Chapter 110: Defeating Nocturne

This season of "Tomorrow’s Star" concluded with a stirring rendition of "A Man Should Strengthen Himself," elevating the show to a level no ordinary talent competition could reach.

This season shattered all previous viewership records for talent shows on Penguin Video.

The total views for the entire season soared to an astonishing 5.36 billion.

Of course, this figure does not mean that billions of unique viewers watched the show.

This number represents the cumulative views across ten episodes.

Repeated plays by viewers are counted, and each episode was split into two parts, with additional membership-exclusive and pure performance versions, all contributing to this staggering total.

It became the phenomenon of the summer.

Short clips from the show circulated widely across major online platforms.

Fang Xing, through ten songs, announced his arrival to the world.

He became the brightest new star of the season.

Throughout the three months the show aired, every song he performed dominated trending searches, generating immense buzz.

And remarkably, these discussions were all positive.

Many songs were shared repeatedly.

No other talent show had ever enjoyed such treatment before.

With "Youth Speaks for China" and "A Man Should Strengthen Himself," Fang Xing even stood a chance at securing an invitation to the Spring Festival Gala.

Such privileges would make even top-tier singers envious.

...

The day after the grand finale of "Tomorrow’s Star," Tong Fei held a celebratory banquet, inviting all the staff involved in the show.

The event was lively, drawing top executives from major entertainment companies.

The senior management of Tide Sound Culture was almost fully present, including He Hongtu.

Though Tide Sound Culture had employed every tactic possible to compete during the show's run, it was all business.

Now that the competition had ended, these entertainment moguls could sit together, exchanging smiles and laughter—at least on the surface.

All eleven members of the Glacier Youth Group were naturally in attendance.

Since the group's formation under Feifan Entertainment, they had received numerous opportunities, prompting them to show proper respect to Tong Fei.

The Glacier Group was quite professional; at the banquet, they bowed respectfully to every influential figure in the entertainment industry.

Their reverent demeanor was so striking that, if not for their trendy attire, one might mistake them for waitstaff.

However, they mostly greeted top executives or leading figures in specific fields.

These established figures treated them rather indifferently, at best nodding in acknowledgment.

Only Wu Junchen and Liu Yichen, two popular members, received greetings initiated by insiders.

Overall, the Glacier Group’s reception was somewhat chilly.

In stark contrast, Fang Xing’s side was bustling with activity.

He was the true star of the banquet, with many industry insiders approaching him to exchange greetings and business cards.

The stark difference in atmosphere between the two groups lent a subtle tension to the event.

After all, Fang Xing had surpassed the limited group to top the popularity charts and claim the championship.

This made the Glacier Limited Group seem almost laughable.

To be honest, Fang Xing did not dislike these trainees so much.

It was Tide Sound Culture who constantly provoked him, forcing him to respond harshly on stage.

Strictly speaking, Fang Xing and Wang Huajun from the Glacier Group could be considered friends.

It was Wang Huajun’s tip-off that exposed some underhanded moves by Tide Sound Culture, preventing their success.

Yet, at the banquet, Fang Xing merely exchanged a distant glance and a smile with Wang Huajun, refraining from approaching him.

Because Wang Huajun’s contract with the limited group was still controlled by Tide Sound Culture.

If Fang Xing engaged him in conversation, it might make Wang Huajun’s life at Tide Sound Culture difficult.

Thus, they settled for a smile across two tables as a simple greeting.

...

“Come, come, let me officially introduce you—this is Fang Xing. Gentlemen, please take good care of him from now on.”

At "Sword's Arrival," Tong Fei grasped Fang Xing’s wrist and pulled him before a group of major entertainment executives, introducing him to those who truly held sway in the industry.

He Hongtu was among these influential figures.

Liang Yusong, worried Fang Xing might feel overwhelmed, remained at his side, assisting with introductions.

“This is Mr. He, the big boss of Tide Sound Culture,” he said.

Fang Xing shook He Hongtu’s hand with calm confidence.

“Mr. He,” he greeted without arrogance or submissiveness.

“We’ve only seen you on TV these past three months. Finally meeting in person—young man, you’ve given me quite the headache,” He Hongtu said with a hearty laugh, appearing magnanimous at least on the surface.

“My apologies, it wasn’t intentional,” Fang Xing replied gracefully.

He Hongtu glanced at Liang Yusong, raising his wine glass in jest.

“Mr. Liang, you really hit the jackpot this time. Blame my subordinates for acting too late.”

Liang Yusong chuckled, replying, “Jackpot? I just signed a prodigal producer who refuses to take engagements.”

In China, a significant portion of an artist’s income comes from commercial performances.

Fang Xing’s contract stipulated that he could choose which jobs to accept, so he essentially declined commercial gigs.

Such artists do exist in the entertainment world, but those who can decide their own work usually possess irreplaceable talents.

Even so, record companies naturally prefer signing artists who fill their schedules, as they are more profitable.

Of course, this comparison only holds when the two artists are of equal standing.

Fang Xing’s value did not lie in commercial performances.

