50: Chapter 50 Frequency and Game Theory

Monday morning, Nashville woke up in the persistent summer heat. Alex finished his physical training for the day—Comprehensive Physical Enhancement allowed his recovery speed to far exceed that of an ordinary person, but sweat still soaked his sweatshirt.

While showering, he called up the system interface. Fame: 910,000.

The momentum of "Neon Pulse" was still there, steadily bringing in tens of thousands of growth every day. The completion of the novel outline also contributed some—the "completeness" of the creation itself seemed to translate into hidden fame.

He was only 40,000 away from redeeming [Physical Limit Break (Temporary)]. Almost there.

He dried his body, opened his computer, and began his day's work. Today was a novel day, and he planned to complete the first draft of the first chapter of "before i fall."

In the document, the story had already begun:

"When the first death occurred, Samantha was complaining that the coffee was too weak. It was Tuesday morning at 7:43 AM, and she was standing at the intersection of Maple Street and Oak Street, waiting for the red light to turn green. Her phone vibrated; it was a message from her best friend: 'Can I copy your math homework?' She rolled her eyes and typed back: 'Do it yourself.'

Then she died."

Alex continued writing, describing the blurred sensation of the moment of death—not pain, but a sudden interruption, like a film strip being cut. Then waking up, back to the same morning at 7:15 AM.

He wrote with intense concentration; Deep Focus allowed the words to flow out smoothly. But when he reached the part where the protagonist began to make different choices in the second loop, he paused.

A problem had arisen: the protagonist's transformation was too fast. After the first death, she immediately became empathetic and considerate of others—it wasn't realistic. A true transformation should be gradual, even accompanied by resistance.

"I need to keep her flaws," he murmured to himself. "Let her change slowly through the loops, rather than suddenly becoming another person."

He adjusted the direction. In the second loop, Samantha remained selfish, only avoiding death out of survival instinct. In the third loop, she began to notice details she had previously ignored. The fourth, the fifth... bit by bit, she transformed.

Writing it this way was more realistic and more profound.

By noon, he had completed seventy percent of the first chapter. He stopped for lunch while checking his emails.

There was one from Marcus regarding the detailed arrangements for the meeting with James Walter on Thursday:

"Time: Thursday, 2:00 PM

Location: Universal Music Nashville Branch, 3rd Floor Creative Suite

Format: Informal exchange, potential for jamming

Participants: You, me, Taylor, James, and possibly one or two members of his team

Focus: Demonstrating the creative process, not selling work

Suggestion: Prepare a snippet of an unpublished new work to show development potential"

Alex replied with a confirmation. He decided to prepare two segments: one was the melodic framework for "We Are Young" (incomplete, to show potential), and the other was a completely improvised electronic soundscape (to show experimentation).

In the afternoon, he turned to music work. He opened his synthesizer software and began designing the arrangement for "We Are Young."

In the original timeline, this song was pop-rock, but he wanted to add some electronic elements—not a total overhaul, but as accents. The verses would retain the warmth of the acoustic guitar, but the chorus would include a wall of synthesizer sound to enhance the "stadium feel."

He experimented with several timbres but wasn't quite satisfied. Creative Energy Resonance brought a subtle intuition—telling him which sounds were "right" and which were "wrong"—but he still had to find the specific direction himself.

Toward evening, Hank brought the latest update on the security line.

"Monitoring activity has reached a peak," Hank said, showing data charts. "They are focused on capturing 'conflicts' between you and Taylor. That fake conversation you had this afternoon about 'creative direction differences' was recorded three times."

"Good," Alex said. "Let them think the pressure is working. After the meeting on Thursday, we'll release the third round of false intelligence—'Universal is interested in me, and Taylor feels threatened.'"

"Will this create real conflict?"

"It might," Alex admitted. "But Taylor understands this is a strategy. And... to some extent, if Universal really is interested in me, Taylor's label will indeed feel pressure. We're just playing out what might happen in the future ahead of time."

Hank nodded. "There's more movement from Winston's side. His assistant met with a local music copyright lawyer yesterday to consult on the technical details of 'how to prove a work was plagiarized.'"

