Chapter 5: Chapter Five: I Wrote the Lyrics, Melody, and Arrangement Myself

Some later-generation fans who blindly followed Zhou Dong often liked to associate the popularity of R&B with him, but this was actually incorrect.

In fact, around the year 2000 on Baodao, it was Tao Zhe who truly pushed R&B into the mainstream market, which is why he came to be called the “Father of Mandopop R&B.”

In 1997, Tao Zhe, having just transitioned from behind-the-scenes work to becoming a front-facing singer, released his first studio album and instantly became a sensation; his highly rhythmic R&B style shook the entire Mandopop industry.

In December 1999, the release of Tao Zhe’s second album, “I’m OK,” catapulted this future PPT god onto the fast track to legendary status.

In early 2000, its sales soared far beyond all others, even overshadowing the God of Songs’ new album, “ Zouguo 1999.”

Under these circumstances, as a professional music producer, Li Sisong could clearly see just how highly the music market now accepted R&B.

Added to that, Zhou Yi was still very young—if he could also handle R&B, he could perfectly craft an album themed around “a young man of the new era,” riding this R&B wave.

After all, the R&B market was still far from saturated; very few artists in Mandopop were currently carving out a slice of this pie.

“I can do R&B. As for dancing, I’m not highly skilled, but I’ve certainly tried it before.”

Under this producer’s analysis, Zhou Yi, who also saw the business opportunity, interlaced his fingers on the desk and spoke with a tone of humble confidence that drew Li Sisong’s attention—

“Really?”

“Of course. And if we’re targeting the youth market, I think hip-hop is also a solid choice.”

Reborn from the future, Zhou Yi knew better than anyone else what the Mandopop industry would look like in the coming years—a chaotic battlefield where the relatively slow-paced R&B and the faster-paced hip-hop both exploded in popularity.

And most importantly, compared to traditional Hong Kong-style ballads, these two genres had clearly become far more popular among the younger generation since the dawn of the millennium.

The clearest example was Pan Weibo, who sang “ Kuailechongbai ” and “ Wodemaikefeng ,” whose popularity briefly rivaled Zhou Dong’s, making him one of the contenders in Mandopop’s god-level war.

Although his hit songs were later revealed to be Chinese adaptations, it was the year 2000—the original versions hadn’t even been released yet.

Zhou Yi figured he could claim them first, making himself the authentic originator.

“Hip-hop?” Li Sisong was surprised.

Wasn’t Zhou Jianhui saying this kid came from the mainland?

He’d assumed the kid would say he could do rock—why was he suddenly bringing up hip-hop?

R&B had only just begun gaining market traction—was hip-hop really viable?

“Are you sure? If you’re going this route, you’ll need to look toward R&B scenes and the West. Given Jianhui’s high regard for you, you should be able to get some decent songs; you can just rewrite the lyrics.”

Seeing Zhou Yi nod, Li Sisong, thinking from the perspective of an album producer, spoke up.

In essence, this was a reassurance—he was telling Zhou Yi that although Warner had declined in the domestic market, it was still an international conglomerate with overseas connections.

Buying songs and rewriting lyrics? That’s just business—nothing to be ashamed of.

Didn’t you know how many people in Hong Kong’s golden era of record production did exactly that?

Moreover, whether in Hong Kong or Baodao, the number of well-known producers skilled in R&B could be counted on two hands—let alone hip-hop, and forget about the mainland.

People did play it, but the market had never opened up.

In the minds of listeners back then, if you wanted rhythm, groove, and pop, just go straight for dance music.

Warner’s top star, the King of Asia’s Dance, still wore his title; he and his peers were the embodiment of rhythm and energy before hip-hop had even entered Mandopop.

A prime example was the King of Dance’s new dance anthem released this past April—“ Dongqilai .”

Everyone who heard it wanted to shake along.

“What? Buy songs? No no, Brother Li, I can write them myself.”

Hearing Li Sisong say that, Zhou Yi waved his hand slightly, signaling he could handle it himself, speaking casually: “I can write it—all the lyrics, melodies, and arrangements—I can do it all myself.”

“...?”

Li Sisong, who had just been mentally scanning for foreign songs to suit Zhou Yi’s debut album, froze. After a second, he frowned slightly and stared at the boy: “You can do all the lyrics, melodies, and arrangements yourself?”

His tone made it clear he found this hard to believe.

How old is Zhou Yi?

Nineteen?

He doesn’t even attend an arts school—how could he possibly write this?

“Yes. If time permits, I can try writing a few songs this month and record demos. I’d appreciate your guidance then, Brother Li.”

“This month?”

“Yes.”

Zhou Yi nodded, his smile bright and sunny: “Next month I have to return to school for exams—finals.”

“...Since you’re so confident, write one song first. Yanzi’s album is already recorded—I have time.”

Almost silenced by the remark about returning to school for finals, Li Sisong tapped his right index finger on the desk, stroked his chin, and spoke.

“Alright, thank you, Brother Li.”

After further discussing musical directions with Li Sisong, Zhou Yi checked the time and took his leave.

He still had to move.

He’d be staying on Baodao for the next month; though he’d only brought a few changes of clothes, he still needed time to learn the area.

As for what song to write, he already had a rough idea.

Tao Zhe had sparked an R&B wave on Baodao with two albums and was later honored as the “Father of Mandopop R&B.”

Considering that in 2000, those original songs hadn’t been written yet, he could simply take Pan Weibo’s adapted hits and ignite a hip-hop wave across the three regions—wouldn’t that make him the future “Father of Mandopop Hip-Hop”?

Once the first person to try something succeeds, the rewards are enormous.

After hip-hop, he could even pivot again and claim the title of pioneer of “New-Generation Chinese Style”—that would be a golden statue of legacy.

Thinking of this, Zhou Yi felt a surge of eagerness, and his steps toward Zhou Jianhui’s office quickened.

If the album was produced quickly, he might even make it to year-end release, potentially going head-to-head with fellow newcomers Sun Yanzi and Zhou Dong at the Golden Melody Awards.