Chapter Seven: The Release of the New Song

The two stared at each other, neither quite knowing what to say. After a long while, Wang Mo finally broke the silence. "Brother Xiong, about that matter I asked you to help with—how did it go?"

Yuan Xiong replied, "I checked with the agency. If you sell your villa now, after all the fees and negotiations, you'll lose at least five million. Are you sure you want to sell?"

Wang Mo said, "I have no choice. I can't afford the mortgage."

Yuan Xiong suggested, "How about... I lend you some money? That villa is bound to appreciate, selling it now is such a waste. Besides, thanks to you, I've made quite a bit myself."

"How much can you lend me?" Wang Mo asked.

"How much do you need?"

"Ten million."

Yuan Xiong nearly choked. "I made some money off you, sure, but I didn't skin you alive!"

"So, no matter what, my money won't be enough?"

Wang Mo rubbed his brow. "And... how much do I owe?"

Because of his scandal, brand partners had all terminated their contracts with his company. He had roughly calculated and conservatively estimated he'd need to pay several tens of millions. In other words, all the money he'd worked so hard to earn over the years wouldn't even cover the losses.

The thought depressed him. What kind of pathetic top star was he, really?

But in the next moment, Wang Mo was stunned.

Yuan Xiong said, "The company isn't planning to make you pay."

Wang Mo asked in surprise, "Why not?"

Yuan Xiong explained, "The company intends to drag things out with the brands for as long as possible. Every day they delay is a win. Plus, the higher-ups are well aware of your contributions these past years. This incident wasn't your fault, so they're not going to force you into a corner."

For a long time, Wang Mo was silent. Then he said, "I understand."

A moment later, he asked, "If I start streaming, it'll be hard to ever take off the mask, won't it?"

Yuan Xiong laughed, "As long as you make money, who cares about the mask?"

Wang Mo pondered for a few minutes, then nodded. "I'll give it a try."

If it really could bring in money, first, he could repay the company's kindness. Second, he might avoid selling the villa at a loss. He truly liked that villa. It would be perfect to keep someone special there...

Ahem, what nonsense was he thinking? He was still a virgin!

Whenever he thought about it, Wang Mo became even more depressed. After debuting as a young idol, the company, to maintain his popularity and prevent any hint of scandal, had enforced strict rules. For three whole years, he hadn't even held a woman's hand.

A hale and hearty young man in his twenties, full of energy and with perfectly normal preferences—did anyone know how he'd survived these past three years?

Yes, you did.

Because you went through it too.

...

Seeing Wang Mo agree to give streaming a try, Yuan Xiong finally turned to leave.

There was one thing Yuan Xiong had not told Wang Mo: getting him this streaming opportunity had cost Yuan Xiong nearly all his favors, and he had even risked his reputation as a top agent to plead with the higher-ups. Otherwise, even if the company didn't force Wang Mo to pay damages, they would never let him appear on camera—not even with a mask.

But for Wang Mo to stream, many issues still needed careful planning. His identity was too sensitive; in the short term, it was unlikely he could stream.

Wang Mo wasn't in a hurry. At that moment, his thoughts were elsewhere: the new song release in August.

Time flows like water, days and months pass in the blink of an eye... Why did that line sound so familiar?

The last day of July.

All entertainment companies across Huaxia were bustling with activity.

Composition Department.

Liu Zhengwen sat in his office, his mood turbulent.

His fate might be decided in the next day or two. If none of the August songs made it into the top ten of the two major charts, the wrath of the company's upper management would surely descend upon him.

But all he could do now was wait.

He didn't even know what the fourteen finished songs sounded like.

There was nothing he could do. The composition department just wrote the songs; everything else—releasing, promoting, and so on—was handled by other departments. The Vocal Department and the Promotion Department never informed them. Of course, if something went wrong at any stage, someone would immediately come to the composition department to demand answers.

"Fuck," Liu Zhengwen cursed as usual, glancing at the documents on his desk.

The papers summarized all the singers releasing songs in August across entertainment companies.

This time, Yunhai Media had thirteen singers releasing songs: one second-tier, one third-tier, three veteran singers, and eight newcomers.

Wait, fourteen. There was Hao Mingxing... the one whose voice was ruined. Of course, he could be ignored.

Industry-wide, 168 singers were releasing songs.

Naturally, the actual number was much higher. Few people knew the real statistics: every day, over 100,000 new songs were released across Blue Star’s music scene.

Of those, 99.99% were garbage; only a few hundred were truly worth hearing.

The 168 singers on the document were the ones Liu Zhengwen cared about. They had been carefully selected by rival entertainment companies.

Scanning the list, he saw one first-tier singer, eight second-tier singers, and sixteen third-tier singers. The first-tier singer and two second-tier singers were at the peak of their popularity.

It seemed that aiming for the top three on the new song chart was hopeless, but breaking into the top ten should still be feasible.

"Steady!" Liu Zhengwen clenched his fist.

He was confident.

Just as confident as last month.

...

At the same time, Vocal Department.

Manager Qian Lun was reviewing the roster of singers releasing songs for the company.

An assistant walked in. "Mr. Qian, all the songs have passed review, and the Promotion Department is ready for launch as soon as midnight hits."

"Good," Qian Lun nodded. "Make sure to promote Yang Zhecheng and He Wen’s songs right away. The sooner we build hype, the sooner they’ll climb the charts."

Yang Zhecheng was a second-tier singer, He Wen a third-tier; both were the company's focus this cycle.

Although the Composition Department would take the blame if things went poorly, Qian Lun himself wouldn’t escape unscathed if the singers' performances were lackluster.

"Understood," the assistant said, about to leave, then paused. "Mr. Qian, would you like to listen to the songs one more time?"

Qian Lun replied, "I've already heard the thirteen songs—we’ll release those versions, no problem."

"It's not those thirteen," the assistant said. "It’s the one sung by Hao Mingxing."

"What?" Qian Lun recalled that Hao Mingxing had sung a song and approached him about releasing it. He had dismissed him offhandedly. "Is the quality poor? No matter, just release it as normal. The song is recorded, publishing it won’t cost us much."

"It's not that the quality is poor," the assistant said, "it's just... unusual."

Seeing the assistant's expression, Qian Lun was intrigued. "How so?"

"I can't quite put it into words."

"Alright, let me hear it."

Qian Lun took the laptop, followed the assistant's directions, and played the audio file titled "Whatever."

As Hao Mingxing's voice began, Qian Lun’s casual posture suddenly turned rigid.

His expression shifted to one of astonishment, mingled with surprise.

"This song..." Qian Lun sat motionless in his chair until the track finished.

He had never imagined that someone with Hao Mingxing’s ruined, raspy voice could actually sing a song—and even convey a feeling he had never experienced before.

It was so unique that he couldn’t identify the song’s character.

Was it good? He wasn’t sure.

Bad? Not really.

As manager of the Vocal Department, it was the first time in years he’d encountered such an odd singing style.

After some thought he said to the assistant, "It’s definitely unusual... Go ahead and release it through the usual channels, but keep an eye on the numbers. Of course, our main focus remains on Yang Zhecheng and He Wen’s songs."

"Understood!" the assistant replied, then hurried out.

Tick, tick.

Time quickly reached midnight, the first minute of August.

A new month had officially begun.