Hu Tao was completely defeated.
Her head drooped, face full of despair.
"Bast—… no. Boss Song. You win. I won't take today's pay."
Satisfied, Song Yinjian nodded—then tossed "Xiaoqiang" away as if it were nothing.
"Mister Zhang's case is closed. I'm handling his funeral tomorrow. You two help me. Same wages as before—ten thousand mora per day."
Hu Tao's eyes rolled as she considered it.
In the end, she agreed readily. She also wanted to see what was so special about Song Yinjian—how he always managed to steal business from her.
Song Yinjian then went over the funeral arrangements in detail with Hu Tao, and paid the corpse-guarding fees for the past few days as agreed.
Of course, he didn't forget to dock one day of Hu Tao's pay.
Otherwise, how could he possibly be worthy of his own masterpiece of acting?
After that, Song Yinjian left the estate at an easy pace, heading toward the shabby southern part of the city.
Liyue was the most prosperous commercial center in the mortal world, but that prosperity was not evenly shared.
The east was the bustling harbor. The north held the imposing Yuehai Pavilion. The west sky was crowned by the magnificent floating Jade Chamber.
Only the south—
This was where the laborers lived.
Narrow streets reeked year-round of sweat that never quite faded. The buildings on both sides were cramped and worn.
Song Yinjian walked toward a particularly humble house.
Before he even got close, he heard the lively, passionate strumming of a guitar. He reached the door and knocked lightly.
"Xinyan, it's me."
Almost immediately, the guitar cut off. Inside came a flurry of rustling sounds, as if someone was hurriedly tidying up.
The door opened.
A dark-skinned, energetic girl appeared, wearing her distinctive twin ponytails tied up like bright peppers. She planted her hands on her hips, annoyance written on her face.
"Song Yinjian! How many times do I have to tell you? Don't call me Xin Sanhuo—that character is pronounced Yan!"
Song Yinjian spread his hands, smiling.
"Alright, alright. Xinyan. I'm here for business today. I'm here to invite you to perform." "Perform?" Xinyan tilted her head, confused. "What performance?"
Song Yinjian spoke evenly. "A wealthy man in the city—Mister Zhang—has passed away. I'm handling the funeral. I want you to perform at the wake."
Xinyan's anger exploded instantly.
"I'm a musician! You want me to perform at a funeral? If this gets out, what will my fans think?!" Song Yinjian didn't care in the slightest.
He calmly produced a heavy pouch of mora and shook it in front of her. "This is your fee. One hundred thousand mora."
Xinyan snatched the pouch immediately and clutched it tightly.
"Hmph! Let me tell you—this money is only enough to pay for one night of singing! I'll show you what 'worth every mora' really means!"
With that, she tucked the pouch away at lightning speed. Song Yinjian couldn't help smiling.
Xinyan's rock music wasn't welcomed by most people in Liyue—too noisy, they said—which meant she lived in tight circumstances. Her performance fees were naturally low.
If he took this hundred thousand mora to invite Yun Jin, he wouldn't even get to hear a single line—he probably wouldn't get past her front door.
Song Yinjian gave additional instructions.
"The songs need to be as sorrowful as possible—something that fits the solemn, mournful atmosphere. And it'd be best if you work in lyrics that curse and condemn adulterers."
Xinyan answered without hesitation.
"Don't worry. I've heard about what happened too. For that pair of dogs who did something so vile, I hate them to the bone."
Song Yinjian nodded, satisfied.
"Then I'll say no more. If this goes well, we can work together long-term. And if the opportunity's right, I'll help you release a music album."
The moment she heard "music album," Xinyan's eyes lit up.
"Boss Song, you're amazing! From now on, if you come to me, I'll take any job—no matter what it is!"
Song Yinjian's lips curved.
"Good. Then it's settled. I still have things to handle, so I'll be leaving." "Bye!" Xinyan waved enthusiastically.
After Song Yinjian left, Xinyan closed the door and immediately opened the pouch. Inside, mora gleamed gold in the dim room—exactly one hundred thousand.
This was the first time she'd received a proper performance fee. In the past, even tips at her shows were scarce.
Most of the time, she had to take odd jobs just to survive.
Even if it was a funeral performance, she was still deeply grateful to Song Yinjian.
She sat at her old desk, pulled out a notebook, and began writing lyrics according to his requirements.
......…
After settling things with Xinyan, Song Yinjian immediately headed toward a dock at the western harbor.
Before long, he found Uncle Tian—fishing leisurely in a quiet corner. The moment he saw him, Song Yinjian got straight to the point.
"Uncle Tian, there's work. Tomorrow, take ten or so people to Mister Zhang's estate and conduct rites."