Chapter 41: Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Emperor Star Descends

Taipei, Da Zhong Station Front First Road Audio Store.

After eating breakfast, Gao Geshan strolled downstairs with a toothpick between his lips, pulled on a baseball cap to cover his balding head, and drove his old car—long his faithful companion through countless journeys—to the store entrance.

As a veteran who had witnessed the golden age of Taiwan’s record industry, he had long grown accustomed to not complaining about its decline, but instead seizing every possible chance to make money by stocking more CDs and cassette tapes from popular singers.

There was no choice: if you wanted to profit from selling records these days, you had to race against pirates.

Typically, the peak sales window for an album was the first two to three weeks after release, because after that, pirated cassettes and CDs would sprout like mushrooms after rain, squeezing out legitimate sales.

This wasn’t because pirates had morals and waited for legitimate sellers to get the first taste before taking the meat—it was simply that it took time to record and mass-distribute pirated copies of a newly released album.

Plus, two to three weeks was enough time to tell which album or song had truly caught fire.

Pirates were profit-driven; songs that didn’t sell were treated as scrap material, and only if they could be bundled with hit songs on a single CD or cassette did they count as ancestral luck and triple fortune.

After opening the store, Gao Geshan placed his newly arrived Sun Yanzi album in the most prominent spot on the shelf, then sat back contentedly in his comfortable boss chair.

Taiwan’s hottest new artist this year: Sun Yanzi.

Since her surprise debut in June, her self-titled album had sent every record store owner in Taiwan into a frenzy, frantically ordering stock from Warner.

This was all money.

The boss sighed, and moments later, the store’s speakers began playing Liu Ruoyin’s deeply narrative singing—

“Later, I finally learned how to love,

“But you were already gone, vanished into the crowd,

“Later, I finally understood through tears,

“Some people, once missed, are gone forever~~”

The hit song “Later,” released in early 2000, still dominated every music chart despite having been out for over half a year.

Every record store owner over a certain age played this song nonstop.

It had a story.

This song had a story—and so did they.

The ceiling fan whirred overhead as Gao, having cracked open a beer, was lost in memories of his first love, when several figures entering the store snapped him back to reality—

All appeared to be young, energetic college students; the leader was a boy with a middle-parted hairstyle identical to Guo Fucheng’s.

“Boss, do you have ‘Zhou Yi’?”

“‘Zhou Yi’? Shouldn’t you be looking for that in a bookstore?”

For a moment, Gao Geshan was confused—he didn’t sell feng shui books.

“Not that Zhou Yi. A singer named Zhou Yi just released an album called ‘Zhou Yi.’”

Seeing the boss still clueless, the middle-parted guy quickly added: “The guy who had a two-week rumor with Xiao Yaxuan—the junior brother Sun Yanzi always talks about.”

Now it clicked. Gao slapped his knee in sudden understanding: “You mean him? Yeah, yeah, yeah—I remember, I got his stock from Warner.”

Immediately, Gao adjusted his baseball cap, stepped past the prominent Sun Yanzi album display, and walked toward a less visible corner of the store.

Soon, four brand-new albums appeared in his hands: “Is this it?”

The middle-parted guy glanced at it—the album cover showed an unusually handsome man, the kind his girlfriend would scream to buy the photo book and posters for.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s him! How much, boss?”

“Cassette: 35, CD: 82 (NTD). Which one do you want?”

“CD with the MV—three copies.”

“Alright.”

Watching these college students pay so readily, Gao, ever the businessman, picked up the leftover CD and asked: “Student, is this guy popular? Why did you specifically come for his album?”

“Popular? Not super, but I heard his song yesterday at a classmate’s place. His MV and music felt totally new—something I’d never heard before.”

“I couldn’t get enough, so I came to buy a few. I asked at several stores before finding yours.”

Looking at the man on the cover—his hairstyle and outfit strikingly fresh, sharply distinct from today’s mainstream idols—the middle-parted student excitedly bid the boss farewell and hurried his friends out.

Soon after, several more groups came in to buy albums by Ren Xianqi, Liu Ruoyin, and Sun Yanzi.

