Chapter 596: Caught in the Worst Era

For Wang Lihong, this day was truly his darkest day.

But for the vast fanbase of Zhou Yi, this day was one of celebration.

As a new song, "Qi Li Xiang" achieved on its first day online what broke the first-day request records of major radio stations across both sides of the strait and Hong Kong, Macau, and Taiwan — and this was without even releasing the MV.

As everyone knows, Zhou Yi is universally recognized as the most respectful artist toward his fans in the Chinese music scene — no exceptions.

Every song on his albums, even hidden tracks, comes with a beautifully produced MV, at enormous cost. Even people who don't like a particular song won't feel shortchanged buying the album — they can just treat it like watching a short film.

Last year's "In the Name of the Father" took this to an extreme.

"Although there's been no news this year similar to 'In the Name of the Father,' it's obvious that this year's Zhou Yi lead single has abandoned the European mafia narrative perspective and returned to the Chinese-style territory he's best at.

"He even fused rock into it.

"Yes, unlike many others, this writer believes that 'Qi Li Xiang' represents another exploration by Zhou Yi in his Mandarin album catalog.

"He blended the new Chinese-style he pioneered, the love songs he's best at, and the rock he loves most in his bones, creating this fresh, pleasant song that makes listeners feel like a spring breeze.

"Few Chinese-language soft rock songs can achieve the popularity of Zhou Yi's work, and the lyrics are cleverly crafted to align with modern poetry imagery, together building the love-poem foundation of this song.

"'Qi Li Xiang' is not merely a love poem Zhou Yi wrote for summer and for campus — it is also a sweet nothing he offers to his vast fanbase…"

On the 11th, Dong Qing, editor of Contemporary Music Scene, published her listening impressions on her personal blog, lavishing praise on Zhou Yi's lead single's triumphant return to the Chinese love song arena.

Abandoning the bitter-sweet tone — the market's favorite and biggest share — found in his career's most popular love song "Fairy Tale," there is only the love string of first love that makes listeners feel like they're seventeen again.

This is undoubtedly a very bold decision.

If the MV hadn't still been under embargo, she would absolutely have done another close-reading of it.

However, just as Warner was about to start popping champagne, after only one night, on the Baidu MP3 search charts, "Qi Li Xiang" surpassed "Rewind," "Compromise," "Encounter," "Sunny Day," "He Must Love You Very Much," "Dusk," and other songs, rocketing straight to number one!

"Jianhui was dumbfounded — it was his first time seeing piracy this fast.

"Your song had only just been released to radio, and after only one night, pirated versions are already spreading everywhere online…"

New York.

Qian Jiang, who had finally received the data report, frowned deeply.

This question was a bit beyond the syllabus.

Wasn't there supposed to be a seven-day to half-month legitimate sales window after an album's release?

How did it leap from the radio charts to the MP3 search charts in just one night?

Warner hadn't released the MP3 audio either, and no insider leak had been detected.

"What's the big deal? Isn't that just how the wild, untamed internet works?" Zhou Yi said with a light laugh, swirling his wine glass — clearly having long been mentally prepared for this.

Ever since he first learned of the existence of something called Baidu MP3, he had anticipated this situation.

If physical piracy had already pushed domestic record companies to the brink of collapse, then internet pirates led by Baidu MP3 were the final straw that broke the camel's back.

That making music is a dead end — from this period on, it was no longer just empty talk.

The emergence of ringtone downloads only served a tiny group at the very top of the pyramid; this small group bought the Chinese music scene a few more years, creating an illusion of prosperity.

Middle-tier and lower-tier music professionals were completely unable to make money—some changed careers, some went home, and the Chinese music scene utterly became a rootless duckweed.

It wasn't until the rise of QQ Music that new-era musicians led by the Q-Music Big Three barely pulled some of the market back, but it was only a drop in the bucket.

Record companies declined day by day; the influence of new-generation singers was far less than before; acting became the only path, with singers reduced to an accessory. Crowns like "Heavenly King" and "Heavenly Queen" no longer existed, and that famous brainwashing-package argument was born from this — namely, director > actor > singer.

Why do singers have the lowest status?

Because making albums doesn't make money — you still have to act in dramas + do commercial gigs + take endorsements. Even someone as talented as Jay Chou couldn't escape the sanctions of this market shift.

"But this will seriously impact your album sales."

Qian Jiang clearly didn't share Zhou Yi's optimistic mindset; his brows were practically knotted together: "This behavior has seriously violated our rights."

"Get ready, Old Qian — the worst era for the music scene is about to arrive."

Zhou Yi patted his manager's shoulder and laughed freely.

This tide of the times cannot be stopped by human effort.

Dao Lang's breakout hit "The First Snow of 2002"—popular enough, right? It is truly a rare phenomenon-level song in the music scene.

Yet the official figures given by his manager Li Songqiang showed that album sold only 200,000 legitimate copies in half a year.

Later generations always say the Chinese music scene is finished and such, but actually, you reap what you sow — the cultivation of singers follows a cyclical pattern.

The formative years of the Q-Music Big Three coincided perfectly with the last glory of the early-millennium music environment, which planted the seeds of music in them; after that, there was nothing.

The deterioration of the music environment meant the new generation of musicians never received proper musical baptism from childhood, and the most direct consequence was that in the mobile internet era, those early-millennium veteran singers, riding on their old foundations and with a little marketing, all experienced a comeback.

"Alright, get some sleep early. I'll fly back to China after attending the Victoria's Secret show tomorrow night. My popularity at home still guarantees a baseline sales figure — don't worry too much."

Seeing that Qian Jiang, who had yet to witness the power of internet piracy, was still racking his brains for countermeasures, Zhou Yi took the folder from his hands.

At that previous Victoria's Secret after-party, he had indeed met quite a few models and celebrities who came to watch the show, but after seeing the rehearsal earlier, he now genuinely had no interest in this year's Victoria's Secret show.

The venue for the 2003 Victoria's Secret show, dubbed the "Era of the Gods," was actually not that large — considerably smaller in area than the 2005 relaunch's "Battle of the Gods," let alone the performance by the guest performers.

Such a small space, yet they still had to arrange all kinds of guests; sitting in the audience doing nothing was pure torture for Zhou Yi. These damned Jews make so much money yet can't be bothered to renovate the stage—relying purely on models selling flesh to draw the eye.

The only positive was that the models did enrich his contact list; that AA even had a falling out with a "good sister" who called her a liar, and he enjoyed the gossip immensely.

Loves watching women fight. jpg

The next evening at seven, Zhou Yi, dressed in an Armani formal suit, stepped onto the red carpet on time and accepted interviews from major media.

"Spike! Do you have a favorite Victoria's Secret Angel?"

"I'm very broad-minded — I like them all."

"I heard you released a Chinese album but haven't returned home — are you planning not to—"

"Oh, you've come to the right person."

On the red carpet, under the bewildered gaze of the BBC reporter, Zhou Yi snatched the microphone from his hand, cut him off, and faced the flashing cameras to recite his promotional line: "Dear Victoria's Secret show viewers, my latest music album will be officially released on November 20th at 10:08 AM.

"If you're interested, welcome viewers to purchase it through major channels before 10:08 AM on November 20th.

"That's why I haven't returned to China yet — because on November 20th…"

The BBC reporter was dumbfounded.

No way, damn Satan Lucifer, is this how you do promotion?

Are you doing brainwashing on the red carpet?