Chapter Fifty: The Predicament Facing Ren Qian

The crowd gathered on Cherry Blossom Avenue began drifting eastward with the flow of people. It didn't matter where they were headed—what mattered was that the throng was larger and the atmosphere livelier on that side. That was all they needed; they simply wanted to be part of the excitement.

Gradually, the crowd dispersed. The cherry blossoms were crushed underfoot, their delicate petals pressed into the earth, lingering in lonely fragments on the ground.

Ren Qian faintly heard someone calling his name. Turning around, he saw it was Yan Yu. Yet, for some reason, the boy was holding an incongruously loud megaphone. That thing—just its appearance evoked a vivid scene in Ren Qian's mind:

“Good news! Good news! Everything must go! Everything must go!”
“Only two yuan each! Two yuan for everything! For two yuan, you won’t lose out; for two yuan, you can’t go wrong!”

Those hypnotic shouts from the street vendors at the suburban market echoed relentlessly in his mind.

“Qian, over here! Hurry!” Yan Yu called.

Even now, the delicate-featured youth's face was flushed red, his hand gripping the megaphone trembling.

Ren Qian hurried over.

“Haha, today’s look is truly something—an impeccable blend of international flair and rustic charm,” Ren Qian said, cheerfully slapping Yan Yu on the back. Yet, Yan Yu’s legs nearly buckled, and Ren Qian had to steady him.

This kid—has he been overindulging lately?

Why has he been standing here all this time, still red-faced and out of breath? And his calves keep shaking, as though he might collapse at any moment…

He’s not just tired—he’s utterly spent.

“Young man, your vitality is still unsteady. Beware of indulgence. Don’t squander your strength for fleeting pleasures,” Ren Qian said with a knowing, yet not lecherous, smile—speaking like one who’s been down this road before.

“Do I look like that sort of person? Let’s hurry through the alley… If that mob realizes the diva never showed up, I’ll probably be beaten to a pulp,” Yan Yu shot Ren Qian a glare and turned to walk away. The strain of tricking over a thousand ‘rioters’ at once, knowing the ruse could be exposed any moment—what a rush. It was like dancing on a knife’s edge.

He’d already decided to lay low for a few days—no more classes for him, at least for now.

On one hand, that morning’s “Constitution and Sex” class had wounded his spirit deeply; on the other, someone must have seen him with the megaphone just now. If he were spotted on campus, he could easily be singled out and given a beating.

To protect his handsome face, he’d have to endure a few days of hiding under the covers, sleeping in.

With that thought, Yan Yu took Ren Qian through the alley, returned the megaphone to the street vendor girl, and then headed for quieter streets.

“Qian, there’s something you need to know. Yinhuang Entertainment has recently been undertaking a comprehensive analysis of the entertainment market. They’ve studied Lin Ruowan’s comeback album from every angle. That album sold a staggering twenty million copies—trying to replicate that is going to be incredibly tough.

First, Lin Ruowan was already a nationwide sensation more than a decade ago—he built up a foundation. Anyone a bit older knows him.

Second, the entire Gunshi Entertainment Company was backing him; all their resources were thrown behind him. The scale of the promotion was staggering—so much so that even most of the diva’s resources were shifted to him!

Finally, the quality of that album earned him immense acclaim; after selling fifteen million copies, it surged another five million due to word of mouth.

That five million increase is noteworthy, but it also warrants caution. Think about it—if the album’s reputation was so stellar, but the increase didn’t break ten million, it shows the market has reached its ceiling. Pushing album sales any higher will be extremely hard!

Let’s compare the album sales of the two leading divas over recent years:

Li Feifei: 12 million in 2010, 16 million in 2012, 15 million in 2014.
Ning Yilian: 10 million in 2009, 9 million in 2011, 14 million in 2013.

It’s clear Lin Ruowan’s album sales are approaching the absolute limit,” Yan Yu analyzed, counting off points on his fingers. Many entertainment companies have had economists and statisticians research this—the conclusions can’t be ignored.

“That makes sense. Over ten years ago, the internet wasn’t as prevalent. If people wanted to listen to music, they had to buy the CDs and play them at home; there were no alternatives.

So, in that era, people generally bought artists’ albums, which made it possible for someone like Wan Feng to achieve a miraculous forty million sales.

But now, things are different…” Ren Qian’s expression grew somber. With a wager hanging over his head, he was always paying close attention to these matters. His father-in-law’s high sales figures had also made him keenly aware of the harsh realities behind them.

“The highest possible album sales in the Empire are likely just over twenty million. So, Qian, you need to find another way.

Although your fame isn’t insignificant—many shops play ‘Long Time No See,’ and bookstores play ‘A Chronicle of Stone’—it’s still not enough.

To be blunt, your recognition still lags far behind Lin Ruowan, who was aggressively promoted by Gunshi.

At that time, Lin Ruowan was on the highest-rated shows non-stop, always in the public eye, while you…”

“I know. I’ll find a solution,” Ren Qian nodded, falling into thought.

The two chatted sporadically about other matters before Yan Yu said he had to go see his girlfriend, and the two parted ways.

“To have a boyfriend like that, my sister-in-law must have done something right in a past life,” Ren Qian sighed.

Yan Yu came from a privileged background, with delicate features that gave him a gentle, almost effeminate look, yet he wasn’t at all spoiled.

Unlike the playboys depicted in novels, Yan Yu wasn’t obsessed with squandering money or chasing women—though he could be a little extravagant at times. He doted on his girlfriend in every possible way.

He’d even sought a part-time job at an entertainment company just to earn money for dates.

Then again, Yan Yu’s elders were truly strict, giving him only a small allowance each month.

Ren Qian remembered several times when Young Master Yan had been so hungry he couldn’t cook a meal, and had to borrow money from him.

…

“Nurse Kitty, you lazybones, still not out of bed?”

Ren Qian was speechless when he got home and saw Wenrun lying on the bed, scrolling through Weiblog, her cheeks flushed with a faint smile.

“Don’t worry about the little details. But you can play piano? Under the cherry trees, with petals fluttering down—it was so handsome!” she said, gazing at her phone with starry eyes.

On Weiblog, there were videos from every angle. She clicked on each one, watched carefully, and laughed delightedly afterward.

Ren Qian: “…”

She was ignoring him completely, her head bent over her phone, lost in Weiblog.

He gave up on her.

Ren Qian sat at his desk, brow furrowed in thought.

As a Weiblog celebrity, he’d trended multiple times, and both the broadcast of “A Dream of Red Mansions” and his father-in-law’s album had brought him some recognition.

But… it was still not much.

A singer’s influence is far greater than what Weiblog trends can measure; going viral there is a limited phenomenon. In truth, Ren Qian’s influence was about that of a second-tier star.

It was a harsh reality, but a reality nonetheless.

A singer’s influence is built through albums, promotion, concerts, commercial performances, appearances, and performances at year-end galas.

And Ren Qian had none of these.

“Talent is one thing, fame another, and album sales yet another,” that phrase echoed once more in Ren Qian’s mind…