"Hehe, My Dear," the dark horse that had, near the end of the season, burst through the gates from nowhere, continued its impressive run like a hot knife slashing through butter.
On June 25, "Hehe, My Dear" hit 1.7 million downloads and broke into the top 20.
On June 26, it reached 1.9 million downloads. Ranked 18th.
The song’s ability to maintain its ascent this late into the season sent shockwaves through the industry. It even forced other record companies to dip into their contingency plans, tapping promotional platforms previously off-limits for newcomers.
For example, seeing the tides had turned, the company behind No. 17 diverted marketing resources from other singers, pushing the song to No. 14 overnight.
Singers who were crowded out were freaking out too. They scrambled to lobby their own labels for more exposure.
Some labels were willing to divert their resources, but others did the math and decided it wasn’t worth it. They concentrated their marketing efforts on newcomers they considered promising.
The huge stone Fang Zhao had cast caused major ripples.
On June 27, "Hehe, My Dear" hit 2.2 million downloads and climbed to No. 12 in the rankings. It was less than 1,000 downloads away from the No. 11 spot. At that point, No. 10 had 2.4 million downloads.
A gap of 200,000 downloads.
With three days left in the season.
Following the chart movements, Zeng Huang was even more excited than Fang Zhao. He called Fang Zhao and said, "Big Zhao, you’re about to overtake Fang Sheng!"
"Uh-huh." Fang Zhao was combing his dog in his black street apartment. After his last shave, the dog had grown about two centimeters of fur again. The fur was also slightly curly. He had asked the owner of the drug store about it, but he too was dumbfounded, only saying that some dogs were different. After the apocalypse, some animals developed certain quirks. That maybe explained the fast fur growth.
Fang Zhao’s lack of emotion didn’t dampen Zeng Huang’s excitement. He was still ecstatic. "Big Zhao, at this rate, you’ll overtake him by tomorrow or the day after that. Many people say that ‘Flight’ is actually quite flawed."
"Indeed."
Zeng Huang wanted to criticize Fang Sheng’s song some more, but then he remembered that Fang Zhao was the real composer. Criticizing the song would be slapping Fang Zhao in the face. That would be f*cking awkward.
Sensing the awkward silence, Fang Zhao responded, "He can’t win because of the arrangement. He only stole the score and a fraction of the demo, but he got stuck arranging the song."
"Ah, so that’s what happened. I see. Fang Sheng isn’t much of an arranger. I’m sure Neon Culture assigned him one, but I bet they weren’t able to communicate with each other, ha ha." Even though Zeng Huang was neither a composer nor an arranger, he knew the business.
Arrangers usually communicated with the composer to better understand the creative process and matters of craft, style, and so on, but Fang Sheng had stolen just the score and part of the demo. He knew nothing about the emotions behind or origins of the song. Even if he forced the original Fang Zhao to tell, he couldn’t match the actual composer’s passion for the song.
And clearly, the arranger Neon Culture assigned to newcomer Fang Sheng wasn’t the best, which prevented the song from reaching its full potential. Otherwise, "Flight" wouldn’t have stalled at No. 10. It would have gained at least a few spots.
What a shame.
Zeng Huang also felt that it was a pity. He also had mixed feelings about watching as Fang Zhao was about to overtake Fang Sheng. The few of them grew up together but still ended up enemies.
June 28, 1 a.m.
Fang Sheng’s frozen face and wooden eyes stared at the numbers shuffling on his screen. The New Pioneers Chart was in a state of constant flux. Fang Zhao had long claimed the No. 11 spot and was about to overtake him.
Ever since Fang Zhao joined the contest, Fang Sheng hadn’t had a good night’s sleep, plagued by nightmares every night. He often dreamed he was standing on the surface of the sea. Beneath his feet lay a deep, blue ocean. A huge sea monster broke the surface, flashing its sharp fangs, and charged straight at him.
Wasn’t his situation similar in real life?
1:32 a.m.
