Chapter 69

"Winning this award truly surprised me. Thank you to everyone who has supported me, such as Miss Sun Yanzi, who helped me adjust to my new environment when I first joined Warner."

Having run out of people to thank, Zhou Yi held the "Most Popular Singer" award, tilted the microphone upward, and pointed the trophy toward Sun Yanzi, whose face had turned stunned after being named: "As everyone knows, over half a year ago, I was tricked into joining Warner by Manager Zhou."

"A nineteen-year-old kid suddenly leaving his familiar surroundings—I won’t pretend I wasn’t worried."

"It was Miss Sun Yanzi who showed me that I wasn’t the only unlucky soul tricked into Warner by Manager Zhou. After talking with her, for some reason, I suddenly felt at peace."

Sun Yanzi: "…"

Sun Yanzi, fighting back a laugh as her face appeared on the large screen onstage, helplessly covered her face with one hand, triggering a wave of good-natured laughter from the audience.

Warner’s Zhou Jianhui, last year like a man blessed by fate, scooped up two explosive newcomers—Sun Yanzi and Zhou Yi—a feat that had spread throughout the entire Chinese-language music industry, silencing all internal doubts at Warner that “you can’t accomplish anything with kids.”

Zhou Jianhui also used Zhou Yi and Sun Yanzi to completely quell the simmering internal power struggles.

As performance soared, Zhou Jianhui’s authority as general manager grew, and the support he poured into Zhou Yi, his loyal protégé, intensified.

It was a positive feedback loop.

"Then there’s Miss Cheng Hao."

As Zhou Yi’s increasingly absurd thanks continued, Cheng Hao, who had been clapping and smiling, suddenly froze—her delicate, radiant face captured instantly by the camera.

"As everyone knows, Miss Cheng Hao was the female lead in my 'Flower Field Mistake' music video. I’m glad 'Flower Field Mistake' won Best Album Video, proving I didn’t betray Miss Cheng Hao’s trust."

Zhou Yi shrugged with feigned helplessness: "Back then, I was just an unknown student, while Miss Cheng Hao was already a moderately famous actress."

"Though we were friends, when we hit difficulties filming the MV, I really felt awkward imposing on Miss Cheng Hao further."

"After she found out, she used her own teacher to connect me with a professional Peking Opera troupe to facilitate the MV shoot."

"Without Miss Cheng Hao’s help, the 'Flower Field Mistake' MV wouldn’t have been so complete, let alone won Best Album Video at the Global Chinese Music Chart."

"I might not have won this Most Popular Singer award at all due to flaws in the album’s overall quality."

Cheng Hao: "…"

When Cheng Hao’s lively, radiant eyes appeared on the large screen, under the gaze of so many big names, she opened her mouth but said nothing, finally shaking her head helplessly—though her smile carried a faint, barely noticeable tenderness.

Seeing someone else dragged into being a token name in his thanks, Sun Yanzi, feeling she’d found her kindred spirit, grinned broadly and laughed like a fool.

Among Cheng Hao’s circle, she clapped the hardest.

At the award-giver’s table, Jiang Wen, glancing over at Cheng Hao, took a second look and asked Zhang Yimou beside him: "Isn’t she the girl from Lao Teng’s movie?"

Zhang Yimou glanced, thought for a moment, then nodded: "Probably. 'The Mountain, the Man, and the Dog,' if I remember right."

Lao Teng, whom Jiang Wen referred to, was Teng Rujun, a highly skilled actor whose breakthrough role was in Zhang Yimou’s 'Red Sorghum.'

Interesting.

Jiang Wen’s gaze flickered between Zhou Yi and Cheng Hao for a moment, as if sensing something, and a knowing smile spread across his rugged face: "You know, this girl’s pretty—perfect for the big screen, camera-friendly."

"I just wonder how good her acting is. I’ll ask around at school later."

As a renowned alumnus of the Central Academy of Drama, he was genuinely curious to encounter such a formally trained young actress like Cheng Hao at a music event.

Besides, he’d already broken the rules submitting 'Devils on the Doorstep'—now that he had free time, he might as well drop by his alma mater.

Onstage, after one final round of thanks, Zhou Yi descended with his fifth award of the night, slumping back into his chair with a sigh: "Finally over. I was just one step away from thanking Zhou’s ancestors for eight generations."

"So you dragged me and Yanzi out just to name-drop us, huh?" Cheng Hao shot him a glance and teamed up with Sun Yanzi to gang up on him.

