Chapter 86: The Dual Pillars (Version 1.0)

“I’m curious—where did you even pick up these weird, outlandish claims? Aren’t you afraid the legendary Go master Nie Weiping will come looking for trouble?”

In the hotel room, the bathroom.

The woman beneath the showerhead gradually rinsed away the suds; her youthful, boundlessly pale skin flushed faintly pink from the steam.

She exhaled slowly, reached out to turn off the shower, closed her eyes, and wiped her damp body with a towel.

Zhou Yi, who had left the bathroom before her, was still drying himself with a dry towel; hearing her words, he couldn’t help but laugh: “Honestly, you’ve got a misunderstanding about Nie Weiping.”

When it comes to banter, Old Nie is undoubtedly the original king of the Go world. The Go community’s clean, upright culture—distinct from the chess circle—is largely thanks to his personality.

“Really? Do you know him?”

Fan Bingbin also casually grabbed a dry towel, rubbed her damp long hair, stepped out barefoot from the bathroom onto the carpet, and strolled slowly to the bed, watching the man sitting on the sofa blowing his hair—her unmade-up, dewy face brimming with curiosity.

He’s the legendary Go master.

“Not exactly acquainted—just met him once. In January, during the Global Chinese Music Chart Awards, Old Nie was invited as a guest by the organizers.”

“I, as an amateur Go enthusiast, naturally went to join the buzz, chatted a bit, exchanged contact info, and then he’s been sitting in my phonebook ever since.”

“Then why do you act like you’re close to him?”

Fan Bingbin’s lips puckered; she plopped down on the bed, swinging her bare legs in the air; her soft toes stretched out freely, the wine-red nail polish—applied for the MV shoot—seemed to lazily stretch and yawn.

“You’re talented, linking Go to that thing.”

Zhou Yi, sitting on the sofa, raised an eyebrow: “I’ve noticed you’re learning fast—less than half an hour and you’re already making connections.”

Fan Bingbin’s lips curled into a smile: “Isn’t that thanks to your teaching, Mr. Ivy League tutor?”

“If I’d had a tutor like you back when I was in school, I probably wouldn’t have stopped at vocational college.”

Fan Bingbin, who signed an eight-year contract with Qiong Yao at sixteen, looked at the man with a touch of envy.

To be honest, she envied Zhou Yi’s meteoric rise so far.

Even this sudden setback in Taiwan seemed to have no effect on him—he remained cheerful, even slipped subtle jabs into her MV.

She, on the other hand, barely finished school, had to start working young, signed an eight-year indenture, and witnessed the world’s coldness.

Lin Xinru looked down on her; Zhao Wei ignored her.

Zhou Yi was discovered by Zhou Jianhui, granted full autonomy in everything, and Warner kept pouring resources into him;

She? Wherever she went, she was only called “Jin Suo” or “maid”—she couldn’t even get a chance to prove herself from Qiong Yao, crushed under the words: “Maid, just play the maid.”

Sensing the woman’s complex gaze, Zhou Yi offered no empty platitudes; instead, he waved the hairdryer in his hand: “Need me to dry your hair?”

“A famous star drying my hair? I’d be honored.”

Interrupted in her thoughts, Fan Bingbin’s eyes softened; she tossed aside her distractions, crossed her long legs—suddenly shortening the white towel, which rolled upward, revealing the rounded curve of her hips.

“You’ll become a big star too. Chen Shufen isn’t like Qiong Yao—she has wide connections. And Taiwan’s current move has completely severed large-scale cooperation with the mainland; in the coming years, Hong Kong’s resources will be even more valuable.”

Zhou Yi, who knew the future’s direction, made a definitive statement.

Just look at Xiao Yanzi, now the undisputed top-ranked female star on the mainland—after this year, her work focus was forced to shift heavily toward Hong Kong and the mainland.

From now on, for the next few years, Taiwan’s film and TV industry would barely have any genre left to enter the mainland market except idol dramas.

“Mm, I understand.”

Feeling the warm air blowing over her head, Fan Bingbin took two muscle-relief patches from her bag, her eyes revealing unhidden ambition.

Chen Tai had planned well for her; for the first time, she felt the comfort of having a powerful agent—even if his commission was higher than usual.

But just as she was reinforcing her resolve, Zhou Yi’s left hand, fiddling with his hair, interrupted her grand ambitions.