Liang Yusong knew this but refrained from mentioning it to He Hongtu, opting instead for a self-deprecating joke: “I signed a prodigal one.”

He Hongtu’s smile stiffened slightly but he maintained composure.

“Mr. Liang is too modest. None of my company’s directors have your guts.”

The two men traded polite banter.

“Not at all, Mr. He. Your supergroup is truly top-tier. The Glacier Group just formed and is another major Tide Sound project.”

He Hongtu shook his head, eyeing Wu Junchen, Liu Yichen, and the others nearby.

“They’re just a bunch of money losers.”

Though Tide Sound Culture had spared no effort promoting the Glacier Group, their profits fell short compared to previous years.

For capitalists, failing to make money equals losing.

Liang Yusong laughed it off.

“Mr. He is too humble. Songshi Records hopes to collaborate with Tide Sound Culture again someday.”

Songshi Records and Tide Sound Culture operated in different spheres.

Before Fang Xing’s rise, the two companies rarely competed and occasionally cooperated.

Liang Yusong and He Hongtu’s relationship was neither close nor distant.

This time, their companies had tussled over Fang Xing.

Songshi Records emerged victorious.

Tide Sound Culture was larger in scale and market value.

Though He Hongtu hid it well, he was inwardly displeased.

With a forced smile, he said, “By the way, our Tide Sound ace is releasing a new single next month. Does Songshi have any plans? Perhaps another showdown on the music charts?”

Liang Yusong chuckled like a Buddha statue.

“Who dares challenge SPK on the charts? Even if we have plans, we’d avoid clashing.”

He Hongtu was pleased Liang yielded on this point.

“Mr. Liang is modest. If Songshi’s Yao Liying releases a song, Tide Sound Culture might have to adjust plans.”

Two seasoned foxes exchanging words with cheerful facades, the atmosphere seemingly congenial but laced with unspoken rivalry and sharp wit.

...

In truth, Fang Xing disliked such socializing.

A swarm of hypocrites exchanging empty pleasantries.

Despite fierce business battles, at banquets they all turned into smiling Buddhas—cunning veterans skilled at every angle.

Fang Xing left the socializing to Liang Yusong and his manager, Hong Jie, and slipped into a corner of the hall to check his phone.

At that moment,

someone tugged at his sleeve.

Turning, he saw a little darling dressed in a princess gown, no older than three or four, her rosy cheeks innocent and sweet.

Her delicate features surely meant she would grow into a beauty.

And those eyes seemed vaguely familiar.

The little girl held out a beautifully wrapped bag.

Fang Xing took it and saw it was a pack of fruit pudding.

In a cooing tone, he asked, “Do you want me to help open it?”

He pulled out a cup, ready to unwrap it for her.

The girl shook her head, correcting him.

“It’s for you.”

“For me?” Fang Xing was surprised; he couldn’t remember the last time he had pudding.

The girl pursed her lips and nodded seriously.

Fang Xing tore the packaging off one cup and handed it back.

“Go ahead, eat.”

The little girl stared at the pudding, clearly tempted, but shook her head again.

“It’s for you to eat.”

“Where’s your mom?”

Fang Xing reached out to pinch her cheek inwardly thinking, Even if you really gave this to me, I wouldn’t dare eat it.

If entertainment reporters caught me snatching a child’s snack, that would be quite the scandal.

The girl blushed when her cheek was touched, then shyly ran into someone’s arms, calling out, “Mommy...”

Looking up, Fang Xing saw Li Caiwei.

Only then did he remember—this little darling was Li Caiwei’s daughter, Little Sprout.

He had seen her once before on the phone, even getting a playful “poke.”

Li Caiwei took Little Sprout’s hand and approached.

“This is Little Sprout’s gift for you. She wanted to thank you for helping her mom.”

Fang Xing held the unwrapped pudding, speechless.

“That’s all?”

Li Caiwei shrugged.

“It’s her choice. It’s her favorite snack. Do you feel the weight of her gratitude?”

Fang Xing twitched his mouth corners.

“Definitely feel it.”

Li Caiwei pulled out a chair and sat down, placing Little Sprout on her lap.

Fang Xing brought the pudding to Little Sprout’s lips.

“Okay, now it’s a give-and-take.”

Little Sprout wanted the pudding but resisted reaching for it, looking up at Li Caiwei with a soft, pleading “Mommy...”

Li Caiwei took out another pudding, peeled off the wrapper, and said, “Then you feed uncle one.”

Little Sprout held the pudding out, her little hand straightened, offering it to Fang Xing’s mouth.

If he didn’t eat it, she would hold it up indefinitely, like feeding an animal at the zoo.

Fang Xing was dumbfounded.

Here he was, an adult, being fed pudding by a little girl who seemed determined he must eat it.

“You should eat one. If you don’t, she won’t eat either,” Li Caiwei laughed.

“Alright,” Fang Xing relented.

He took the pudding from Little Sprout’s hand, swallowed it in one bite.

Little Sprout immediately beamed, as if she had succeeded in feeding an animal at the zoo.

The pudding returned to her hand, and she looked up.

“Mommy...”

