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1.38% Superstars of Tomorrow / Chapter 7: Qualification

Chapter 7: Qualification

Editor: Tennesh

To prevent theft, every demo sample submitted was encrypted using internal software. Du Ang had to decrypt them before he could listen to them.

As he was listening, Du Ang also read the document that Fang Zhao had submitted along with his demo. His furrowed brows relaxed, surprise shone in his eyes, and he flashed a rare smile. "He’s quite crafty."

After mentoring so many newcomers, even though Du Ang didn’t have much talent in the way of composition, he could still determine the potential of a song. Even though demos were often incomplete and crudely made, he could extrapolate much from such a short sample.

When this song is completed, it should do OK. At the very least, it won’t fail miserably.

Du Ang was happy with the song Fang Zhao had submitted. It vindicated his decision to lobby for 10 extra days for the kid, despite the pressure from above.

After listening to the sample, Du Ang sent Fang Zhao a text message. "Stop by the office this afternoon and get cranking on recording the full song."

Even though advancements in technology cut down on production time dramatically, Du Ang would feel more secure if the song was completed early. Not to mention that this season’s new talent competition was almost over. If they didn’t get cranking, they’d be left eating dust somewhere.

After sending the text message, Du Ang contacted operations. "I’m releasing a new single in three days. Appreciate if you can save me a spot."

After touching base with the producer, operations, and so on, Du Ang asked his assistant, "How many of our newly signed singers are free?"

"Singer-wise, we’ve signed four fresh graduates. We’ve already lined up work for three of them. There’s still one left, but he doesn’t seem to be in good shape of late," the assistant responded, neck hunched.

"Not in good shape?" Du Ang furrowed his brows once again. He hated hearing that phrase. "Not in good shape" was too general a term.

"I think… he may have broken… broken up with his girlfriend." The assistant’s voice faded as he noticed Du Ang’s mood swing.

Of course Du Ang was in a foul mood.Who the hell did they sign this year? They’re too young to know the ups and downs in life. He was hired to mentor industry newcomers, not babysit. Who had time for heart-to-hearts?

"They’re all so much hassle!"

This industry was so competitive, and the new talent competition was utterly cutthroat this season. Who had time to monitor your mood? You think you’re a superstar? You want someone to comfort you? Go to mommy and daddy!

As a nobody newcomer, you had to suck it up. Who didn’t come up the ranks that way? No matter what was going on, when presented a golden opportunity, you had to claw through even if it meant tasting blood. If you couldn't deal with that kind of pressure then get lost!

"Drag his ass over here!" Du Ang said in a fiery tone.

"Yes sir!" The assistant scampered. He sure as hell didn’t want to stay and face an upset Du Ang.

Du Ang’s mouth was a flamethrower these days, lighting up one after another. His underlings were on high alert, attentive to the smallest detail, lest they catch fire themselves.

Once Fang Zhao got Du Ang’s message, he rushed over by car. It was a half-hour ride from the mass housing district to downtown, thanks to a massive improvement in transportation infrastructure. Before the end of days, you couldn’t even imagine getting close to downtown in less than an hour. If there was traffic, it was a different story—a two- or three-hour journey was nothing.

Silver Wing Media had built a 150-story building downtown. It was tower-shaped, nearly 800 meters tall. The top was graced with a giant pair of silver wings. Height-wise, the building wasn’t a standout in the neighborhood. There were plenty of buildings taller than Silver Wing Tower, but as one of Yanzhou’s three top entertainment giants, Silver Wing was no bit player.

People came and went. No one noticed a nobody like Fang Zhao. The VIPs enjoyed private passage. Fang Zhao could only ride the regular elevator along with the rank-and-file employees.

Du Ang’s office was on the 20th floor. When Fang Zhao arrived, he was tearing someone apart, spitting saliva and all.

Before Du Ang sat a young man of about 20, taking his beating submissively. He didn’t even dare wipe the saliva off his face, repeatedly assuring Du Ang, "There won’t be a next time. Definitely not! I’ve been meditating for three days now. I can perform right away. Really! Let me show you."

"Shut up!"