“Hmm? Wait—I strained my lower back practicing the wirework stunt recently—”

Though both were young, Zhou Yi’s dominance clearly far outstripped the weakened Fan Bingbin.

Her still-damp long hair spread freely; water droplets from the ends gradually soaked into the half-torn patch.

“Wait, Zhou Yi—the patch’s getting wet!”

…………………………………………………………

The next day, Qian Jiang, driving over from Warner Maitian Building, received Zhou Yi’s text asking him to bring two lunches, and smiled knowingly.

He knew it.

Kids these days.

After delivering lunch as a makeshift deliveryman, Qian Jiang found Fan Bingbin fully dressed in Zhou Yi’s room.

“Hello, Mr. Qian.”

Fan Bingbin took the food box with polite courtesy, then, to Qian Jiang’s surprise, chose to leave immediately—no hesitation, no lingering.

“She’s…?”

Qian Jiang, who in his Hong Kong days had always played the bad cop in these situations, turned his questioning gaze to Zhou Yi.

Zhou Yi shrugged and opened his own meal box: “Clearly, she doesn’t want you to think she’s using sex with me to gain advantages.”

“Is that so? That’s actually rare.”

Qian Jiang’s expression showed surprise as he sized up the man devouring his food: “What kind of spell did you cast on her?”

“Bullshit, don’t smear me—I’m never the one who initiates.” Zhou Yi, chewing on a pork rib, sneered at his agent’s bulky general’s belly.

Though unspoken, the meaning was clear.

Qian Jiang’s face darkened: “Stop eating. I bought this food. My money.”

Zhou Yi, grinning, pointed him to a solution: “Get reimbursed by the company later—after all, the MV’s already done.”

“Reimburse your head—I don’t care about a few dozen bucks.”

Qian Jiang finally couldn’t hold back, laughing and scolding: “Just eat. There’s business after—we’re flying to Hong Kong tonight.”

“?”

Zhou Yi, who had just taken two bites, slowly blinked: “Why am I going to Hong Kong now?”

“What do you think? Of course—it’s the Coca-Cola signing ceremony they’ve prepared for you. It was supposed to be handled after the New Year, but Taiwan’s sudden incident kept delaying it.”

“Coca-Cola has been working with the company on PR; now it’s resolved, and they’re planning a grand signing ceremony for you on March 6—on par with Xie Tingfeng’s.”

As he spoke of business, Qian Jiang’s expression turned serious; he pulled out his notebook from his suit pocket, checked his schedule, and said: “Good news: after negotiations between the company and Coca-Cola, you can attend the Golden Melody Awards.”

“The company’s plan is to have you appear as a special guest at Sun Yanzi’s Taiwan concert—that’s their concession.”

“But don’t even think about variety shows, TV promotions, or radio promotions—you can’t even hold a concert in Taiwan; the venue won’t be approved.”

Qian Jiang’s tone was clearly resigned: “No choice—you’re too popular and influential among Taiwan’s youth; they have to restrict you.”

“The songs you wrote for Sun Yanzi, Xiao Yaxuan, and Zhang Shaohan have dominated the charts, giving your album a small sales boost—this is extremely rare.”

“In a way, it’s also a form of recognition.”

Zhou Yi nodded understandingly.

“Oh, one more thing. The Coca-Cola promotional song I mentioned before—any progress? They’ll officially announce it at the signing ceremony.”

“I’ve got an idea, but for safety, I need to ask—is my ad song limited to mainland promotion only?”

“What else?”

Qian Jiang shot him a look: “Do you think ‘China Region Spokesperson’ means anything other than China? If you signed directly with Coca-Cola’s global headquarters, the price wouldn’t be just ten million RMB.”

Then it’s fine.

He already had a ready-made Chinese ad song matching Coca-Cola’s youthful branding: “Sad People Don’t Listen to Slow Songs.”

This song was originally a Coca-Cola ad jingle; borrowing it early wasn’t an issue.

Its catchy melody and simple, addictive lyrics fit the youth of this era perfectly.

After eating, Zhou Yi tidied up briefly and headed to the airport with Qian Jiang—but the entertainment newspapers and weeklies in the car caught his attention—

Xie Tingfeng’s photo and his own dominated every front page, with a giant “VS” between them.

“Xie Tingfeng vs. Zhou Yi—who is the new wave of the Chinese-language music industry?”

After flipping through several entertainment papers and finding nearly identical headlines, Zhou Yi was curious: what had happened in the past week and a half while he was shooting the MV?