Sun Yanzi joined in: "Yeah, when you mentioned me, I thought you were going to cause a live broadcast disaster."

"Impossible."

Zhou Yi denied it outright: "My thanks to you two are sincere—may the sun and moon bear witness—"

Before he finished speaking, host Wu Zongxian called Zhou Yi’s name again: "Most Popular Song 'A Person’s Splendor,' Xiao Yaxuan."

"Since Xiao Yaxuan couldn’t make it to the venue, she asked Zhou Yi to accept the award on her behalf. Zhou Yi? Could you come up again?"

Zhou Yi: "…"

Zhou Yi, having nearly forgotten about Xiao Yaxuan, stood up again under Wu Zongxian’s teasing gaze and climbed the stage for the sixth time that night.

"Ahem, ahem—this time, I’m not winning the award, so you don’t have to worry about my thank-you speech."

Taking the trophy from Wu Zongxian, Zhou Yi coughed awkwardly twice—his words instantly sparking another wave of good-natured laughter.

"As everyone knows, Miss Xiao Yaxuan is a good friend I met in Taiwan, so I’m accepting this for her. Virgin Music, please remember to contact my agent for the delivery fee."

Behind the scenes, the production team’s mouths were stretched into grins.

Zhou Yi’s a keeper—he genuinely knows how to create fresh, entertaining moments.

He’s a genius. A born star.

Amid laughter and cheers, Zhou Yi descended after accepting the award on Xiao Yaxuan’s behalf and watched the rest of the ceremony as a victor.

After the show, people exchanged contact information and expanded their networks.

Zhou Yi, having handed all his trophies to his parents, wandered around and ended up with a pile of useless contacts in his phone.

All of them big names.

The next day, as if prearranged, Beijing’s major newspapers all ran front-page stories on last night’s award ceremony—

"The No. 1 Figure in Mainland Pop Music—Zhou Yi"

"From Newcomer to Best Singer: Zhou Yi Did It in Half a Year."

"The Passing of the Torch! Zhou Yi Has Taken the Baton from Sun Nan!"

The entertainment section’s headline even zoomed in on the moment Sun Nan presented the award to Zhou Yi, shot from a perfect angle—Sun Yanzi didn’t appear at all, only Sun Nan and Zhou Yi.

Zhou Yuan, deputy chief editor of the Beijing Daily, even wrote in his column that Zhou Yi’s meteoric rise marked the beginning of a new era in Mainland Chinese-language music, as his personal musical elements differed radically from what had previously dominated the industry.

The Daily New Paper went further, publishing a photo of Zhou Yi, Xie Tingfeng, and Wang Lihong accepting the Best New Artist Songwriter award together, with the headline: "The Leading Figures of Chinese-Language Music Across the Taiwan Strait in the New Millennium."

Group photos aren’t scary—it’s who’s short that gets awkward.

As soon as the photo appeared, Xie Tingfeng’s fans flooded the Daily New Paper with criticism and insults.

Though Xie Tingfeng was indeed handsome, Zhou Yi and Wang Lihong weren’t ugly either—in public aesthetics, Zhou Yi’s looks even surpassed Xie Tingfeng’s.

But on the undeniable metric of height, Xie Tingfeng, estimated at just over 1.7 meters, stood in stark contrast to Wang Lihong at 180 cm and Zhou Yi at 183 cm.

The Southern Metropolis Daily and Southern Entertainment, meanwhile, focused on gossip—

"Is Zhou Yi’s Rumored Girlfriend Someone Else?"

The accompanying photo featured Cheng Hao.

"Xiao Yaxuan or Cheng Hao? Or Sun Yanzi? Or Zhang Shaohan? Who Really Is Zhou Yi’s Rumored Girlfriend?!"

Compared to his musical status, the Southern Metropolis Daily and Southern Entertainment clearly zeroed in on the public’s appetite for scandal, riding Zhou Yi’s fame to skyrocketing sales.

As a result, the next day, as Zhou Yi prepared to head to the airport for Hong Kong, reporters stationed there confronted him about it.

"I don’t have time to care about which girlfriends the reporters just made up for me—I’ve got real work to do. For instance, it’s time I started preparing my graduation thesis."

Facing a microphone nearly shoved into his mouth, Zhou Yi’s expression turned serious and solemn: "As everyone knows, I’m still a college student—my graduation thesis is mandatory."