Among the customers, two female college students buying Xie Tingfeng’s new album spotted the Zhou Yi album Gao had left on the counter—

The album’s almost timeless look and striking handsomeness instantly pierced the heart of one girl who had come with her friend to buy records.

“Is this the Zhou Yi who had the rumor with Xiao Yaxuan?”

“Yeah, I think so. That face… yep, it’s him.”

“He looks so hot. No wonder Xiao Yaxuan’s obsessed. His body looks great too—if I were Xiao Yaxuan, I’d just lock him up.”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s even better-looking than Xie Tingfeng.”

The girl who had just bought Xie Tingfeng’s new album nodded vigorously like a chicken pecking rice.

It wasn’t that Xie Tingfeng wasn’t handsome—it was just that Zhou Yi’s face and look were too dazzling: “Boss, give me two copies of ‘Zhou Yi’ too.”

“????”

Are girls buying albums this recklessly now?

Confused, Gao watched the two girls leave, excitedly chatting about just how stunning Zhou Yi’s face looked on the cover, a thoughtful expression on his face.

He didn’t understand youth trends, but he understood good looks.

Zhou Yi’s handsome, well-proportioned face was flawless even to this picky middle-aged man—hang up a few posters, and he’d draw in a crowd of girls who only cared about looks.

Instantly, Gao dug out his bulk shipment from Warner: about sixty cassette tapes and twenty CDs of “Zhou Yi,” plus some free posters.

He wouldn’t put them in the prime spot to steal Xie Tingfeng’s spotlight, but at least he’d place them where customers could spot them at a glance.

For safety, he opened one cassette to listen—what songs were on this album? Then—

“Forget your name and follow me, now let’s worship joy,

“Put down your burdens and follow me, spread it, build a joyful era~

“What era does joy belong to?

“The 70s, 80s, 90s, or the Y generation…”

What the hell is this?

The boss frowned, utterly baffled.

Could this kind of song sell?

Was this money too easy to make?

He glared resentfully at the Zhou Yi album he’d displayed, muttering: “Wasted good looks—he can’t even sing worth a damn.”

After rational analysis, Gao placed another order for Sun Yanzi albums and sat back contentedly in his comfy chair, sipping beer and taking care of his health.

Based on his years of experience, he figured Zhou Yi’s album was scrap-tier—just lucky if he could sell it all without being stuck with unsold stock.

Two days later, same time, same place.

“Boss, four CDs of ‘Zhou Yi,’ two cassette tapes of ‘Zhou Yi!’”

“Boss, I want two CDs of ‘Zhou Yi,’ and two cassette tapes too.”

“Boss, three CDs of ‘Zhou Yi,’ five cassette tapes of ‘Zhou Yi!’”

“Boss…”

“Boss…”

Young voices rose and fell in the small store. Gao, who two days ago had made such a confident judgment based on his decades of experience, wanted to slap himself hard—

Damn it! I was too hasty!

Watching the young people waving cash before him, Gao felt his blood pressure skyrocket.

If he could, he’d tie up that singer Zhou Yi and force him to record live on the spot.

In just two days, the album he’d dismissed as scrap had sold out completely. Now, facing the flood of youths who’d rushed here hearing he had “Zhou Yi,” his eyes nearly turned green.

This was all money, damn it!

“Sorry, sorry, I’m out of ‘Zhou Yi’ CDs and cassettes.”

“Really sorry, ‘Zhou Yi’ is sold out.”

“Truly sorry, ‘Zhou Yi’ is all gone…”

Watching wave after wave of customers with cash slip away—this felt worse than being murdered.

So much so that now he reflexively blurted out, “‘Zhou Yi’ is sold out!” the moment any group of young people walked in.

Then he’d see their faces fall, shake their heads, and leave.

Damn it, my fists are clenched!

This is unbearable!

In furious desperation at watching cash fly everywhere except into his pocket, Gao stormed into the phone: “Look, when are you going to restock me? Give me a straight answer!

“It’s been two days—I’ve sold out! Don’t you know? I just want three hundred CDs and three hundred cassettes. Is that too much?!

“If you can’t do that, give me one hundred each!”

