criticism.”

Ah, moral coercion? Forcing her to be magnanimous?

“How strange. The center-stage girl group is a song and dance show. How does inviting a folk singer invite criticism? Even if some see folk songs as unsophisticated, they are still a form of music. Art forms are interconnected, sharing common ground. It’s the actress serving as a mentor, pointing fingers at trainees, that should invite criticism.”

Su Yunjin gave a light snort, retorting before Zhang Zhichang could speak. She had no particular flaws, except for her unwavering principle of repaying grievances in kind. Having attended school from a young age among ordinary children, no one cared about her background. During boarding school, if she wasn’t strong enough, she’d easily be bullied. On top of that, her experience as a network singer ten years ago—facing overwhelming malice—would have crushed anyone weaker.

She refrained from competing with others or chasing fame, partly because her Daoist upbringing made her temperament steadier than most, and partly because she’d witnessed the fickleness of the world, genuinely cherishing peace and kindness. So, when possible, she chose to retreat.

For example, she paid no mind to online rumors, and regarding Chenlu, she preferred to believe the woman was merely a pawn. But that didn’t mean she was a pushover. If anyone tried to treat her as such, she’d let them know what a true dimensional strike was!

Zhang Chuchu’s expression changed. Among the five mentors, she was indeed the only outsider. But… that wasn’t a reason for a nobody to confront her.

“Producer Zhang…”

“Producer Zhang, we’re here for a meeting, aren’t we? Let’s not waste words on meaningless matters. Let’s get started. I’m sure Mr. Wang Tao and Mr. Shao Xinghui have more on their schedule today.”

As soon as Zhang Chuchu spoke, Su Yunjin followed. Her voice was clear and cold, but the tone was inexplicably pleasant. Though her words were a rebuke, they brought a sense of ease.

“Haha, earlier I was doubtful, but now, I believe you really are the real deal, Teacher Su,” Shao Xinghui, who had been silent, laughed.

“Hm?” Su Yunjin looked at him, her expression softening, curiosity in her voice. “Mr. Shao, your words are abrupt. If you don’t explain, others might think you already know me.”