Chapter 529: An Huaiguo’s Praise

Chapter 529: An Huaiguo’s Praise

Although this differed somewhat from what Wu Chen had anticipated, it was hardly a serious problem. It could be settled easily enough. He did not mind meeting An Huaiguo as Morning Mist first.

“Morning Mist… So it’s you!” An Huaiguo’s face instantly smoothed out, the chill melting away as he broke into a broad smile before he burst into hearty laughter. “Hahahahaha! My daughter Lanlan has praised you to the skies over the phone! She said you’re a musical prodigy the likes of which isn’t seen once in a century—a great musician! Hahahahaha! Incredible! Come, come, sit, sit!”

Morning Mist was currently the crown jewel of Menghua Music!

What was more, he had exploded in popularity across the entire internet!

Though a few storms had stirred, they had done nothing to shake the position Morning Mist had already established in the Chinese music world!

Music was a straightforward matter: good was good, and bad was bad. To be sure, there were times when historical limitations played a role—some modern pop songs, for instance, might have sounded utterly eccentric and out of place in the 1990s, only for audiences decades later to praise them for being ahead of their time. Yet such instances were vanishingly rare, and there was no real controversy over the sheer quality of Wu Chen’s songs.

In terms of buzz, the entire internet was ablaze!

In terms of music theory, An Huaiguo had read the reviews posted online by professional critics: good was good! Splendid across the board!

People tended to show extraordinary tolerance toward breathtaking genius. They readily overlooked a prodigy’s eccentric quirks. Even if such a person could barely manage daily life, lacked social graces, struggled with eloquence, or looked down on the entire world, people would still tolerate it—as long as they generated value.

Walking in without knocking was a trivial matter that could be brushed aside in an instant.

An Huaiguo was genuinely fond of this gifted young man as well, largely because his daughter valued him so highly. Affection for his daughter naturally extended to him!

Beyond that, An Huaiguo was himself at the helm of one of the country’s three major entertainment and media companies. For any artist capable of bringing immense profit to his company, he had no qualms about setting aside his status and chatting with hearty laughter.

An Huaiguo had risen through the golden age of Xiangjiang, an era packed with legendary superstars.

He understood all too well how to handle a red-hot top star. Even if the artist would never dare act presumptuously before him, he still had to show them proper respect.

Wu Chen seated himself in the spacious armchair diagonally across from An Huaiguo.

An Huaiguo even stood up abruptly, crossed to An Menglan’s desk, tapped a button on the landline intercom, and instructed directly, “Bring in another cup of tea!”

Strictly speaking, he was a guest in his daughter’s office, but in her temporary absence, it was only natural for him to step in as host. He soon returned to his seat.

“Hahahaha!” An Huaiguo chuckled as he looked Wu Chen up and down with open admiration. “So young! It’s truly hard to believe. And you refuse to show your face online, relying purely on the strength of your songs. It reminds me of the 1990s. Back then, things weren’t at all like they are now…”

There was another reason An Huaiguo took a liking to Morning Mist.

The young man was exceptionally good-looking. Even without a speck of makeup, he was well worthy of the word “handsome.”

If he were dolled up with the heavy cosmetics typical of male entertainers today, he would not lose out to any top-tier pretty young idol.

He was handsome enough, and his songs were truly phenomenal—the kind that broke far beyond their usual audience.

Under such circumstances, as long as Morning Mist was willing, he could become one of the very best male singers of this era in no time! Countless female fans online would go mad for him! The economic value he alone could generate would be incalculable!

Deep down, An Huaiguo still harbored an old-school sentiment.

He had lived through that glorious era when Xiangjiang’s music scene dominated all of Asia.

Back then, for a singer to rise to prominence—or rather, for many of the singers who did—it had nothing to do with their faces; it came entirely down to their voices. Showing your face was no simple feat in those days, especially on the mainland, where audiences listened to cassette tapes. There was only sound, no picture. Whether a song was good, how widely it was sung, and whether it could take every street and alley by storm all depended entirely on how well it was performed!

