Chapter 59: Chapter Fifty-Six: Slowly Accumulated Connections

December 3, Rock Records celebration banquet.

Thanks to its top male and female artists all achieving massive success this year, Rock Records—once hit by investment losses and forced to cut nearly 50% of its staff—pulled off a stunning comeback.

King Ren Xianqi still held firm on his throne, while Queen Liu Ruo soared even higher, exploding in both music and film; among its rising stars were Liang Jingru and Mayday.

Especially Liang Jingru—her album “Courage” sold as well as some veteran singers; given time, she would surely become Rock Records’ next major asset.

Precisely because of this, after shattering the financial clouds hanging over the company, Rock Records immediately held a grand celebration in early December—not only to boost internal morale but also to send a clear signal to the outside world: “We at Rock Records are back.”

Under these circumstances, the number of reporters invited to this event was noticeably higher than at typical company banquets.

The stars appearing at this banquet were too numerous to count.

“They say Rock Records once dominated half the music scene on Baodao—its influence was extraordinary. Now it seems that’s no exaggeration; even stars like Jackie Chan and Liu Dehua, who have no ties to Rock Records, showed up.”

Inside the banquet hall, in a corner.

Zhou Yi, dressed in a flashy red-and-black tuxedo, reached into his pocket for a handful of sunflower seeds, cracking them as he casually critiqued the big names he’d never met before.

At this event, Zhou Yi—both young and junior in status—could only play the humble subordinate, ensuring he didn’t steal the spotlight from Rock Records’ own stars.

Today, the people were the stars.

Sun Yanzi stood beside him in a beige off-shoulder evening gown; seeing him snack so enthusiastically, she felt her own appetite stir, reached over, grabbed a handful of seeds, and picked up the conversation: “How’s King Liu doing? Maybe he’s had dealings with Rock Records before.”

“As for Jackie Chan, his connection with Rock Records goes even further back.”

“Have you seen his movie ‘Drunken Master II’? The famous theme song ‘Drunken Fist’ was composed by Li Sisong and Li Weisong.”

“And the film’s original soundtrack was released by Rock Records—so his presence here isn’t surprising at all…”

After quietly explaining this history to Zhou Yi—who knew little of Rock Records’ past—Sun Yanzi, suddenly thirsty, picked up her water bottle, twisted open the cap, and took a sip.

Zhou Yi, hearing this for the first time, was clearly stunned: “‘Drunken Fist’ was written by your two teachers?”

“Surprised? When I first found out in school, I was shocked too.” Sun Yanzi grinned, clearly delighted to see such surprise on his face.

In the past half-year since they’d met, she’d rarely seen Zhou Yi look genuinely astonished.

Just as she was about to say more, she caught sight—due to her angle—of several Rock Records executives approaching. She quickly shoved the seeds back into the man’s hand as he turned to look at her, urging urgently: “They’re coming for you—stop snacking, put them back in your pocket.”

“?”

Though he didn’t yet know what was happening behind him, Zhou Yi obediently slipped the seeds back into his expensive tuxedo pocket—

Before he could speak, Liu Ruo’s cheerful voice rang out from behind: “I was wondering where you two disappeared to—turns out you’re hiding here whispering secrets.”

“Sis, don’t tease me—you and Qi Ge are the real stars.”

At Sun Yanzi’s wink, Zhou Yi turned instantly with a smile so genuine not even a critic could find fault: “Me and Yanzi are just little stars—we can’t handle all the camera flashes from the media here.”

“So smooth for your age, huh? If you two are little stars, then aside from Brother Jackie and Hua Zai, no one else here deserves to be called a star.”

Even as she teased, Liu Ruo beamed, pointing to Jackie Chan and Liu Dehua walking over with Ren Xianqi: “How about these three? I’m sure you don’t need introductions.”

“Of course not—anyone in China who’s ever touched music or film knows them.”

Zhou Yi stepped forward with a smile; Sun Yanzi greeted each of them in turn.

In another corner, Fan Bing, who’d snuck into the banquet through a friend, watched Zhou Yi laughing and chatting with Jackie Chan, Liu Dehua, Ren Xianqi, and Liu Ruo—and his resolve to approach and network for a music video opportunity grew even stronger.

“Ah Yi, I heard your album in the U.S.—you sang it really well.”

As the highest-profile international star in China’s entertainment industry, Jackie Chan showed no airs; he even patted Zhou Yi on the shoulder in encouragement.

Having entered Hollywood’s elite circle after the 1998 release of “Rush Hour,” Jackie Chan was now preparing “Rush Hour 2”; having been exposed to American pop music, he was no stranger to Zhou Yi’s work.

Though he didn’t understand the other songs on Zhou Yi’s album, he clearly appreciated “Flower Field Mistake,” with its Peking Opera elements.

“I really love your song ‘Flower Field Mistake’—few young people today are willing to seriously study Peking Opera.”

“When you come to Xiangjiang someday, let me treat you.”

Having grown up studying Peking Opera, Jackie Chan deeply lamented its decline—and thus viewed Zhou Yi, who blended traditional opera culture into modern songs to promote Chinese heritage, with a favorable lens.

As for Liu Dehua and Ren Xianqi, they were joking about how each generation produces its own talents.

Liu Dehua, who’d just released a new album months ago, exaggeratedly described how he and Li Wen had struggled to chase Zhou Yi’s songs on the charts.

After exchanging contact details and mutual flattery, even Zhou Yi felt dizzy, his steps light as if floating.

No wonder people say everyone becomes kind when you’re famous—you easily get carried away.

When praise and flattery surround you, it’s hard not to float—especially when it comes from true legends.

“Oh, by the way, Zhou Yi—the female lead in your ‘Flower Field Mistake’ MV—I remember her name is Cheng Hao, right?”

After the back-and-forth chatter, Liu Ruo suddenly snapped her fingers, as if remembering something: “I’ve got a drama casting right now—it’s called ‘Pink Lady.’ I mentioned it to you at your own celebration, remember?”

Startled by the sudden question about Cheng Hao, Zhou Yi hesitated: “Yeah, sis? What about her?”

“Well, I’m casting for a role called ‘The Millionaire’s Crush.’ Originally, Xiao Qiang was set to play it, but she’s too busy and had to decline.”

“You know how huge your album is on Baodao—the director saw Cheng Hao in your MV, thought she was gorgeous, and felt she’d be perfect for the role.”

“But he doesn’t have her agent’s contact info, so he thought of me—asked me to check with you.”

But the director didn’t have her agent’s contact information, so he thought of me and wanted me to ask you on his behalf.