"They're preparing a more professional attack."

"Right. But the good news is..." Hank pulled up a document. "Our people in Washington found out that Winston recently lost a vote in a Senate committee, and his position within the party is shaken. He might not have as much energy to focus on dealing with you as before."

"A temporary respite," Alex said. "But don't let your guard down. A wounded beast is more dangerous."

---

On Tuesday, Alex finished the first chapter of the novel.

In the third loop, Samantha took the initiative for the first time to help the girl who always ate lunch alone—not out of kindness, but because 'maybe this will change something and let me survive today.' The motive was impure, but the action was real.

After finishing, he sent it to Taylor, asking for her feedback from a reader's perspective.

Two hours later, Taylor called: "I cried."

"That bad?" Alex joked.

"That real," Taylor's voice was a bit choked up. "That girl... the part where Samantha buys her lunch. 'I watched her take the sandwich, and suddenly realized this might be the first time in my life I've done something for someone else, and it was actually just so I could stay alive.' That was so... sharp."

"Do you think it can be published?"

"It can, and it should," Taylor said seriously. "But Alex, this book will sting a lot of people. The bystanders of school bullying, the indifferent classmates, those who pretend not to see... including me. I might have been someone like Samantha in high school."

"That's exactly why it should be written," Alex said.

"I agree." Taylor paused. "Are you ready for the meeting on Thursday?"

"Pretty much. How about you?"

"I'll play the role of the 'protective collaborator' well," Taylor said. "Showing our support for you without over-binding you. I'll leave James with the impression that 'this young man has independent value, but is on good terms with us.'"

"Perfect."

After hanging up, Alex continued his music work. The arrangement for "We Are Young" was making progress; he found the right synthesizer sound—a heavy texture similar to a pipe organ, added during the chorus to create an epic feel.

But he wasn't in a hurry to finish. Leaving some imperfections would be perfect for demonstrating the "creative process" on Thursday—he could make adjustments on the spot, letting James see his way of thinking.

---

On Wednesday, something unexpected happened.

At ten in the morning, Alex received a formal email from the "Nashville Music Copyright Arbitration Committee." The content alleged that the melodic structure of "Neon Pulse" was "highly similar" to an underground electronic piece from 2008, demanding he provide counter-evidence within 14 days, or arbitration proceedings would begin.

An audio snippet of that "original work" was attached. Alex clicked it—the intro was indeed somewhat similar, both featuring synthesizer arpeggios and a four-on-the-floor beat. But the melody line was completely different, and the arrangement style varied greatly.

"This is a shakedown," he immediately judged.

The problem was that while this committee was private in nature, it held a certain amount of credibility within the industry. Once arbitration began, regardless of the outcome, it would leave a record and affect his future copyright deals.

He contacted Attorney Li Zhiming. After reviewing it, the lawyer replied: "Typical copyright harassment. The similarity is less than 20%, it doesn't constitute plagiarism at all. But they're betting you'll be afraid of the trouble of arbitration and the impact on public opinion, and will proactively settle or take down the work."

"How should we respond?"

"Respond firmly," Li Zhiming said. "We provide the complete creative records to prove independence. At the same time, we countersue them for abusing the arbitration process and suspected commercial defamation. But the key is... to find out who is behind this."

Alex had Hank look into it. Three hours later, the results were in: the company filing for arbitration was a shell company registered in the Cayman Islands, and the actual controller was untraceable. However, payment records showed the company had recently received a remittance from Washington, from a "political consulting firm"—one of Winston's usual front organizations.

"They've changed tactics," Hank said. "Shifting from public opinion attacks to legal harassment."

"Then we'll respond legally," Alex said. "Attorney Li, do as you said. Respond publicly and firmly, and release the arbitration application along with our counter-evidence."

"There's a risk. Going public might draw even more attention."

"Then let it," Alex decided. "Let everyone see how many 'unexpected' obstacles an independent creator has to face."

