Chapter 52: Warner

On September 1, 2000, Taiwan’s media, desperate to find someone to defeat Zhou Yi and reverse the island’s music industry’s downward trend this year, began hyping up Rock Records, BMG, and Sony Music.

Under the incitement of reporters who loved to stir up trouble, Zhou Yi, who had only officially debuted two months prior, was transformed into a wicked dragon who had done nothing but evil.

The media lamented bitterly, speaking with one voice: Look at the charts.

Number one: “Happy Worship,” Zhou Yi and Zhang Shaohan;

Number two: “Give Me a Song,” Zhou Yi;

Number three: “Later,” Liu Ruo;

Number four: “At Least You Have Me,” Lin Yilian;

Number five: “Courage,” Liang Jing.

The golden throne of the Chinese-language music industry—how could the top two spots on the charts be seized by an outsider? What kind of disgrace is this?!

If we expand the range to the top ten, it becomes even more outrageous: the sixth and tenth spots, guarding the list, were again familiar names—Zhou Yi.

Number six: “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” Zhou Yi and Zhang Shaohan;

Number seven: “Dark Sky,” Sun Yanzi;

Number eight: “Single Love Song,” Lin Zhixuan;

Number nine: “Because of Love,” Xie Tingfeng;

Number ten: “I Love Only You,” Zhou Yi.

This was absurd.

When had the Taiwan music charts ever seen such a scene? Zhou Yi alone held four of the top ten spots, two of which even claimed the top two positions.

Media outlets in Taiwan that had long treated the mainland as a cash cow and looked down on mainland singers finally cracked.

Even Na Ying, though commercially successful, had never pulled off such a feat. You’re just a nineteen-year-old kid, Zhou Yi—how dare you?

What about Li Zongsheng?

What about Luo Dayou?

Save us!

After nearly a month of shouting, Li Zongsheng, collaborating with Guang Liang, finally launched Liang Jing’s second album as the banner to counterattack Zhou Yi.

With “Courage” exploding in popularity, Liang Jing’s exposure surged.

Warner also sensed the threat and quickly contacted Zhou Yi, urging him to finish his mainland affairs and rush to Taiwan to appear on the flagship variety show previously agreed upon with Wu Zongxian—to boost exposure, solidify his popularity, and indirectly stimulate record sales.

Upon hearing this news, Zhou Yi could only sigh: No wonder this is the last twilight of the gods—hit songs after hit songs, like pension plans.

Watching Liu Dehua’s “Men Can Cry, It’s Not a Crime” surge into the top ten, Zhou Yi also accelerated his mainland autograph tour.

Li Wen’s “True Lover” had also climbed to around fifteenth place, with a bright future.

“Fuck! These damn media are so unreasonable—why are they bundling Liu Dehua and Li Wen together to attack you?” His agent Qian Jiang was equally furious.

One is the most popular among the Four Kings; the other is the highest-ranked Chinese female singer internationally.

Bundling these two was already absurd—now they’re adding Liang Jing singing “Courage.”

“Calm down. I can find allies too—I’m not without connections.”

Zhou Yi, who was reading the lyrics and melodies of the theme and ending songs of “Young Bao Qingtian,” wasn’t nearly as indignant.

Not to mention, if he just called out, Sun Yanzi and Xiao Yaxuan—both with massive popularity—could easily ally with him.

If Zhang Shaohan from Fuma hadn’t still been collecting songs, he could have already lined up three of the Big Four and Little Three to stand by his side.

Saying this, Zhou Yi stood up from the living room sofa, closing the sheet music: “Let’s go. I’ve memorized enough. Let’s record early and get to Taiwan sooner.”

…………………………………………………………

“What? It was stolen? Really stolen?”

In Beijing, Sun Nan’s home.

Upon hearing the news, Sun Nan’s eyes widened in disbelief, his pen trembling slightly in his hand: “How dare he?!”

“Zhou Yi is too popular—he’s become completely unreasonable. Your competition with him is completely unequal.”

His agent sighed helplessly: “His manager is a seasoned veteran from Hong Kong and Taiwan—fast, precise, ruthless. After weighing your popularity and audition results, the production team chose him.”

“Fuck!”

Sun Nan slammed his ballpoint pen onto the document, losing his temper: “A nineteen-year-old kid is stealing my resources now?!”

“Clearly, he’s caught the attention of the top levels.”

His agent offered a subtle reminder: “The deputy editor-in-chief of the Beijing Youth Daily publicly declaring his album a phenomenon is a clear signal—it’s just too hot.”

“This year, no one can compete with him for resources if he wants them.”

“Wait until next year, Sun Nan. You’re a singer too—you know how hard it is to release a blockbuster album. Over the past two months, he’s beaten every singer in the Chinese-language music industry.”

“Wait until next year. When your album comes out, if you can directly surpass him, your position won’t be shaken.”

“…”

Sun Nan, lips pressed tight, remained silent—still seething over the theft of his key resources.

He understood the logic, but he was still furious.

Shouldn’t Zhou Yi, so young, have been observed for a few more months—or even a year—before being treated as a threat?

At the same time, the main cast of “Young Bao Qingtian”—Zhou Jie, Ren Quan, Li Binbin, and others—received this shocking news from their agents immediately.

Sun Nan, the top mid-career artist in mainland China, had lost to a nineteen-year-old Zhou Yi.

The news quickly spread through the entire entertainment industry’s agent circles.

After all, this was a true power grab—signaling a real shift in resources.

Another Binbin, who had just finished filming the TV drama “Zhongguancun Storm” and had just begun production on “Luan Shi Fu Ping,” paused after hearing the news, then picked up the phone and called a friend she knew in Taiwan.

She wanted to meet this young upstart who dared to challenge established stars—see if she could make a friend, secure some resources.

Like appearing in a high-profile MV.

Don’t blame her for being opportunistic—she was struggling to survive in the mainland film and TV industry and desperately needed a chance to break through her popularity barrier.

After three years of acting, her only notable role was as a maid in “My Fair Princess.” The resources she received were painfully scarce.

Her performance in “The Legend of the Condor Heroes” was forgotten—everyone was watching Jiao Enjun and Yu Feihong.

The two dramas she starred in this year, “Zhongguancun Storm” and “Luan Shi Fu Ping,” she frankly didn’t believe in.

Weak cast, mediocre script—her only fame came from playing Jin Suo.

But this was already the best opportunity she could get.

Meanwhile, after communicating with Sun Yanzi, Warner, facing a three-pronged assault, announced a major revelation—

“Our artists Zhou Yi and Sun Yanzi will jointly appear on the variety show ‘Food Junction’ next week. Fans are welcome to tune in on October to witness the brilliant performances of ‘Male Zhou, Female Sun.’”

Zhou Yi, who had never appeared on a Taiwan variety show since his debut, instantly had fans eagerly awaiting the episode. Many were also curious about Warner’s new “Male Zhou, Female Sun” twin-star concept.

“It doesn’t seem wrong—this year’s two hottest newcomers are clearly Zhou Yi and Sun Yanzi.”

“Fuck! They’re both from Warner!”

“What shitty luck Zhou Jianhui has!”