Chapter 25: Yanzhou Derby
Editor: Tennesh
Before anyone knew it, it was mid-September.
Newcomer status only lasted for a year. After the new season of the new talent contest that kicked off in June, Fang Zhao had disappeared from the newcomers’ chart for nearly a season. The chart was filled with new songs. Last season’s entries were replaced by new singles.
Nonetheless, leading the charts were still the two virtual idols, Xun Huai and Fei Lisi. They just swapped their previous songs for new ones.
Fang Zhao had long been forgotten. Perhaps some still remembered that hit song from last season, the dark horse that emerged toward the end of the season, but the internet suffered from amnesia. In an era of a rapid change, memories were shortened, and the masses were at the mercy of the constant influx of new things.
Fang Zhao sat in the huge terraced auditorium listening to the lecturer outline the evolution of virtual idols and offer insight into the charisma of hit virtual idols.
"Virtual reality is an art. By expanding reality with virtual imagination, the real and the virtual feed off each other…"
The classroom with a capacity of several thousand was sparsely filled, only about a tenth full.
Fang Zhao jotted notes by hand on his notebook. He stayed away from electronic gadgets.
A few of the students in the classroom recognized Fang Zhao. As a distinguished alum, he was a regular topic on internal message boards. Some of the students who didn’t know the full story were wondering why he was auditing the class. When they were told the reason by fellow classmates, they felt bad for him and threw him sympathetic glances.
To imagine what other outstanding alums from his class were up to and contrast that to Fang Zhao auditing an unpopular class by his lonesome self—what could they say? However talented he was, he couldn’t stave off a formidable streak of bad luck. It really was such a pity.
After the class ended, the students departed in groups of two or three. Fang Zhao also collected his belongings and was planning to head back to the office.
"Fang Zhao." Chu Hong approached from the lectern and interrupted Fang Zhao.
"Are you able to follow my lectures?" Chu Hong asked. He wasn’t being patronizing. It was just that he knew that his class was quite off-beat, plus Fang Zhao had never completed coursework on virtual idols before. He wasn’t sure if he was going too fast for Fang Zhao. Chu Guang had briefed him on Fang Zhao. He had to at least make a gesture.
"I’m OK," Fang Zhao responded. In fact, he had already covered the bulk of Chu Hong’s lectures in online classes. He was auditing to get more insight.
"Feel free to ask me any questions. I heard from Chu Guang that you’ve been busy with your virtual idol project. How is it coming along?" Chu Hong asked.
"Not bad. We’re almost done."
"Good to hear."
Chu Hong held back. In any case, he wouldn’t get too many answers if he probed. Projects like this were confidential and couldn’t be shared with outsiders, so Chu Hong didn’t ask specific questions about his progress. He just asked Fang Zhao if he wanted general pointers from a scholar who specialized on the topic and shared thoughts on what stood out about the hit virtual idols of the day.
"Virtual idols these days, first and foremost, they have to be good-looking. That’s basic. You’re aware of this, right?"
"Yes, of course." Fang Zhao nodded.
"Then what does your virtual idol look like?" Chu Hong was quite curious what a virtual idol designed by an outsider, a composition major, would look like.
"Can’t say it’s good-looking," Fang Zhao responded.
If he was being so diplomatic, that meant it was ugly. Chu Hong was troubled. If even its looks were in question, what could he do to help?
When Fang Zhao left, Chu Hong sent Chu Guang a text message. "That classmate of yours, Fang Zhao. How’s his virtual project idol coming along? Have you seen what it looks like?"
Chu Guang happened to be free, so he initiated a videoconference when he saw the message.
"I heard the project is almost done and the virtual idol may be launched soon. As for what it looks like, I haven’t seen it. Boss Du has been quite vigilant about keeping it under wraps and won’t entertain questions about it," Chu Guang said.
"Then it probably won’t end well." Recalling that Fang Zhao had said the virtual idol wasn’t good-looking and considering he was a producer new to virtual idols, Chu Hong wasn’t optimistic.
"People within the company aren’t bullish either, but Boss Du has been acting weird. He’s often holed up in his office with two other department heads. Their discussions can last two or three hours."
"Regardless of what they’re up to, you should be preparing your song for the last season, no? I heard from your mother that she hired her old teacher to tutor you. This one should take the No. 3 spot, no? Just yesterday, your mother was complaining that, if not for the two virtual idols, you’d be shooting for the top spot." Chu Hong smiled.
Chu Guang responded in a relaxed tone, "No. 3 shouldn’t be a problem."
