"I don't understand." 

Shen Qingqiu complained for the nth time on their way to the remote mountain where the only path to the villa that the boss owned was only available through a helicopter ride. "Why did the boss choose this godforsaken place? Why didn't he put you inside one of his penthouse apartments in the city, where I could join you and we could get a free massage and champagne and free everything?"

But his complaints stopped when they arrived at the villa.

The villa was built into the mountain, facing the ocean. And every wall that faced the ocean was made of glass. They could see the bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, and even the bathroom. There was also an outdoor dining area, outdoor jacuzzi and swimming pool, complete with barbecue tools. 

The only way to enter was from the top, the helipad.

"Now I know why the boss wanted you to stay here. This place is literally a fortress without any other access except the helicopter."

Wei Wuxian didn't say anything, he just observed his surroundings, the mountain, the sea, the villa, and felt a song start to form in his mind. He hummed it unconsciously while his fingers strummed on his thigh.

They went out of the private helicopter–Wei Wuxian, Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe–the three people who would stay there for an unknown duration, and they walked down the wooden stairs to the living room. 

To say that this villa was a masterpiece, was an understatement.

The whole flooring was made from cherry hardwood, and it had the kind of sheen that you could only get from time and use. The furniture was a mix between white, black and grey with a dash of red cleverly sneaked as an accent. The couches were wide and looked comfortable, facing the ocean, and the best part of the house was that all of the top to floor windows were able to be opened to let the fresh air in. There was also a grand piano on the corner of the living room, also facing the ocean.

Luo Binghe quickly did the perimeter check while Shen Qingqiu opened the kitchen cabinets. They were all full to the brim with all kinds of fresh produce and canned ones. The kitchen was designed professionally, and unlike the kitchen of those rich and famous people, this one had the signs of use.

Ling Wen, the secretary of Wei Wuxian's boss, told them that the helicopter would come once in three days to deliver food supplies, and whatever else they needed, they just had to call her via the satellite phone. Since this villa was very secluded, they didn't have any internet and the only means of communication was the satellite phone. But Wei Wuxian didn't mind. He should have extra time to rest and make songs.

"I'll be off then. Xie Lian should probably come in the next supply run, we need to get this stalker ASAP." Ling Wen spoke to Shen Qingqiu, while Wei Wuxian stood facing the ocean in silence, his hand caressing the grand piano.

"Understood."

After Ling Wen left, Shen Qingqiu looked over at the still standing Wei Wuxian and he let him. Instead he walked down the stairs to see the rest of the rooms. He assumed that Wei Wuxian would use the main bedroom that was located on the same floor as the piano, since he often woke up in the middle of the night and played just for the sake of it. Afterwards, he made a light dinner consisting of rice and spicy korean fried chicken with kimchi. He took out a dozen beers and the three of them were eating and drinking until it was past midnight.

When Shen Qingqiu almost passed out, Luo Binghe took him and bid goodnight to Wei Wuxian, knowing that the man was probably staying awake the whole night since he had a severe insomnia. Luo Binghe only sighed. He knew bits and pieces about Wei Wuxian from Shen Qingqiu and Xie Lian, and from what he heard, he felt some kind of pity toward the most famous rockstar in the country now. Turned out that not all fame and money could make you happy the way people thought it would. But he would do his job best and kept his mouth shut if it's the least he could do.

Wei Wuxian nodded and he took a can of beer outside on the couch. He brought a thick blanket to bundle himself into and started to hum himself a lullaby that he remembered clearly from his childhood, the one that someone sang to him with a soft voice and a warm hands holding him close, telling him that everything would be just fine, every time he ran away from his home with bruises and wounds from his step-mother hitting him. 

Just because he existed.