Chapter 79: Anjielina Facing the Execution Line (Pleading for Monthly Votes!)

At ten a. m., Anjielina walked through the company gate with her guitar on her back.

The white girl wore a light yellow shirt today, layered over a white cotton T-shirt, revealing her delicate collarbones and long, pale swan-like neck.

Her golden hair was tied into a ponytail, swaying with each step.

When she stepped into the office, the noisy chatter abruptly halted, as if a tape had jammed.

Anjielina paused, startled, blinking in confusion, not knowing what had happened.

At that moment, a tall but plain-looking Black girl passed behind her and muttered under her breath: "Bitch."

"What? What did you say!" Anjielina turned to face her, frowning with her beautiful brows: "What did I ever do to you, Cindy!"

The woman before her was the rock singer Anjielina and Roger had mentioned—the one whose album sales had flopped.

Anjielina hadn't expected her to insult her to her face.

"I didn't call you anything," Cindy said, hands on her hips, her large circular earrings swinging with each word.

"I was just telling the truth—you're a whore. If it weren't for you, my album GG would never have been pulled so early!"

"What does that have to do with me!" Anjielina shot back.

Cindy spoke bluntly: "Do you think we don't know anything? I stand here because of my music—what are you standing on? Your body singing?"

Hearing this sharp sarcasm, the colleagues around them couldn't suppress the smirks tugging at their lips.

Anjielina's face flushed red with rage, her words tumbling out incoherently: "I've never sold myself for anything! Your album selling poorly isn't my fault! I didn't ask anyone to pull your GG!"

"Heh." Cindy crossed her arms. "Of course you won't admit it—you've already succeeded. You commodified yourself, turned those awful songs into an album."

"But the market isn't the director's office—you can use your body to get on stage, but whether people buy it? That's up to the listeners."

With that, Cindy turned and walked away, giving Anjielina no chance to respond.

The white girl's hands clenched until they turned blue, and when she looked again at her colleagues' eyes, she felt countless sharp needles drilling into her flesh.

She gritted her teeth and stormed toward the director's office.

"Tap-tap-tap."

"Come in."

Chalide, director of Jiguang Yinyue, sat behind his desk in a crisp suit; when he saw the white girl enter, his lips curled slightly.

"Anjielina, what's wrong?" he asked, feigning concern.

"Director, why was Cindy's GG pulled?" Anjielina asked urgently.

Chalide spun his pen in his fingers: "Because we found the conversion rate too low, so we decided to stop the ad spend. Is there a problem?"

"Then… then why did Cindy say it was because of me?" Anjielina bit her lip.

"Because of you?" Chalide raised an eyebrow. "Well, yes, a little. We shifted some of Cindy's GG budget toward you."

"Why?" The girl looked utterly confused.

Chalide shrugged. "I'd rather not say, but since you're asking, I'll be straight."

He cleared his throat and said: "After evaluation by our professional team, your album has very low potential. In other words—no chance of making serious money."

He put down the pen and continued: "But we've invested heavily in recording—the band, studio, equipment, CDs—we have to recoup that cost. You understand, right?"

Anjielina couldn't believe it: "But when you listened to the demo, you approved it! You kept telling me I could make it, that my songs would go viral! Why didn't you tell me the truth? I could've kept improving!"

"If I gave every singer unlimited chances, the company couldn't make money. Anjielina, we gave you one chance—you failed to seize it," Chalide shook his head.

"Besides, teaching you is the market's responsibility, not ours. Our company only handles recording, releasing, and operating the album."

"But…" Anjielina opened her mouth, unsure what to say.

Chalide revealed his true intent: "Also, according to the contract we signed, the production cost was advanced by us, with 15% interest. Once your album starts selling, all profits will first go toward repaying that debt."

Anjielina felt a wave of dizziness: "I don't remember signing a contract like this."

"Black ink on white paper, and your fingerprint," Chalide pushed the document toward her. "Are you planning to sue us—and pay us additional damages?"

Anjielina's heart pounded as she picked up the document and examined it closely.

When she saw the long string of technical, incomprehensible terms, she realized—she and her parents had been tricked by the agent into signing a predatory contract.

At that moment, Chalide's smile looked to the girl like that of a demon.

"But don't worry—you don't have to pay all the operating costs, just 80%."

"Also, you need to repay the living allowance and rent we gave you."

Anjielina struggled to speak: "You never gave me a living allowance!"

"Oh no," Chalide waved a finger, feigning surprise. "You don't remember? We paid it along with your signing bonus. Five thousand dollars signing fee, eight thousand for living expenses, two thousand for rent. It's all clearly written in the contract."

"But you never told me that money included living expenses!"

"Maybe the lawyer forgot. You know how busy they are—they can't explain every detail."

Chalide smiled: "But reading the contract carefully is your responsibility."

Those words struck the girl like a sledgehammer to the chest.

Seeing her reaction, the man picked up the calculator beside him and tapped it rapidly.

"You currently owe the company one hundred eighty-one thousand four hundred dollars."

Chalide smiled: "It's not much, really—interest included. If your album sells two hundred thousand dollars within three months, you'll clear it."

"Two hundred thousand dollars?"

Anjielina felt the bright sky above her instantly darken into storm clouds.

"Don't worry—Cindy owed even more. Two hundred fifty thousand dollars—and she paid it off in a year."

Chalide interlaced his fingers: "If you're sensible, you might pay it off even faster."

As he spoke, his hand slowly extended forward.

"Relax—I personally still have high hopes for you," the man said, his finger brushing her wrist: "If you're willing, I can help you secure more resources, more GG slots."

"I… willing?" Anjielina stared into Chalide's wolf-like eyes and jerked her hand away as if shocked.

Chalide, seeing this, suppressed his smile: "It seems you still need to think about it."

Anjielina did not answer, only left the office in a fluster.

After the girl left, Chalide picked up his phone and made a call.

"Hey, Crazy, did you handle the thing I asked you to arrange?"

"What? The guy's dead?"

"Fuck, how the hell should I know what happened! Maybe your little brother pissed off someone he shouldn't have!"

"Alright, alright, I'll pay you at most five hundred dollars!"

"By the way, you said your new stock has aphrodisiac effects, send me some. Once I get this little girl sorted, maybe I can get her to join the party!"