Chapter 28

Without joking, if this album succeeds, Sun Yanzi believes every future song blending Hiphop elements will have to bow to Zhou Yi and call him GodFather.

Going from 1 to 2 is easy, but going from 0 to 1 is the very problem that has plagued the entire Chinese-language music industry.

This completely opens up a new path for future Chinese-language music artists to walk down; crudely put, a new genre’s emergence can generate massive new revenue streams for every record company.

That’s all money.

“How did you do it, Zhou Yi?”

“Do this first, then that, then this again. Understand?”

Zhou Yi walked out of the studio, smiled, and headed to the lounge, picked up an apple from the fruit tray, wiped it, and took a bite.

Sun Yanzi gave him a flat, defeated look at this utterly unexciting live lesson: “Since you’re in such good form today, take a break and record the next song later.”

“I’d like to, but apparently someone else doesn’t feel the same.”

Out of habit, Zhou Yi picked up his phone—left earlier on the coffee table—after leaving the studio and checked it; a message immediately caught his eye.

A text from Warner’s general manager, Zhou Jianhui: 【Come to my office after finishing the recording.】

“Zhou Zong wants to see you again?”

“Your use of ‘again’ is a bit off—I’m not the type who goes looking for trouble.”

Sun Yanzi made no reply: “Who knows? I haven’t been to Zhou Zong’s office as many times in the past month as you have this week.”

“Could it be because I’m just that outstanding?”

“You mean your thick skin?”

“Women really are jealous.” Zhou Yi slipped his Nokia into his pocket, chewed the apple, and stood up, leaving under the watchful eyes of the two women.

Zhang Shaohan, who had just stepped out too, asked confusedly: “What’s wrong with Yi-ge?”

“Probably something good. Whatever, forget it. Come on, Shao Han, sister’s taking you to eat.”

“Uh, but I—”

“No buts. Consider it a celebration of your perfect performance today. Come on, come on, come on…”

After Zhou Yi, Sun Yanzi pushed Zhang Shaohan’s back, dragging her out to deepen their sisterly bond. Zhou Yi knocked on the general manager’s office door—and received a shockingly unbelievable message:

“Virgin Records’ Yao Qian invited you to appear in Xiao Yaxuan’s music video for ‘A Person’s Brilliance.’”

“They say you’re the male lead, but the song’s from a female perspective and is a pop dance track, so your screen time won’t be much. Interested?”

Zhou Jianhui adjusted his glasses and explained the deal he’d struck with Virgin: “In exchange, Xiao Yaxuan will star as the female lead in your music video.”

“...Zhou Zong, you’re serious?”

When something is absurd, even Zhou Yi felt stunned: “Why would Virgin agree to such a purely losing deal?”

What status does Xiao Yaxuan hold? A top female singer, head and shoulders above the second-place contender in popularity among the younger generation. Even if Warner offered more money, this would still be impossible.

He’d only imagined it—now it’s real?

“That’s for you to answer, Zhou Yi.”

“Me?”

“Serious. I think you should consider poaching Xiao Yaxuan. I believe if you ask her, she’ll switch labels.”

“...”

When Zhou Jianhui, head of Warner Music, seriously suggested Zhou Yi use his looks to seduce her, Zhou Yi’s eyelid twitched uncontrollably several times.

What the hell is Xiao Yaxuan playing at?

Zhou Yi didn’t believe for a second that she was this deeply infatuated with him.

They’d only met a few times.

“Sign this contract, then go talk to Xiao Yaxuan. Oh, and don’t let it interfere with your own album recording.”

At Zhou Yi’s strong insistence, Zhou Jianhui, who had no intention of crafting him as a pure romantic image, offered this gentle advice.

“...”

Thirty minutes later, Virgin Records building.

Zhou Yi, visiting for the first time, showed his credentials and was led by staff to Xiao Yaxuan’s floor.

As Virgin’s current top artist—even more popular than Lin Yilian—and with her father-daughter-like bond with general manager Yao Qian, Xiao Yaxuan’s treatment at Virgin was nothing short of that of a beloved daughter.

In fact, Xiao Yaxuan and Sun Yanzi, two queens of the early 21st century, shared many similarities.

Both came from wealthy families, both debuted at their peak, both were discovered and launched by their respective company’s general manager. One was nicknamed Warner’s beloved daughter; the other, Virgin’s beloved daughter.

“Mr. Zhou, Miss Elva is rehearsing dance inside. Please wait a moment.”

“Understood, thank you.”

After nodding to the staff, Zhou Yi stood before a frosted glass door, waited until the faint music inside stopped, then knocked—

“Tap tap tap.”

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, Zhou Yi.”

“Come in.”

Zhou Yi pushed the door open and saw a stunning figure with long hair—

A simple white women’s blazer met a black strapless, cropped, sleeveless bodysuit, creating a striking visual contrast.

The simplest black-and-white combo, worn by this woman, carried an unusual sensuality.

Sweat still glistened on her forehead; her lips, slightly parted from heavy breathing, were vividly red.

“Wearing a blazer to rehearse dance? Quite distinctive.”

Zhou Yi glanced once, shut the door, and raised an eyebrow, unreadable.

“The MV requires this look, so I have to practice in it now—otherwise, when you film, I’ll be unprepared and embarrass myself?”

Xiao Yaxuan bent to pick up a towel, wiped her sweat, turned, and smiled at the man.

“How did you do it? A top singer starring as the female lead in a nobody’s MV? That defies all commercial logic—Virgin would never agree.”

Zhou Yi nodded noncommittally, sat casually on the empty floor, turned to face the full-length mirror, and cut straight to the point:

“It’s simple. I think you’re handsome, your personality is good, you suit my taste—I want to pursue you.”

“Many men want to pursue me, but you’re the only one who can keep up with my thoughts, doesn’t pressure me, and has no other agenda.”

Xiao Yaxuan, unashamed of her intent, gripped the towel around her neck, stepped forward, and smiled: “How’s that for sincerity? My opening gift.”

“Average.”

To Xiao Yaxuan’s surprise, Zhou Yi shook his head, looked up at her: “I don’t date.”

“You don’t date?” The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

“Not at this stage of my life,” Zhou Yi replied just as honestly, a faint smile on his lips: “So don’t suggest we ‘try it’—you’ll be the one who ends up hurt.”

“You’re very confident in yourself, Zhou Yi.” Xiao Yaxuan leaned down, her long finger pressing against his chin, tilting it up slightly, her eyes brimming with eager interest.