“Go ahead, eat,” Li Caiwei smiled at her daughter’s cleverness, both amused and helpless.

Fang Xing glanced around and asked, “No one else at home to look after Little Sprout?”

“My mom usually does, but today she had to go to Ningyue on business. There’s no work today, just the banquet, so I brought her along with an assistant to help.”

After a moment, Li Caiwei added, “Besides, when she watched the finals live, Little Sprout said she wanted to give you pudding. It just worked out that we came today.”

Some stars dislike exposing their children to the media, others groom them as second-generation celebrities.

It’s a personal choice, not to be judged.

The show had previously released a video of Li Caiwei talking to Little Sprout, so the public had seen the little girl.

Curious, Fang Xing asked, “Are you planning to enter Little Sprout into the entertainment industry?”

Li Caiwei shook her head.

“Not sure. We’ll see what she likes and let her decide her path.”

She sighed.

“But honestly, I think I have a naive, innocent kid. She can’t even recite the multiplication table fully. Academics probably aren’t her thing. So I’m cultivating her artistic side early. Even if she doesn’t pursue this career, she’ll have talents.”

If Li Caiwei wanted Little Sprout to be a child star, Fang Xing knew of a show that could make any adorable kid famous nationwide.

But considering Li Caiwei’s situation, it probably wasn’t suitable.

Fang Xing had no plans to produce variety shows now, so it was just a passing thought.

Li Caiwei nodded toward He Hongtu and whispered a warning.

“I have to tell you, don’t be fooled by He Hongtu’s seemingly generous demeanor. He holds grudges. Be careful around him.”

Fang Xing glanced in that direction calmly.

“Doesn’t matter. As long as competition stays within the law, let him do what he will.”

Li Caiwei nodded.

“The environment is better now. Twenty years ago, it was different. Back then, starting an entertainment company often meant having some shady backing, especially during the Hong Kong entertainment era.”

Fang Xing was somewhat familiar with that era.

The order then was less stable, and many companies had ties to the underworld.

But after entering the new century, law enforcement had cleansed those dark forces.

Remaining entertainment companies were all cleansed and legitimate.

He Hongtu was one who had emerged from that era but had since cleaned up his act—a survivor of the turbulent times.

Li Caiwei continued.

“I heard Tide Sound Culture is preparing a new single for their ace boy band, timed perfectly.”

“What timing?” Fang Xing had not followed this.

“Right when ‘Nocturne’ finishes its reign on the charts,” Li Caiwei smiled.

“Nocturne” had dominated the music charts for four consecutive weeks.

Looking at recent trends, its hold was waning.

No song, no matter how strong, could stay at number one forever.

Because the charts weigh sales heavily.

Over time, as interested listeners purchase the song, sales naturally decline, and the song falls from the top.

“Nocturne” had held the top spot four and a half weeks—the longest for any song this year.

Besides running “Tomorrow’s Star” limited groups, Tide Sound Culture had another ace boy band: SPK.

This group was currently the most popular boy band in China—a true supergroup.

Their leader, Li Siqi, was a top-tier domestic star and ambassador for international brands—the most profitable artist under Tide Sound Culture.

SPK had debuted three years ago, with all members enjoying high popularity.

Li Siqi’s popularity was especially staggering, creating a gap between him and the other members.

One reason was that Li Siqi secured several prime-time variety show spots on satellite TV as a regular guest.

Last year he also starred in a hit idol drama, marking the peak of his fame.

Wu Junchen’s Glacier Youth Group was essentially Tide Sound Culture’s foster son.

After the two-year limited contract ended, the group would disband, and members would return to their respective companies.

But SPK was the company’s true flagship; all the best resources were reserved for them.

News of SPK’s upcoming new single was no secret in the entertainment industry.

Promotion had started before the New Year.

In fact, it had been two years since SPK released an album or single.

Thus, this new release had been long in preparation.

He Hongtu and Liang Yusong had even mentioned it during their banter.

Tide Sound Culture chose this timing to avoid clashing with “Nocturne” and maximize their chances for chart success.

Li Caiwei looked at Fang Xing with keen interest.

“So? Interested in taking on SPK? Surely you have more than ten songs in reserve, right?”

“Why do you think I have more? Maybe I really have only ten songs, and I’ve sung them all,” Fang Xing smiled.

Li Caiwei shook her head.

“That’s the strange thing. When you release one or two high-quality new songs, everyone assumes you have only two or three more in reserve.

“But after ten songs, people start thinking you’re unfathomable. Who knows how many you really have?”

Fang Xing shrugged helplessly.

“I just want to make music on my own schedule. I won’t change my plans just to compete with others.”

“Alright, I was hoping for some drama,” Li Caiwei said with mock disappointment.

However, what happened next took Fang Xing by surprise.

Tide Sound Culture’s new SPK single debuted straight to number one on the new song chart, then quickly surged to the top of the hot song chart.

The following week saw another massive promotional push, with sky-high sales propelling it to number one on the hot song chart again.

Soon, press releases appeared across major platforms:

“SPK’s new single released, defeats ‘Nocturne’ in just three days to top the hot song chart.”