Chapter 21: Chapter Twenty: Zhou Wang Taolin Shares the Dew

「Real? 」

Sun Yanzi raised an eyebrow upon hearing this answer: «That's a novel way of putting it—I've never heard that before. »

«Now you have. »

Zhou Yi shrugged and spread his hands, teasing: "You know, hip-hop's whole thing is authenticity."

«But the hip-hop artists I've seen usually just talk about authenticity—they rarely practice what they preach like you do. »

Sun Yanzi took a bite of the fruit, offering no reply, instead launching into stories from her past experiences.

As a Singaporean—and one who studied music while studying—she had naturally encountered hip-hop, a globally dominant musical element.

Zhang Shaohan, unsure what to say, merely blinked her electric eyes and nodded vigorously in agreement: «True—I've met plenty of hip-hop fans during competitions, lots of them all talk and no action; they sing about luxury cars and beautiful women in their songs. »

She studied in Canada, where the culture was even more intense than Singapore's.

«Maybe it's because I haven't reached the point where I need to lie. Also, thanks for the compliments—I don't think I deserve them. »

Zhou Yi, who had deep self-awareness, smiled unconcernedly: «Besides, I'm not planning to build a pure-love image—if any rumors about multiple love affairs surface later, they won't backfire on me. »

These days, playing the innocent type is trendy, but once that image collapses, the backlash is terrifying.

Later generations always blame the obsessive fans born in the traffic era, but the fans of the stars from the millennium era were even more monstrous.

Traffic-era fans just tap keyboards and open their mouths; millennium-era fans could physically brawl at any moment.

They dug up dirt on rivals, traded insults, gave each other derogatory nicknames, bought data to win awards, competed over progress and effort, even fought over endorsements—all these behaviors existed among millennium-era star fans, and they could escalate straight to live confrontations and two-team showdowns.

Internet-era traffic fans were merely repeating others' old tricks.

The most famous "Zhou Wang Taolin" and "Four Big, Three Small" of the millennium-era music scene each had obsessive fans who once tore each other apart like elite soldiers.

As for film and TV stars, their obsessive fans tore things apart even worse—accusations and bribing rivals were child's play; the stars themselves would personally join the fray.

Thus, Zhou Yi, reborn into this era, understood the importance of a celebrity image—he knew that if he was already a ruin, there was nothing left to collapse.

«You're thinking very far ahead. »

Sun Yanzi, seeing for the first time someone who deliberately planned to turn themselves into a ruin, looked utterly astonished: «But if you do that, will there even be a market? »

Since the birth of the Chinese-language music scene, no singer had ever dared to start out like this.

«If I keep producing great work, why wouldn't there be a market? » Zhou Yi waved his hand grandly, exaggerating playfully: «I'm the king who will rule Chinese-language music for the next ten years! »

With access to Zhou Wang Taolin's hits and the subsequent wave of hit songs—even if they were copied—he had every reason to feel confident and show off.

If domestic albums really failed to sell because of this image, he could use Warner's connections to go international, especially to the U. S.

He remembered plenty of Billboard chart-toppers; he could just assemble a few albums and go for Grammys—once he returned home, every critic and opponent would fall silent.

In this era, the foreign moon really was considered brighter.

«…»

«…»

Sun Yanzi and Zhang Shaohan, hearing someone self-proclaim themselves this way for the first time, were left speechless—then burst out laughing. Zhang Shaohan, still only eighteen and with a thin face, tried to hide her laughter behind her hand.

Twenty-two-year-old Sun Yanzi was different—she laughed so hard her back teeth showed. She leaned back, her laughter echoing like goose honks: «I can't—I've never heard anyone call themselves the 'King of Chinese-language Music' before. This is hilarious—you really don't fear the wind blowing your tongue off. »

«You're mocking me, huh? Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west—haven't you heard 'Don't look down on the poor youth'? »

Zhou Yi, equally playful in his expression, couldn't keep a straight face either—his teeth bared, his grin never fading: «Be serious—this is a serious matter. »

«Never heard it—I've only heard 'Feng shui turns.' Shaohan, have you heard it? » Sun Yanzi, still laughing until her diaphragm twitched, turned to Zhang Shaohan, who was quietly stifling her giggles.

Zhang Shaohan, who had been playing the invisible girl, was caught off guard: «Huh? Ah? »

Zhou Yi immediately pointed at Sun Yanzi and drew a giant pie in the air: «Stop laughing—I'm still weak and haven't been crowned yet. Quickly refute her and cheer for me. When I rise to fame, you'll get a generous reward. »

«Enough, don't put pressure on her. »

Sun Yanzi, now calming her laughter, shrugged her shoulders—still catching her breath—and said: «If you're going to shoot a music video, better finish my part quickly. »

«My album drops next month. No matter the sales, I'll have to travel for promotion—I won't have time after that. »

«Easy. Pick two songs—decide which one you want to appear in. »

Zhou Yi waved to Zhang Shaohan, signaling her to bring him nearby paper and pen—and under the two women's stunned gazes, he uncapped the pen—

«What two songs? Zhou Yi, you—»

Before Sun Yanzi could finish her sentence, her expression shifted into bewildered shock.

Lines of lyrics appeared as Zhou Yi's pen moved, followed by sheet music—he didn't pause once.

Seven minutes later, both Sun Yanzi and Zhang Shaohan stared wide-eyed, frozen in place as if seeing a ghost, staring at the two freshly written songs in Zhou Yi's hands, lips trembling, unable to utter a word.

«Give Me a Song's Time, » «I Love Only You. »

One R&B ballad, one pop ballad.

Both were professionally trained musicians; even without arrangement, they could hum the melodies simply by reading the sheet music and lyrics:

«Rain soaks the sky, gray with meticulous care—you say you don't understand why we held hands now~»

«In the kingdom of love's happiness, you're my only one, my only love is you, I truly love only you~»

«~~~»

After several hums, deeply sensing the songs' exceptional quality, Sun Yanzi and Zhang Shaohan lifted their eyes from the sheet music to the man sitting like a lord in his chair, legs crossed, their expressions complex.

«Well? »

Seeing their gaze, Zhou Yi smirked and raised an eyebrow: «Share your thoughts? »

If Tao Zhe's «Hate Dream of the Red Chamber» weren't unsuitable for Sun Yanzi to appear in, he'd have written that iconic little yellow song right then and there.

For his debut album: «Give Me a Song's Time, » «I Love Only You, » «Hate Dream of the Red Chamber, » «It's Me»—the millennium's Four Kings, Zhou Wang Taolin, all sharing the spotlight;

Wildcard entries: «Happy Worship, » «Can't Help Loving You» as backup.

This was the confidence granted by Zhou Yi's cheat.

He couldn't imagine any Chinese-language artist's debut album matching his.

Zhou Dong couldn't. Fei'er Band, even with their reputation of debuting at peak, couldn't either.