Chapter 75: The Soda Under the Table Strikes Back (Fourth Update~)

Celebrity endorsements form a major part of a star’s annual income and are the most obvious indicator of their status; Qian Jiang, who has spent over twenty years in the agent circle, deeply understands this truth.

Because of this, watching Zhou Yi on stage, holding his award and once again running out of words in his thank-you speech, he clapped with a sense of quiet satisfaction.

Compared to the artists he previously managed at Warner, Zhou Yi was undoubtedly the easiest to handle and the one who gave him the most motivation.

Under the joint PR efforts of Warner and Emperor, tonight’s Top Ten Golden Melodies Award would inevitably center on just two young men: Zhou Yi and Xie Tingfeng.

The back-and-forth between them was the dominant theme of the night.

Even some confused stars gradually caught on, their meaningful glances sweeping repeatedly between the Warner and Emperor artist camps.

Especially those Hong Kong stars who had lived through the Tan-Zhang rivalry era.

Representatives from PolyGram, EMI, and other record labels showed visible unease.

If the Tan-Zhang rivalry were to reenact itself in the new century, only Zhou Yi and Xie Tingfeng would benefit—every other record company would be left eating dust.

Times are no longer like the past, when the Hong Kong music scene had influence across all of Asia and the physical album market was huge; under the assault of piracy, Hong Kong’s music market had long been like Wang Xiaoe’s New Year—worse every year.

If Zhou Yi and Xie Tingfeng swallowed up most of the legitimate sales market, how could these record labels’ singers even survive?

Especially Zhou Yi.

He’s a mainlander who can’t even sing Cantonese songs; his popularity in Hong Kong has always been lower than many others, as shown by his album sales here.

He sold hundreds of thousands in Taiwan, reached a million on the mainland, but in Hong Kong? A paltry fifteen thousand—less than that.

Did Emperor even eat too much and decide to take him on?!

And now they’re using Xie Tingfeng’s Hong Kong popularity to prop him up?!

You could at least bring in Eason Chan—he may be ugly, but at least he’s a local!

Even Chen Guanxi would do—his singing’s weak, but he’s handsome, and he’s best friends with Xie Tingfeng, the kind who shares pants with him.

“Ah Cheng, this is interesting.”

Down in the VIP section, where the big shots gathered, Tsang Chi-wai glanced sideways at Guo Fucheng, who no longer worried about his status, and spoke casually:

Guo Fucheng, who had topped the Big Four in the 90s and now had an overseas market, was happy to lend his rising junior colleague some support: “Yi deserves it. His album’s musicality is ahead of its time—I think he deserves even more awards.”

The Top Ten Golden Melodies meant little to Guo Fucheng at this stage; even his contemporary Leon Lai had quit participating entirely.

He’d have skipped it altogether if he weren’t still trying to maintain good relations with some committee members.

In the Emperor camp:

Zhong Xin, Cai Zhuoyan, and Yung Jo watched their senior colleague Xie Tingfeng and Warner’s handsome Zhou Yi take turns on stage to collect awards, mouths slightly agape, utterly stunned.

“I feel that after this show airs, that guy Zhou Yi’s popularity and album sales in Hong Kong will skyrocket,” Cai Zhuoyan whispered to her best friend Zhong Xin, subtly pointing toward the Warner side.

They called it the Warner camp, but aside from Zhou Yi himself, there was nothing worth noting—Sun Yanzi hadn’t come.

The top male and female stars, Guo Fucheng and Zheng Xiuwen, were both in the VIP zone.

“He’s only got his first album… my god…”

Zhong Xin’s wide eyes were filled with shock and disbelief.

Xie Tingfeng earned his status through years of grinding in Hong Kong—what about Zhou Yi?

He’s been in Hong Kong for less than a week, total.

In the mainland camp:

Sun Nan, the former mainland top star and now second-tier, whispered quietly to Na Ying: “How come this monster is stealing the spotlight even in Hong Kong? Don’t these people hate mainlanders anymore?”

He, who had suffered in the Hong Kong music scene, now felt a deep, unspoken grievance.

What kind of nonsense is this?

Why does everything good always go to Zhou Yi alone?

Where’s the arrogance of your Hong Kong committee?!

“Because they can’t hold him back.”

Na Ying’s gaze was equally complex: “He just happened to arrive at the perfect time—the millennium.”

Sometimes, circumstances really do create heroes—the mainland’s gradual opening, the people striving to boost the mainland’s influence.

Zhou Yi’s arrival landed right on their sweet spot.

Born in a red province, raised under mainland education, a graduate of a top university.

All the bonuses stacked up.

With Hong Kong and Taiwan each having launched their own young representative, Zhou Yi’s sudden emergence ended the mainland’s embarrassing lack of a new-generation face.

And just as Emperor was deepening ties with the mainland, the two sides clicked instantly, creating this extraordinary scene.

“I’m really resentful—but seeing these people get humiliated? I feel oddly satisfied.”

