Chapter 50: Seizing Power Today

“Music is pure! Ai Yi is absolute!”

“Music is pure! Ai Yi is absolute!”

“Music is pure…”

In Jingcheng, at the autograph signing event.

When Zhou Yi saw his original fans suddenly chanting a unified slogan, he had to admit, the scene genuinely shocked him.

But the content of that slogan…

Heaven and earth know, the only reason he said “music is pure” in that interview with Contemporary Music Scene was to distract the public from obsessing over his scandals.

Still, it sounded pretty good.

Under this friendly atmosphere, Zhou Yi skillfully performed his songs “Happy Worship,” “Can’t Help Loving You,” “Give Me a Song,” “I Love Only You,” and “Flower Field Mistake” in rotation.

He did his best to avoid singing “Hate Dream of the Red Chamber,” the song fans in Baodao often requested.

After all, the mainland wasn’t like Hong Kong and Taiwan—the public and official attitudes hadn’t evolved to such an advanced version yet.

The lyrics of “Hate Dream of the Red Chamber” were too explicit; while privately they might be beloved, putting them on stage would have to wait until the internet age arrived.

Didn’t you see how long the mainland music industry criticized Dao Lang for his song: “With your fiery lips, let me lose myself endlessly at midnight”?

Although the lyrics of “Flower Field Mistake” did carry a hint of suggestive imagery, it was only suggestion, leaving ample room for imagination.

In fact, due to its innovative R&B dramatic style, “Flower Field Mistake” had even higher attention on the mainland than in Baodao.

After several consecutive days of signing events, Zhou Yi had only failed to perform “It’s Me” three times, when fans specifically requested it.

When he reached his final autograph signing in the capital, Zhou Yi, habitually saying “Hello” and “Thank you” to fans, suddenly froze when he saw a fan holding an album approaching him.

“Zhou Yi, I like you.”

The woman’s voice, clear and bright as a spring, was simple yet stunning: her jet-black hair tied neatly into a ponytail at the back, revealing a full forehead. After pausing with a smile, she added, “Could I get your autograph?”

“Of course.”

Zhou Yi smiled faintly, took his album and photo book, and signed his name and blessing in bold, flowing script: “Wishing Miss Cheng Hao a smooth future and massive success—Zhou Yi.”

After the signing event ended, Zhou Yi saw Cheng Hao waiting for him backstage.

“Why are you here?”

“I’m your fan. Can’t I come to your signing?” She waved her album and photo book, tilting her head with a mischievous grin.

“It’s not that I can’t.”

Zhou Yi chuckled: “I’m just surprised—you’re a big star, shouldn’t you be swamped with work?”

Cheng Hao shot him a sideways glance, huffing, “Are you mocking me?”

In less than two months, Zhou Yi’s popularity on the mainland skyrocketed. Half the songs from his album “Zhou Yi” were playing everywhere.

Among them, “Happy Worship” and “Can’t Help Loving You” spread the most widely.

Cheng Hao could hear “I need your love every day, my thoughts are yours to guess” outside any store she visited;

she could hear “To which era does happiness belong? The 70s, 80s, 90s, or Y-generation?” blaring from neon-lit signs outside hair salons.

The popularity of these two songs on the mainland was absurdly high, far outpacing all other tracks on the album by a wide margin.

“Unfair! I’d never dare mock you.”

Zhou Yi grinned, took the keys she tossed him, and followed her—ignoring the stunned look from his agent Qian Jiang.

“Hey, wait a minute, wait a minute, Ah Yi!”

Confused about the woman’s identity, Qian Jiang heaved his bulky frame after them: “Who is she?”

“Oh, my memory’s slipping.”

Zhou Yi tapped his forehead and introduced: “Cheng Hao, this is my agent, Qian Jiang. Qian Shu, this is my friend Cheng Hao—she’s from the Central Academy of Drama, an excellent actress.”

“...”

Qian Jiang, who had just pulled Zhou Yi out of Xiao Yaxuan’s house a few weeks ago, stared at this woman—more beautiful than Xiao Yaxuan—and suddenly felt a toothache.

This kid’s barely started and he’s already playing so hard—what’s going to happen later?

“Alright, I’m off, Qian Shu. Call me if anything comes up.”

Zhou Yi, having finished the Jingcheng signing and having two days off, was ready to relax. He bid Qian Jiang farewell, packed up, and headed for Cheng Hao’s car—

when Qian Jiang grabbed him back.

“Wait a minute, Ah Yi. You can’t rest yet.”

???

Seeing both Zhou Yi and Cheng Hao staring blankly, Qian Jiang ushered them into a confidential minivan: “A mainland TV drama production team contacted us. They want you to audition for a song.”

“If you’re suitable, they’d like you to officially sing the opening and ending themes. So you’ll need to come with me for the next couple of days.”

As an agent who had once crisscrossed the three regions, Qian Jiang’s connections kicked in.

The moment Zhou Yi became popular, every company and channel he’d ever worked with came knocking.

For days, Qian Jiang had been carefully screening projects Zhou Yi could take—until this TV drama approached.

“TV drama? What TV drama?”

“Young Bao Qingtian.”

“...”

Damn!

Zhou Yi’s inner mind screamed “Damn!”

If the early 2000s were dominated by “Journey to the West: The Sequel,” then the most popular TV drama in the second half of the millennium was the yet-unreleased “Young Bao Qingtian.”

This mystery-detective drama starring Zhou Jie and Li Binbin was, in his past life, Zhou Yi’s childhood favorite—even though the plot later turned out to be a total mess.

But… wasn’t this drama already completed?

It’s already August.

“Here’s the thing: originally, the producers planned to invite Sun Nan to sing the opening theme and have him and Na Ying record the ending theme together to boost popularity.

“After all, they’re still widely seen as the top male and female singers on the mainland.

“But now it’s different.”

Qian Jiang pointed at Zhou Yi: “Your sudden rise means Sun Nan is no longer their only option. Your popularity and appearance are a far better deal for the producers.

“The only question is whether you can handle the opening and ending themes of this drama.

“I think you can, so I recommended you for the audition. If you succeed, it means you’ve officially earned the right to take over Sun Nan’s position.

“Because this was originally his resource—and now you’re taking it.

“And if your opening and ending themes become as huge as the drama itself, then future opportunities that once only considered Sun Nan will now consider you.”

Qian Jiang paused, then said solemnly: “This is the real battle for the title of mainland music king.”