Chapter 1: Chapter One: He Will Be Bigger Than Guo Fucheng

(All characters, plots, and locations in this novel are artistic creations from a parallel timeline; any resemblance to real persons or events is purely coincidental.)

In May 2000, temperatures had gradually risen with the arrival of summer.

At this moment, Zhou Jianhui, General Manager of Warner International Music Co., Ltd., sat in his office staring at the documents in his hands, his fingers cold.

As a former outsider, he had not been in the record industry long, but his track record was impressive.

He joined EMI Taiwan in 1996, and in 1997, using his original ideas and marketing skills honed in advertising, he successfully made Liang Yongqi, who had cut her long hair, a sensation across Taiwan before her album “Short Hair” even released.

The success of this case made Warner Fly, whose market share had nearly hit rock bottom, feel as if they’d found a savior, and they enthusiastically poached him from EMI Taiwan to become General Manager of Warner Fly.

At first, Zhou Jianhui had no intention of coming.

After all, in 1997, Warner Fly’s situation was not at its peak—perhaps even approaching its twilight.

Internal management struggles were chaotic; their artists either defected or refused contract renewals, leaving the entire company with only Guo Fucheng and Zheng Xiuwen as its sole pillars.

Had Warner not offered him a genuinely compelling deal, Zhou Jianhui might still be thriving at EMI Taiwan.

Precisely because of this, after taking power, Zhou Jianhui assumed office in 1998 at Warner Fly—still under its original name—and that same year secured the distribution rights for two rising stars, Gu Juji and Liang Yongqi, giving his Warner career a strong start.

But it was only a beginning.

With no promising new talent under contract besides Guo Fucheng and Zheng Xiuwen, and no good singers available on the market, Zhou Jianhui, upon taking office in 1998, did something utterly astonishing—

The General Manager of Warner himself was obsessively pursuing a female university student, leading his team to negotiate with her wealthy parents, all to sign her daughter.

Even more astonishingly, to secure this promising female student, Zhou Jianhui promised, “I’ll wait until she graduates before signing.”

Though never stated outright, many privately thought Zhou Jianhui had lost his mind—after all, this woman named Sun Yanzi wasn’t some Asian diva; she was just a college student.

But Zhou Jianhui overruled all opposition and reached an agreement with the Sun family: Warner would wait two years for Sun Yanzi.

After this, Zhou Jianhui continued searching for promising talent while actively resolving the legacy issues left by his predecessor and adjusting strategy.

In 1999, during his second year at Warner, Warner Fly officially became history, replaced by the reorganized Warner International Music Co., Ltd., commonly known as Warner Records.

And now, in the year 2000, it was his third year at Warner.

This year, his schedule had only three major goals: preparing Sun Yanzi’s debut album and attempting to sign Taiwan’s diva Wang Fei and mainland diva Na Ying.

Yes, as the singer Zhou Jianhui had waited two years for against all advice, Sun Yanzi had barely graduated from Nanyang Technological University in Singapore when Warner’s team arrived with a contract and signed her immediately.

For two years, under Zhou Jianhui’s leadership, Warner had never forgotten Sun Yanzi—they truly treated her like treasure.

The reason he wanted to sign Wang Fei and Na Ying was a concept proposed by Vice General Manager Chen Zeshan: creating a “Divas’ Palace.”

Although Warner Records still had Guo Fucheng and Zheng Xiuwen as its king and queen in 2000, Zhou Jianhui, with his sharp instincts, had already noticed that these two were no longer as dominant as before and was preparing to develop new markets.

Especially the mainland market.

To open the mainland market, he had long been contacting music companies rooted there, frequently shuttling between Hong Kong, Taiwan, and the mainland.

It wasn’t until he made these trips that he discovered a hidden gem from the mainland—Zhou Yi.

The documents in his hands were yet another summary, compiled by his team after yet another failed attempt to sign Zhou Yi.

“Zhou Yi, male, born December 13, 1981, in Raozhou, Jiangxi Province. Currently a third-year law student at Peking University. Average family background: mother was a factory worker in a clothing plant, father was a painter; now his parents run a small supermarket in their hometown.”