“The young man who ended the Four Heavenly Kings era of Hong Kong is Xie Tingfeng; the young man who crushed Taiwan’s golden generation is Zhou Yi.”

“One born in 1980, the other in 1981.”

“At the turn of the millennium, these two young men, just one year apart in age, challenged the previous generation of singers in their own ways.”

“Zhang Xueyou, Leon Lai, Andy Lau, Aaron Kwok, Wang Jie; Zhou Hua, Ren Xianqi, Zhang Yu, Zhao Chuan—name after name we all know—fell beneath their feet…”

After extravagant praise came a brilliantly conceived image—Zhou Yi and Xie Tingfeng stood at opposite ends of a chessboard, each holding a guitar and microphone, gazing across the River Chu and the Han River.

In the River Chu and Han flowed the shattered names of once-great stars.

“After PepsiCo held a grand signing ceremony on February 1, 2001, for Xie Tingfeng, whom they spent ten million to sign, Coca-Cola has now announced it will hold a signing ceremony for Zhou Yi on March 6, 2001, for its ten-million-yuan investment…”

Honestly, these entertainment media had excellent writing skills—Zhou Yi himself felt a surge of Rexue .

Even mainland media joined in, though their wording was less provocative.

The Beijing Youth Daily’s entertainment section even ran a controversial headline: “The Dual Pillars of the New Chinese-Language Music Industry.”

Zhou Yi himself didn’t realize he was being hyped so wildly—titles like “New Vanguard of Chinese-Language Music” were being handed out like candy.

“No choice—aside from your songs, your two names are in a league of their own. You’re because of Taiwan’s situation, plus the popularity and gossip from the songs you wrote for Xiao Yaxuan, Sun Yanzi, and Zhang Shaohan.”

“Xie Tingfeng? His rebellious behavior and romance with Wang Fei, who’s eleven years older, have kept dozens of paparazzi employed.”

Seeing Zhou Yi flip through one paper after another, Qian Jiang added: “The company and Emperor Entertainment didn’t even push hard—we just lit a spark, and your buzz exploded.”

In showbiz, attention equals heat—otherwise, how could there be “stunt for fame” or “black is also red”?

“Huo Wensi is planning to have two upcoming female idols in her agency each express admiration for you and Xie Tingfeng, to generate even more buzz.”

“By the time you get to Hong Kong, you’ll see the reports—Zhong Xintong says she admires Xie Tingfeng; Cai Zhuoyan says she admires you.”

“...”

Six—no surprise, Huo Wensi.

Zhou Yi imagined the scene Qian Jiang described, and his expression turned strange.

Was Sammi Cheng dating Edison Chen at this time?

He only knew that Charlene Choi had not yet met Jason Chan, since it was still 2001, and the then-boss of Baolongge , Jason Chan, was still tangled with his true love, Miriam Yeung.

“Oh by the way, since your signing ceremony needs to be as grand as possible, Coca-Cola has brought over all the hottest stars right now—Xiao Yaxuan, Zhang Shaohan, and Sun Yanzi—to support you.”

“I’m warning you in advance: don’t let Xiao Yaxuan find out. Your company doesn’t have rules against it, but Virgin Music strictly forbids Xiao Yaxuan from dating.”

Considering his past experience of dragging Zhou Yi out of Xiao Yaxuan’s home on Baodao, Qian Jiang gave him a serious warning.

“Relax, I’ve got it under control.”

Zhou Yi nodded and gave a thumbs-up gesture.

But…

After arriving in Xiangjiang, he had just met Xiao Yaxuan, Zhang Shaohan, and Sun Yanzi for dinner—with their agents present—when Xiangjiang’s aggressive paparazzi immediately pushed him to the front page of the next day’s entertainment section:

“Fierce Dragon Crosses the River! Three Women Surround Zhou Yi, Unleashing Power!”

“Subduing the Three Holy Maidens! Zhou Yi Spends the Night on the Dragon Bed!”

“…”

Zhou Yi: “I get the logic, but what does ‘spends the night on the dragon bed’ mean? Did they sneak under my bed last night and take photos?”

PS: Got dragged into a team-building event. Damn it.

Hate team-building after work. If you’re so eager, do it during work hours, damn it.

PS2: Drank alcohol tonight, won’t be back before midnight, no time to write Chapter Two.

Three chapters tomorrow.

The third chapter tomorrow makes up for today’s second chapter.