Chapter 20: The Master's Assessment

Unfortunately, East Net’s official blog lacked enough influence, boasting only two million followers. Among these, over a million were bought as dummy accounts to pad the numbers. No matter how aggressively they promoted with giveaways, the impact remained limited, bringing few new fans to "Night Star."

However, the record of "Night Star’s" series of miraculous achievements left industry insiders utterly astonished. Many of them could tell at a glance that the streaming numbers were faked—and not subtly, but blatantly so. In today’s Chinese music scene, how could anyone’s new song reach over two million listens within just ten minutes of release? Even if a legendary singer were resurrected, it would be impossible! Not even in the golden era of Chinese music, twenty or thirty years ago, did anyone achieve such numbers.

East Net’s blatant boosting of "Night Star" left many in the industry baffled. What exactly was their plan? Were they trying to keep Zhang Qiyang in the spotlight? This sort of hype was surely overkill. Concerned, many veteran music influencers dared not wade into these murky waters to ride the wave of popularity.

Those influencers and musicians who did promote the song were of middling influence at best—far less than Zhang Qiyang’s own. Perhaps even the combined impact of all these promoters didn’t match the power of Zhang Qiyang’s self-promotional post.

So far, no current superstar or major influencer had stepped up to help promote "Night Star." Even East Entertainment’s leading diva, Li Xuan, with eighty million followers, hadn’t posted to congratulate Zhang Qiyang on his breakthrough. None of the company’s even more influential movie kings and queens, nor any of its current heartthrobs with tens of millions of fans, had come forward to support his song.

East Net’s PR department was working behind the scenes, hoping to get East Entertainment’s stars involved and ignite "Night Star" for the young heir. But Zhang Qiyang’s status was too peculiar, and his social skills left much to be desired; none of the superstars wanted to be associated with him. To them, he was like a bomb buried in a cesspit—anyone who got close risked being splattered. No one dared form ties with him.

Only someone like Wang Dazhong, cunning and willing to take risks to bring Zhang Qiyang down, was paying close attention to his every move. The haters were lying in wait, ready to snuff out the whirlwind "Night Star" had stirred, eager to make Zhang Qiyang’s humiliation everlasting.

Though the most prominent musicians weren’t posting public congratulations, by now most of them knew "Night Star" had exploded in popularity. Many were privately discussing the song and the young heir’s transformation.

That evening, Li Xuan was in her Beijing studio with two veteran musicians, discussing the piece she’d perform on "My Song" that weekend. When Chen Ke called to inform her of "Night Star’s" success, Li Xuan learned of the song’s debut on East Net.

At a quarter past nine, Li Xuan opened East Net’s app and glanced at the homepage for "Night Star," immediately startled by what she saw: the song had already reached 2.5 million streams! Disbelieving her eyes, she removed her delicate black-rimmed glasses and rubbed them before looking again—the number was true, over 2.5 million listens! And it had only been fifteen minutes since release!

These numbers were simply unbelievable.

After the shock wore off, Li Xuan immediately guessed East Net was hyping Zhang Qiyang. Had the people there lost their minds? Why boost his song to such an extreme? This was even more outrageous than Zhang Qiyang taking first place on "My Song!" These results were enough to eclipse the entire music scene. What had gotten into the industry to make it so suddenly insane?

“Mr. Lin, Little Frog, come over here—a big story’s breaking!” Li Xuan said with a bemused smile, handing her phone to the two musicians beside her.

“Mr. Lin,” as she called him, was Lin Longjiang, a forty-five-year-old man with graying hair and an artistic air—a top music master in the Chinese-speaking world. Several of Li Xuan’s bestselling albums were his work. Beside him was a quirky young man with a bowl cut and frog-eyed glasses—real name Xu Fei, twenty-six, a year younger than Li Xuan. He had trained with her and was known in the industry as a musical prodigy. Many of Li Xuan’s hit singles, including "Straight to the Point," were composed by Little Frog.

After glancing at the "Night Star" homepage on Li Xuan’s phone, Little Frog was first surprised, then burst out laughing. “Ha! This is something else—those numbers are so fake! No way that many people listened already!”

Lin Longjiang only smiled in silence.

Li Xuan, too, smiled without comment. Such numbers weren’t worth discussing.

“Little Frog, download the full version of this song and give it a listen. I caught a snippet earlier and thought it felt pretty good. Did Young Master Yang write it himself?” Lin Longjiang asked.

Li Xuan replied, “COCO told me Zhang Qiyang wrote it himself, but I honestly doubt he could come up with a song like this. Maybe there’s a team behind him.”

Little Frog declared, “There’s no way that young master wrote it. With his musical background, he couldn’t create something this pure.”

Lin Longjiang laughed, “So you also think the song is very clean?”

As he downloaded the track, Little Frog nodded approval. “Yes, from lyrics to melody, it’s all very simple, clean, and forceful—not something an amateur or a rookie could write. This song has the signature of a true master—just like you, Mr. Lin.”

“Don’t flatter me,” Lin Longjiang chuckled. “To be honest, you’re better at songwriting than I am these days.”

Li Xuan suddenly gave Little Frog a sly look. “Tell me honestly—did you write this song? The melodic habits are very reminiscent of your style.”

“Me?” Little Frog pointed at his own nose, laughing. “You really think so highly of me? Why would I ever write a song for that young master? Even if I did, he wouldn’t want it. Remember when COCO showed him one of my songs? His only comment was ‘pretentious.’ He never cared for my work.”

Though he told the story with a laugh, it was clear Little Frog still held a grudge over Zhang Qiyang’s rejection.

Li Xuan raised her beautiful eyes, puzzled. “Then it’s strange—who actually wrote this song for him? Is there another hidden master in the industry?”

Lin Longjiang smiled. “Let’s not speculate. Let’s listen to the song. Little Frog, are you done downloading?”

“All set. I’ll play it now.” Having spent two yuan for the high-quality version, Little Frog played "Night Star" through the studio’s top-tier sound system.

“…The brightest star in the night sky, can you hear the loneliness and sighs in the heart of the one who gazes at you…”

Zhang Qiyang’s magnetic, gentle, and pure voice flowed out, instantly capturing the attention of the three professionals in the room. They forgot the chaos outside and, from a professional perspective, listened closely.

“Play it again,” Lin Longjiang requested after one listen.

After hearing it a second time, Lin Longjiang gave his heartfelt assessment. “I can hardly believe this is sung by Young Master Yang. This voice, this singing style, the unplugged arrangement, and the clean lyrics—they touch one’s soul, stripped of all ornament. There are no dazzling techniques or dramatic twists, no ornate literary flourishes, just a gentle singing of what’s in his heart. It’s wonderful.

“On reflection, there’s no profound philosophy here, nor an overwhelming emotional force, yet it strikes a deep chord. That’s the song’s greatest success. Who doesn’t wish for a transparent soul? Who doesn’t want eyes that can shed tears? But to express such hopes in such a clean, unaffected way—that takes real skill. If this wasn’t written by a master, it must be a stroke of genius from a novice.”