It wasn’t just Chu Guang. Everyone else in the industry was paying close attention to the final season of the year.
The final season of the year was about to kick off. Singers that had done well in the three previous seasons were eyeing a good finish to the year. A strong finish on the New Pioneers Chart in the final season could translate to a higher end-of-year bonus.
A rough pecking order had been determined by the preceding seasons and the major labels had reallocated their budgets accordingly. The top performers saw their marketing budgets beefed up and the underperformers received less backing.
Both Neon Culture and Tongshan True Entertainment were planning on giving their virtual idols an extra push in the final season. Their first movies were coming out and promotional campaigns were already under way. All eyes were on the final battle.
Even the popular webcast "Prairie Fire" had proclaimed that the final season was a duel between Tongshan True Entertainment and Neon Culture. Which of the two virtual idol newcomers—Xun Huai or Fei Lisi—would claim final victory?
The program had coined the phrase "Yanzhou Derby," suggesting a clash of titans between Yanzhou’s two strongest entertainment companies.
But Silver Wing supporters went "hehe" when they saw the phrase.
Yanzhou Derby?
What about us?
So the so-called "Big Three" of Yanzhou was just bullshit? Had Silver Wing disappeared?
Under fierce attack from Silver Wing supporters, the pundits explained that "Yanzhou Derby" referred to the two Yanzhou labels that produced the best virtual idols, nothing more.
But anyone with a brain would realize that it was an intentional slight. The phrase would suggest to the ordinary masses who didn’t know the industry well that the only major record labels in Yanzhou were Neon Culture and Tongshan True Entertainment.
But there wasn’t much Silver Wing could do. Virtual idols were indeed their Achilles’ heel—and it was a brutal wound that bled badly.
Some media outlets even started a bet called "Eye on Yanzhou Derby," encouraging punters to submit their picks for the top spot on the year-end new talent chart.
As the buzz around the contest heated up, the two major virtual idol newcomers, Xun Huai and Fei Lisi, saw their stock rise even further, just as their companies had expected.
Amid a sea of speculation from industry insiders and outsiders, September passed and October loomed. The final season of the year was about to begin.
Oct. 1.
Without any warning or advance advertising, Julian launched a full-court press when the clock struck 8.
The newcomers were ranked according to marketing budget. At the outset, they all received the same backing and were launched in no specific order—whoever was ready first debuted first. After taking part in the new talent contest, budgets were allocated based on performance and by company discretion. The better your prospects, the more exposure you got.
The priority list for the final season of the new talent contest:
No. 1: "Divine Punishment," performed by Polar Light, composer Polar Light.
No. 2: "The Lavish Dance," performed by Enoch, composer Chu Guang.
Chu Guang was dumbfounded when he saw the list. This was not what had been discussed. How come he was ranked second? His main competitor, Rong Zheng, was pushed to No. 3.
Where did No. 1 come from?
How did it merit the top spot?
Who was Polar Light? At first glance, he thought there was a typo in the top spot.
Chu Guang was even more pissed off when he saw the "music video" label after "Divine Punishment." He thought only he and Rong Zheng were given the music video treatment, because they did well in the previous season. How come this newbie who parachuted in got a music video?
Then he noticed the singer and composer were the same, and factored in the music video…
It was a f*cking virtual idol launch.
Chapter 26: First in History
Editor: Tennesh
Chu Guang was puzzled, but he wouldn't question the decision before getting to the bottom of things.
He wanted to listen to the song first. Did Julian place the song first because of quality or because virtual idols were given special preference?
There were many screening rooms at Silver Wing. Some of the offices also had the audiovisual equipment to play music videos. After signing with the label, Chu Guang was given his own office, A fully equipped screening room was located near where the newcomers were housed, so Chu Guang planned on heading to that screening room and playing the song on the audiovisual system there, to see what kind of song merited the top spot.
But before he arrived, he noticed that Rong Zheng and a group of other newcomers had already shown up. Rong Zheng's expression was one of bafflement, surprise and disbelief—but not the look of someone who felt robbed.
"Oh, you're here too. Let's listen to it together." Rong Zheng pointed to a seat on the side.
Chu Guang sat in his seat and took in the holographic image projected by the audiovisual system. The top-of-the-line stereo system delivered every note clearly.
Was it techno, rock, or another genre?
When the music started, Chu Guang was shocked to discover it was none of the above.
The music video.
A vast, lush forest that projected vitality. The flowers, plants, and trees were all anthropomorphic. The branches had eyes, noses, and mouths.
They had peaceful faces.