Though that era had its share of shady undercurrents and marketing ploys just like the present day, taken as a whole, it had still been simpler and purer than things were now!

Look at the current climate… Boy bands packed with pretty idols, talent shows left and right. Those so-called popular young stars were really only famous within their own niche circles; not a single one of their songs ever crossed over to the wider public.

To be sure, they could still rake in cash and make their rabid female fans open their wallets, but that was hardly a healthy commercial model. The numbers seemed impressive on paper, yet it was merely a short-term cash grab. The rate at which those pretty young idols became washed up was terrifying. How could they compare to the entertainers of the past, who could rise to fame and stay at the top for decades, practically functioning as money-printing machines?!

In Morning Mist, An Huaiguo saw the shadow of those artists of old.

This stirred up a wave of nostalgia within him, and Wu Chen indulged him by chatting briefly about those bygone days.

In short, it was little more than idle reminiscence.

A knock sounded at the door, and an assistant stepped into the office carrying a cup of tea. Setting it down beside Wu Chen, she said softly, “Please, Teacher Morning Mist.” The assistant was female, and knowing nothing of Wu Chen’s relationship with An Menglan, she threw him a rather suggestive, flirtatious glance as she spoke.

She was quite attractive, looking like someone who had once dreamed of becoming a star herself before giving up and settling for being one of An Menglan’s assistants instead.

She certainly had enough going for her to flirt.

“Addressed as ‘Teacher’ at such a young age—it seems you’re quite popular here in Lanlan’s company,” An Huaiguo remarked with a smile, though a subtle hint of warning crept into his tone. “Popularity is fine and well, but you mustn’t let it go to your head and start messing around with women. Even toward the end of the last century, a single scandal could ruin a celebrity. Things are far stricter now. In the internet age, countless pairs of eyes are watching.”

An Huaiguo was simply cautioning Morning Mist not to derail his own career over women.

What he did not realize was that Wu Chen made music purely on a whim. The music itself was completely secondary to him; he had never formally debuted in the strictest sense, nor did he ever intend to.

It was not that Wu Chen looked down on entertainers; he simply had no ambition for the craft.

During his thousand years in the time loop, he had dug up the private scandals of countless celebrities. He knew their lives inside and out, and to be blunt, he felt they lived thoroughly exhausting lives.

Only a tiny fraction of stars genuinely relished the attention that fame brought. They craved the gaze of the masses and felt a visceral need to stand in the spotlight, finding emotional gratification in it.

Yet they were an absolute minority.

Most of them, to put it plainly, were in it purely for the money. Every celebrity went through a rapid transition from thrift to luxury, after which there was no turning back. Lacking any other skills, they could never maintain their lavish lifestyles outside the entertainment circle, let alone earn that kind of money again. The vast majority simply could not bear such a steep fall from grace.

Wu Chen dared say that if they had any other way to pull in the same amount of money, nine out of ten celebrities would switch careers in a heartbeat.

At the end of the day, it was all about money. That was why, in the past couple of years, certain “venerable veterans” with supposedly stellar reputations had turned to livestream sales.

Endorsing all manner of shoddy, counterfeit goods.

They cast aside all shame, but because it made money, they did not care in the slightest; they could discard the aura of stardom in a single second.

Wu Chen genuinely did not care about money.

And being a celebrity was profoundly exhausting, which ran completely counter to his current mindset of treating life as a playful game.

Consequently, he could not care less about his prospects as a star.

Speaking of which… An Huaiguo was worried that Wu Chen might stumble over women and ruin his career. While Wu Chen did not give a damn about stardom, the very reason he had come to see An Huaiguo today did, in fact, involve certain “matters involving women.”

To be more accurate, “women’s affairs” were merely the motivation for Wu Chen’s negotiations with An Huaiguo, both to help Li Ruobing accomplish her larger plans and from the perspective of An Menglan herself! Yet the motive was one thing! What Wu Chen truly intended to discuss moved far beyond women, scaling up to something terrifyingly vast.

