Chapter Forty-Seven: Galaxy Entertainment in Dire Straits

The people from Galaxy Entertainment acted swiftly. The next day, they sent a car to bring Lin Qihua to the foot of a building in the Seaview District.

Lin Qihua didn’t possess much luggage, mostly his guitar and other instruments. The person who came to pick him up was a capable woman. Through their earlier conversation, Lin Qihua had learned her name was Qian Qian, a supervisor in Galaxy Entertainment’s Artist Department. She was serious and rarely smiled. Upon arrival, she and the driver helped Lin Qihua carry his belongings upstairs.

They opened a room—a simple suite. Inside was a bedroom, outside a living room, and a kitchen as well; quite complete, all things considered.

“This will be your temporary residence from now on. It’s one of the better apartments we have here,” Qian Qian said with a touch of emotion. “The company’s conditions aren’t ideal yet, so you’ll have to bear with it for now.”

“It’s already very good,” Lin Qihua replied, surveying the apartment with satisfaction. “I’m quite pleased. By the way, I noticed not many people live in this building. Are they all our people?”

Qian Qian glanced at him in surprise, a faint bitter smile appearing on her lips. “We rented the whole building for artists, trainees, and staff. It used to be fully occupied, but now, about half of it is empty.”

“Oh,” Lin Qihua nodded, refraining from probing further. He guessed it was related to the company’s recent situation—no need to press the matter.

“Let’s head to the company first. It’s just in the office building nearby,” Qian Qian suggested naturally.

“Certainly, let’s go.”

The two walked to the office building about five hundred meters away—a ten-story structure, nothing compared to the Huayi Tower. At the entrance, the Galaxy Entertainment logo hung: a brilliant star river, sparkling with starlight.

“Galaxy, huh? A sky full of stars—which one am I?” Lin Qihua looked up at the enormous logo, murmuring to himself.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” Qian Qian asked curiously.

“Nothing,” Lin Qihua shook his head and smiled. “Just feeling something—this is my new starting point. Excitement mixed with some uncertainty.”

“A bit odd.” Qian Qian silently formed her judgment of Lin Qihua, said nothing more, and led him upstairs.

“The top floor belongs to the boss and department heads,” she explained as they entered the elevator and pressed the tenth floor. “The ninth floor is for department offices, the first is reception, and the other floors are mostly for practice rooms and other functions.”

Lin Qihua nodded; this was standard for most companies, nothing strange.

They reached the tenth floor. Qian Qian led Lin Qihua to a door labeled ‘General Manager,’ knocked, entered, and after a moment, signaled for him to come in.

Inside was a vast space, with a suite at the back—likely for rest. In front, a huge bookshelf lined the wall, filled with books and trophies. A large desk stood there, and beside it, a set of sofas for visitors.

Sister Qin sat behind the desk. When Lin Qihua entered, a joyful smile bloomed on her face, like a peony in full bloom—graceful and beautiful, though the fatigue in her eyes betrayed her true feelings.

“Please sit.” She stood, moved to the sofa, and gestured for Lin Qihua to sit. Turning to Qian Qian, she smiled, “Go invite Minister Lian and Minister He over.”

“Alright.” Qian Qian nodded and left.

“I’ve finally been waiting for you.” Yu Fengqin smiled warmly at Lin Qihua. “In a moment, when the heads of the Artist and Training Departments arrive, we’ll introduce the company’s situation properly. Have you settled in?”

“Yes,” Lin Qihua nodded, “I’m settled.”

“I’m sorry for the temporary arrangement. In time, there will be better accommodations,” Yu Fengqin said apologetically.

“No, it’s already very good,” Lin Qihua smiled. “Honestly, I don’t mind these conditions. The dormitory is close to the company, which is great. No need to prepare anything else. When my career stabilizes, I’ll buy a place myself. So, it’s not polite refusal—I truly don’t need more.”

Yu Fengqin paused, then laughed behind her hand. “True, you are a billionaire now. Even Sister Qin can’t compare with you.”

“Don’t say that,” Lin Qihua replied awkwardly. “It’s just luck.”

Yu Fengqin laughed at his expression.

As they spoke, the door opened again and two people entered one after the other.

Yu Fengqin stood and introduced Lin Qihua, “These are our company’s Artist Department Head, He Li, and Training Department Head, Lian Yuling. The Artist Department manages artists and their work, while the Training Department handles their training and packaging. Lili, Lingling, this is Lin Qihua whom I mentioned to you.”

