Chapter Eighty-Seven: The Wildly Rising Appearance Fee

“Why have all my scheduled events been canceled!?” In an office of Mars Entertainment, Cai Chengyu slammed a stack of documents onto the desk, fuming as he questioned his agent.

His entire schedule for the month had been wiped clean. That was hundreds of thousands of yuan, vanished into thin air. Anyone would have a hard time swallowing that.

“You’re asking me? Do you even know how bad your reputation is right now? Go check online, read the comments yourself!”

Cai Chengyu fell silent. He had been following the news online—nearly all the posts about him were negative.

“He’s the one who dragged down the standard of ‘I Am a Singer.’”

“In a professional concert hall, he managed to make it sound like a village music festival.”

“Just looking at his arrogant face makes me sick. Does he really think he’s all that?”

The most miserable part was, the fans he’d worked so hard to gain had all abandoned him.

“Do you realize how stupid you are? Didn’t the company tell you who Ren Qian is? Yet you kept provoking him, insisting on choosing your own songs. You think you’re so amazing! Take a good look at yourself—who do you think you are? All those performance bookings were canceled at the clients’ strong request! They just don’t want you! Your appearance fee has dropped to ten thousand, and no one’s interested!”

Cai Chengyu was stunned. He used to turn his nose up at a hundred thousand, and now nobody would hire him for ten thousand…

A wave of defeat washed over him.

“So I’m going to be benched?”

“The company doesn’t even care to bench you. Once your contract ends this year, pack your things and leave. We don’t keep useless artists.”

His agent’s words dripped with the greedy nature of capitalists, chasing profits above all else.

As long as you’re valuable, the company will prop you up and indulge all your faults. They’ll even clean up your messes with money. But the moment they decide you’re no longer profitable, you’ll be thrown away without mercy. That’s the cruel reality.

Cai Chengyu pleaded no more. He turned and left the office, walking out of Mars Entertainment.

Standing in front of the company, he looked back, tears streaming down his face. This place had made him. But it had also destroyed him.

Here, his career had soared, but no one had ever pointed out his flaws. Over the years, he’d grown more and more spoiled, arrogant, and blindly self-assured.

In the end, he’d offended the shrewd Ren Qian, who silently kicked him down from his pedestal, leaving him with no chance for a comeback.

…

“It’s only ten in the morning and you’re all taking a break? Are your rehearsals perfect? Have you mastered every rhythm? Or do you just want to pack up and leave?” Ren Qian strode into the studio and found the six singers lounging in the audience seats, looking utterly relaxed.

Life seemed comfortable enough.

Their smiles froze. They all knew Ren Qian’s sternness, and whenever he spoke in that tone, the pressure was immense.

“Don’t rush off! I want to do a quick survey. How much have your appearance fees gone up recently? Let me see just how powerful the star-making effect of ‘I Am a Singer’ really is.”

“Qian, do you really need to ask us? Can’t you just feel it yourself…” Hu Yanbin was speechless. Of everyone here, the one with the most dramatic change was Ren Qian himself. Why bother asking them? Wasn’t this just showing off in front of experts?

“Since my debut, I haven’t done any commercial performances, only a couple of college events, and those were unpaid. Besides, I don’t take commercial gigs…” Ren Qian’s words left the other singers envious.

Being a singer was so easy for him. While other singers flew from Beijing to Nansha Island just to earn a little hard money, he never took commercial shows and drove cars worth millions.

“My current appearance fee is three hundred and sixty thousand. Endorsements depend on the situation, but none are less than a million,” Sun Munan spoke up first. Normally this would be a sensitive topic, but since Ren Qian brought it up, there was no point hiding it.

“My fee’s a bit less than Munan’s—three hundred thousand. As for endorsements, I’m not sure; my company hasn’t landed any yet,” said Sha Pulian.

“My appearance fee is three hundred and thirty thousand, up nearly three hundred thousand from before,” Xu Zhiqian said with a smile. He’d always been a second-tier singer, often passed over for being not famous enough. Now, everyone was fighting to book him.

“My situation’s similar to Xu Zhiqian’s…” added Hu Yanbin.

“I think mine’s a bit higher than everyone else’s—four hundred and fifty thousand,” Zhang Nianwei said quietly. No one was surprised; she was stunning, already a top-tier singer, and after ‘I Am a Singer,’ she was even more in demand.

With five singers done, the only one left was the dark horse, Murong Xue. Everyone was curious about her.

With her breathtaking performances, ethereal voice, and fairy-like looks, she had become the second most popular act on the stage after Ren Qian.

Her appearance fee was surely no less than Zhang Nianwei’s?

By now, her meteoric rise could only be described as a swan emerging from an ugly duckling.

Everyone stared at her, and Murong Xue blushed, nervously announcing, “According to my agent, my minimum appearance fee is about eight hundred thousand…”

A minimum appearance fee of eight hundred thousand—almost twice Nianwei’s…

Was this even real?

From an unknown, third-rate singer to a super-star, her transformation was nothing less than miraculous.

“So impressive? Not bad, not bad—I feel quite accomplished. Soon, I’ll pick more young talents with potential to soar sky-high. That will satisfy me even more.”

Everyone broke out in a cold sweat. If you wanted to see a real gap, this was it.

Their thrill was earning tens of thousands more per gig; Ren Qian’s was cultivating newcomers whose worth skyrocketed overnight. The more their value rose, the happier he became. No one could understand it—perhaps this was the difference in vision.

“Work hard. You still have some major flaws. If you have free time, go apply to Roll Poetry for professional training. Your musical knowledge is still lacking. Your singing is full of emotion, but your technique isn’t there yet.”

“I’ll work hard, Qian. I won’t let down your trust,” Murong Xue said gratefully, gazing at him as if he were her second father.

He had spent a fortune to rescue her from Insight Entertainment and offered her suspiciously generous treatment. At first, Murong Xue thought Ren Qian coveted her beauty and was very afraid. But after meeting Wenrun, she realized what it meant for a confident, intelligent woman to be truly captivating.

She never dared think too highly of herself again.

Ren Qian had no idea that a mere polite glance had sent Murong Xue’s thoughts spinning so wildly.

“When this show wraps up, I’ll get your new album ready. I’ve already got a name for it—‘Next Stop, Diva.’”

He nodded in satisfaction, dropping a bombshell.

For some reason, releasing one or two songs for profit no longer excited Ren Qian. Only seeing new stars rise to fame at his hands could satisfy his swelling vanity.

“What!?” Murong Xue covered her mouth in shock, unable to speak.

The others were stunned as well. In today’s music industry, even top stars dream of singing a song written by Ren Qian, let alone having him craft an entire album.

…

“Soon we won’t be able to talk to Xue anymore. Cherish this time—at least we can brag in the future that we once performed on stage with Diva Murong Xue,” Xu Zhiqian joked. Everyone burst out laughing, though their feelings were mixed.

“All right, enough! It’s now ten twenty. Head to your rehearsal rooms and prepare your songs. You need at least four hours of practice this afternoon before you can rest. I’ll be dropping in unexpectedly!”

A collective sigh arose as they reluctantly made their way to their practice rooms.

Ren Qian remained, gazing at the stage, pulling out his sheet music from his pocket.

Yes, it was finally time to record some new songs again…