Chapter Nine: Total Annihilation? No, Something's Not Right Here!

In the few minutes while Zhou Peng was listening to music, thousands of messages flooded into the group chat, almost crashing his phone.

He finally managed to open it.

A dense barrage of messages appeared.

“Damn! Damn! Damn! Three ‘damns’ to express my feelings right now.”

“I always thought a hoarse voice was just affectation, but after hearing this song today, my entire perspective has been turned upside down—I'm blown away!”

“How extraordinary for a singer's voice to be this distinctive. It's truly breathtaking. And it's incredibly charming. I declare that I am now in love with this kind of voice.”

“Has the music world ever seen such a unique voice before? This is like a firework shot into the sky for the industry. I can already imagine how shocked everyone will be by this voice in the coming days.”

“Unique, skilled, emotional—I’m sure this song is going to blow up in August.”

But just then, a strange message popped up:

“Wait, I recognize this singer. I remember he was a singer at Yunhai Media whose voice was ruined, right?”

Instantly, the group exploded with replies.

“You call that a ruined voice?”

“Sis, I wish I were ‘ruined’ like that.”

“If someone can sing such a distinctive song, you call him a has-been?”

“Come on, don’t joke.”

“I’m telling the truth! I have a friend at Yunhai Media, he told me about this. I remember the singer was Hao Mingxing. The name’s unforgettable, I’m sure I didn’t mistake it.”

Many people were stunned by the certainty of this reply.

Could it be true?

A singer whose voice was supposedly ruined suddenly singing such a unique song?

Was there something special behind it?

Was he trained by someone?

…

But no matter what, everyone could agree on one thing: Hao Mingxing was definitely not a has-been, but a singer with a rare and distinctive voice.

“With his voice and skill, Hao Mingxing is bound for greatness.”

“Exactly! ‘Doesn’t Matter’ is amazing.”

“But why wasn’t he famous before? According to what was said, he was even seen as a has-been in his company.”

“Maybe it’s the song that made the difference?”

“I think so too. The lyrics and melody of ‘Doesn’t Matter’ fit his voice perfectly.”

“…”

Seeing these discussions, Zhou Peng was intrigued. He reopened the song’s details and focused his gaze.

Singer: Hao Mingxing.

Lyrics: Silent.

Composer: Silent.

Arranger: Silent.

His pupils contracted slightly. This “Silent” is impressive—handling lyrics, composition, and arrangement all alone.

Could this person have trained Hao Mingxing?

But on second thought, it seemed unlikely. As a music enthusiast, he knew very well how little power composers had. Composers training singers? Impossible. If composers had that kind of authority, the world of Blue Star would have been turned upside down long ago.

…

The first day of August.

Whether it was the Newcomer Chart or the New Song Chart, nothing could be determined in the first few hours.

All the major companies were making a push, with promotions flooding every channel.

On the charts, the ranks were in constant flux.

One moment you’re on top, the next it’s me.

The competition was fierce.

Only after the first dozen or so intense hours, or even a day or two, would the rankings begin to stabilize.

At nine in the morning.

Liu Zhengwen, who had spent the night shivering in the wind on the overpass, returned to the office with dark circles under his eyes.

But his face was no longer pale as it had been last night; instead, he looked calm.

I’ve resigned myself.

I’m not afraid.

Though he had expected the outcome, Liu Zhengwen still took a deep breath, opened CloudNet, and checked the Newcomer and New Song Charts.

Newcomer Chart:

From first to tenth place, not a single familiar name.

The highest-ranked was “Li Ziqing,” a female singer the company was heavily promoting, but she was only at twenty-eighth place.

New Song Chart:

Again, no Yunhai Media singers in the top ten.

The highest was a second-tier singer, “Yang Zhecheng,” at sixteenth place.

With rankings like these, breaking into the top ten was nearly impossible.

In other words, all fourteen Yunhai Media singers who released songs this time had failed—again.

“Heh! All losers… myself included.”

Muttering to himself, Liu Zhengwen kept scrolling down the chart.

In truth, he didn’t want to keep looking, but as the head of the Composition Department, he still had to write a chart performance report for all the singers, for upper management to review, and so they could criticize him.

As he scrolled further, his movements suddenly froze, as if time itself had stopped.

Newcomer Chart.

Forty-eighth place: “Doesn’t Matter,” singer Hao Mingxing.

Liu Zhengwen thought last night’s cold wind had made him hallucinate. He rubbed his eyes hard and looked again.

He hadn’t seen wrong.

It really was forty-eighth place.

The next second, his eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

How could this be?

He knew “Doesn’t Matter” all too well.

It was a song from the “double has-beens.”

He hadn’t taken it seriously at all.

Yet now, it was at forty-eighth place.

Liu Zhengwen was completely stunned.

Does forty-eighth look terrible?

Only Liu Zhengwen knew what it meant for “Doesn’t Matter” to reach that spot. Because he knew the company hadn’t promoted it at all—not a single bit!

That is to say, a rookie’s new song, with zero promotion or exposure, in just one night had rushed into the top fifty of the Newcomer Chart.

What did that mean?

Liu Zhengwen suddenly felt hot all over.

“Heh… Hehehe… Hehehe, blazing, dazzling, surreal, goose, goose, goose, goose, goose.”

In his office, Liu Zhengwen sat in his chair, laughing like a gander.

…

Vocal Department.

The entire department was in an uproar.

Half an hour earlier, the manager, Qian Lun, had been pale-faced and at a loss.

A total wipeout in July.

Another in August.

What was he supposed to do?

He had to take the initiative and demand answers from the Composition Department.

But just as he was preparing his speech and about to confront Liu Zhengwen, he heard a commotion outside.

“My God, this is unbelievable!”

“How is this possible? Hao Mingxing’s song made it into the top fifty?”

“Have the fans’ tastes changed?”

“I don’t get it!”

“Did he secretly buy ads?”

“Heh! Making it into the top fifty of the Newcomer Chart isn’t something just a few ads can do. Everyone in the top hundred is heavily promoted by their companies—who hasn’t advertised?”

“But this is just absurd. Hao Mingxing, a guy whose voice was supposedly ruined, has a song at forty-eighth place. So what does that make the rest of us?”

After listening for a bit, Qian Lun quickly understood.

It turned out that Hao Mingxing’s “Doesn’t Matter,” nine hours after release, had fought its way up overnight from among thousands of new songs and made it into the top fifty of the Newcomer Chart.

???

What was going on?

Seriously, what was going on?

What the hell was going on?

He hurriedly opened CloudNet’s Newcomer Chart and scrolled down the list.

And then—

Qian Lun was dumbfounded.

A few seconds later—

“What the—!” he shouted, completely losing his composure, and rushed out the door.

From that day on, the Vocal Department’s office was never the same.