Chapter 115: They Must Be Joking with Us

Wangfujing Art Fortress Square.

Today, the entire square was fully occupied by Jiangnan Television Station.

As for the cost, that was never an issue—simply because of abundant resources and sheer confidence.

At the center of the square, a small stage had been erected. Though modest in size, it was fully equipped in every detail.

Those in the know understood immediately: Jiangnan Television Station was holding a press conference.

A press conference for all the fans of "I Am a Singer," for all of Ren Qian’s admirers, and for the fans of all the participating singers.

Given that Ren Qian and seven other singers would be present, the square was packed to the brim.

Fans mingled with reporters, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement rivaling that of a diva’s arrival at the airport.

The first order of business at the press conference was the Q&A session.

“May I ask, what status do you believe ‘I Am a Singer’ will hold within the industry? Is its program format mature? What are its prospects for the future? Is it replicable? Thank you.”

The saying goes, “Colleagues are competitors.” Once the stage was ready and the spokesperson began to answer questions, reporters with cameras and microphones jostled eagerly to be heard first.

Finally, a lucky reporter from Special Seek Entertainment managed to ask the opening question.

“Our production team believes that ‘I Am a Singer’ is more than just a show. As Ren Qian has said, our goal is to inspire a greater love and understanding of music.”

“The format of ‘I Am a Singer’ is not yet mature.”

“It could have stirred much greater enthusiasm among viewers and turned music into a nationwide balm for the soul.”

“But judging from the current situation, our mission has not been fulfilled. And since our format isn’t designed to make money, it’s difficult to imitate.”

The spokesperson’s words were met with thunderous applause.

This was the true essence.

“Our aim is not to profit, but to amplify the influence of music and elevate the quality of life for all.” Surely, such sentiments would become a standard refrain in future talent shows.

The spokesperson blushed slightly; these words were borrowed from Ren Qian, and he hadn’t even pondered them deeply—yet they earned such applause.

“Hello, we believe that each episode’s song selection and composition is solely the work of Ren Qian. Thus, the show’s brilliance fluctuates with his mood. If Ren Qian were to leave the stage of ‘I Am a Singer,’ where would the show go from there?”

A pointed question.

The spokesperson paused briefly.

“To spread the influence of music, Ren Qian will not leave the stage. Moreover, you underestimate his talent. If he can find peace, I believe every note he writes is extraordinary. No exaggeration or fan talk—Ren Qian is truly a musical immortal of our age. His melodies stir storms, his lyrics move spirits.”

In the grand setting, the spokesperson chose to lavish high praise on Ren Qian. The reporter was dumbfounded—after painstakingly crafting that question last night, why such an evasive, flattering response?

Isn’t that just pointless talk? Everyone already knows Ren Qian’s brilliance; his songs are priceless yet unsold, with offers reaching three million and still refused.

“Next question!”

“May I ask, which singer will challenge the stage next? Will it be the rising diva, Li Shiyun?”

“Is that something I can reveal?”

The spokesperson smiled mysteriously, deliberately teasing the audience, though his guilty expression betrayed him. Yet the suspense remained, for he did not confirm anything.

“In truth, our team is always searching for passionate musicians who can explode onto the scene—perhaps quietly, perhaps at their peak… So your guesses may not be correct…”

Another evasive dodge.

The reporters were speechless—how were they supposed to write this story?

The reporters exchanged banter, eagerly firing questions. After about an hour, the spokesperson’s Q&A concluded, followed by interviews with the singers one by one.

“Hello, Hu Yanbin, how would you describe Ren Qian as a person and as a professional?”

Not skilled at such matters, Hu Yanbin scratched his head, thought long and hard, then made two expressions as he spoke.

The first expression:

Hu Yanbin looked stern. “With your singing style, who are you trying to fool?”

The second expression:

Hu Yanbin appeared helpless. “Go practice a few more times before you come back, don’t torture me.”

The media burst into laughter. These expressions were hilarious, vivid—the first was a strict scolding, the second a pleading surrender. This alone could be a news highlight.

“And how would Murong Xue describe Ren Qian’s character?”

The media turned to Murong Xue.

“I’ll put it in three sentences. First: Don’t eat dinner! Second: Don’t expect dinner unless you practice a hundred times! Third: Are you all not full?”

Murong Xue’s words sent the crowd into uproarious laughter.

The imagery was vivid indeed.

...

“Why hasn’t Ren Qian appeared yet?”

Some media members grew restless—the main star of this interview had not yet arrived.

“Ren Qian was originally preparing an album for the new singer Gun Shi, so he wasn’t planning to come. But upon reflection, he didn’t want to disappoint the media’s affection. So, despite his busy schedule, he decided to come and is on his way now.”

The media reacted with enthusiasm.

This was the ideal celebrity—despite fame, no diva airs, willing to make time for interviews. A role model. If every star were like Ren Qian, how could they lack good news material?

Suddenly, the reporters’ impression of Ren Qian soared to new heights.

In truth, this was just the spokesperson’s fabrication—Ren Qian simply didn’t want to come.

“Qian God! Qian God, I love you!”

“Wow! Qian God!”

“Hubby, look here! Hubby!”

Speak of the devil, the cheers erupting from the crowd signaled the star’s arrival. Only the recent meteoric rise of Ren Qian, the architect of the “I Am a Singer” legend, could command such fervent adoration.

Bodyguards were necessary—more than twenty of them opened a path through the crowd, keeping the eager fans at bay.

Ren Qian walked confidently in a sharp suit through the center. The guards were serious and robust, clearly professionals.

Ren Qian couldn’t help but admire Jiangnan Television’s thoroughness.

If only they sent two tough women instead—no, scratch that, these were trained martial artists, capable of taking him down in moments.

He resolved to learn martial arts himself, at least to withstand a beating!

Ren Qian mused thus.

He had never signed autographs before, but now, gleefully picked up a pen, embarking on an unending journey.

Nearly four thousand fans in the square—how could he possibly sign for everyone?

At first, the production team found the scene amusing, but after an hour, they could no longer tolerate it. Was Ren Qian seriously planning to sign for every single person?

“He must be joking...”