Chapter 78: New Year

"Happy New Year~"

"Happy New Year."

In the instant the midnight bell rang, despite the barriers of doors and windows, the rising and falling sounds of fireworks and firecrackers from the village clearly reached Zhou Yi’s ears as he lay alone on the living room’s redwood sofa.

One after another congratulatory text message flashed across the Nokia’s small screen; his late-night-loving friends all sent messages at midnight to share the joy of the New Year’s arrival.

Sun Yanzi, Chen Hao, Zhou Jielun, Zhang Shaohan, Xiao Yaxuan, Wen Lan, Liu Genhong, Fan Bingbin—all the night-owl experts were there without exception.

Chen Hao even used a text message to complain about some of this year’s Spring Festival Gala performances, saying they weren’t as good as last year’s.

Zhou Yi, juggling replies back and forth, now deeply missed the future QQ and WeChat. With so many recipients, replying by text was truly inconvenient.

But remembering it was only 2001, and that Pony Ma had just secured his second major investment last year to expand QQ’s user base, Zhou Yi sighed.

Though in his past life these two small, elegant apps weren’t exactly famed, they were at least notorious. But Budebushuo , compared to traditional text messages, they were undeniably far more convenient.

Carrying the regret of missing out on the little penguin across time, Zhou Yi, without turning off the living room light, returned to his room and fell into peaceful sleep as “Unforgettable Tonight” played.

The next day, the first day of the Lunar New Year.

Dressed in his new clothes, Zhou Yi grinned as he accepted the red envelopes from his parents, hands stuffed in his pockets, bundled tightly in his down jacket, and accompanied them up the mountain to worship Buddha.

Since the entire village already knew that the Zhou Yaoguo household had produced a nationally famous superstar, Zhou Yi felt as if he himself had become a Buddha during the worship—everyone came up to chat with him, even asking for photos.

Even elementary schoolchildren humming “Happiness Worship” bounced around him—true King of Elementary Schoolers.

“Bodhisattva, please bless our family—may Yi be safe and sound, and may all go smoothly for her…”

Unlike Zhou Yi, who had become the village idol, Zhou Yaoguo and Zhao Ping calmly completed all the ritual procedures, murmuring prayers for protection.

Yet, the facts proved the Bodhisattva was somewhat rebellious—

January 26, 2001, the second day of the Lunar New Year.

Early that morning, Zhou Yi received a call from his agent Qian Jiang.

“Zhou Yi, something’s happened.”

As Zhou Yi’s agent, Qian Jiang—who had been riding high just the day before on New Year’s Day—now spoke with suppressed anger: “Rumors have suddenly surfaced that mainland artists are being banned from performing or promoting in Taiwan. It’s suspicious.”

“Zhou Jianhui’s side is trying to inquire and communicate, to see if there’s been some misunderstanding…”

At his most agitated, Qian Jiang even swore outright over the phone: “Fuck! These little bastards—don’t let me find out who’s pulling this lowdown trick!”

Just compete fairly on sales—what’s the point of such underhanded tactics?!

Qian Jiang was furious, his robust general’s belly heaving with each breath.

Zhou Yi, eating fried sugar cakes at home, remained emotionally unmoved and even comforted his agent: “It’s a small issue, Uncle Qian, don’t panic.”

“I’ll find out exactly what’s going on. Keep your phone on.”

“...”

Chewing on his sugar cake, Zhou Yi looked at the disconnected call, shook his head with a faint smile, and didn’t take it seriously.

What’s meant to come will come.

Having long prepared himself for this, he felt no urgency—instead, he almost wanted to laugh.

In this matter, even Coca-Cola and Warner together couldn’t change the outcome.

Sure enough, four days later, Zhou Jianhui, general manager of Warner, called—

“Zhou Yi, I’m sorry.”

The general manager of Warner, the very man who had led Warner out of its slump, opened with an apology: “We tried our best, but we couldn’t change this. Starting next Monday, all mainland artists are banned from performing or promoting in Taiwan.”

“Including but not limited to concerts, signing events, variety shows, radio promotions, TV promotions, etc.”