No. 10: "Flight," 2,430,561 downloads.
No. 11: "Hehe, My Dear," 2,402,796 downloads.
2:15 a.m.
No. 10: "Flight," 2,434,129 downloads.
No. 11: "Hehe, My Dear," 2,419,582 downloads.
3:55 a.m.
No. 10: "Flight," 2,437,643 downloads.
No. 11: "Hehe, My Dear," 2,437,596 downloads.
4:00 a.m.
No. 10, "Hehe, My Dear," 2,437,710 downloads.
No. 11: "Flight," 2,437,709 downloads.
Fang Sheng turned pale. His lips started twitching and the hand on which he wore his bracelet trembled violently.
"I lost. Hehe, I still lost…"
Bang!
He hurled the shiny bracelet he bought after signing with Neon Culture to the ground, shattering it into pieces.
Neon Culture wouldn’t allocate more marketing platforms to Fang Sheng because he had already asked once when he sensed Fang Zhao becoming a threat. If he asked again, the label wouldn’t agree.
A big company like Neon Culture was loaded with talent and established stars. It could only concentrate so much in the way of resources on a single newcomer. If you were overtaken, you couldn't blame the record label.
Speaking of priorities, Neon Culture did invest in Fang Sheng. After all, he had climbed to the top ranks of the chart. But special attention was impossible. The company’s muscle was still lined up behind the virtual idol it had launched this year. Everyone else had to take a number.
No. 10 and No. 11 might have been separated by just one spot, but for Fang Sheng, it was the difference between heaven and hell.
As the sun rose, people started another busy day.
Insider Silver Wing Tower.
Fang Zhao was summoned by Du Ang first thing in the morning to discuss his full-time contract. Fang Zhao was already in the top 10 and gaining on No. 9. No matter what, a top 10 finish was guaranteed. A promotion was guaranteed.
Du Ang was in a particularly good mood. He wasn’t yelling at anyone for a change, and he wore a beaming smile when he was discussing the terms of the contract with Fang Zhao. He even lobbied for additional benefits, so the discussion went smoothly.
"Oh, have you checked the company’s message board yet?" Du Ang asked.
"No, I haven’t." Fang Zhao found some information about the message board in his new memory, but not much. The original owner of his body didn’t browse the message board much.
"Go take a look. There are quite a few messages for you."
Guided by Du Ang, Fang Zhao logged into the company’s official website and visited the message board.
The top threads revolved around the label’s biggest stars. Fang Zhao searched for his name. There were indeed quite a few messages. Nothing compared to the major stars, but some 1,000 messages was a lot for a newcomer.
Fang Zhao left Silver Wing Tower and boarded a train back to the suburbs. He clicked on the messages after he boarded.
Because Fang Zhao was only an intern and not a full-time employee, fans could only leave a message but not gifts. Some left written messages, while others recorded them. He could, however, listen to all of them using the broadcast mode on his bracelet.
Fifth comment: "Why does there have to be ‘hehe’ at the beginning of the song? Without the ‘hehe,’ the song would rise to another level. Why didn’t Silver Wing release an altered version of the song?"
Sixth comment: "What a joke. Why release an altered version? Someone at our school muted the human laughter at the beginning of the song when they played it in public and was booed until he played the original version. And you’re nitpicking about the laughter. You are testimony to the saying that those who missed out on treasures are always restless and those in possession of them treat them like a pair of shabby shoes.
…
Twelfth comment: "I don’t care. I like the original. Ever since I discovered it, I’ve stopped falling asleep in class. I just daydream."
Fang Zhao had read some of the online discussion before, but he could see how strategic intervention by the marketing team at Silver Media promoted the song.
The laughter track wasn’t in the diary entry the original owner of his body left behind, but he did chuckle before he wrote the entry. Speaking of which, Fang Zhao had to admit that Silver Wing vetted its singers properly. Even though he had gone off the rails, Bei Zhi was very talented and his experience with heartbreak could help him perform the song better than someone else.