Du Ang halted the singer’s overeager apology and shifted his attention to Fang Zhao, who had just entered his office. Fang Zhao looked like he was in good spirits, not as disheveled as he expected, which improved Du’s mood.

"Alright, stop bullshitting me. Get ready for your recording session soon. The chart rankings for the new talent competition are pretty much settled. If you don’t enter now, don't think about making the top 100, let alone the top 50."

As a matter of protocol, Fang Zhao had to submit his song to Silver Wing Media, which then picked a singer. He was signed to Silver Wing as a composer. His contract dictated that, unless otherwise specified, his songs had to be performed by singers signed to Silver Wing.

"Fang Zhao, all you’ve got is one song?" Du Ang asked.

"Yeah, just one for now." Fang Zhao responded.

"For the same amount of time, other composers produce two or three. Never mind, just finish this one. Are you going to arrange it yourself?"

"Yes."

"OK, it’s up to you. Even if you need one of our arrangers, you’re not gonna be able to find a good one right now," Du Ang mumbled.

All the best arrangers had been assigned to the top stars. Newcomers weren’t so lucky. Instead of prying a few mediocre arrangers from the demons that ran the arrangement department, he might as well let Fang Zhao do the job. He couldn’t stand the sight of those demons. Every visit left a bitter taste in his mouth.

After tearing into the newcomer, Du Ang couldn't rest just yet. After a quick glass of water, he led Fang Zhao and the newcomer, Bei Zhi, who was also on probation, to the recording studio. He had no expectations now—all he wanted was to get this last person out there. That was mission accomplished. As for how well he placed, whether he could seize the day, that was up to the trainee himself. All he could do as an agent was to lay the groundwork.

Fang Zhao took in the production process with eager eyes and finally understood the saying that it was easier to catch a shade beneath a giant tree.

That was why so many people wanted to sign with a big company at a time when the industry was blooming. More often than not, talent alone wasn’t enough. There were so many composers out there and thousands of songs were being submitted every day. What the public fixated on and what the major companies got behind were seasoned veterans.

As for the nobodies who weren’t connected or didn't hail from prominent families, the only hope was the new talent competition, maybe a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If they missed out, getting the record label to promote them was a tall order.

That was why the original owner of Fang Zhao’s body took the new talent competition so seriously, why he was so desperate as to commit suicide when his work was stolen. He felt that his dreams had died along with those three stolen songs.

After the three-day process of recording a song, the final product was subject to an internal audit, to see if the piece closely resembled any previous releases. If there was a high-percentage match, then it was flagged. If there was too much of a resemblance, or piracy, or any other problems, the company wouldn’t release the song.

The entertainment industry had evolved rapidly. The rules were different from those during Fang Zhao’s times before the end of days, but you could say it was more orderly. And even though a completely level playing field was impossible, relatively speaking, under the new rules, more aspiring talents had a shot at stardom.

"The official launch is tomorrow morning at 8 a.m.!"

The moment when Du Ang confirmed the launch date was when Fang Zhao officially qualified for the new talent competition chart. Even though the season was almost over, at least he had entered in the nick of time.

It was June 10. Ten days had passed since the last month featuring the new talent charts started. Although the rankings were still changing, there wasn’t a major reshuffle. All eyes were on the battle for top 10. The top two finishers were all but confirmed—the two virtual idols were a shoo-in for first and second. As for third to tenth place, let the games begin.

The artists and staff of Silver Wing Media were glued to the charts. After all, placing well in the new talent competition meant happy bosses, which made life easier for the small potatoes. Maybe a raise was in the horizon.

"We have three artists in the top 10 this season so far."

"Not bad at all. We only used to place one or two. Our newcomers worked their hearts out this year."

What a rare occurrence—three artists from the same company placing in the top 10. The staff of Silver Wing were quite happy with this result. No wonder Silver Wing was one of the Big Three, even though it was on the decline in recent years and failed to place well in the new talent competition. At least they broke through this year.

Companies smaller in scale than Silver Wing were also gossiping.

"The Big Three account for the entire top 10 in this season’s new talent competition."

The so-called Big Three referred to Yanzhou’s three biggest entertainment companies: Silver Wing Media, Neon Culture, and Tongshan True Entertainment.