These were the two pillars of the company. Lin Qihua quickly shook hands with them. He Li was a woman of about thirty, short hair, glasses, and a professional suit—she radiated charisma. Lian Yuling appeared younger, with long hair, a blue dress, tall and fit—clearly someone who exercised regularly. Her face, however, remained cold and distant, making her hard to approach.

After the introductions, the four sat down again. Qian Qian brewed tea and served it, and the conversation began.

“Are you a little surprised, Qihua?” Yu Fengqin smiled at Lin Qihua.

“I’m a bit overwhelmed,” Lin Qihua replied modestly. “By rights, I’m just a fifth-tier artist, not well-known, and haven’t made a comeback yet. With three top executives welcoming me, I feel uneasy!”

Yu Fengqin laughed, as did He Li and Lian Yuling. “Who would dare call you a fifth-tier artist now? If word got out, they’d be embarrassed.”

“Well, but I hardly deserve this treatment.”

“It may seem so, but in truth, we need you.” Yu Fengqin exchanged glances with the others and spoke gently. “Our company looks decent from the outside, but in fact, it’s caught in a crisis—things are far from optimistic.”

“I’m all ears.”

“A year ago,” Yu Fengqin began softly, “a company called Starlight Entertainment was founded. From the outset, they waved their checkbooks, poaching talent everywhere. Our company has been hit the hardest.”

“A new company?” Lin Qihua was surprised. “Even if a new company needs staff, industry practice is usually gentle—otherwise, other companies will unite against them. How could they do this?”

“They targeted only us, so the others just watched,” Yu Fengqin’s eyes flashed with pain. “The new company’s owner is my ex-husband’s younger brother.”

“Oh,” Lin Qihua understood—another story of wealthy families. “So after a year, the company suffered greatly?”

“Indeed,” Yu Fengqin nodded. “You know, entertainment agencies depend on artists, jobs, and resources. Artists without jobs are useless, jobs without artists are no good, and resources are essential. Actors need good scripts and roles, singers need good songs—otherwise, opportunities dry up. Their attacks focused on all three.”

“Exactly.” Lin Qihua nodded.

“We used to have two top-tier stars, both pillars of the company,” He Li patted Yu Fengqin’s shoulder and continued. “Starlight targeted them directly. One’s contract was nearing its end—we wanted to renew, but he refused, stalled, obviously promised something by the other side, preparing to jump ship. We couldn’t take action against him; he still had important jobs. The second star was even worse—our penalty clauses were never set very high, so Starlight offered irresistible terms, paid his penalty fee, and he left then and there. Sister Qin nearly fainted with anger.”

Such ruthless tactics—top stars are the backbone of any company. Losing two at once dealt a huge blow to Galaxy Entertainment.

“After the top-tier stars were poached, they didn’t spare the second-tier. We had five second-tier artists; three were taken, the remaining two threatened—no jobs, and that’s what happened,” He Li said bitterly. “One is still filming, but the other second-tier and all third-tier artists get no assignments now. A few singers can’t get good songs; those willing to write for us either demand impossible conditions or produce poor quality. This move dug out our roots. No matter how we maneuver, there’s little we can do. Second and third-tiers aren’t first-tiers; there are too many alternatives.”

“Truly ruthless—undermining at the source,” Lin Qihua reflected. What kind of grudge was this? Industry competition is rarely so harsh; one should always leave room for reconciliation.

“Their conditions are impossible for us to accept,” He Li glanced at Yu Fengqin and spoke with difficulty. “So, reconciliation is out of the question. We’ve lasted a year, but without artists and assignments, we’ve lost our main income. Yet, maintaining company operations requires huge expenses. At this rate, we’ll inevitably go bankrupt. The three of us are fine, but the artists and trainees will suffer.”

“So, that’s our company’s current situation,” Yu Fengqin managed a smile. “Now that you know, do you still wish to join us? With your talent, any company would offer you high treatment and a limitless future. Here, there are too many unknowns.”

Lin Qihua looked at the three women. Yu Fengqin’s eyes were filled with hope; He Li’s expression was calm, probably expecting little; Lian Yuling remained cold and indifferent, seemingly unconcerned.

“So, if I join, I’ll be the monkey king in a mountain without tigers?” Lin Qihua laughed freely, making a joke. “If I don’t board the ship now, when the company recovers, where else will I find such treatment?”

“So, you agree?” Yu Fengqin’s phoenix eyes widened, and He Li and Lian Yuling showed surprise.