That afternoon, Alex posted a screenshot of the arbitration application on social media, along with a brief statement:

"Received an unexpected 'gift'—someone is accusing 'Neon Pulse' of plagiarizing a work I've never heard of. My complete creative records have been submitted to my legal team. Independent creation isn't easy, but I'm not afraid to prove my innocence. Thanks to all the supporters. #CreativeTransparency #NeonPulse"

[part:gemini-3.1-flash-lite]

After the statement was released, reactions were polarized. Some supported him, condemning the "copyright trolling." Others began to doubt: "Why is he always in trouble? Is there really something wrong with him?"

This was exactly the effect Winston wanted—he didn't necessarily have to win, as long as he created doubt and eroded credibility.

But Alex was prepared. He had Marcus contact several reputable music critics, asking them to objectively analyze the similarity between the two songs. At the same time, he accelerated the production of "We Are Young," preparing to use new work to divert attention.

At 1:45 PM on Thursday, Alex arrived at the Universal Music Nashville branch.

The building was modern yet understated, its glass curtain wall reflecting the afternoon sun. Taylor and Marcus were already waiting for him at the entrance.

"Relax." Taylor noticed his tension. "James is a smart man; he isn't here to judge you."

"I know." Alex adjusted his breathing. He was wearing a simple black T-shirt and jeans, carrying a backpack containing his laptop and MIDI keyboard.

The three of them walked into the building, and after the front desk confirmed their appointment, an assistant led them up to the third floor.

The studio was simpler than imagined: a grand piano, a few guitars, a simple recording setup, and a few sofas. James Howard looked to be in his fifties, with gray hair and wearing a casual shirt, tuning a guitar string.

"Taylor!" He stood up to embrace her. "Long time no see. So this is Alex?"

The handshake was firm, his gaze direct but non-aggressive. Alex's Crisis Prediction assessment gave an evaluation: low threat, high interest.

"Thank you for your time," he said.

"It's my pleasure." James gestured for everyone to sit. "When Taylor sent me your song, I was worrying about the newcomer list for the next quarter—too many similar sounds, too little genuine creation."

He was direct. Alex kept smiling, not responding.

""Neon Pulse" is special," James continued. "Not because it's perfect—frankly, there's room for improvement in the production—but because it has an 'auteur feel.' Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"There is a clear creator's intent behind the work," Alex said.

"Exactly!" James's eyes lit up. "Too many newcomers are just mimicking popular formulas. Your song sounds like… you really have something to say, and you found your own way to say it."

For the next half hour, they talked about creation. James asked very detailed questions: the reasons for chord choices, considerations for vocal processing, even the process of replacing a certain word in the lyrics. Alex answered one by one, honestly and professionally.

"I want to hear your new stuff," James finally said. "Taylor says you're always experimenting."

Alex opened his backpack and connected the MIDI keyboard. He first played the verse part of "We Are Young"—warm piano chords paired with a simple melody line.

"Still exploring," he said while playing. "I want to add a synthesizer to this chorus, but I haven't found the right timbre yet."

"Why must you add a synthesizer?" James asked. "Pure piano with vocals might have more power."

"I want to create a 'collective feel'," Alex explained. "The piano is the individual, the synthesizer is the crowd. The chorus should feel like many people singing together."

James nodded thoughtfully. "Continue."

Alex switched to another project file and began playing a completely different piece of music: environmental samples (rain, subway), distorted vocal fragments, and irregular rhythms.

"This is part of an experimental project Taylor and I are working on," he said. "No structure, only sound texture. We are exploring the possibility of 'visualization of inspiration.'"

James closed his eyes and listened for a full minute. Then he opened them. "This won't sell."

"I know."

"But it's very valuable," James smiled. "You know when to commercialize and when to experiment. This sense of balance… is rare."

At the end of the meeting, James asked a direct question: "What do you want to do in the future? Not just the next song, but a bigger direction."

Alex thought for a moment. "I want to build a cross-media creative world. Music, visuals, text… all are different forms of the same core expression. Not necessarily a 'brand,' but rather… an ecosystem."

"Like David Bowie?" James asked.

"More contemporary, more digital native," Alex said. "Utilizing the tools and platforms of this era, but maintaining the purity of creation."