“He reportedly taught himself music in high school to impress a girl, and later studied additional music-related knowledge in university...”

“He is very confident, having rejected two contract drafts due to disagreements over copyright terms; it is clear that to sign him, the copyright clause must be relaxed.”

“Note: Zhou Yi possesses highly advanced musical composition and production concepts, and also holds an exceptional understanding of international and domestic economic trends.”

“If the company insists on retaining full copyright of his songs, he will likely have zero interest in entering the music industry—he has other profitable avenues...”

As he read through it all, the middle-aged Zhou Jianhui couldn’t help sighing, unconsciously removing his glasses to wipe them.

What rotten luck he had.

On one hand, in 1998 he encountered Sun Yanzi, whom he sensed was a future diva; this year, on a trip to the mainland, he met Zhou Yi, a man with the potential to become a king.

On the other hand, in 1998, he was rejected when trying to sign Sun Yanzi, and had to beg relentlessly before the Sun family agreed to wait two years; this year, trying to sign Zhou Yi, even relentless begging didn’t work...

He wanted to give up, but whenever he thought of Zhou Yi, he couldn’t let go.

In his heart, this man overflowing with talent could perfectly complement Sun Yanzi, leading Warner, now at rock bottom, toward revival.

In fact, he favored Zhou Yi’s future potential even more.

The reason? Simply because Zhou Yi was not only exceptionally handsome, but also capable of writing and producing his own music at an extremely high quality. Top-tier creative singers were the industry’s most scarce treasure—this was a universal consensus.

Zhou Jianhui even believed this young man would one day surpass Guo Fucheng, Warner’s current top star.

Thinking of this, Zhou Jianhui, having put his glasses back on, took a deep breath and slowly exhaled to calm his thoughts—

He picked up the phone on his desk and gave an order: “Sign him. Relax the copyright terms.”

“What? Jianhui, are you crazy again?” The voice on the other end sounded incredulous.

“He will be bigger than Guo Fucheng. Believe me.”

Just as he had in 1998, pushing past all opposition to reach an agreement with the still-student Sun Yanzi, Zhou Jianhui, adjusting his glasses, spoke slowly and deliberately: “He and Yanzi will become Warner’s pillars, just as Guo Fucheng and Zheng Xiuwen once were.”

“...Jianhui, what are you thinking? Why bet everything on two kids? I don’t understand. I really don’t understand.”

The person on the other end clearly felt overwhelmed: “Only stars can save us. Only mega-stars—like Guo Fucheng and Zheng Xiuwen.

“Kids can’t do anything. Do you understand?

“Betting everything on two kids—do you even care about your performance targets anymore?”

With Warner’s market share declining year after year, instead of signing big stars to boost performance and company influence, he was giving two young people a green light—what kind of logic was this?

“Of course I want performance targets, but the problem now is that the Warner brand alone can’t attract anyone. Chen Zeshan proposed the ‘Divas’ Palace’ gimmick to sign Wang Fei and Na Ying—so what happened? Neither showed up.

“I want to sign Xie Tingfeng, I want to sign Ren Xianqi—but do you think they’d come to Warner now?”

Zhou Jianhui spoke slowly, his tone calm, yet it left the person on the other end in silence.

After a long pause, the voice finally spoke: “You’re gambling. You’ve gone blind with it, Jianhui.”

“Since the day I signed Yanzi, this gamble began. If I win, I rise further. If I lose, I accept it willingly.”

Sitting in the General Manager’s chair, Zhou Jianhui turned to look out the window, his eyes behind the lenses filled with unwavering resolve: “Yanzi will surpass Zheng Xiuwen. Zhou Yi will surpass Guo Fucheng.”

The copyright of a creative singer’s songs meant nothing compared to the performance targets and position he needed right now.

After all, if Sun Yanzi’s debut album—this one Warner had poured so much manpower and resources into—fails, he’ll likely be forced to resign from his three-year-old General Manager position in disgrace.

At that point, copyright would mean nothing to him.

Better to give ground on the contract than risk losing everything—bet on this young man he believed in, and let him keep the copyright that rightfully belongs to him.