Chapter 39: Just Enough to Stand Against the World (Please Keep Reading!)

Tong Fei pretended to be annoyed and huffed, “Do you dislike my show that much?”

Fang Xing shook his head and corrected her, “Not really. I just dislike shows that are manipulated by capital and lack the true spirit of competition.”

Tong Fei kept a stern face. “Who told you my show is controlled by capital?”

Leaning back in his chair, Fang Xing turned his gaze to the East Sea International Building outside the glass wall and spoke slowly, “I’m simply tired of the unspoken rules in the entertainment industry. Maybe I’m better suited to return to campus, stay in my ivory tower, and look for what I truly want.”

“A couple of days ago, you were still challenging the production team on stage, saying they wouldn’t be able to eliminate anyone from your group. Giving up so soon?” Tong Fei watched him with interest. The more time she spent with this young man, the more she realized he was cut from a different cloth than others.

“That’s only possible with fair competition as a foundation. Even the Olympics might not be fair, let alone a talent show,” Fang Xing spread his hands.

Tong Fei caught the deeper meaning in his words and asked, “So, as long as it’s a fair competition, you’re confident you can keep winning?”

A faint smile played at Fang Xing’s lips. “It’d be hard to lose.”

Tong Fei grew even more curious and pressed, “Tell me honestly, how many songs of the same caliber as ‘Nocturne’ and ‘Lovers Under Heaven’ do you still have in reserve?”

She didn’t believe anyone could write songs of that level in just a few hours, so there could only be a stash.

“Not many—just enough to go up against the world,” Fang Xing replied calmly. With the backing of a brilliant civilization, not only could he make it to the finals, he could keep going until the end of time.

“All of them at this level?” Tong Fei still found it hard to believe.

“None will fall below the average of the four songs I’ve released so far,” Fang Xing answered, confidence glinting in his eyes.

Tong Fei leaned back in her swivel chair, spun halfway around, and after a few minutes of consideration, finally said, “As long as what you say is true, I can guarantee that Tide Music won’t get involved in the production. You just focus on singing your best.”

Fang Xing actually wasn’t entirely clear about the relationships among ‘Star of Tomorrow,’ Penguin Video, Tide Music, and Feifan Entertainment. So at first, he wasn’t sure if Tide Music had a say in the show’s production.

Now, hearing Tong Fei’s words, he was certain Tide Music couldn’t interfere.

As for the threats made by the assistant to the artist director at Tide Music—that if he didn’t sign, he’d be eliminated—it was obvious they were just trying to intimidate newcomers.

Of course, the so-called “can’t interfere” was relative. If Tide Music wanted to target a trainee with no popularity or talent, Tong Fei wouldn’t mind doing them a small favor. But if the trainee could make the show a hit, that was another matter entirely.

Fang Xing found it a little strange and asked, “Why are you telling me all this, President Tong?”

Tong Fei laughed heartily. “Honestly, if you’d signed with Tide Music yesterday, I wouldn’t have gotten involved at all.

“But since you won’t sign with them, it’s a different story.

“Tide Music wanted me to pressure you, but after getting to know you, I’m sure you won’t sign, even with elimination as a threat.

“The production company is Feifan Entertainment, and my goal is simple—to make the best show, a smash hit.

“Tide Music can’t expect to manipulate my program just because they failed to sign a trainee. I won’t allow it.”

Fang Xing tilted his head in thought. “Isn’t this situation a bit strange?”

Tong Fei pulled out another cigarette, tapped it against the table, but didn’t light it. “It is strange. Honestly, I’d prefer you sign with Tide Music—it would make things easier. But that’s between you and them. You do as you see fit.”

“I understand,” Fang Xing said, now clear on the situation and ready to take his leave.

“Oh, by the way, there’s a commercial shoot in a few days. You’ll need to participate. Don’t tell me you don’t want to take it,” Tong Fei said sternly.

