Chapter Forty-Three: Song Upload

When I sat down face-to-face with the lead singer of this band for an interview, I was taken aback. My impression of him was one of freshness—yes, a kind of clear and clean freshness, entirely different from the wildness or rebelliousness I had imagined. In fact, he seemed the very antithesis of the untamed spirit I associated with the band. His gaze was sincere and unclouded, his words orderly and coherent, his thoughts lucid. Our conversation flowed smoothly, and from that very first impression, I knew he was a pure musician, someone who truly loves singing. The notion that he would willingly throw himself away was simply impossible—yes, absolutely impossible. I trusted my eyes.

During our interview, he spoke candidly about his life in the training camp, his debut with the group, and expressed heartfelt gratitude toward Hua Art Company for nurturing his talent and abilities. It was thanks to the company’s support that he became who he is. I saw honesty in his eyes—genuine, unfeigned gratitude. He admitted that his presence had indeed caused difficulties for the group, hindering their success, and that the company’s decision to replace him was justified. In fact, the group’s results had steadily improved since. He gave the group his blessings.

As for the reason behind terminating his contract, he did not elaborate—perhaps there were matters he could not discuss—but the main point was that he wished to determine his own future, and the company understood and agreed, leading to their amicable separation. He thanked the company for not insisting he stay. To me, he is a person who understands gratitude, and such a person could not possibly be bad. That is what I believe.

Regarding his decision to sing at a bar, he was straightforward: after the termination, he needed a stage to perform, to gain valuable experience during this period of rapid growth, to continually improve himself. Since he could not yet return to the grand stage, singing in a bar was a good choice. Quietly singing, quietly performing, quietly waiting for his comeback—that was all he planned. As for those rumors of self-abandonment, he only smiled faintly and left it at that. Everyone has their own choices; he believed he could remain true to himself in such an environment, nothing more.

I knew this was true. Perhaps, for many, bars evoke images of smoke, alcohol, or worse. If a singer is associated with these things, the assumption is that he has given in to vice. But I knew he hadn’t. His band members told me he never touched cigarettes or alcohol. On one occasion, when everyone else was drinking at dinner, he insisted on abstaining, saying that singers should never drink—a rule drilled into him since training camp. His persistence surprised others, but I understood perfectly. For him, no matter how pleasant the bar might be, it was only a resting point in his life. He sang, composed, and lived here, but his eyes were always fixed on the big stage, always holding himself to an artist’s standard. That is the kind of person he is—a fresh, grateful, earnest young man devoted to singing. How could anyone not look forward to his return? How could anyone not hope to hear his songs once more on the grand stage?

At last, I suppose there is little mystery left in the speculation and the facts. Let us consider: for a singer such as this, why would some journalists, based solely on their own imagination, heap false accusations upon him, determined to cast him into oblivion? What is their purpose? If they succeed, a good singer’s reputation would be destroyed. Even if he staged a comeback, which company would dare to sign him? Which audience would embrace him? For journalists, it may be nothing more than an exercise of their pens, but for the singer, it would mean never returning to the stage, never fulfilling his dreams—ruining a career for good. Can such a journalist still claim this as freedom of the press? To fabricate charges against an innocent person without evidence, out of thin air—was this not the original sin of the entertainment media in those dark years at the turn of the century? Did the blood-soaked tragedies of the past not serve as warning enough? Must we add another one now? That is why, back then, the nation introduced measures to curb media misconduct, measures that now hang like a sword above all entertainment media. When did these journalists forget this?

The lengthy commentary, running over ten thousand words, was posted prominently at the top of the entertainment news section. Its presence was striking, and the number of views soared, setting the internet abuzz—all eyes now turned on Chang Le.

Other websites, too, immediately published their own commentary articles.

Starlit Entertainment: "A New Bar Culture Is Rising—Anticipating the Marriage of Music and Spirits"

Entertainment Vanguard: "Verbal Attacks—Have We Returned to the Dark Ages?"

All for Fun: "A Band Aflame, a Fresh-Faced Lead Singer"

Skyline Entertainment: "Missing Out on a Talented Artist—What Exactly Did Hua Art Do?"

