Otaku Translation: My Girlfriend Is a Cello Player C49

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Lin Tian sighed in resignation and went back to scrolling through his phone. He hadn’t expected The Can-Can Dance to blow up online like this. After meeting with Ms. Feng Miao from Unive at a café to discuss the copyright of the song, he realized just how complicated the world of music rights could be.

As a high school student, he simply didn’t have the energy or resources to navigate these murky waters. It was clear that both he and Gan Yanyu needed to build their skills further before they could consider monetizing their music properly. Meeting with Unive had been a valuable learning experience, albeit a challenging one.

[Emotional Value (Happiness): 287,770/100,000]

[Task Completed: Compose a piece of music to be performed as a duet with your partner. Post the video online, earning 100,000 likes and evoking [100,000] instances of “joy” among viewers.]

[Ding—Producer completed the task within 24 hours, exceeding expectations by double. Reward upgraded.]

[Double Revenue Card x1 → Double Revenue Card x2]

An extra card?

[Note: Only one Double Revenue Card can be applied per project. Cards cannot be stacked.]

That made sense. Doubling revenue once was generous enough; stacking cards would result in quadrupling earnings, which felt excessive. Overnight riches weren’t meant to come so easily.

Having an additional Double Revenue Card gave Lin Tian some breathing room for future projects. Until they could start earning through album releases, figuring out how to maximize ad revenue on TikTok remained a technical challenge.

"Lin Tian."

"Huh?"

Lost in thought about monetization strategies, Lin Tian was startled when Gan Yanyu interrupted him.

"Are you hungry?"

Her voice was soft and gentle, reminiscent of a young wife caring for her spouse. Lin Tian blinked, then nodded.

"In that case..."

Gan Yanyu stood up. "I’ll cook dinner!"

Though Gan Yanyu confidently declared she’d prepare a full meal, Lin Tian wasn’t about to let her handle everything alone. Once she tied on his kitchen apron, Lin Tian sprang into action, standing vigilantly nearby.

He was prepared to intervene at any moment—whether it was a fire breaking out, a gas leak, or hot oil splattering onto Gan Yanyu’s chest. This wasn’t skepticism on Lin Tian’s part but rather knowledge gleaned from past conversations. Back in England, Gan Yanyu mostly relied on instant noodles cooked in an electric pot or pre-made supermarket meals.

Alright, fine—it was skepticism.

Seeing Lin Tian’s alert stance, Gan Yanyu pouted slightly. "You don’t trust me?"

"It’s not that. I’m just worried you might need help."

"I won’t."

"I’m afraid you’re not familiar with my kitchen tools."

"Then you’re not allowed to touch anything. You can only give verbal instructions."

Gan Yanyu raised her index finger, her expression stern yet undeniably adorable, resembling a kindergarten teacher. "And if you have questions, you must ask permission first."

"No problem," Lin Tian promised, amused by her sudden determination.

This girl always had a way of asserting herself in the most unexpected moments.

Soon, Gan Yanyu opened the fridge and retrieved the ingredients Lin Tian had purchased earlier the day. The items were meticulously bought according to a shopping list Gan Yanyu had sent via WeChat.

Total cost: 76.8 yuan. Two coins were refunded at the checkout, which Lin Tian dropped into a donation box, bringing the total to 77 yuan. For two people, 77 yuan worth of groceries was quite luxurious, so Lin Tian was curious about what Gan Yanyu planned to make.

When Gan Yanyu pulled out a pineapple, however...

"Excuse me," Lin Tian raised his hand almost immediately.

"Go ahead."

"Is pineapple really an ingredient?" he blurted out incredulously.

Gan Yanyu’s list had included several fruits, which Lin Tian assumed were meant for dessert. Now it seemed they were part of the main course?

"Pineapple chicken," Gan Yanyu replied nonchalantly, tilting her head as if Lin Tian were an alien.

"You’ve never had it?"

"Nope. Where is this dish from?"

"Cantonese cuisine, I think."

As she spoke, Gan Yanyu began slicing chicken breast with ease, cutting it into neat pieces. Pineapple chicken. Lin Tian couldn’t fathom how sweet it would taste. His palate leaned toward savory dishes, so the idea of sweet chicken, especially chicken breast, seemed unappealing.

It made sense, though—it was Cantonese food. While most of Zhonghua celebrated holidays with dumplings, tangyuan, or noodles, the Guangdong and Guangxi regions steadfastly served boiled chicken.

After cutting the chicken, Gan Yanyu put on gloves and started marinating the meat in a large bowl.

"Where are you from, Yanyu?" Lin Tian asked curiously.

Given her eclectic background—speaking a bit of Sichuanese dialect while favoring Cantonese cuisine—he doubted she was originally from Qingzhou.

"I’m from Qingzhou," she answered while mixing the chicken with her hands. "But I was born in Guangxi."

"Guangxi, huh?"

"Why? What do you think of girls from Guangxi?"

One word came to mind: radiant.

"They’re all very radiant," Lin Tian said diplomatically.

"I also lived in Sichuan for a while during elementary school with my grandfather."

"How have you lived everywhere?" Lin Tian exclaimed.

No wonder she was such a mix of influences—having lived in three different places. She reminded him of a certain esports player who earned the nickname "Three-Surname Servant" for jumping between teams early in his career.

After thoroughly coating the chicken, Gan Yanyu removed her gloves. To Lin Tian’s relief, she seemed to know what she was doing—at least with the marinade. Next, she tackled the pineapple, carefully chopping it into small cubes.

However, her enthusiasm got the better of her, and one slice slipped off the cutting board, spraying juice everywhere.

"Be careful!" Lin Tian rushed forward.

Before he could say more, Gan Yanyu spun around, holding a small piece of pineapple between her fingers. With a mischievous grin, she popped it into Lin Tian’s mouth.

"Is it sweet?"

She leaned forward slightly, her apron-clad figure framed by the warm glow of the kitchen light, her smile blooming like a flower.

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