Chapter Thirty: An Uproar!

Yunhai Media.

In the office of the Composition Department Manager, Liu Zhengwen received a phone call early in the morning.

The call was from the company’s PR department.

The PR department relayed the following: “Someone on Bilibili has made some remarks targeting ‘Speechless’ and the composer, which could potentially trigger negative public opinion. Please decide, Manager Liu, whether we need to implement risk control measures on this video. For example: contacting Bilibili to suppress its popularity, reaching out to the video creator to have the content deleted... and so on.”

At first, Liu Zhengwen was a bit confused.

Could it be that someone had discovered the true identity of ‘Speechless’ and was preparing to criticize Wang Mo?

But ever since “Doesn’t Matter” became famous, to protect Wang Mo, Yuan Xiong had teamed up with Liu Zhengwen and Qian Lun to issue a notice to both the Composition and Vocal departments: no one was allowed to disclose any information about ‘Speechless.’

Therefore, the chances of ‘Speechless’s identity being leaked were extremely slim.

Even if one or two employees couldn’t keep their mouths shut, outsiders probably wouldn’t believe that Wang Mo was actually ‘Speechless.’

He hurriedly clicked on the video to have a look.

Only then did he realize he’d been mistaken. It turned out someone had lumped together composers and singers, posing a question to the public: Should composers be treated as mere tools?

In the past, if this uploader had posted a similar video, it likely would have attracted no attention whatsoever.

But things were different now. “Doesn’t Matter” and “Invisible Wings” were both trending across the entire internet, and both songs were written by ‘Speechless.’ Coincidentally, the singers of both pieces had previously been unremarkable.

Given all these factors, the composer’s exceptional role was highlighted.

As a result, Yunhai Media’s PR department keenly sensed that this video might stir up an online storm, prompting them to call Liu Zhengwen for a decision.

Should they suppress it?

Should they take it down?

With Yunhai Media’s standing, a video clearly trying to stir up trouble like this was absolutely intolerable.

However, after watching the short video, Liu Zhengwen blinked and swallowed nervously.

“Suppress it? Delete it?”

What a joke!

He replied to the PR department, “Everything said in the video is factual and unbiased. If we interfere forcibly, it could backfire and be more trouble than it’s worth. My suggestion is to observe for now and take no action. After all, this uploader only has thirty thousand followers—they can’t stir up much trouble.”

Upon receiving Liu Zhengwen’s response, the PR department took no further action.

But what they didn’t expect was this:

After hanging up, Liu Zhengwen quickly dialed a number. “Old Chen, you’re in Bilibili video promotion, aren’t you?”

A man on the other end laughed, “Old Liu, are you finally going to promote your company’s songs with me?”

“No,” Liu Zhengwen replied. “It’s another video. I’ll send you the link in a moment. Promote it as much as possible! And get me a batch of paid commenters... You know what angle they should take. Money is no object!”

After hanging up, he immediately sent the video link the PR department had provided.

Then, he made several more calls.

He dialed a few friends in the composing circle, gritting his teeth as he rallied them: “Brothers, let’s make some noise! This kind of video needs to be widely shared!”

...

While Liu Zhengwen was busy, Wang Mo was sipping milk tea and quietly calculating how much he might earn next month.

The milk tea had just been delivered by Su Xueyao. She’d mentioned that a new shop had opened near the subway, offering cheap and delicious milk tea, so she brought him a cup to try.

In both his past and present lives, Wang Mo could never understand why girls were so obsessed with milk tea.

He himself had no interest in it whatsoever.

But if someone brought him a drink, he was more than happy to accept.

Gulp, gulp, gulp...

After a few sips, Wang Mo had a rough estimate in his mind: barring any surprises, when payday arrived on the tenth of next month, he’d be taking home at least 300,000.

Most of this income came from the downloads and royalties of “Doesn’t Matter” and Hao Mingxing’s live performance revenue.

The remainder was thanks to the recent surge in downloads for “Invisible Wings.”

“Looks like next month, once major TV stations start using ‘Invisible Wings’ and Su Xueyao participates in various commercial events, it won’t be a dream for my earnings to surpass a million,” Wang Mo thought, delighted.

This meant his days of prosperity were just about to begin.

Two songs alone could bring in over a million yuan.