"Silver Wing did well this year. They’ve got three in the top 10. I heard they’re making some major moves."

"That’s what I heard too. I heard Silver Wing signed 10 new composers this year alone. They went all out."

"Wow! Ten newcomers at once! That’s a huge investment."

"Ten? How come I only see nine?"

"There are nine Silver Wing artists in the top 50. Maybe the 10th wasn’t that good and placed lower."

"No, I checked the top 200."

"Then the 10th artist must not have entered the competition. Even though Silver Wing has been in decline, they’re still a force to be reckoned with. They’re not so weak as to not even be able to make the top 100. The Big Three can’t afford to lose face."

__________

"Boss, the top 10 are gaining distance from the rest. Should we make a push?" the employee of one entertainment company asked. Their outfit had also entered a few newcomers, one of whom placed in the top 20.

With the top 10 pulling ahead by greater margins, after canvassing the charts, the boss set his sights on the final spot in the top 10 and pointed to the entry, commanding. "He’s our target. Let’s make a push and take his spot!"

At No. 10 was "Flight," performed by Kong Xie, composed by Fang Sheng, a Neon Culture release, with a total of 1,502,461 downloads.

There was no other way. The rest of the top 10 had already surpassed 2 million downloads, only No. 10 had just hit 1.5 million. Even though No. 11 and lower were drawing 1.3 million or fewer downloads, a considerable gap from No. 10, competitive juices were stirred. Everyone had their eyes on the plumb spot.

Even though there was only one place’s difference between No. 10 and No. 11, the gap in prestige was huge. There were 20 days left in the competition. With the right push, it wasn’t impossible to overtake the current No. 10.

The bosses of other smaller companies shared similar sentiments. Seeing that the chart rankings had more or less settled and a bigger cushion developed between the top 10 and the rest, some had already thrown in the towel, but a few companies with deep talent set their sights on No. 10.

Like a group of cats greedily eyeing a fat mouse darting about.


Chapter 8: Awoken by Coolness

Editor: Tennesh

Music students were also paying attention to the chart movements.

At Qi’an Academy of Music in particular.

In the post-apocalypse era, university education had been expanded to six years. Rising Year Six students, whether they majored in composition or performance, were paying close attention to the chart. They also determined the strength of each entertainment company based on the chart.

Out of the Big Three, Silver Wing Media was considered the weakest. Its glory days were in the past. The top students preferred Neon Culture and Tongshan True Entertainment, especially the latter, which had made a major push in recent years. Their virtual idols were flourishing and generated a huge demand for composers and arrangers, a perfect fit for the students.

"Silver Wing did OK this year. They account for three of the top 10," one student said.

"The top 10 are all from the Big Three."

"That’s the kind of dominance the Big Three should project!" As far as the students were concerned, given they were the three biggest entertainment companies in Yanzhou, the Big Three should rightfully rule the charts.

"Hey, out of the top 10, five of the composers are graduates of our school. Three are signed to Silver Wing, one to Tongshan True Entertainment, and one to Neon Culture," one student said excitedly.

"Oh, there are three at Silver Wing? What happened to the fourth? I heard that Silver Wing signed four of our final-year composition majors. Three of them are in the top 10. Where did the fourth go? He’s not in the top 10. I checked the entire top 100 and couldn’t find him."

"Really? Let me see who the last person is. The composition majors they signed are Rong Zheng, Chu Guang and Sha Andu—no, Sha Andu signed with Tongshan True Entertainment. Is it Prius?"

"Prius signed with Neon Culture. He’s in the top 10."

"Oh, then it’s not him. Who else is there? That’s right – Fang Zhao. We haven’t spotted Fang Zhao yet."

"Yeah, he hasn’t shown up yet."

"Wasn’t Fang Zhao the first one to sign? Our adviser was quite bullish about Fang Zhao, saying that Fang Zhao had the potential to make the top 10 in this season’s new talent contest."

The students sifted through the chart again but still couldn’t find Fang’s name.

What had happened?

It was nearly the end of the season. How come he hadn't entered the contest yet?

It wasn’t only the students at his alma mater—his childhood buddies, Zeng Huang and company, were also freaking out and pissed off. They felt so repressed seeing Fang Sheng sitting triumphantly in the top 10. What they would have given to announce to the world that Fang Sheng’s song was stolen, stolen from Fang Zhao.