James was silent for a long time. Then he stood up and shook hands again. "Keep in touch. If you need resources or advice, my door is open. But I'm not in a rush to sign you—you're in a good state right now, independent but with attention. Grow for a while longer."

When leaving the building, Taylor whispered: "That's high praise. He said 'not in a rush to sign you,' which means he thinks you're worth long-term attention."

Marcus added: "And he mentioned resources—this means if you really have a need, he can mobilize Universal's channels to help you, without requiring exclusivity."

The first battle was a success.

Returning to the safe house in the evening, Alex received two messages.

The first was from Attorney Li Zhiming: After the copyright arbitration committee received their tough response, their attitude softened, stating they "needed more time to review." This showed the other side hadn't expected him to go head-to-head directly.

The second was from Hank: The surveillance activity stopped suddenly in the afternoon. "They might have received news of the meeting and are re-evaluating."

"Or…" Alex said, "they are preparing a new move."

He opened the system interface. Visibility for "Neon Pulse" continued to grow, coupled with the attention brought by the arbitration incident and the implicit influence of the meeting—the numbers were rising steadily.

He was only 10,000 away from redeeming [Comprehensive Physical Enhancement (Temporary)].

But he hesitated. This ability was an "insurance policy," but after redeeming it, he would only have 100,000 visibility left, making the 1.1 million needed for the next single even further away.

He needed to weigh the options.

In the end, he decided: wait until it breaks 960,000 to decide. If the threat escalates, he would redeem it; otherwise, he would keep it as a development reserve.

In the evening, Alex continued writing his novel. In the second chapter, Samantha, in her fourth loop, began investigating the background of the bullied classmate.

She discovered that the boy named Liam had lost his father, his mother worked two jobs, and he had to work part-time at a supermarket every day after school. His silence wasn't due to indifference, but exhaustion and despair.

When writing to this point, Alex paused for a long time. He remembered his past life, that sense of powerlessness on the hospital bed. He also thought of this life, the invisible barriers faced as an Asian creator in the United States.

He wrote these feelings into the novel. Not as a direct description, but as a transformation—that feeling of being trapped by a system, that feeling where no matter how hard you try, it seems you can't change anything.

Writing until late at night, he finished the second chapter. Samantha still hadn't found the truth about the death, but she began to understand: perhaps her death wasn't the point; the point was what she had missed while she was alive.

When saving the document, the system interface jumped: 960,000.

It broke through.

Alex stared at the number, thinking for a few minutes. In the end, he did not redeem [Comprehensive Physical Enhancement].

There were three reasons:

First, the current threat level had not suddenly increased.

Second, he needed the visibility to prepare for the second single.

Third, he believed his other ability combinations (fighting, shooting, perception) were sufficient to handle most situations.

"Wait a bit longer," he said to himself.

Before turning off the computer, he checked all the surveillance in the safe house. Everything was normal. The stinging sensation of Crisis Prediction was still present, but stable at a low-to-medium level.

He lay on the bed, reviewing the day: novel progress, successful meeting, threat management, visibility growth.

Multiple lines were advancing, but every line was under control.

Before closing his eyes, he suddenly remembered the question James asked today: "What do you want to do in the future?"

His answer was true. To build a creative ecosystem, using different media to express the same core. Music, novels, visual arts… even future films and games. All of this revolved around the theme of "seeking real connections in a complex world."

And to realize this vision, he needed to continue creating, continue growing, and continue living.

Winston's threat was just one of the obstacles on the road. There were also industry biases, creative bottlenecks, resource limitations, self-doubt…

But he had the system, the ability, and the determination.

And those supporters: Taylor, Sarah, Lena, Hank, Marcus, and even James, whom he had just met today.

He was not fighting alone.

The night deepened.

In this safe house in Nashville, a young man was simultaneously advancing multiple battlefronts. And he knew that true victory was not defeating a certain enemy, but walking to the place he wanted to go at his own pace.

Tomorrow, he would continue.

Write the next chapter, make the next song, handle the next challenge.

Because creation is a long loop, and he, had only just begun the second loop.