46: Chapter 46 Jay Chou said he would write a song for me

The wind blew from the direction of Colorado, carrying dry heat and sand, hitting the face like tiny needle tips.

Pierre stood beside him, his silver hair tousled by the wind, his clothes flapping loudly in the breeze.

He squinted at the desert, then turned to look at Chen Mo.

"The theme for today is 'Wildness and Elegance'." Pierre's voice was half-cut by the wind. "The wilderness, you, a piano, a desert, nothing else."

Chen Mo looked in the direction he was pointing.

In the center of the desert, a black Steinway grand piano stood quietly on the sand.

The piano body reflected the sunset, looking like a black crystal growing out of the sand.

There was nothing around the piano—only sand, wind, and the gradually darkening sky.

Chen Mo walked over, his leather shoes stepping on the sand, sinking a little with every step.

"How was this piano transported in?"

"Transported by truck for six hours," Pierre followed behind him. "The people from Steinway said this piano had never been in a desert before, and they weren't sure what kind of impact the sand and wind would have on the strings."

Chen Mo walked to the front of the piano, stretched out his hand, and placed his fingers on the keys; the keys were slightly chilled by the desert wind. He pressed a key.

Middle C.

The piano sound dispersed in the vast desert; there were no walls to bounce off, no ceiling to reflect it. The sound was carried away by the wind the moment it left the piano.

Pierre stood behind the monitor. The cameraman set up the equipment, aiming the lens at the piano and Chen Mo.

In the viewfinder, the black piano, the black-clad Chen Mo, the ochre desert, and the orange-red sky were layered together.

"No need to pose." Pierre's voice came from behind the monitor. "Just play, the camera will find you."

He played the prelude to 《L'Autre Rive》, in E minor.

The piano notes poured out of the Steinway's soundboard, sliced into thin wisps by the desert wind.

When the wind was strong, the piano sound dispersed quickly; when the wind was light, the sound lingered around the piano a bit longer.

The camera turned quietly, capturing it all—his fingers moving on the black and white keys, the Cartier Santos on his left wrist, the wind tousling his hair, which he didn't brush away.

True elegance should be like a breeze brushing past, requiring no deliberate display.

Chen Mo's upper arms and back were slightly tense, then instantly released all stiffness when he withdrew his strength, occasionally lifting his eyes to look into the distance.

Pierre stood behind the monitor, arms crossed over his chest. He watched for a long time, then turned his head and said something to the assistant beside him.

The assistant didn't hear clearly and asked what he had said, but Pierre did not repeat it.

What he said was: "Wildness isn't him standing in the desert; wildness is when he plays the piano in the desert, and the wind obeys him."

The shooting lasted for two hours, until the sun had completely set and the desert turned deep blue.

The film crew set up several warm lights around the piano, the light illuminating the body of the black Steinway into a color between gold and copper.

Chen Mo played 《L'Autre Rive》, played the chorus of 《Stay》, played a new melody he was writing, and finally improvised a short, nameless piece.

Like a person walking in the desert, walking from dusk to night, from night to dawn.

Pierre stood behind the monitor for a long time, then walked over and asked, "What is that last improvisation called?"

"It doesn't have a name yet."

"Call it 'Sauvage'." Pierre said. "Wilderness; in French, this word has another meaning: untamed."

The finished commercial was delivered to Chen Mo three days later. Pierre had edited it himself. Forty-five seconds.

The first three seconds were a panoramic view of the desert, the ochre sand stretching to the orange-red horizon, then the camera slowly zoomed in, pushing to the black Steinway, and to Chen Mo's profile.

He was playing that improvisation. The moment the wind lifted his hair, the piano music happened to modulate to G major.

The last shot was a close-up of his left hand—fingers lifting off the keys, the second hand of the Cartier Santos on his wrist ticking away.

The image froze. A line of text appeared in the bottom right corner: Dior Sauvage. Below it were two smaller lines of text—Only the untamed is the true wilderness.

After watching, Chen Mo replied to Pierre with a message: "Sauvage is very fitting."

Pierre replied instantly: "I know."

The global commercial for Dior Sauvage fragrance went live on the last weekend of March. In twenty-four hours, the YouTube view count exceeded twenty million.

In the comment section, someone said, "The wind went quiet when he played the piano."

Someone said, "I watched the forty-five-second commercial over and over, not for the perfume, but for that improvisation."

Others said, "Dior found a person who doesn't need to pose, and captured the most beautiful pose for him."

When Jessica sent the aggregated playback data to Chen Mo, he was reading another email.

The sender was the brand director of Pechoin, and the email subject was "Cooperation Confirmation—Pechoin Light of National Goods Ambassador".

The first paragraph of the body read: "Teacher Chen Mo, thank you for choosing Pechoin. The Three Flowers series is currently our most important product line. We have invited Mr. Jay Chou to co-create with you, and the commercial for both of you will be filmed in Shanghai."

Jay Chou. Chen Mo stared at this name for a moment; in his past life, he only became an ambassador next year.

The Pechoin commercial set was located in a converted warehouse at the Old Wharf.

