First thing's first, you got­ta get that nar­ra­tive back­bone. This is where Kimi steps onto the stage, maybe takes a ten­ta­tive bow. You feed it the raw mate­r­i­al – say, you wan­na dis­sect that clas­sic 'Three Beat­ings of the White Bone Demon' arc from Jour­ney to the West, like the exam­ple sug­gests. You don't just say 'write about it'. Nah, you got­ta guide it. Be spe­cif­ic. Maybe you tell Kimi, "Gen­er­ate a com­pelling sto­ry script focus­ing on the psy­cho­log­i­cal ten­sion between Mon­key King and Trip­i­ta­ka dur­ing the White Bone Demon encoun­ters. Empha­size the demon's cun­ning, Monkey's frus­tra­tion, and the master's trag­ic naivety. Make it punchy, engag­ing, hook the read­er imme­di­ate­ly." See? You're giv­ing it direc­tion, angles. Think of Kimi less like a mag­ic wand, more like a ridicu­lous­ly fast, some­times slight­ly weird, research assis­tant and first drafter rolled into one.

You prompt it, maybe ask for a scene-by-scene break­down, focus­ing on the ris­ing action, the mis­un­der­stand­ings, Pigsy being… well, Pigsy. Get Kimi to gen­er­ate that ini­tial sto­ry script. But – and this is cru­cial, like real­ly cru­cial – don't just copy-paste. Please, for the love of cin­e­ma, don't. Read it. Out loud, even. Does it sound right? Does it cap­ture the vibe you're going for? Does it flow like actu­al human speech, or does it sound like… well, like an AI wrote it? Kimi's good, some­times scary good at mim­ic­k­ing pat­terns, but it ain't got soul. Not yet any­way. It doesn't inher­ent­ly under­stand dra­mat­ic tim­ing the way a human does, or the sub­tle nuances of char­ac­ter expres­sion that make a com­men­tary pop. You got­ta inject your voice, tweak the pac­ing, maybe punch up the jokes or ampli­fy the dra­ma. Add those lit­tle asides, those per­son­al takes. Rephrase sen­tences that feel too robot­ic. Make it yours. Kimi gives you the clay, maybe even rough­ly shaped, but you absolute­ly got­ta do the final, intri­cate sculpt­ing. This ini­tial sto­ry­telling phase is foun­da­tion­al. Get this wrong, and every­thing else, no mat­ter how tech­ni­cal­ly slick, feels hol­low.

Okay, script's roughed out, feel­ing more like you. Now, the sound. And this is where the pro­vid­ed steps get inter­est­ing, mov­ing beyond just text gen­er­a­tion. It's about weav­ing in pop­u­lar music, which is a huge trend in short-form video com­men­tary. This ain't just about slap­ping some gener­ic back­ground music on any­more. You know those videos, the ones that hook you instant­ly on Tik­Tok or YouTube Shorts? Half the time, it's because they've snagged some trend­ing audio, a viral song clip that’s already lodged in everyone’s brain. So, yeah, part of the grind is becom­ing a dig­i­tal archae­ol­o­gist – dig­ging through plat­forms, sniff­ing out those pop­u­lar sounds. Find some­thing catchy that kin­da, sor­ta fits the mood of your Jour­ney to the West seg­ment? Maybe some­thing iron­i­cal­ly upbeat for a trag­ic moment, or a dra­mat­ic beat for a fight scene? Grab it. Down­load the video it's attached to.

Then comes the slight­ly tedious but nec­es­sary bit: audio sep­a­ra­tion. Tools like Jiany­ing (which is basi­cal­ly the Chi­nese domes­tic ver­sion of Cap­Cut, huge­ly pop­u­lar there) are men­tioned. Cap­Cut works just fine for most folks glob­al­ly. You import that down­loaded video and rip the audio track right out. You just want the sound file, clean and ready for man­gling. This audio extrac­tion is step one of the son­ic manip­u­la­tion.

Now, here's where it gets real­ly cre­ative, and where Kimi jumps back into the fray, wear­ing a dif­fer­ent hat. Got that pop song audio? Great. Now, you need the orig­i­nal lyrics. Find 'em online. Feed these lyrics into Kimi Chat. And here's the prompt mag­ic again. You don't just say "rewrite this." You say some­thing like, "Rewrite these pop song lyrics to reflect the themes of decep­tion and mis­un­der­stand­ing in the 'Three Beat­ings of the White Bone Demon' sto­ry from Jour­ney to the West. Match the syl­la­ble count and gen­er­al rhyme scheme if pos­si­ble, but pri­or­i­tize con­vey­ing the story's emo­tion. Focus on Mon­key King's per­spec­tive." And bam! Kimi will spit out a rewrit­ten ver­sion.

Is it gonna be per­fect? Almost cer­tain­ly not on the first try. It might be clunky, the rhymes might be forced, it might miss the deep­er nar­ra­tive nuance. So, guess what? Back to the sculpt­ing board! You, the human, need to dive back in, fine-tune those AI-gen­er­at­ed lyrics. Pol­ish 'em. Make sure they actu­al­ly sync up rhyth­mi­cal­ly and the­mat­i­cal­ly with your sto­ry com­men­tary. Make 'em punchy, make 'em land. This isn't just about replac­ing words; it's about adapt­ing a song's struc­ture and feel to serve your nar­ra­tive. It's a fas­ci­nat­ing kind of col­lab­o­ra­tion – lever­ag­ing the AI's speed and pat­tern recog­ni­tion for the ini­tial draft, then apply­ing human cre­ativ­i­ty and con­text for the final pol­ish. This lyric rewrit­ing is prob­a­bly the most unique part of the work­flow described.