The mighty general manager of Warner, Zhou Jianhui, who had just pulled Warner out of its slump, now gritted his teeth: “Fuck, this is fucking stupid!”

With zero promotion in Taiwan, Zhou Yi’s new album—even if of the highest quality—could never sell well. At least, Zhou Jianhui had never heard of any singer breaking into Taiwan’s music market under such conditions.

This was fucking blacklisting!

“We have no choice—we must adjust your promotion strategy now.”

After venting his fury over the decision and firmly declaring his continued support for Zhou Yi, Zhou Jianhui calmed down: “I’ll fly to the mainland this afternoon. Find time to come to the company. Call me when you arrive.”

“This news hasn’t spread yet on the mainland—we’ll discuss our next steps.”

Thanks to the internet still being underdeveloped, this unofficial rumor hadn’t been published even by the entertainment sections of Sohu and NetEase, the two major portals.

Even if someone heard the rumor, they’d just assume it was a few Taiwanese music companies throwing tantrums, playing dirty tricks—and laugh it off.

“Wait until after the seventh. These days I’m home anyway, spending time with family. For now, have the company follow standard PR procedures to express disapproval.”

Facing this completely unavoidable force, Zhou Yi figured unless he could instantly forge a Golden Core and ascend to immortality, manifesting himself as a divine being, any effort would be futile.

Better to eat well, drink well—maybe he could even “torture his fans” later and trigger a massive purification.

After 2008, the purified Taiwanese fans might eagerly await his triumphant return.

“Alright, no rush. Take your time, relax. This isn’t urgent.”

Worried Zhou Yi might be crushed by the unilateral blacklisting, Zhou Jianhui hurriedly offered more reassurances before hanging up and immediately calling Coca-Cola China.

No matter the final outcome, he still wanted to try—just to secure Zhou Yi’s chance to compete for the Golden Melody Awards.

Shortly after Zhou Jianhui hung up, Sun Yanzi, also at Warner, called in—

“Zhou Yi! How are you? Are you okay? I heard—you’re being unilaterally blacklisted, can’t promote at all!” Sun Yanzi’s voice, rarely showing anxiety, was filled with worry.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. I could even eat a few more pieces of fried sugar cake—I’ve got a great appetite.”

Still his usual irreverent tone, Zhou Yi casually reassured her.

Right after Sun Yanzi, Xiao Yaxuan, Zhang Shaohan, Zhou Jielun, Liu Genhong, and even Wen Lan—all the people he knew in Taiwan—called him.

Zhou Yi couldn’t help but laugh and sigh at once.

He was the one being blacklisted, yet he was the one comforting everyone who worried about him?

He’d long prepared for this—otherwise, he wouldn’t have chosen B-side pop songs specifically for maximum mainstream appeal in KTVs, malls, ice rinks, restaurants, and other public places.

Aside from the gritty hip-hop track “Drifting North,” every B-side song was designed to be a hit in these public spaces—just the opening notes would have people singing along.

The lyrics of “Don’t Be Cool, Don’t Spend Money,” with the “koukou” sound, were a Minnan dialect homophone, matching his Raozhou region’s Minnan speech and perfectly aligning with Taiwan’s Minnan dialect.

The melodies ensured street-corner popularity, while Warner could further exploit the Minnan element to evoke sympathy for him.

Language—this was the most piercing thing in the world.

Not to mention “Jiangnan,” his ultimate weapon.

In the 2004 musical showdown, “Jiangnan” charted for 50 weeks, spending 30 of them in the top ten; it held the weekly #1 spot for a staggering 16 consecutive weeks.

For comparison, “Seven Islands of Fragrance” charted for 42 weeks, with 35 weeks in the top ten, and held the weekly #1 spot for 18 weeks.

PS: The editor says the Sanjiang recommendation isn’t working well—probably because the title’s too niche. He suggested I pick a mainstream title…

Couldn’t think of any mainstream ones, so the editor recommended this one: “Entertainment Industry: 2000”…

PS2: The next chapters will come later, around 11:30.

This chapter wasted half an hour fighting with the reviewers…

(End of chapter)