After reviewing the comments, Fang Zhao felt assured that his arrangement still struck a chord with the public. Did that mean he could release his old pieces too?
He kept listening.
…
Fifty-first comment: "I almost missed out on this song. Now downloaded and added to my library."
Fifty-second comment: "Ha, I almost missed it too. On my first listen I was thrown off by the laughter too, thinking what kind of gimmick was that? But after 10 seconds, the intro sounded OK. I replayed the song. After I was done, I couldn’t stop singing ‘hehe, my dear,’‘hehe, my dear.’"
…
Who knew who had leaked the information that Fang Zhao’s song was inspired by being dumped. In any case, it helped many people understand the song.
One hundred and twenty-ninth comment: "Word has it that Fang Zhao wrote the song after he was dumped by his girlfriend. If I could write a song like this, I’d be willing to be dumped by my girlfriend."
One hundred and thirtieth comment: "Dude upstairs, first…"
One hundred and thirty-first comment: "You need…"
One hundred and thirty-second comment: "…a…"
One hundred and thirty-third comment: "girlfriend…"
…
Two hundred and seventy-second comment: "The worst thing for a man is meeting a girl you want take care of for the rest of her life when you’re least capable. I don’t know Fang Zhao, but I can empathize with his feelings."
…
Three hundred and sixteenth comment: "You go, bro! I spent all my pocket money on you on the 15th, betting that you’d crack the top 10. My last impulse buy before graduation. I’m counting my cash now."
…
Four hundred and twenty-ninth comment: "Don’t be afraid. Even if the world has given up on you, you still have your music, Fang Zhao."
…
Five hundredth comment: "Go get ‘em, alum Fang Zhao—from Year Five arrangement majors at the Qi’an Academy of Music."
…
Admiring the bustling cityscape beneath the sunlight, Fang Zhao smiled. "Rest assured, this is just the beginning."
June 28, 3:21 p.m.
No. 9: "Hehe, My Dear," 2,512,576 downloads.
June 28, 7:08 p.m.
No. 8: "Hehe, My Dear," 2,578,394 downloads.
June 29, 12:03 p.m.
No. 7: "Hehe, My Dear," 2,710,962 downloads.
June 30, 2:33 a.m.
No. 6: "Hehe, My Dear," 2,800,357 downloads.
June 30, 12:45 p.m.
No. 6: "Hehe, My Dear," 2,908,728 downloads.
June 30, 11:56 p.m.
No. 5: "Hehe, My Dear," 3,000,923 downloads.
That night, nearly every pop music newcomer in Yanzhou stayed up all night monitoring the New Pioneers Chart.
They watched the dark horse that had entered the new talent contest the latest maintain its momentum. After crowding out No. 10, it overtook the next four songs ahead of it in three days and began to threaten the top four.
If Fang Zhao had another day, he would have taken down No. 3 and No. 4. If he had another month, who knows what would have happened.
When the clock jumped to midnight, when the New Pioneers Chart finally flashed a symbol indicating the chart had been finalized, the throngs monitoring the chart could finally breathe a sigh of relief. It was finally all over.
Especially Chu Guang in fourth place and Rong Zheng in third. They were signed to Silver Wing Media as well. They were also fellow graduates of the same department at Qi’an Academy of Music. They entered the contest early on and were given priority by Silver Wing, but Fang Zhao’s appearance gave them a real scare.
They were almost overtaken.
Even though they still held onto third and fourth place, they both just hit 3 million downloads, not much of a lead on Fang Zhao. Just as people suspected, if the chart was live for another day, they might have been replaced in half a day.
Luckily, as far as Silver Wing was concerned, all three were newly signed composers. But the composers themselves were quite conscious of their ranking.
Thankfully, the season was over.
Over.
Or was it really over?
The beginning of a new month brought the kickoff of a new season of the new talent contest. Even though this season wasn’t as closely followed as the previous, it still marked a new round of battle.