“Alright, I wouldn’t be able to afford the penalty fee anyway,” Fang Xing replied with a smile.

It was already industry practice for talent shows to have contestants film commercials for insertion into the main program—these so-called embedded ads were common in variety shows and dramas alike, and they didn’t come cheap. The more popular the show, the higher the price.

Usually, these embedded ads were a perk reserved for popular contestants. Trainees with little popularity rarely even got the chance.

Fang Xing stood up and left Tong Fei’s office. As he reached the door, Tong Fei called after him, “If you want to go further, you’d best sign with an agency. It’ll save you a lot of trouble.”

Though contracts in the entertainment industry often seemed harsh, there were still countless newcomers eager to sign. Agencies took large cuts, but they provided real value. Behind every top star was always the operation of an agency.

Resource exchange was a subtle but powerful barrier. Large companies in the industry cooperated with many production teams and could secure valuable opportunities for their trainees. In contrast, artists from small companies without such resources would see their exposure plummet—and might even vanish from the public eye—once their group contracts ended.

Fang Xing wasn’t naive; he understood the industry’s rules well. He knew Tong Fei’s reminder was sincere, which made him feel a bit of fondness for this sophisticated, strong-willed woman.

He turned back as he left her office and said, “Thank you.”

...

In the days that followed, the assistant from Tide Music’s artist director did not come to bother him again. Today was Friday, time for a new episode of ‘Star of Tomorrow’ to premiere on Penguin Video.

That evening, Fang Xing had arranged to watch the show with Shao Yu, Lu Ming, and a few others. It wasn’t just them—many trainees at the camp were eagerly waiting for the episode to air, all hoping their popularity rankings would climb a few places after tonight.

By 7:30 p.m., the number of reservations for ‘Star of Tomorrow’ on Penguin Video’s dedicated page had already surpassed one million—a much higher level of interest than the previous episode, since tonight featured a public performance stage, while the last episode only covered song selection and training routines.

Ni Hongdan, the music critic and mother, had fed her daughter early and now sat with her in front of the computer, ready to watch the latest episode. Her daughter, nicknamed Kiki, was a year and a half old and had just learned to walk. Once, while Ni Hongdan was livestreaming a vocal lesson, Kiki toddled into the frame, and from that moment a wave of ‘Kiki fans’ joined her followers, rallying around the slogan: “Protect the cutest Kiki in the world!”

Being a mother also protected Ni Hongdan from attacks by some more aggressive fan groups. She didn’t mind the Kiki fans, and occasionally even posted pictures of her daughter on social media, interacting with her followers.

During this season of ‘Star of Tomorrow,’ her account, ‘Against the Current,’ had gained a hundred thousand new followers. Ni Hongdan was delighted, holding her daughter’s little hand and pointing at the photo of a handsome young contestant on the screen. “Kiki, let’s keep supporting this big brother. If we get twenty thousand more fans, we’ll buy you the best formula for stage three. Drink one bottle, spit up one bottle.”

“Yaya…” Kiki babbled unintelligibly.

At 7:50 p.m., as usual, Ni Hongdan posted a teaser on her social feed.

“The three-part harmony of Fang Xing, Lu Ming, and Shao Yu in the preview—let me just say, you can’t pull that off without three to five years of solid vocal training. In the whole show, only this team can deliver such flawless harmony. There’s no second.”

This post was even more direct and forceful than her previous ones. Had it been released before the first public performance, the comments would have been a battlefield. But ever since ‘Nocturne’ and ‘Wild Bird’ became hits, fans of other popular contestants had become much more restrained. At least, until Wu Junchen took first place in the public performance, no one dared to openly challenge her.

Still, a few fans remained disgruntled, leaving comments:

“Can’t wait for this to backfire!”

“Can’t wait for this to backfire +1.”

Soon enough, the jokers joined in:

“He’s just a singer—what does he know about harmony?”

...

(The competition on the new books chart is fierce. Please support with recommendations, follows, and monthly votes. Thank you all!)