Chapter Forty-Eight: The Solution

“What an excellent opportunity—who wouldn’t agree to it?” Lin Qihua said, feigning ease. “I imagine you must value me greatly if all three of you—the top leaders—have come to greet me at once. If I still insisted on putting on airs, that would be inappropriate. If the company pulls through this crisis, I’ll be counted among its heroes, and that would feel wonderful.”

“We still need to make it through,” Yu Fengqin replied with a bright smile, extending her hand to Lin Qihua. “Once again, welcome.”

“It’s an honor.”

“Welcome.” He Li and Lian Yuling also shook his hand, their warmth much more genuine this time—perhaps grateful for the choice he had made.

“Sister Feng once told me that in the entertainment world, all strategies are just means to an end; what truly matters is strength,” Lin Qihua said as he sat down again, smiling. “The company seems beset by crises, but sometimes, solving the problem only takes a single great song. I think, Sister Qin, that’s your primary reason for inviting me to join, isn’t it?”

“You saw right through me,” Yu Fengqin replied with a gentle laugh, as if a burden had temporarily been lifted from her heart. “That’s also why Sister Feng recommended you so highly. She knows my situation and told me perhaps you could help us through this difficulty.”

“You’re absolutely right,” He Li said calmly. “The company’s main issue now is our artists. We have only two second-tier talents: one is an actor, currently filming and not a concern for the moment; the other is a singer who hasn’t had a single booking for over a month, which is almost unheard of these days, yet it’s happened to us. The remaining third-tier artists are in the same situation. They were on the rise, but now, without opportunities, their careers have abruptly stalled, and that’s had a huge impact. The training camp’s trainees aren’t ready to step up, either. That’s the crux of it. The opposition isn’t using normal competition; they’re smothering us with money and resources. It’s a crude tactic, but brutally effective—they haven’t broken any great industry taboos. Good artists? They buy them away. Good songs? They pay to acquire them. Bookings? They fight to secure them. It’s direct and ruthless, and there’s almost no way out. But there’s one thing they can’t control: if we produce our own great songs and achieve real results.”

“Just like I did?”

“Exactly. I studied your media battle with Red Bean Entertainment. Besides Sister Feng’s brilliant maneuvering, what sealed the deal was your astonishing achievement—fifty million plays in one day, over a hundred million in three. Cold, hard evidence that you’re a remarkably gifted singer-songwriter. That’s what dealt Red Bean the fatal blow—otherwise, why would they have surrendered so easily?” He Li analyzed calmly. “Similarly, if we release one or two top-quality singles now and achieve good results, our artists’ popularity will rise, and bookings will come naturally. The opposition can’t stop that; no matter how powerful they are, they can’t prevent us from releasing singles. That’s our breakthrough.”

“So, what we need are great songs—true strength, real capability.” Lin Qihua clapped his hands and laughed. “That’s where my value lies. It seems you all have a lot of faith in me, that I can deliver?”

“The company is still managing to hold on, so you’ll have plenty of time. I believe that someone who can compose so many popular songs in half a year will be able to do so again in this time.” He Li spoke without hesitation. “Even if you don’t, your joining us is a huge morale boost. When next year’s rankings come out, you’ll definitely be second-tier, with enough strength to help the company overcome this crisis.”

“All right, you’ve bet correctly, because I’m confident in myself, too,” Lin Qihua replied, a confident smile on his face. “That’s why I’m here.”

“We’re counting on you.” Yu Fengqin said softly, “I can promise you that the company won’t let you down.” The pressure of the past year seemed to ease a little at that moment. She hoped he would keep his word—otherwise, she really didn’t know what she’d do. Surrender to the opposition? She would never agree to that, not even in death.

“What arrangements has the company made for me?”

“Since it’s not time for your official comeback yet, we’ll assign you a manager for now, to help you get familiar with the company and start adaptive training,” He Li replied. “Lingling will handle this.”

Lin Qihua glanced at Lian Yuling and nodded. “That’s appropriate. After all, it’s been a long time since I’ve performed on a big stage. Training is necessary to get back in shape. And moving from a group to a solo career requires a lot of adjustments. I’ll be counting on you for these things.”

“No problem. It’s a minor matter for you. Graduating from the Huayi Training Camp already proves your ability. We’ll customize a plan to suit your needs and assign a dedicated trainer. I’m sure you’ll quickly find your rhythm again,” Lian Yuling replied, her professionalism evident. When discussing her work, the distant air about her seemed to fade.