They had no proof, so if they rabble-roused, they would be sued for defamation. The punishment for defamation was heavy and Neon Culture would no doubt defend Fang Sheng. Getting on the wrong side of Neon Culture would do no good for these nobodies.

"What is Big Zhao thinking? Is he really going to enter the competition now? It’s already the 10th. " Zeng Huang’s fiancée Fang Yue, also Fang Zhao’s childhood friend, was also keeping tabs on Fang Zhao, but there still wasn't any news, even after days of waiting.

As they were talking, Zeng Huang heard a "ding"—the crisp sound of a reminder on her bracelet.

They saw the sender of the text message and their eyes brightened. "There he is!"

__________

Even though Fang Zhao was riding a high tide, he hadn’t slept well since entering the new talent competition. Initially it was nerves and anxiety about his ranking, and then it was excitement.

As he monitored the number of downloads on his wristband screen, he could picture his coffers filling with cash.

Every download cost a dollar. Unless specified, revenue was split three ways: the composer earned 30 percent, the singer 20 percent, and the record label 50 percent. The rise of virtual idols boosted the value of composers and devalued singers. Status-wise, B-list singers weren’t as important as composers, so naturally, they received a smaller cut.

For the current season, Fang Sheng entered all three songs that he stole from Fang Zhao as insurance. He bet everything on the current season, a strategy his company signed off on. If revenue was split according to his contract, given that the three songs had already combined for 3 million downloads, Fang Sheng’s cut was 1 million. If his career took off even more and he signed a better contract, his cut would increase and he would earn even more.

He had risen from poverty because of these three songs. It’d been only how long?

Seeing how the three songs charted, not only was Fang Sheng free of guilt and remorse, he was glad he had gone down this path. What a great f*cking deal it was, stealing these three songs!

When he first joined the company, the staff members who dealt with newcomers were quite cold. Now they smiled every time they saw him. The shift in attitude meant he was growing in stature. From now on, he'd be entitled to more resources at Neon Light and would work with better singers. The two words "infinite wealth" flashed in his head.

As for Fang Zhao?

Fang Sheng chuckled in a low voice, unlocked the screen to his bracelet, and skimmed the chart rankings again. There hadn't been much movement.

"Fang Zhao has no hope."

At that very moment…

"Ding!"

A reminder sounded.

Fang Sheng had set up many reminders. The "ding" may have indicated a text message or an update in a newsfeed he followed, but somehow, Fang Sheng’s chest tightened when he heard the sound.

He looked at the clock on his wristband. It was 8 a.m. sharp.

Eight in the morning was when new songs were uploaded and released after being vetted.

Suddenly, Fang Sheng had second thoughts about tapping the reminder.

Still, he took a few deep breaths and tapped. Maybe it was something else, Fang Sheng thought.

After he tapped the reminder and read the message, his face turned pale.

His screen showed a reminder announcing the new release of a composer he followed. "Hehe, My Dear," performed by Bei Zhi and composed by Fang Zhao, a Silver Wing Media release.

Composer, Fang Zhao.

Fang Zhao.

He glossed over the title of the song. The two words "Fang Zhao" were the eyesore. Yet he masochistically stared at the name for a minute before moving his stiff fingers, tapping the play button. When he was done, Fang Sheng stayed in his room. It was dead silent.

When he was summoned to Neon Light in the afternoon, people wanted to approach and say hi but noticed that he was pale as a ghost and wearing a terrifying look.

"What got to him?" the staffers wondered in private.

"I don’t know. He’s doing well in the new talent contest. All three of his songs are in the top 100, one is in the top 10."

"I was afraid he had dropped out of the top 10. So isn’t he in good shape?" a Neon Light staffer said after reading the latest chart.

No one could imagine how Fang Sheng felt at the time. Even though he wasn’t a talented composer, he could tell a good song from a bad one. He could figure out which songs would succeed and which couldn’t—his tastes were in synch with the masses. That’s how he knew what repercussions Fang Zhao’s song would bring. Now, if Fang Zhao had released his song independently, it wouldn't have been a problem. He posed no threat that way. But Fang Zhao had the backing of Silver Wing Media, one of the Big Three.

