Chapter 450: The Magic of a Madman

He had no obsession with winning awards, nor did he need these so-called Western awards to validate or elevate himself.

He was only interested in sales.

Let them curse; so what?

The Brit Awards are full of flaws even within the UK; one more critic wouldn't make a difference.

Moreover, judging by the fact that they included him and then leaked rumors to belittle his musicality, it was likely they just put him and Eminem in as decoys to boost their own status.

In that case, there was no need to hold back on the criticism.

"Besides, I never said it."

A wicked smile curled Zhou Yi's lips: "If you're willing to give it to me next year, and I show up at the venue, won't it be necessary for me to watch?"

"You spoke like that, so it's strange if you're willing to give it; the British are just as petty as the Americans." Qian Jiang couldn't quite hold it together.

Did he really think that bunch of old British scholars had no temper?

"That doesn't matter. I'll raise the banner of freedom of speech, become an uncrowned king in Britain, and I'm fine with just selling records to make money." Zhou Yi didn't care at all; in fact, he was even somewhat eager to try.

Going a whole lifetime in Britain without a single award, yet having sales rank among the top every year—wasn't that another way to be recorded in history?

He could even return to China and play the victim of discrimination.

After all, his core base had always been domestic, and the foundation of all his career had always been domestic.

The principle that "the crying child gets the milk" is universal.

"..."

Qian Jiang, who had been about to speak but stopped, ultimately swallowed back the words that had already risen to his lips.

He had to admit, his impression of Britain was quite profound; after all, it was part of his childhood memories, and whenever Britain was mentioned, he subconsciously felt a notion that he needed to be careful.

But Zhou Yi's heartfelt indifference actually made him feel as if he had just awakened from a dream—

Right, what use would those trophies from that bunch of foreigners be to Ah Yi himself?

As long as the sales are high, isn't that enough?

Facts proved that this tactic worked quite well.

On the morning of February 17, US time, newspapers and magazines in the US, including The New York Times, Vanity Fair, and the Los Angeles Times, comprehensively reported on this impromptu interview Zhou Yi gave upon disembarking the plane—

And they thoughtfully released the full footage.

The British media world, which has always been like a father and son with the US, immediately stirred up waves—

The Sun, known by the nickname "King of Gossip," dug up Zhou Yi's romantic entanglements with models in Britain at the earliest opportunity, and, not minding stirring up trouble, also turned its矛head toward the Brit Awards.

As the promotional ambassador for Arsenal Football Club, benefiting from last year's good cooperation and Arsenal's impressive results under Wenger, Zhou Yi, who had thoroughly opened up the British market with the World Cup closing ceremony, had quite a few die-hard fans.

"That Arrogant Guy Is Back Again" — UK, The Daily Mail.

"Let Sales Speak, Please Reflect, British Music Industry" — UK, Metro.

"Reject Racial Discrimination, Music Has No Borders" — UK, London Evening Standard.

"..."

Relying on the foundation laid by football, the surging public opinion triggered by a single sentence left the entire Brit Awards judging committee numb.

Since the award was established, they had seen their share of troublemakers, but Zhou Yi was the first one who didn't even bother to pretend.

Aren't all Chinese people supposed to be tactful?

Where is your tact? Where is your euphemism? Where is your humility?

Bullshit!

If you don't get it this time, why not say some nice words and try harder next time?!

What if we enjoy listening and give it to you the time after that?!

The Grammy judging committee was also a bit panicked now—this damn thing really didn't hide anything when there was an issue.

The main banner he flew was the tone that the Western world had always advocated: freedom of speech.

"I like this guy!"

"Hey, Spike, I agree with your assessment of the Brit Awards; it's a pile of shit!"

"Oh, God, why did I have to meet such a charming man? Can you give me your contact info, Spike? I'm a model, preparing to break into Victoria's Secret..."

On Zhou Yi's personal blog, many active users became lively again after he arrived in the US.

Netizens, 狂欢ing as various newspapers reported, flocked to leave comments under Zhou Yi's blog, which had barely been active before—and surprisingly, Zhou Yi actually logged into his account to reply—

Of course, he only replied to the aspiring Victoria's Secret model who wanted his contact info: "For real? Show me your legs?"

Less than a minute later, he deleted his comment and posted a new entry the next second: "Sorry everyone, just now my agent was managing my blog; I've now taken back control."

He accompanied it with a hand-drawn yellow funny emoticon.

In an era when internet surfing emoticons were not yet mature, the impact this hand-drawn emoticon by Zhou Yi himself brought to his fans was unimaginable—

"???"

"You picked out that model who said she was breaking into Victoria's Secret among tens of thousands of comments, and now you're telling me it was your agent?"

"Just like you, Spike."

"Holy crap! Zhou Yi is awesome! Is flirting with girls this open and aboveboard?"

"The more I look at this emoticon, the more I want to laugh."

"Isn't Spike supposed to have an arrogant and domineering persona? Why does it feel so funny?"

"Nonsense! This is called humor!"

"..."

Inside the hotel, closing that thick and heavy laptop, Zhou Yi turned to look at the stunned Qian Jiang, smiled, and patted his shoulder: "How about it? Didn't the discussion level go up another notch?"

Blind arrogance isn't impossible, but it's easy to go too far.

At this moment, creating an image that forms a contrast makes it easier to leave a more three-dimensional impression in the Western world—though young and reckless, he wasn't without a touch of down-to-earthness.

After all, a person who is too perfect often seems like a foundation suspended in the high sky, always giving people a sense of unreality, whether in Europe and America or domestically.

Appropriately exposing some irrelevant "clumsy-cute" moves actually makes it easier to win over casual fans, easier to solidify existing fans, and easier to give people a sense of closeness.

And this requires Zhou Yi himself to step in personally.

Of course, the most direct result of doing so was that when Zhou Yi was invited to attend a Coca-Cola event next, he was once again completely surrounded by crazy reporters—

"Spike! What do you mean by 'checking out legs' on your personal blog? Have you already made contact with that model?"

"Spike, what is your opinion on those remarks that accuse you of seeking attention?"

"Spike..."

Zhou Yi, who was not wearing sunglasses this time, smiled broadly upon hearing this: "Scold me all you want; it's just dogs barking. I am who I am. I come with all my strengths and weaknesses, and I will not change."

"???"

"Do you not think saying that is a bit excessive? Spike?"

"I don't think so."

Zhou Yi shook his head: "It's like I'm driving a convertible through America, but there's a pack of dogs barking wildly by the roadside. You clearly see those dogs barking nonstop, but my convertible keeps moving forward."

"... Then how do you evaluate Eminem?"

Zhou Yi smiled brilliantly: "I think Eminem must be one of those crazy peeping toms. They like to observe others, always using high-caliber telescopes at home to spy on other people's lives. I think that's why he keeps talking about me."

(End of this chapter)