Helpless, Sun Nan resorted to self-consolation, glancing at the representatives of Hong Kong’s record labels, and found himself unexpectedly proud.

When he first came to Hong Kong alone, he’d been bullied endlessly.

Now this nineteen-year-old kid is riding straight over their heads, lord it over them.

Laughable.

As an old hand of the record era, Sun Nan knew exactly how crushed these companies’ markets would become if Emperor and Warner truly revived the Tan-Zhang rivalry.

At least he still had the mainland market to survive on.

As Sun Nan’s thoughts drifted, the stage erupted again with the booming voice of host Chen Baixiang:

“Most Popular Male Singer Award:

“Gold: Liu Dehua, Silver: Zhou Yi, Bronze: Sun Nan. Congratulations to all three!”

As songs began playing, Sun Nan sighed, straightened his suit, and rose to take the stage.

On stage, Zhou Yi—now up for his fifth time—was slightly surprised to see Sun Nan’s genuine, heartfelt smile as he approached.

He’s already conceded?

Sun Nan doesn’t seem nearly as arrogant as he will become.

“Congratulations, handsome.”

With his face from Stephen Chow’s “Flirting Scholar,” Chen Baixiang handed Zhou Yi the mic, grinning: “Tonight, you and Tingfeng are both super winners—got anything you want to say to your fans?”

“Of course—I’ll study Cantonese hard and hope to someday write Cantonese songs to thank my fans.”

Zhou Yi raised his trophy and waved toward the distant audience—immediately sparking a roar of cheers.

“Excuse me for asking—but will your Cantonese songs all be like ‘Hate Dream of the Red Chamber’? I love that song so much.”

Chen Baixiang, skilled at livening the mood, pretended to wiggle his hips: “Ever since I heard your song, my neighbor keeps saying his wife won’t let him sleep—he’s always hiding under the covers.”

“We’ll see how well I learn Cantonese.”

Zhou Yi grinned and winked: “Cantonese songs are deeply complex, after all.”

“OK, since you say that, let’s first see your Mandarin singing strength. Next up—Zhou Yi—

“‘Flower Field Mistake’!”

Under the gaze of Hong Kong and Taiwan’s stars, Zhou Yi, who had just soared to fame tonight, swung his mic and let out a long “Wu~” as the intro began.

Singing R&B without a few screams feels incomplete—

“The night is deep, why is the paper window lit?

“It’s not the candle you kept burning all night for me—

“Just a chance encounter, a dream in the Red Chamber—

“My mountains and rivers have all faded—

“Like washed away by heavy rain~”

The arrangement, utterly unique for this era, fused Peking opera elements into “Flower Field Mistake,” striking a chord with older Hong Kong listeners who still cherished traditional culture.

The next day, Hong Kong’s major media outlets all ran the same headline on their entertainment pages—the Top Ten Golden Melodies ceremony that made Zhou Yi a star:

“The Biggest Winner of the 23rd Top Ten Chinese Golden Melodies Awards: Zhou Yi!”

“A Giant Leap! Mainland’s Young King Zhou Yi Defies the Entire Hong Kong Music Industry!”

“Zhou Yi vs. Xie Tingfeng! Clash Between Mainland and Hong Kong Music!”

Some eager media even published a poll:

“Mainland’s New Generation #1 vs. Hong Kong’s New Generation #1—Who Do You Support?!”

“I support Tingfeng! He’s so handsome!”

“I like Zhou Yi! He’s not just good-looking—he’s even taller than Xie Tingfeng!”

“…”

Riding the momentum after the awards show, days of relentless promotion under Emperor and Warner’s control had already sparked the early signs of a new Tan-Zhang rivalry.

All it needed was one spark—

“Zhou Yi, we did it! Your hype campaign successfully matched Xie Tingfeng’s endorsement—Coca-Cola will sign you for five years at ten million.”

On the seventh day after the ceremony, Qian Jiang brought Zhou Yi good news—he’d successfully carved out this deal with his sharp negotiation skills.

“Ten million? Really? How did you pull that off?”

Zhou Yi’s eyes widened instantly—ten million! Even if it was over five years, this was the year 2000!

“Because Xie Tingfeng signed with Pepsi. Coca-Cola wants to use you to counter their rival’s superstar strategy.”

Qian Jiang wore a smug smile: “Coca-Cola has never found a big enough spokesperson in mainland China—you’re the first.

“Especially after Xie Tingfeng changed his mind and signed with Pepsi, the superstar-packed company.

“Coca-Cola panicked—they couldn’t let their rival pull too far ahead. And just then, you emerged with the Zhou-Xie rivalry.

“The competition won’t just be between our two companies anymore. Behind you two stand Pepsi and Coca-Cola themselves—direct rivals—turning the rivalry into a full-blown war.”

Qian Jiang, feeling he was reliving the golden days of the Tan-Zhang rivalry, couldn’t hide his excitement.

Warner and Emperor alone might not have enough power—but with the deep pockets of Pepsi and Coca-Cola added? Now it’s truly the Zhou-Xie rivalry.

(End of chapter)