Chapter Sixty-three: Report—I'm Just Here to Buy a Bottle of Soy Sauce

On the seventh floor of the Broadcasting Building, the door to the conference room opened with a soft sound.

The seven singers who had already taken their seats turned their heads in unison, watching as Ren Qian and Director Hong Tao walked step by step to the round conference table.

“Brother Hong, long time no see,” said an older singer, hurrying to his feet to greet him and warmly strike up a conversation. With the senior singer taking the lead, the other six also stood up, respectfully greeting Director Hong Tao.

Ren Qian stepped aside, smiling as he watched the director and singers exchanging pleasantries.

...

The initial lineup featured four types of singers.

The first type consisted of two veterans whose fame was fading but whose talent remained undiminished: Sha Puliang and Sun Munan.

They had once been dazzling stars in the music world, with countless fans and the spotlight always on them. Although signs of their retreat from the industry were apparent, even most first-tier stars would respectfully address them as elder brothers. Their participation had no other purpose but to play the nostalgia card; their remaining value was limited.

The second type was two second-tier singers with both creative talent and competent vocal skills: Hu Yanbin and Xu Zhiqian.

Though both had weathered the music scene for more than a decade and composed several widely celebrated songs thanks to their extraordinary musical gifts, their popularity still lagged behind the top stars, and their influence fell short. Their involvement would undoubtedly give audiences the impression that “Singer” was serious about showcasing talented musicians—a proper music show. The prestige of the program thus rose a notch.

The third category was Ren Qian’s selected dark horse candidate.

Murong Xue’s vocal abilities were astounding, but brilliance did not necessarily equate to experience. Yet, as the show progressed, her improvement would surely be leaps and bounds. As this season’s dark horse, her role was to disrupt the status quo—her rapid progress would force the two veteran predecessors and the two strong singers to feel uneasy, compelling them to pull out all the stops, even revealing their hidden aces to win favor with the audience and avoid elimination.

The rest of the singers were mere cannon fodder.

Yes, Ren Qian had chosen them simply to fill the stage, warm the seats, and then send them packing. Although he saw them as expendable, their fate was not entirely up to him. After all, both were currently popular first-tier singers. If the two performed exceptionally well and touched the five hundred-member listening jury, a reversal of fortune wasn’t impossible.

A public and fair show—even with Ren Qian as the chief person in charge—would not stoop to manipulation. However, if someone insisted on courting disaster, he had a hundred ways to send them home.

Thinking of this, he glanced at the cannon-fodder first-tier female singer, sighing inwardly—this was the first time in his life he’d misjudged someone.

Listening to her CD, Zhang Nianwei’s image seemed quite appealing. Her photos looked good, she had no scandals, generous curves and shapely figure, perfect for attracting ratings in the first couple of episodes.

But photos are no substitute for meeting in person—and meeting her was a shock.

She was so provocatively flirtatious that it bordered on innocence, with every word laced with breathy moans. If a man were even slightly hot-blooded, a single conversation would leave him restless for ten minutes.

But Ren Qian was a principled gentleman; even if a sea of temptation lay before him, he would only sip a single drop.

Dispelling such thoughts, he finally turned his gaze to the popular singer Cai Chengyu.

This guy debuted in 2009, and after seven years of hustling, had risen to the position of leading star in the music world—by far the most prominent among those present.

Yet Ren Qian disliked the air of superiority that flickered across Cai Chengyu’s face, like he was constantly emphasizing, “I’m the big singer, I’m famous—come worship me, ha ha ha...”

A rather peculiar character.

“Let’s hope he behaves himself,” Ren Qian thought.

In the previous life’s “I Am a Singer,” there were indeed singers who acted arrogantly, made cutting remarks, or cursed the staff—like Deng who soared to fame, among others...

Such incidents were awkward to handle. If they manipulated eliminations for “big names,” the audience protested; if they let them continue, the production team suffered, feeling as if they’d swallowed a fly.

It was like a country kid setting off firecrackers in a cow pat—what should have been fun ended with a mess all over themselves.

The stench lingered, with nowhere to vent.

Ren Qian didn’t want any complications.

So, as long as this guy sang and recorded the program without crossing Ren Qian’s boundaries, everything would be fine.

...

“The contracts on the table are yours. Take them back for your agencies to review, sign, and return. The notes are detailed—read them carefully. None of the program’s content may be disclosed before broadcast! Otherwise, the consequences written in the contract are not just for show! Also, since you’ve decided to participate, you must unconditionally follow the production team’s arrangements. Can you do that?”

Director Hong Tao pointed to the documents on the table, speaking in a measured tone. This was serious business, involving the station’s profits, and deserved solemn attention.

Ren Qian also had a contract—negotiated by Director Hong, with excellent terms and an eighteen percent profit share.

Hong Tao rattled off a series of reminders before turning the conversation over to Ren Qian.

Ren Qian was the one who truly understood the nuances of “I Am a Singer.” All those golden ideas for boosting ratings came from him, so Director Hong Tao dared not overstep. If things went wrong, it would be embarrassing, not to mention the impact on profit sharing...

Yes, profits were the key.

“Let me introduce myself—my name is Ren Qian. I won’t waste your time with unnecessary words. I have only one piece of advice for everyone: Every singer, no matter who you are or how glorious your past, once you come here, you are just a newcomer.

Come with a heart ready to learn, and you might avoid elimination.

As for the competition process and schedule, ask your temporary managers. Also, someone will soon deliver the competition songs—spend time in your rooms memorizing the melodies and lyrics. Tomorrow, you can rehearse in the studio with your managers.”

With these simple instructions, Ren Qian was ready to leave. There were still two weeks for the seven to rehearse, work with the backstage crew, familiarize themselves with the venue, and adapt the songs...

There was no rush.

Most importantly, the “I Am a Singer” live set should already be prepared, with equipment that Jiangnan TV had spared no expense to install for ratings—a world apart, perhaps even more high-end than the diva aunt’s private music hall.

He wanted to record a few songs he’d been working on recently, but hadn’t found a professional studio. Since the Broadcasting Building had resources, it would be a waste not to use them.

Just as Ren Qian was about to leave, Cai Chengyu, the music industry star, jumped up.

“Ren Qian! Hmm... are you the person in charge of this season’s program? Can’t the singers choose their own songs? What if the songs picked by the production team don’t suit the singers’ style? If the songs you provide aren’t good, does the singer get eliminated? Don’t you realize how unfair that is? What about ratings? If ratings drop, will you take responsibility?”

As the top star, anyone at Jiangnan TV would show him some respect, especially when faced with a young man like Ren Qian. Given that, did he need to hold back? Was there any need to spare Ren Qian’s feelings? Absolutely not.

Ren Qian paused, stopped in his tracks, turned back, and gave the swaggering Cai Chengyu a meaningful look.

He chuckled lightly, but silently marked an X beside Cai Chengyu’s name in his mind.

You’ve brought this on yourself...

He’d make sure Cai Chengyu packed his bags after the first round.

“If you want to choose your own song, that’s fine. The theme for the first episode is ‘Ancient Style Night—A Tribute to the God of Song.’ Just pick an ancient-style song. No strict requirements. If you’re talented in composition, you can arrange it yourself. In short, show the audience your best side, and win their recognition—that’s success. Work hard, young man! I have high hopes for you!”

With that, Ren Qian turned and left the conference hall.

He could almost see Cai Chengyu, face thick with embarrassment, pleading: “Brother Qian, please let me play a minor role, grant me this favor!”

Truly, the road to heaven you ignore, and yet you barge through the gates of hell...