Inside the lounge.

An Menglan could faintly make out the voices drifting from outside.

It was worth mentioning that her office was equipped with surveillance cameras. The monitor was set inside her private lounge, a small screen mounted on the wall right beside the door.

This allowed An Menglan to watch the video feed, and by standing close to the door, sshe could hear the conversation in the office.

Wu Chen and her father seemed to be getting along swimmingly, which looked promising on the surface.

Yet that only deepened An Menglan’s anxiety. She knew full well that Wu Chen was currently speaking to her father as Morning Mist, and that her father was treating him as an “outstanding employee” or a “top-performing sales champion.” Though her father appeared approachable and spoke as though they were on equal footing, in reality… none of that would stop him from turning utterly hostile the moment the truth came out.

An Menglan began to hesitate.

Should she step out?

Or rather, when would be the best moment to make her entrance?

Back in the office.

“Boss An, while musicians of that era were undeniably brilliant, times have changed. Audiences have entirely different tastes now. The current trend toward pretty young idols isn’t necessarily completely wrong either. The era truly is different…” Wu Chen chatted casually with An Huaiguo, exploring the conditions, virtues, and flaws of musicians across different eras.

An Huaiguo had not expected Wu Chen to speak up on behalf of today’s pretty young idols.

Could this young man be so confident in himself that he did not see traffic stars as a threat at all, allowing him to speak so generously on their behalf?

An Huaiguo knew that traffic brought profits. Yet when it came to discerning right from wrong or good from bad, his views diverged from Wu Chen’s.

Having lived through that glorious era himself, he naturally harbored a degree of nostalgia.

“Pretty young boys, traffic stars—they have no real works to their names. It’s all about their faces and posturing. To put it bluntly, they rely on marketing and packaging to swindle money…” An Huaiguo voiced his thoughts.

“It’s a symptom of the times,” Wu Chen replied. “Toward the end of the last century, public entertainment was exceedingly scarce. There were very few topics people could chat about, and very few avenues for socializing. It was nothing more than television variety shows, movies, and music… In that era, blasting a hit song in a dance hall and letting everyone dance along was the cutting edge of fashion.”

“Nowadays, the internet is highly developed, and practically everyone owns a smartphone. Mobile games alone devour a massive chunk of most young people’s leisure time.”

“Boss An, if you conducted a survey, you would find that fewer people genuinely listen to music these days. A song might achieve phenomenal reach and be played everywhere, becoming an overnight sensation, but what do people say about it? The public sneers, dismissing it as just another viral tune from a short-video platform! No matter how popular it is, and no matter whether the composition is good or bad, as long as it wasn’t sung by a properly debuted star, it’s branded as low-class!”

“While a tiny few manage to break that mold, that’s how it plays out the vast majority of the time!”

“Real singers are growing fewer and farther between. Why has it come to this?”

“I think there are two main reasons. First, fewer people actually listen to music; instead, they have songs forced into their heads. Once an internet song blows up, it blares down every street and alley until people start resenting it! That makes it harder and harder for purist singers to break through. More and more, it’s become a phenomenon where the song only becomes famous because the singer is already famous.”

“The second reason is what I just mentioned: the internet is highly advanced, and entertainment options have multiplied.”

“Mobile games, web dramas, online variety shows, short videos, Weibo communities, all sorts of forums… How many people can resist all these modern attractions and still follow new music like they used to, listening closely to judge whether it’s truly good? At the end of the day, listening to music is just a form of casual entertainment. It’s merely one option among today’s diversified diversions.”

“This inevitably means that both singers and singing shows have to become far more entertainment-driven than before! That’s the only way they can compete against other forms of entertainment and capture eyeballs.”

“And handsome looks, much like a woman’s beauty, are always an advantage.”

“Yet handsome men aren’t necessarily good singers. Finding someone who checks both boxes is exceedingly difficult. So what do you do?”