Right, so you've got your cus­tom lyrics telling the tale of the Bone Demon to the tune of some chart-top­per. Now what? You can't just awk­ward­ly read them over the instru­men­tal, right? That’d sound… ama­teur­ish. This is where the slight­ly more tech­ni­cal wiz­ardry comes in, the stuff that makes the final prod­uct sound slick. You need to iso­late the instru­men­tal track (the beat/music) and, if pos­si­ble, the orig­i­nal vocals from that song you ripped ear­li­er. The ref­er­ence men­tions Vocal Remover and Iso­la­tion tools – there are plen­ty of web­sites and apps ded­i­cat­ed to this now, using AI to split tracks with sur­pris­ing accu­ra­cy. Or, some­times your video edi­tor (Jianying/CapCut) has fea­tures for this too. You run the orig­i­nal song through one of these tools, and hope­ful­ly, you get two sep­a­rate files: one with just the Music (the instru­men­tal) and one with just the Vocals.

Now for the real­ly cool, almost sci-fi part: get­ting your new, cus­tom lyrics sung. The ref­er­ence specif­i­cal­ly points to ACE Stu­dio. This is AI-pow­ered vocal syn­the­sis ter­ri­to­ry. The idea is, you can poten­tial­ly feed it the orig­i­nal clean vocal track (so it learns the melody, pitch, and rhythm) and your rewrit­ten lyrics. Then, the soft­ware attempts to syn­the­size a new vocal track, singing your cus­tom words, but mim­ic­k­ing the style and melody of the orig­i­nal singer. It's… kin­da wild when it works. Feels futur­is­tic, doesn't it? Like deep­fak­ing, but for singing com­men­tary lyrics. Nat­u­ral­ly, this requires fid­dling. Get­ting the tim­ing, pitch cor­rec­tion, and over­all sound qual­i­ty right takes patience and prob­a­bly some tech­ni­cal know-how with­in ACE Stu­dio or sim­i­lar AI voice syn­the­sis soft­ware. It's pow­er­ful tech, but it's still often an art to get it sound­ing nat­ur­al and not like a robot hav­ing a seizure. It’s a far cry from just using a stan­dard text-to-speech voice; this aims for actu­al singing.

Final­ly, the grand finale: video pro­duc­tion. This is where all the pieces you’ve painstak­ing­ly craft­ed come togeth­er. You take your sto­ry com­men­tary script (which you might record your­self read­ing – please, use your own voice if you can, it adds so much per­son­al­i­ty! Or, okay, maybe use a good AI voice if you must, but tread care­ful­ly). You lay­er in that remixed song – maybe using the clean instru­men­tal as back­ground, and then bring­ing in your new­ly syn­the­sized vocals singing the rewrit­ten lyrics at key moments. You weave in the actu­al video clips from the movie or TV show you're dis­sect­ing (Jour­ney to the West, in this case). And you stitch it all togeth­er in your video edi­tor of choice – Jiany­ing, Adobe Pre­miere Pro, Final Cut Pro, DaVin­ci Resolve, what­ev­er floats your boat. Sync­ing every­thing up – visu­als, voiceover, that cus­tom song – adding titles, maybe some sub­tle effects… that's the usu­al post-pro­­duc­­tion dance. It’s a process, man. A real intri­cate mashup of human sto­ry­telling, AI assis­tance for draft­ing and audio manip­u­la­tion, spe­cif­ic soft­ware tools, and sheer cre­ative elbow grease.

Look, using Kimi for this isn't about push­ing a but­ton and get­ting a viral mas­ter­piece. It's about lever­ag­ing a pow­er­ful AI tool strate­gi­cal­ly with­in a larg­er cre­ative work­flow. Think of it like… a super-pow­ered the­saurus com­bined with a research intern who occa­sion­al­ly hal­lu­ci­nates gor­geous prose or non­sense, plus a wannabe lyri­cist and a demo singer all rolled into one. You got­ta know how to prompt it effec­tive­ly, what tasks to assign it, and cru­cial­ly, when to rec­og­nize its lim­i­ta­tions and step in with your own brain, your own taste, your own voice. You wres­tle the thing into shape.

It absolute­ly can speed things up, espe­cial­ly the ini­tial draft­ing or brain­storm­ing phas­es. It can smash through writer's block like the Kool-Aid Man through a wall. It can han­dle some gen­uine­ly com­plex or tedious tasks like that ini­tial lyric adap­ta­tion or sum­ma­riz­ing plot points. But the spark, the per­spec­tive, the unique angle, the human­i­ty? That’s got­ta be you. Oth­er­wise, you just end up with tech­ni­cal­ly com­pe­tent but ulti­mate­ly slick, soul­less con­tent. And hon­est­ly? The inter­net is already drown­ing in that stuff. We don't need more of it.

So yeah, use Kimi. Use the hell out of it if it helps you cre­ate. Exper­i­ment with these wild work­flows involv­ing song rewrit­ing and AI vocals if that's your jam. But nev­er for­get that you are the direc­tor, the edi­­tor-in-chief, the soul of the oper­a­tion. Make it your cre­ation, quirks, opin­ions, weird jokes, and all. That's the secret sauce, real­ly. That's how you use Kimi to make some­thing worth watch­ing.