What about twenty songs?

What about two hundred?

At that point, he wouldn’t just be able to afford one villa—ten wouldn’t be out of the question.

He’d never be able to spend it all.

Absolutely impossible to spend it all.

“Hm?”

After a few more sips of coffee, Wang Mo’s face suddenly showed surprise.

A string of system notifications began to ring in his mind.

[Reputation +1]

[Reputation +1]

[Reputation +1]

In just a moment, his reputation had increased by dozens.

Wang Mo was deeply puzzled, since he knew his own situation well. While it was unlikely for his reputation to drop at this point, increasing it was still quite difficult. Relying on the impact of two songs, gaining a few hundred reputation points a day was already quite good.

But right now, the rate of increase was obviously far beyond the usual.

“Something’s up!” he thought, just as he was about to investigate the cause.

The office area was gradually becoming noisy.

“Holy crap, check Bilibili!”

“There’s a video about us!”

“Hurry, go support it!”

“Brothers, let’s unite as composers.”

“Composers will never be slaves!”

...

Then, a colleague came running over excitedly. “Mo, Mo, check Bilibili! Someone made a video about the songs you wrote, and netizens are arguing like crazy.”

What?

From a few words, Wang Mo quickly understood the whole story. An uploader on Bilibili had posted a video discussing how his two songs had launched two newcomers to stardom, then posed the question: Should lyricists and composers be treated as mere tools?

A video like this, for some reason, had suddenly exploded in popularity.

It had already caused an uproar on Bilibili.

Wang Mo glanced at the video’s stats. It had been uploaded the previous night, and in just half a day, had surpassed a million views, with 106,000 likes.

What surprised him most was the barrage of comments—185,000.

On Bilibili, if a video’s comments break ten thousand, its view count is usually in the tens of millions.

But this video had nearly 200,000 comments, while views had just reached a million.

That could only mean one thing: the video’s content had completely ignited the netizens.

Turning off the barrage, Wang Mo watched the video, then checked the comments section.

By now, the comments section was utter chaos.

On one side:

Singers are still the main stars; lyricists and composers are just tools.

“Ha! So what if these two songs were written by ‘Speechless’? Without Hao Mingxing’s unique voice, without Su Xueyao’s bright high notes, could these songs have become hits?”

“Exactly! Only singers can make a song popular—when have lyricists and composers ever made a song famous?”

“If composers aren’t tools, what else could they be?”

“The uploader claims to be neutral, but is clearly biased toward composers—ugh!”

“Singers are the soul! That will never change!”

On the other side:

Everyone is underestimating the importance of lyricists and composers.

“‘Speechless’ wrote two songs and made two newcomers famous—this proves the importance of composers!”

“Ha, people still think composers aren’t important? How did Hao Mingxing get famous—haven’t you read the news?”

“Let me tell you something: before singing ‘Doesn’t Matter,’ Hao Mingxing was a nobody.”

“And another thing: before ‘Invisible Wings,’ Su Xueyao was performing at random events.”

“Maybe composers aren’t as important as singers, but they’re definitely not just tools.”

Both sides were locked in heated debate.

Some claimed the singer’s status was unshakable.

Some argued that composers could never be mere tools.

No one could convince the other.

But one thing was certain:

In the midst of this argument, the name of the composer “Speechless” had emerged before the public.

Two songs!

Two singers launched to stardom.

No matter how little the music industry valued composers, it was impossible to ignore “Speechless.”

That was the true reason Wang Mo’s reputation was surging.

“So that’s it.”

Wang Mo nodded quietly, checking the video’s popularity again.

In just half an hour, views had increased by 500,000!

It showed 286,000 people were currently watching.

And with comments already exceeding 200,000.

Wang Mo felt a deep sense of awe.

By his estimation, a video by a small-time uploader with only tens of thousands of followers, discussing whether composers are just tools, shouldn’t go viral like this. Or at the very least, it should follow a gradual process.

But in just one night, the video had exploded in popularity.

“Something’s off,” he muttered to himself. “Could someone be deliberately hyping this up?”

But who?

It was as if someone was sending him a gift.

He was in need of reputation points, after all.

Just as he was pondering, a WeChat notification sounded. Liu Zhengwen had sent a message: Wang Mo, lend me another fifty thousand.