Chapter Thirty: The Performance Artist on the Rocking Scooter

WeiBlog Trending Topic Number One: Musical prodigy Lin Ruowan returns in full force, twenty million in sales affirming his kingly status.
WeiBlog Trending Topic Number Two: Lin Ruowan’s divine new album—three classics all composed by one person.
WeiBlog Trending Topic Number Three: If Ren Qian releases a new album, would you buy it?
Out of the top three, two topics are about Ren Qian! Although he didn’t take first place, he’s not far behind.

It’s worth noting that his situation differs from that of his father-in-law; his father-in-law has Rolling Poetry Entertainment Company orchestrating the publicity.
But for him, it’s entirely the result of spontaneous fan promotion: fans actively share, repost, and comment, attracting swathes of passersby to join in—some mocking, some praising, some merely watching.
Yet regardless, the goal of having Ren Qian trend on the topic list has been achieved.
Scrolling down, there are two more topics about him. This state of affairs brings to mind a saying: “He is not on WeiBlog, yet everywhere on WeiBlog he is the topic.”
The thought tinges him with an inexplicable bittersweetness.

…

Time flies. Seven days after his father-in-law released his album, as February draws to a close and March approaches, it’s finally the start of the semester at Jiangnan University.
Ren Qian bids farewell to his family and boards the subway to school. To Ren Father and Ren Mother’s surprise, he even brings a black mask. In such fine weather, with such clean air, why wear a mask? Hearing their confusion, Ren Qian merely smiles mysteriously, says nothing, and turns away with a dash of flair.
Of course, that was all—when he, thinking himself clever, slowly removes the mask, no one rushes over as he had imagined, exclaiming, “Ren Qian! Can I take a photo with you? Can I get your autograph? Can I hug you?”
No one…
Not a single soul…
Ren Qian feels a little disappointed, but consoles himself:
At least two or three young ladies, noticing his refined features, glance back at him repeatedly.
“Well, I’m only moderately famous on WeiBlog, and even those influencers with millions of fans aren’t necessarily recognized in real life.”
He comforts himself thus, picks up his suitcase, and joins the throng heading for the exit.
Just as he steps out, his phone rings. Dragging his suitcase, he walks under a tree by the sidewalk. The caller ID shows Director Wang.
“What could Director Wang want?”
Ren Qian’s heart skips a beat. Please don’t tell him the crew lost the USB with the soundtrack and needs him to compose it again—doing that in a day is exhausting.

“Ren Qian, my friend, I have great news! ‘Dream of the Red Chamber’ will premiere tomorrow night at eight on Imperial Television, two episodes each night! This is prime time, prime time!”
Director Wang is so excited he’s practically gnashing his teeth, his voice sharp and nearly losing composure—he must be truly thrilled.
“That’s wonderful! Let me congratulate you here in advance: may ‘Dream of the Red Chamber’ have stellar ratings, and may you have the energy and passion to create even more excellent dramas and films. When the time comes, don’t forget to invite me for a cameo.”
“Hahaha, Ren Qian, you jest. You’ve helped me so much this time—if there’s good fortune, I won’t forget you. Casting you as the lead wouldn’t be a problem.”
Director Wang laughs heartily. Ren Qian, meanwhile, secretly grips his phone tighter—a valuable connection has been forged!
With the quality and fidelity to the original of this adaptation of ‘Dream of the Red Chamber,’ Director Wang is sure to rise to prominence, becoming a significant figure in the empire’s film and television industry. The favors he could return to Ren Qian are not to be underestimated!
They chat and laugh for a while, but as Director Wang needs to inform others and Ren Qian is hurrying to Jiangnan University, the call soon ends.

…

School is truly a blessing.
He can ruffle the soft hair of the nurse girl, kiss her rosy cheeks. Perhaps, under his sweet words and relentless charm, she might even agree to live with him.
At this thought, Ren Qian’s lips curve in a mischievous yet not lewd smile.
But as he turns, a man performing some kind of street art outside a shop catches his eye—his hair is a tangled mess resembling a bird’s nest, with dust clinging to it. The artist’s face is gaunt, but his eyes are bright. He sits with a certain swagger atop the shop’s kiddie ride.
The kiddie ride is merrily chanting, “Little beauties, handsome lads, come play!”
Ren Qian: “…”
[Without the slightest warning, nor the least hesitation, you appeared atop the kiddie ride. Bringing me surprise…]
The shop’s plump owner wears a perpetually mournful expression, clearly in despair. When the kiddie ride stops, his face changes, and in two steps he’s up, intent on ejecting the intruder.
But the street artist swiftly pulls out a one-yuan coin, deftly slips it into the ride’s slot.
Judging by his practiced manner, the artist must have been facing off with the owner for quite some time.
Once the coin is in, the kiddie ride bursts to life: “Pleasant Sheep, Beautiful Sheep, Lazy Sheep, Boisterous Sheep, don’t just see me as a sheep~” (music)
The artist wears a look of utter rapture, tilting his head upward, sometimes smiling, sometimes frowning, as if pondering the meaning of life.
“What are you staring at? What are you staring at?”
Uh…

That sounds like the prelude to a brawl—best not to respond. Ren Qian clings to the philosophy of “if I can’t provoke, I can at least avoid,” and turns away with style.
“Hey, you think you can just leave after staring?”
The artist leaps off the kiddie ride to chase Ren Qian, while the plump shopkeeper snatches up the ride and hauls it inside, shouting,
“Get lost, you freak! You won’t play anymore, you’re ruining my business.”
…
“Where do you think you’re going? It’s all your fault for staring and disrupting my thoughts—you owe me!”
Ren Qian: “…”
Good heavens, what kind of logic is this? What nonsense! A deviant street artist, not interested in riding people, only kiddie rides, and after riding, he’s utterly incoherent…
“May I ask what exactly you’re pondering? Three hundred and sixty-five ways to ride a kiddie ride?”
Ren Qian loses his temper. The man is clearly picking fights—first with the shopkeeper, now with him.
“I’m trying to think up a high-ratings TV show. You wouldn’t understand… Ah, never mind, go ahead. I need to keep thinking—it’s exhausting.”
The artist’s face shows weariness; in pursuit of a good idea, he’s clearly wracking his brains, worn out. Yet inspiration remains elusive, always slipping away.
The sensation is driving him nearly mad!
“So, the TV station chief is brainstorming… Do you know that life itself is art? Mere brooding gets you nowhere. Remember, the best ideas are out there among the people—go out and gather inspiration, and you’ll never lack for good concepts.”
Ren Qian responds lightly, guessing the artist is likely a low-level employee at some local station—otherwise, he wouldn’t be so eccentric.
“Where are all these so-called experts? Are you one? Are you?”
The artist scoffs. Easy for him to say—he’s not the one worrying about budgets and logistics, tossing out grand theories like his own boss.
Ren Qian is momentarily speechless. Though he’s not a producer, with so many high-rated shows in the empire, surely he’s seen enough to offer suggestions.
“Heh, I am an expert. Which TV station are you from? What’s your position? What kind of show are you planning?”