“Variety shows prioritize visual impact, so appearance takes precedence over vocal ability… As long as the singing is passable, that’s enough. If they sing poorly, the sound can be adjusted. But if they’re ugly, there’s truly no remedy.”

“In today’s broader market, very few men are willing to spend money on male vocalists, but countless women are.”

“Male spending has been siphoned off by gaming and other pastimes.”

“Only women remain glued to their screens for variety shows and are willing to open their purses. Naturally, the industry gives them whatever they want to see. If they like handsome young idols, they get handsome young idols. They don’t care how well their favorite idol sings—passable is enough. As long as he’s handsome, everything can be excused. That’s the market. If entertainment companies want to make money, they have no choice but to push talent tailored to those tastes.”

“This inevitably leads to an escalating focus on marketing and packaging. Some female viewers will pour money into their traffic idols and cheer them on, while those who only know how to make music have no supporters at all! The people complaining that the industry is going downhill, that singers are getting worse, and that music is deteriorating—not a single one of them actually supports a serious, new-generation singer. They sneer at supporting niche artists, so niche artists remain niche forever, never able to compete with traffic stars in terms of buzz!”

“This is a classic case of bad money driving out good as the era marches on.”

“The shift in the times is the root cause. But the reason it developed so fast and went to such extremes is entirely because entertainment companies chase short-term gains far too aggressively.”

“Fast money is addictive. Once you’re hooked, it’s nearly impossible to quit!”

“You can use a single variety show to churn out a traffic boy band. Even if the group only stays relevant for two years, you don’t need to care about their professional craft at all; it’s all formulaic corporate marketing, designed to pull in a fortune in the shortest time possible.”

“What happens when they fall out of fashion? You discard them. Then, all you need is the span of another variety show to churn out a fresh batch of traffic stars and make another fortune!”

“Repeating the cycle over and over to rake in money—that’s the biggest difference from the end of the last century. Back then, you cultivated a star and steadily earned money from that one individual. Nowadays, you churn out new stars every year and make money every year. Whether the profit comes from one person or a dozen makes no difference to an entertainment company!”

“All that matters is the bottom line!”

“The entire marketing and packaging apparatus has been industrialized! Everyone plays by these rules. If you don’t, you can’t keep pace with this fast, hyper-entertained era, and you’ll be weeded out!”

“I don’t deny that every era has its lucky few—those who genuinely explode in popularity off the back of a single song, where both the artist and the music achieve true mainstream success. But they are a tiny, microscopic minority. They possess zero reference value. They simply happened to do the right thing at the right place and the right time, extraordinarily fortunate to win the audience’s approval and praise and be elevated to stardom…”

“No entertainment company has the power to say, ‘Next year, I will definitely churn out another person like that.'”

“Nobody has that kind of capability.” As Wu Chen said this, he added silently in his heart: Except me.

“So… that is the broad tide of the era. Everyone wants a slice of the pie in today’s hyper-entertained landscape, which means resorting to ever more tricks and gimmicks. Whoever is willing to spend gets new talent promoted for them. Whatever those women fancy, they get. The market dictates everything! Making money isn’t shameful.”

Wu Chen’s remarks amounted to quite a long speech, reflecting entirely his own subjective views.

Perhaps tempered by his thousand years in the time loop, Wu Chen’s mindset was vastly more composed than that of an ordinary person, and he was far more capable of taking things in stride!

He, too, had once been cynical, sneering at all sorts of contemporary trends. Any circle he disliked could be dismissed as childish or brain-dead. That was the Wu Chen prior to the thousand-year loop; after all, he had merely been a twenty-two-year-old youth. Yet having experienced a millennium of resets, he had learned to view these matters with complete equanimity.

He no longer judged them so harshly.

“Hahahahahahaha! Good! Good! Well said!” An Huaiguo laughed uproariously, looking at Wu Chen with unmistakable admiration in his eyes.