Fox Entertainment: "On the Professionalism and Conscience of Entertainment Journalists"

The united response of the entertainment media stirred up an even greater storm, combining with the fervor of netizens from recent days—now a raging tide aimed squarely at Red Bean Entertainment Network and the journalist Chang Le. This was no longer the grumbling of ordinary netizens, but a collective action by the major entertainment media, their combined force shocking everyone.

Chang Le slumped in his chair, his eyes vacant. “It’s over,” he muttered.

Meanwhile, Lin Qihua had not expected such a turn of events. He felt genuine admiration for Sister Mei’s methods—or perhaps it was the handiwork of that mysterious boss behind the scenes. Being a part of it all, Lin Qihua found himself learning many things.

Upon receiving Sister Mei’s notification, Lin Qihua sprang into action, uploading the prepared songs one by one onto Huaxia Music Network—the largest and most professional music site in China, holding half the market for Chinese-language music streaming and downloads, with the most widely used music app.

Within five minutes, Lin Qihua’s smart device rang. Answering, he found it was the music editor from Huaxia Music Network.

“Hello, Mr. Lin. This is Han Yu, chief music editor at Huaxia Music Network,” introduced a steady, middle-aged man.

“Hello,” Lin Qihua replied.

“We’re delighted you’ve uploaded your music to our site. We noticed it immediately. It’s truly our honor, especially now when the buzz about you and your music is at its peak—everyone is eagerly awaiting your songs. It couldn’t be better timing.”

“It’s true, the timing is perfect,” Lin Qihua said with a smile. “It wasn’t convenient before, but now is just right. I’ve been waiting for this opportunity.”

“Excellent, straightforward,” Han Yu said, pleased that Lin Qihua openly admitted to choosing this moment. If this was a good time for Lin Qihua, it was just as good for Huaxia Music Network. “So, shall we discuss promotion and downloads?”

“Please go ahead.”

“As you know, we offer two main forms of cooperation. First, exclusivity: our site would have exclusive rights to download and stream your music, and you would not upload elsewhere. In return, we offer the best revenue share and strongest promotional support. The second is a general partnership, which also includes strong promotion, but the other terms are less favorable,” Han Yu explained. “From my perspective, I hope you’ll sign an exclusive agreement with us—we guarantee you’ll be satisfied.”

Lin Qihua was well aware of these arrangements and answered without hesitation, “Editor Han, what do you think my purpose is in uploading these songs?”

A faint smile touched Han Yu’s lips. “For fame, perhaps? I imagine money isn’t your main concern.”

“Fame, yes, in a way,” Lin Qihua replied with a laugh. “But most importantly, I want everyone to realize that I am truly a capable singer. No matter where I perform, I have always persisted in making music. In simple terms, my goal is to clear my name, to restore myself to the role of singer, unclouded by bar performances or other distractions. I want the audience to recognize my music. That’s the essence of being a singer; as long as I have that, all will be well.”

“Understood,” Han Yu said with a smile. “As long as you sign an exclusive agreement, I promise the strongest promotion and will personally address this in the music reviews—let your voice speak for itself.”

“Then, here’s to a pleasant partnership!” Lin Qihua agreed readily, pleased that Han Yu truly understood his intentions. Either way, Huaxia Music Network was the unavoidable choice—why lose something greater for the sake of a little profit? As a major platform, its promotion and reviews were crucial to him. Once he understood that, everything else was simple.

The rest was straightforward: the contract could be completed online. In this era, every citizen had an electronic identity for all manner of online authentication and signatures, with a dedicated database for verification. Of course, Huaxia Music Network would later deliver a printed copy of the contract to Lin Qihua for formal completion, but once approved online, the agreement took effect. The platform was authorized to promote, list, and offer downloads of his songs. Now, Lin Qihua need only wait for his royalties—such is the allure of the modern platform. The internet has become the greatest marketing channel of this century, whether for social media, e-commerce, chat, or music apps: platforms that connect all users, bringing resources together for a win-win, forging the glory of the Internet Plus era.