As long as Silver Wing applied the full weight of their promotional machine for newcomers, Fang Zhao was bound to soar in the rankings.

Twenty days was neither a short time nor an extended period.

How was it possible?

How on earth was it possible?

How did Fang Zhao produce a new song in a matter of days?

He must have composed it ahead of time. That was definitely it.

So Fang Zhao was on guard.

Fang Sheng recalled the look that Fang Zhao gave him when he returned to his black street to move. The look harbored a deeply buried sense of hatred. Now revenge had emerged, dangled in front of him.

By June, the weather in Yanzhou was quite warm, but Fang Sheng felt a coldness travel through his body, as if he had just been dragged out of a freezer.

Even though Silver Wing Media had been in decline in recent years, as one of the Big Three, its marketing prowess was still no match for many of the smaller companies. Any new release would be promoted within channels dedicated to newcomers.

The intranet at Qi’an Academy of Music, for example.

"There it is. Silver Wing has uploaded a new song. The composer is Fang Zhao!"

"Let’s download it right now. He’s an old boy. We gotta support him."

"Brothers and sisters from the composition department, let’s support our alumnus Fang Zhao!"

"Already downloaded."

"Downloaded +1."

"Even though I’m an instrumental major, I’m going to help out too."

Many of the students didn’t listen to the song but joined the outpouring of support for these fresh graduates. It wasn’t a privilege that only Fang Zhao was entitled to. All the top graduates received this kind of treatment.

Thankfully, none of these students were intent on supporting Fang Zhao. They didn’t know Fang Zhao and might be fans of other newcomers, but they were still curious about Fang Zhao. What kind of product would this latecomer who showed up at the end of the season deliver?

For Silver Wing to have the gumption to enter Fang Zhao now, it wouldn’t be a crappy piece of work. Even if Fang Zhao wanted to enter a shit song, Silver Wing couldn’t afford to lose face.

Inside the dorm of a certain higher education institute in Qi’an, a Year Three student had the morning off. He woke up late and got online with a yawn, planning to catch up on the news.

In line with habit, he launched a music app called Intimately You Music that he used frequently and played the recommended playlist for the day.

These recommendations were all drawn and whittled down from his past preferences. If he heard something he liked, he would bookmark it, only splurging on a download when it was a song he really liked.

He wore his headsets and browsed the day’s flurry of entertainment headlines as he listened to music.

Nothing interesting was going on and the music traveling to his ears didn’t impress him much. It wasn’t bad, but there were no surprises. Maybe there were one or two songs that were OK, but he wouldn’t think much of them after a first listen. If you asked him what he thought after he went through his playlist, he wouldn’t be able to say much.

This was a common routine. Music industry outsiders like himself often just played songs they had already downloaded on a whim, maybe occasionally listening to recommended new or previous releases.

Just as he was yawning and reading the news distractedly, a spooky laughter sounded in his years, turning his partial yawn into a sneeze. His body woke up, cleared of any lingering sleepiness, and he sat up in shock.

After maintaining that posture for about 20 seconds, the student finally moved his fingers, scrolling through his screen as he switched from the news to his music app to find out the name of the song he was listening to.

When he saw the title, the student blanked for a second.

"‘Hehe, My Dear’—what kind of title is that?"

The student stared at the title that stood out from the others on the chart as he complained out loud. Yet his fingers kept moving, hitting play once again after the first listen.

And again.

And again.

And again.

"Ding!"

"You have hit your sampling quota for the day," said the reminder that popped up on the screen.

I’ve hit my quota already?

I’ve listened to the song five times already?

Wow, that was fast.

It suddenly dawned on him that he had devoted his complete attention to listening to the song five times. He had actually focused on one song and listened to it five times.

Gotta download it!

It was only 1 dollar. He was thinking he could loop the song the entire afternoon, a perfect fit for those two particularly boring classes. Maybe he would be awoken by the sound of "hehe" in his headsets when he about to fall asleep.

After the download, he posted the song on his school’s intranet.

Handsome’s Cool Song: "I was blown away by a song today. Below’s the link to the sample."


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