“Lingling is a Huayi graduate herself,” Yu Fengqin said with a smile. “In fact, she’s your senior.”

“Oh?” Lin Qihua was surprised. “Which cohort are you from, Senior? I was in the 75th.”

“The 69th,” Lian Yuling answered simply.

“I see.” Lin Qihua didn’t press further. She must be a woman with a story—perhaps her cold demeanor was meant to ward off questions about her past. She had already left the company before he entered; maybe Han Dong or Qin Lulu would know her.

“In that case, why don’t we meet the artists who are here? It’ll give me an impression and maybe spark some inspiration,” Lin Qihua suggested to Yu Fengqin.

“So soon?” Yu Fengqin was a little surprised.

“Yes, there’s no time like the present. Everyone’s here, right? The sooner we solve this, the sooner I can start training. The pressure is pretty intense,” Lin Qihua affirmed.

“That would be best. I’ll arrange it right away,” He Li said, appreciating Lin Qihua’s decisiveness, and left to make preparations.

“Qihua, are you confident? To be honest, it’s a real challenge,” Yu Fengqin said, worried. “And most of those who stayed are women. You might find it easier to write for male singers, but songs for girls are quite a stretch.”

“So it’s an all-female army?” Lin Qihua smiled. “That makes sense—all three of you are beauties, so it’s natural your company would mostly have female artists. I suppose those who didn’t fit were poached away. The ones who stayed must have something special. Let’s see for ourselves. I do have some confidence.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” Yu Fengqin retorted playfully, a rare moment of levity. “These girls have stayed to weather the storm with us; naturally, the company won’t let them down.”

“Of course. When the tide goes out, you see who’s left standing. Starshine Company’s tactics, in a way, have been a blessing—they’ve shown us people’s true colors, haven’t they?”

“Yes,” Yu Fengqin sighed.

As they chatted, He Li returned to signal that everything was ready. The group stood and made their way to the eighth-floor vocal studio, where the singers practiced. To assess the singers’ abilities, this was the perfect place.

Inside, quite a few people were gathered. He Li explained to Lin Qihua that most were managers, trainers, and staff; only those at the front were actual artists.

At a glance, Lin Qihua saw just six people at the front. The first was a woman of about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with long hair falling to her shoulders and strikingly pretty features. She wore a black heart-shaped choker, a white shirt tied above her navel, and grayish-white jeans—radiating a sense of strength, clearly a tough woman. The second was also very beautiful, but softer, with clear eyes, a floating white dress, an air of ethereal grace, and a constant gentle smile that made her instantly likable. The third was a handsome young man, sharply dressed and eye-catching. The final three were all girls, probably a group; each was attractive, but that was to be expected—beauty is just the baseline in entertainment.

Seeing Yu Fengqin and Lin Qihua enter, everyone grew serious. At the sight of the unfamiliar Lin Qihua, a hint of curiosity flickered in their eyes. Had Minister He called them here because of him? Was he a newcomer? Or something else?

He Li introduced the artists at the front: the first, Lei Jing, was known for her fierce personality; the second, Xiao Xiao, was her exact opposite—gentle and sweet; the third, Zhao Qiao, was skilled in both singing and dancing and currently the only artist still getting bookings, with a large following of female fans; the last three made up the lively group Vivi, each with the surname Wei—Li Xiaowei, Qin Nianwei, and Tian Yuwei—who were fairly well-known in the entertainment scene.

Lin Qihua nodded, forming an initial impression. Only Zhao Qiao’s gaze felt odd, as if Lin was trespassing on his territory—a hint of hostility. Did Zhao see himself as the king here? Interesting.

He Li offered a brief introduction of Lin Qihua. As members of the entertainment world, none of them were strangers to recent newsworthy events. Lin Qihua’s songs were wildly popular now, and upon realizing it was him, excitement rippled through the group. Did this mean he was joining the company?

Lin Qihua noticed a strange flicker in Zhao Qiao’s eyes—was that panic?

When He Li announced that Lin Qihua would soon join and that today’s meeting was not only for introductions but also to gather inspiration for new songs for them, everyone burst into enthusiastic applause. After a string of bad news, this was a much-needed and thrilling piece of good fortune.