“We’re truly sorry, Mr. Gao. Our boss is actively coordinating with Warner. Warner has assured us they’re working overtime to press the albums.”

“What the hell is Warner doing? They don’t even stock enough for their own artist’s album?!”

At this moment, Warner’s general manager, Zhou Jianhui, became the target of curses from countless record store owners across Taiwan.

Can’t even make money? Good riddance to Warner’s decline!

“Boss, we’ve done all we can. Warner initially stocked 50,000 copies of Zhou Yi’s album and are now working overtime…”

The distributor’s staff, having heard so many complaints these past two days, now dreamed of angry calls demanding shipments—they spoke mechanically, numb from repetition.

For a major record company, when a singer releases an album, they set an expected sales target and then plan initial, mid, and late-stage stock levels to avoid overstocking.

They don’t just print the full target number from day one—that’s too risky; no one does that.

For example, a double-platinum album targeting 100,000 sales might start with 40,000 copies, then adjust production based on market response.

Generally, it’s no problem for record companies to do this.

But the problem is, Warner met someone extraordinary—

“Crazy, crazy, crazy—nearly fifty thousand copies sold in three days. Am I crazy, or is the world crazy?”

Zhou Jianhui, who closely monitored Zhou Yi’s album sales, felt his understanding of the Mandarin music industry had been severely shaken.

How could Zhou Yi’s album sales be even stronger than Sun Yanzi’s?

Sun Yanzi managed forty to fifty thousand copies per week—Zhou Yi hit that in just three days. Is he even human?

Zhou Jianhui dared not imagine how many copies it would sell after a month, or after a year.

He knew Zhou Yi’s album was novel for the Mandarin music scene, but he never expected today’s youth to accept it so readily.

The first batch of buyers, drawn by Xiao Yaxuan and Sun Yanzi’s popularity, became the most effective word-of-mouth boosters for Zhou Yi’s album.

This explosion came even more unexpectedly than Sun Yanzi’s—Warner hadn’t even had time to launch promotional campaigns on major radio stations in Baodao.

Zhou Yi’s previously “superficial” popularity on Baodao instantly transformed into real momentum. Even though he was still unknown in the mainland market, this mainland-born artist had exploded first on Baodao.

Of the eleven songs on the album “Zhou Yi,” just three days after release, “Happy Worship,” “Can’t Help Loving You,” “Give Me a Song’s Time,” and “Hate Dream of the Red Chamber” forcefully cracked the top twenty of Baodao’s major music charts and KTV request lists—

Among them, “Happy Worship” and “Can’t Help Loving You” were climbing at rocket speed!

From twenty, nineteen, to fifteen, thirteen;

then both songs squeezed into the top ten, beginning to battle the legends on every chart.

Zhou Yi achieved all this in just five days.

In this scorching early July, Zhou Yi’s genre-defying vocal style and image descended like a divine revelation, delivering a brutal lesson to the entire Baodao music scene!

The hip-hop elements, never before successfully blended, were perfectly fused by Zhou Yi; the rhythmic beats and bright melodies became classics among the new millennium youth, passed mouth to mouth.

On the charts, Warner’s two new artists—one, Sun Yanzi, debuted in June; the other, Zhou Yi, debuted in July—ignited the entire Mandarin music industry with no warning whatsoever!

The most immediate effect was Zhou Yi’s album sales on Baodao skyrocketing again!

“Congratulations on the huge sales! Zhou Yi, you’ve gone viral!”

At the floor-to-ceiling window of Warner’s office, Sun Yanzi, ecstatic, grabbed Zhou Yi and shook him wildly, her face beaming with joy.

Zhou Yi had expected to become popular, but never imagined it would happen this fast—he too wore a genuine smile, knowing he could now return to the mainland with greater confidence to promote and chart.

Two days later, after the weekend, Zhou Yi directly debuted at number one on all major Baodao weekly charts, top ten on monthly charts, and top twenty on quarterly charts.

The song he knocked out of the top twenty on the quarterly charts was “Move,” performed by his own senior, Guo Fucheng;

the songs he displaced from the monthly top ten were Mo Wenwei’s “Summer Fruit” and Zhang Xinzhe’s “Faith.”