The previous season was over and the winners and losers determined. Newcomers who performed well would gain access to better resources and better music, while those who didn’t do so well had their existing resources pulled.
Fang Zhao, the last-minute dark horse, also drew attention and generated plenty of discussion within the industry.
"Prairie Fire" was a Qi’an-based webcast popular among industry insiders. Their main focus was Yanzhou’s celebrities of all levels. This season’s new talent contest naturally fell on their radar. They even started a betting pool on the final ranking of the New Pioneers Chart.
A new edition of the show aired on July 1.
Sharing hosting duties were the regular male and female presenters.
As soon as the show started, the lavishly dressed female host joked, "June has just passed. So many people struggled to sleep in the intense heat toward the end of the month."
Industry insiders bitched in their heads, "It’s just a show for the voyeuristic masses, but we, the actual competitors, have been losing sleep for a long time. No wonder people say the second season of the year is the year’s most brutal. It’s the real deal—cutthroat, grounded in reality, no room for fakery. No matter how good of a bullshitter you are, the market will deliver a rude awakening."
The host continued, "This season’s new talent contest was quite the draw."
The male host: "Indeed, thanks to a hit song that drains all sleepiness out of you, hehe."
The male host’s pun had music newcomers watching the show hurling their bracelets. "Hehe your ass. I get a headache from just hearing ‘hehe.’"
The female host: "The past season of the new talent contest didn’t exactly go according to script, though it was expected that the two virtual newcomers would take the top two spots."
The male host: "After a quiet period for Tongshan True Entertainment and Neon Culture, the two conglomerates relaunched their virtual idol projects."
A video appeared alongside the host’s voice.
A slim silhouette wearing a white hoodie bearing a cone pattern flashed an insidious smile. A slight shift of his head could capture the hearts of thousands of teenage girls. The song "Believe in Me" started playing.
The performer was the winner of the new talent contest, virtual singer Xun Huai. He had held the No. 1 spot on the New Pioneers Chart for more than two months now. His single recorded more than 5 million downloads. Xun was created by Tongshan True Entertainment.
After Xun Huai, a shapely figure emerged. Even though she looked young, her face was impeccable. Her mischievous smile and soulful eyes were downright charming.
Following "Believe in Me" was the No. 2 song, virtual singer Fei Lisi’s "Rainbow Candy," which was downloaded 4.8 million times this past season. Fei was created by Neon Culture.
"Wow, two virtual idols in a single season. Xun Huai’s star power is beyond dispute. All of my cousins are keeping tabs on him. Fei Lisi isn’t bad either. Word has it that a candy maker Neon Culture partnered with made a killing on rainbow candy this year," the female host said in a joking tone.
"The two virtual idols were indeed strong contenders, but I was paying attention to someone else on the chart," the male host said. "Today we received an animation created by a viewer. It’s about this year’s new talent contest."
The viewers were intrigued. What animation?
A video soon followed.
A slick, fat mouse marked with the number 10 darted forward, huffing and puffing, trailed by a group of cats. Each cat had a different fur pattern. It you looked closely, you could see that both the mouse and the cats were emblazoned with company logos.
People who had followed the new talent contest understood immediately and flashed a knowing smile.
Isn’t this a depiction of the chart movements toward the end of the season?
In the animation, a group of cats were chasing a fat mouse.
"Mine."
"It’s mine."
"F*ck off, y’all. The mouse is mine."
"Y’all make way. I’m about to make a major move to take down the fat mouse."
As the cats quarreled, a cheetah whisked by like the wind, passing the cats and laying claim to the fat mouse with an emphatic stomp. It kept on running, fading into a speedy silhouette.
The reaction of Neon Culture staffers in the newcomer department who saw the cartoon: "…..."
Fang Sheng’s agent: "…..."
As people around him heaped looks of scorn, pity, and cynicism, a ghastly pale Fang Sheng trashed his second bracelet.