The blue skies were abruptly tainted with a coat of red.
A horn sounded an unsettling melody on a low register. The seemingly inchoate notes suggested a growing anxiety. The symphonic arrangement resembled a whimper, suggesting imminent disaster.
"A symphonic structure?" Chu Guang was so shocked he almost stood up.
In the music video, fiery meteors hurled toward earth. Panicked human beings fell into deep despair before the unexpected crevices.
The heavy drumming resembled the sound of rolling thunder. It grew in volume and pace, delivering an unsettling shudder.
Bang bang! Bang bang!
It could have been the landing of the meteors, the collapse of the landscape, or the heavy beating of someone's heart.
Panic and fear spread.
After the deafening clash of percussion and strings, a low voice sang.
Unlike the ebullient, wholesome opera technique that Chu Guang was familiar with, this voice was wild and unkempt, a mournful sigh emerging from the tree silhouette the camera had focused on. The voice had an amazing energy that radiated from the sound system and imprinted itself on every nerve of the brain.
A tense string score re-emerged and the drums found a measured, upbeat rhythm. The various tones created by the electronic synthesizer suggested a darkening mood. An invisible thunder invaded the universe.
Planet Earth was sick.
The combination of heavy percussion and wailing woodwind foreshadowed the ruthless, violent character of mutated animals.
The savage beasts lurked everywhere.
A trail of destruction engulfed the landscape. One after another, towering trees that had been around forever toppled one after another. Some were struck by meteors, others overturned by the massive tremor that broke the surface of the planet. There were also some torn to bits by the silhouettes darting about. Trampled by unrelenting catastrophe, every form of life inevitably marched toward death.
In the face of total destruction, everyone and everything was reduced to specks. The sun was blocked by thick smog and the lingering warmth trapped in the atmosphere dwindled amid the tragedy popping up everywhere.
A piano and woodwind combination made for the "end of days" theme, ushering in stark images of bodies scattered across the land.
The intricately layered string score and the tastefully structured arrangement, coupled with a top-notch sound system, delivered the melody to the human brain with the utmost authenticity. If felt like a supernatural power was tugging at your soul, easily parachuting you into those war-torn times.
The symphonic bass foundation conveyed a weighty sense of history. Even if you closed your eyes, images of jadedness, turbulence, suffering, and the dilapidated earth surfaced. It was a period everyone in the New Era knew about.
The 100-year Period of Destruction.
A refined, low-register piano melody resembling a painful sob accompanied scenes of wasteland. Electronic music transcended the limited range of traditional instruments, creating a chilling atmosphere with a conventional arrangement, like a mysterious music whisperer.
The tone shifted again, this time reinforcing the sense of restlessness and the anxious, panicked mood.
Scenes of chaos and gore inundated this sick planet. There were countless casualties. Once lush forests were depleted to a pathetic state. Mutated beasts ravaged the bodies of innocent souls. Seas of fire erupted everywhere.
The silhouette the camera focused on examining its surroundings, it eyes revealing a deep sorrow and helplessness. Was this the end of days? Were the days of earthly life numbered as a result?
The figure started humming in a deep voice. The hum seemed to stem from the bottom of his heart—it mourned the death of souls and the uncertain future that lay ahead.
The melody picked up. A melancholic woodwind score mixed with a steady percussion beat that resembled rolling stones. The heavy beat and extended notes seemed to suggest the silhouette's indecision, but a blaring horn broke through, rekindling the hope of survival.
Danger was approaching. This land was no longer fit for living.
Should he curl up in a dark corner and pray for Lady Luck to save his scalp? Or should he forge a way out?
Straddling the threshold between light and darkness, mired in blood and fire, he had a decision to make.
The tempo of the melody shifted, as if a turning point had been reached. A quirky flute solo combined with the synthesizer picked up the pace. After a brief pause, the tone became spirited.
The silence of percolating thoughts, pierced by the determination of a charging bull.
A modulating piano melody and firm strikes of the timpani shattered the lingering doubt, signaling the muted triumph of rebirth after surviving dire straits and capturing a volcanic eruption of unfettered masculine pride.
Once deeply buried in the ground, his roots freed themselves from the encumbering earth and burst to the surface, transforming into leg-like limbs. His verdant green leaves receded and his thick branches shrank.
Finally, he took his first step.
An excited human voice emerged, projecting a powerful aura that sent every hair on your body standing. It felt like a storm was afoot.
"Can't let it go,
And can't call it quits.
Hope still exists.
March forward,
Despite the thorny path ahead.
