Harrison Clark had just walked away, and Adam Martin had already come forward.
"Bella, you came all the way here late at night, that's so sweet of you."
Bella smiled, "It's not a big deal, I'll just go sit inside. By the way, Mr. Hart is attending a provincial TV variety show tomorrow, right?"
"Yes, he is."
"Here's the thing. There will be seven or eight newcomers warming up the stage during tomorrow's show. One of the girls, named Tamsin Bell, is the niece of one of my friends. Mr. Hart will need to support her during the show, talk to her a little more, anything will do. It'll help her get more screen time."
This was the real reason Bella had come all the way here.
On the one hand, it was about showing their influential power. On the other hand, for this kind of request, it was still better to talk about it face to face, which was also good in terms of etiquette.
Adam Martin nodded repeatedly, "Since Bella has ordered, I will emphasize this to Jenny later."
Having settled her own request, Bella couldn't help but ask one more question, "You seemed to have some conflict with that guy Harrison Clark who was chatting with me just now?"
Harrison Clark thought he was hiding it well, but someone as sensitive as Bella noticed the way he hurried away, as if he was afraid to be approached by Adam Martin. That's not just hate.
So, now Bella asked a bit more, thinking if the conflict wasn't too intense, she could act as a peacemaker.
However, Adam Martin was quite confused, "Harrison Clark? The guy with the guitar who just talked to you? I was actually going to ask if he was harassing you too and was about to call security."
Bella was startled, "What? How come?"
"You don't know this guy, he's crazy. When Jenny was still singing on stage, I was planning to go backstage to take a break, and he blocked my way, saying he'd written a song that he wanted to sell to me. He's insane."
Bella was slightly surprised, "Ah? He wrote another song?"
"Another?" Adam Martin quickly noticed something was off.
"Yes, some time ago, he wrote a nice new song that he wanted to sell to Avril Green. She liked it, but it didn't quite fit her style, so she introduced it to someone else. It's a shame he changed his mind later and couldn't close the deal."
Now, it was Adam Martin's turn to be dumbfounded.
Adam Martin knew very well that Avril Green always composed her own music and never considered others' works.
But the reason she rejected Harrison Clark's song was not that it wasn't good, but because it didn't fit her style?
And even though Avril Green didn't buy the song herself, she still acted as an intermediary, which indirectly proved the quality of the song.
Is this guy really that talented?
Adam Martin asked hastily, "How good is his song, really?"
Bella replied, "I can't really say how good exactly, as I don't know much about music, but if Avril Green said it's good, then it must be good. She also advised me to stay in touch with him so that if he writes a song suitable for Avril Green, we can buy it and keep it in our song library."
Hiss!
Adam Martin took a deep breath of cold air.
This is so awkward now.
"Oh no, I just rejected him, and my tone wasn't very nice."
When Harrison Clark was about to reach the entrance of his building, his phone rang. It was Bella calling.
He answered the call.
However, the person speaking on the other end wasn't Bella, but Adam Martin with his effeminate voice.
"Mr. Clark, this is Adam Martin..."
"I'm not selling it. I'm sorry. My work is not mature enough and doesn't deserve it."
Harrison Clark replied bluntly, then hung up the phone.
Half an hour later, the phone rang again, and it was Bella who called again.
"Mr. Clark, I'm sorry, Adam Martin insisted on having me act as a peacemaker."
"Ah, it's okay, it's okay. Bella, you've gone to a lot of trouble."
"Actually, I think it's better to ease misunderstandings than keep them. It's just a small matter anyway. So how about this: some day I'll treat you two to dinner, and you can sit down and have a good chat."
Harrison Clark laughed through the phone, "Bella, you're being too kind. I don't even want to bother with him. I just thought about my new song and realized it's not mature enough; it needs more polish."
"Oh, I see. Avril Green was also surprised that you came up with a new song so quickly."
After a brief chat and hanging up the phone, Harrison Clark's ordinary yet fulfilling day finally came to an end.
With nothing to do, he opened up his computer and listened to "Boring" again before going back to bed.
If everything goes smoothly tomorrow, Carrie Thomas should be able to meet the person in charge at Spotify Top, get some relatively good terms, and then sign the contract.
I hope everything goes well.
Turn off the light.
Bang!
There came a loud noise from upstairs, as if something had fallen to the floor.
Startled, Harrison Clark jumped out of bed and ran up the stairs, "What happened? What's going on?"
"Harrison! Good news!"Carrie Thomas flung the door open.
She was holding a phone in her hand, her face beaming with joy that she was trying hard to contain.
But it was because of her restraint that others could notice her excitement and just how incredible the good news she'd just received must be.
At this point, Carrie's forehead bore a slight red mark, presumably from her carelessly falling off the bed after receiving the good news.
"What's the news?"
Harrison Clark asked happily.
Carrie didn't answer, her eyes drifting downward.
Harrison paused after asking, only to realize that both of them were wearing only their undergarments.
Carrie slammed the door shut again, while Harrison dashed back downstairs.
It took several more minutes for the two of them to talk over the phone and straighten things out.
Apparently, a staff member from Spotify Top had just called her, saying that the supervisor had carefully listened to the DEMO of "Boring" and was very satisfied, deciding to offer a Tier 2 Contract, and they could sign the contract directly tomorrow.
As for Spotify Top's copyright authorization contracts, apart from special case contracts, they were divided into four levels: A, B, C, and D.
The trashiest was the D-Class contract, which neither Carrie nor Harrison was happy with, as it was specifically designed for newcomers.
A slightly less desirable one was the C-Class, which the two of them had always wanted to strive for.
But surprisingly, the other party offered them a B-Class contract directly, which was the highest level contract the copyright supervisor could personally sign off on.
Usually, only at least tier-two singers could sign a B-Class contract.
Although she didn't know exactly what had happened, Carrie was indeed very happy.
Harrison also thought it was time for celebration.
It took almost half an hour of excitement before Harrison finally fell asleep.
...
"Private Harrison Clark! Step forward!"
Harrison's eyes shot open.
Once again, he found himself face-to-face with a familiar yet strange scene.
The playground, the hovercraft, the cloudless sky, the high-tech-looking Ben Tower...
And Daniel Thompson's "despicable" square face.
His mind raced, realizing that another month had unknowingly passed.
I had a dream again!
No, I am back again!
He started counting down.
Ten, nine, eight... three, two, one.
"Still daydreaming? Run ten laps around the field! "
As soon as the countdown ended, Daniel Thompson came close again, his face as ferocious as ever and his tone screeching.
Returning to a thousand years later, everything began, as always, with running laps.
All is under control.
Harrison made up his mind.
The situation had become more or less clear.
This was the third time, and there shouldn't be any more surprises.
So, on the nights of the 26th of each month, he would inevitably have this dream, and he would come to a thousand years later!
Next month would be the same.
The job of copying songs and working as a porter could be sustained.
So, as the creator of "Boring," had I left my name in the records a thousand years later?
And what about Carrie Thomas?
Is she still here?
Harrison wished he could grow wings and hurry back to the dormitory area after training to check the internet on his personal computer.
"You're still laughing while running? Run another ten laps! Twenty laps altogether!"
Daniel Thompson's voice carried from afar.
Harrison: Fuck!