In contrast, Silver Wing staffers were chuckling. They were used to being ridiculed by Neon Culture. Now the tables had turned.
Even though they missed out on the top two spots, Silver Wing releases finished in third, fourth and fifth place. Add to that No. 8 and they accounted for four of the top 10. Four.
It was an outcome they never would have imagined.
Du Ang was ecstatic after tracking the New Pioneers Chart until midnight. He wore a silly smile until the next morning, despite being whacked by his wife with a pillow. He was going to be promoted, promoted.
Singer Bei Zhi was also too excited to fall asleep after seeing the final ranking.
"I’m a star now!" Bei Zhi stared at the chart without blinking. "He, hehe, hahahaha!"
A change of fortunes often follows the depths of despair. A mishap might be a blessing in disguise.
Bei’s three roommates were amazed by the reversal.
The four newly signed singers were housed in a company dorm. Unlike the composers, the singers had nothing to hide from each other. They took the same classes and vocal lessons.
Bei Zhi’s three roommates knew he'd gone through a rough patch after signing. He was in no shape to sing. They'd thought that Bei Zhi would be cut loose before his contract ended, but who would have guessed that Fang Zhao would come to the rescue. By June, Bei Zhi had recovered and gotten the call from Du Ang. He'd lucked out.
"I’m a star, hahaha!" Bei Zhi burst into a frantic dance in his room.
"That's right. I need to thank Fang Zhao." Bei Zhi raised his arm to call Fang Zhao. If now wasn’t the time to kiss up to such an auspicious patron, then when? He was a rookie singer. Cultivating ties with composers was standard procedure. That way he would keep getting good songs. Good songs sent his stock rising.
It wasn’t all celebration. Sometimes woe followed triumph.
Du Ang was miserable after getting promoted the next day.
Du Ang used to be in charge of rookie composers. Now he was in charge of all of Silver Wing’s composers. His predecessor had quit after leading the failed virtual idol campaign last year. Now, Du Ang took over his portfolio.
The promotion was a good thing. But Du Ang stopped smiling after seeing his to-do list.
Silver Wing launched virtual projects every year, but they rarely received much support. As far as the Silver Wing bosses were concerned, they could prioritize other singers, their virtual idols could be second-rate, but they had to have them. A conglomerate like Silver Wing couldn’t be dissed for not being able to create virtual idols. Whether or not they became huge stars was a different matter.
But after last year’s failed full-court press, the virtual idols team was in shambles. Staff either transferred to other projects or jumped ship. The department was a ghost town.
The higher ups were at wit’s end. However hopeless the mission, they charged the team leaders with figuring things out. They had to have at least one virtual idol project a year. If no actual work had been done, they still had to pull something out of their asses. As long as they came up with something. Quality was not an issue.
Still, to fail miserably was a major loss of face.
After being passed around, the hot potato had landed on Du Ang’s desk. His new position had been left unfilled for some time, so everyone had pretended the problem didn’t exist. Now that Du Ang had taken over, the other managers could rest easy.
"Old Du." Ya Erlin, the head of the arrangement department, gestured toward his colleague with his fingers.
"Don’t ‘old’ me. I’m only 40, at a time when the average life span is 180. I’ve only lived less than a quarter of my life. I’m still young," Du Ang said without lifting his head.
Ya Erlin ignored the comment. "Old Du, what’s the point? You’ve risen up the ranks, only to suffer."
Could he afford to take on the virtual idol project?
Du Ang tried telling his superiors—virtual idols weren't his specialty. But no one wanted to take the project. His bosses told him that, since he was filling the open post, he had to suck it up.
Du Ang wanted to spit blood. If he had known, he would have passed on the promotion. He would have applied for a transfer after someone took over the virtual idol project.
Hindsight was always 20/20.
The manager lying in the hospital was a harbinger of things to come.
A disgruntled Du Ang could only pass the buck to the composers he supervised. He wasted no time in offering incentives.
"Whoever is willing to take this on will be fast-tracked for promotion."
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