..."
It was the first time in his life that he had stood erect on this land. He didn't know how long it would take to find a destination, but now that he had planted his first step, he could take the next 1,000, the next 10,000.
The laws of nature prevailed, but uncertainty and patterns existed side-by-side.
One decision could bring about a change of fate.
He turned back to look at his compatriots.
The weak light of dawn seeped through as a horn sounded a wake-up call.
The piercing siren was followed by a spirited chorus of indeterminable size, which augured the determination and gall to take the world by storm. One tree, two trees, 10, 100...
A flurry of shadows flapped like butterflies.
Thousands of survivors broke free of the earth, taking a cue from their leader and transforming into ambling figures.
They were about to leave the land that nourished them and hit the road once and for all.
But from that moment on, they need no longer cower.
No one was born with endurance, but for survival's sake, why not take a first step?
There was no room for retreat.
To survive, they could only move forward.
Maybe there was some place on earth where they could keep living?
The symphony lingered on a long note and a drum beat suggested rolling thunder harbored by the clouds. A new chapter was forthcoming.
The screen showed a dense, packed cluster of countless departing survivors on one side, and the fluttering shadows of demons amid a bloodied, dusty atmosphere on another.
Fade to black.
The credits rolled.
"Leading man: Polar Light
Species: Longxiang Tianluo
Song title: "100 Years of Destruction, First Movement: Divine Punishment," producer Fang Zhao
Production team: Polar Light project team, Fang Zhao, Zu Wen, Song Miao, Pang Pusong, Zeng Huang, Wan Yue, Ji Polun, Bei Zhi
A Silver Wing Media production"
The music and footage ended at the same time.
The audience in the screening room let out deep breaths, as if they had just been suffocated for a long time, recovering from the chills sent down their spines.
"This is... This is..." Chu Guang didn't have the guts to mutter the word he had in mind. He questioned his judgment, yet his sense of injustice had vanished. He was a lesser composer.
...
The arrangement department.
Ya Erlin has just hosted a screening for his staff.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if taking in a lingering fragrance in the air.
"Do you smell it?" Ya Erlin whispered to the arrangers sitting beside him.
"What?" They were still in a trance.
"The smell of an epic."
There was a genre in the New Era distinct from pop music and the repeatedly covered classic songs. Maybe it didn't have many fans, but no one could dispute its status.
It evoked life-and-death situations, rebirth in extreme circumstances, the vastness of the universe and the enormity of the galaxy. It captured boundless dreams and hope, the beauty of human life, and miracles in dire times, its awesome power derived straight from the soul.
People called it the epic.
Epic.
That was the word Ya Erlin refrained from using when he'd heard the demo, the same word Chu Guang had hesitated to utter.
When he listened to the demo, Ya Erlin wasn't sure how the final product would turn out, so he didn't want to jump to conclusions. Symphonic songs weren't easy to pin down. It was hard to craft a satisfactory track without sufficient experience and sensitivity and the ability to steer the overall piece. Even Ya Erlin wasn't confident he could execute a song to such perfection.
That's why, when he'd first heard the demo, Ya Erlin had questioned Fang Zhao's ability. He seemed too young, hardly someone who could compose and harness a song like that.
But when he heard the final cut, Ya Erlin realized Fang Zhao handled details like intensity and tempo perfectly. He blended a symphonic score and electronic music from the New Era seamlessly, carefully crafting a layered texture and engaging plot. The powerful yet subtle melody beautifully conveyed the mood of the music video.
Accustomed to cute, lively ballads, the passion and vigor of dance tracks and other musical styles, this was the first time Rong Zheng, Chu Guang, and company were exposed to the grand narrative of an epic.
Captivated by the magnificent melody, every listener was transported to those dangerous times, traveling through the layers of bloodied smog to witness the evolution of a race, tracing their footsteps one by one.
'Twas the end of days, the cry of survival.
A melody and voice so powerful they penetrated your bones.
Now that was an epic in Ya Erlin's book.
That perfect blend of score and singer lent itself to an incredible, awesome effect and impact. That was beyond doubt.
"Yes or no? Perhaps we'll find out this afternoon."
Yet Ya Erlin had underestimated the industry response.
It didn't take the whole day. Oct. 1, 9 a.m., an hour after "Divine Punishment" was released.
The most respected music publication in Yanzhou, "Voice of Yanzhou," founded by the Yanzhou Music Association, posted this review:
"Polar Light is the first virtual idol to debut with an epic in the New Era."
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
200+ Power
Ranking 
18 Power
stone 
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