The warehouse's red brick walls retained the texture of the Republic of China era, the walls covered in ivy, the new green leaves trembling slightly in the late March wind.

Inside, the warehouse was decorated as the boundary between two eras—on the left was an old Shanghai attic room, with an enamel washbasin, a wooden-framed mirror, and a tin box of vanishing cream printed with peony flowers.

On the right was a modern, minimalist-style vanity, with a white marble countertop and warm lights on the vanity mirror.

Jay Chou had already arrived. He sat in the attic room on the left, with a box of vintage Pechoin vanishing cream in front of him, a blue tin box with two birds printed on the lid.

He was wearing a dark gray Chinese-style stand-up collar jacket, twirling a pen in his hand. Seeing Chen Mo enter, he put down the pen and stood up.

"Chen Mo." He reached out his hand, his smile not big, but very genuine.

"Brother Jay."

When shaking hands, Chen Mo felt thin calluses on Jay Chou's fingers.

"I listened to your 《L'Autre Rive》." Jay Chou let go of his hand and sat back in the chair.

"That part where the chorus modulates from E minor to G major, the emotion transitions very smoothly. You can practice technical smoothness, but you can't practice emotion."

Chen Mo sat down opposite him, the box of vintage Pechoin separating the two of them.

"You heard it."

"I listened to it many times." Jay Chou picked up the blue tin box and twirled it in his hand.

"And I discovered something: that improvisation you played in the desert and the chorus modulation in 《L'Autre Rive》 use a variation of the same melodic line. When you write songs, you quote yourself."

Chen Mo was silent for a moment; no one had discovered this before. He was surprised for an instant and asked, "How did you hear that?"

Jay Chou smiled, put the blue tin box back on the table, and said, "Because I do that too."

The director walked over, a young woman wearing round-rimmed glasses, holding a script rolled into a tube.

"Teachers, today's creative concept is this. Brother Jay represents the past of Pechoin—the old Shanghai vanishing cream, the memory of several generations."

"Teacher Chen Mo represents the future of Pechoin—national goods going out into the world, stepping onto the world stage. Between the attic room and the vanity, you will pass this box of vanishing cream and lotion."

She pointed to the blue tin box in Jay Chou's hand and said, "Decide the way of passing it yourselves."

The shooting began. The first shot was Jay Chou's solo scene.

He sat in front of the wooden table in the attic room, with that blue tin box of Pechoin in front of him.

The light from outside the window shone through the old-fashioned wooden lattice, casting shadows on his face.

He opened the tin box, scooped a little vanishing cream with his fingertip, and applied it to the back of his hand. The movement was very slow, as if he were performing a habit repeated for many years.

The director said softly from behind the monitor, "Good."

Then Chen Mo walked into the frame. He walked over from the other end of the warehouse, crossing that invisible boundary of time—from the old Shanghai attic room to the modern, minimalist vanity.

Jay Chou stood up and handed the blue tin box to him.

Chen Mo took it. He looked at the box of vanishing cream, the blue tin box, the two birds on the lid, and then he did something.

He placed the tin box on the vanity, put it next to the green lotion, took his phone out of his pocket, and took a photo of them.

The shutter sound rang out in the quiet warehouse.

Jay Chou looked at him and asked, "Why are you taking a picture of it?"

"To send to my mom." Chen Mo seemed to be recalling something. "She used this when she was young, the blue tin box, the two birds. She said that back then, buying a box of Pechoin would cost half a month's salary."

Jay Chou didn't speak. He watched Chen Mo put his phone away, then reached out and patted Chen Mo's shoulder.

The director was quiet for a moment behind the monitor, then said, "Cut."

After the commercial filming was wrapped, Jay Chou invited Chen Mo to eat Shanghai cuisine.

The restaurant was on Shaoxing Road, on the second floor of an old foreign-style house. Outside the private room window were French plane trees; the plane trees at the end of March had just sprouted tender leaves, a very pale green.

On the table were drunken crab, braised pork belly, Yan Du Xian, and pan-fried buns.

Jay Chou picked up a piece of braised pork belly and put it in Chen Mo's bowl, saying, "Try this. I've eaten the braised pork belly at this place many times."

Chen Mo took a bite. It was a mix of fat and lean, the ratio of soy sauce to sugar was just right, and the pork skin was stewed until translucent.

"Delicious."

"How does it compare to your mom's?"

"My mom doesn't make braised pork belly; she makes stir-fried pork with chili."

Jay Chou nodded, as if he had remembered something very important.

The two ate for a long time and talked about a lot.

They talked about the modulation from E minor to G major in 《L'Autre Rive》, and why that piano part in the prelude of 《Common Jasmine Orange》 was in A-flat major.

Then they talked about the Steinway in the desert and the sand in the strings, and about the blue Pechoin tin box and the two birds.

Finally, Jay Chou put down his chopsticks and leaned back in his chair.

"You know, I've worked with many people. With some, after you finish filming a commercial, you never contact them again, but with some, after you finish filming, you want to write them into a song."

He paused for a moment and said with a straight face, "You are the latter."

Chen Mo picked up the last pan-fried bun and said, "Then I'm very lucky. Send it to me when you've written it."

"Okay."