Chapter 66: There Is a Kind of Destruction Called Overpraise

“This is the music director hired by the ‘I Am a Singer’ production team? Is this really the standard of his singing? Hah, if I hadn’t already signed the contract, I’d want to quit this show. Jiangnan TV better not let this kid ruin their golden reputation…”

As these words spilled out, the six singers and several staff members near Cai Chengyu all simultaneously took a step away from him. They distanced themselves, eager to make their separation clear, then watched him as if he were a monkey performing tricks—a fool basking in his own self-satisfaction.

The world is vast, and all sorts of absurdity exist. If he wants to act like a big shot, so be it, but is it necessary to broadcast it for all to see? And in such a vulgar manner, no less. Everyone was waiting for the production team to drive him out with sticks; the thought of never seeing that smug face again was enough to delight them.

All the singers began to gloat, certain that Ren Qian, a young man barely in his twenties, must have a strong family background to sit in this position so calmly. Being a privileged young master, he would surely be unable to tolerate such humiliation and, within seconds, would erupt in a heated argument.

But Ren Qian’s reaction stunned everyone. He merely chuckled, serene as a hill brushed by the gentle wind, as if he hadn’t taken the matter to heart at all.

“My abilities certainly don’t match yours, a professional singer. I heard your songs everywhere in the mall that day—you, a top superstar. Young man, you have a bright future ahead! Being a superstar is beneath you; you ought to be a king.”

What was this? Not only did Ren Qian refrain from quarreling with Cai Chengyu, he actually flattered him, lavishing praise on his undeserved reputation.

The other singers felt disappointed. Here was a rich and handsome young man, yet he was conceding to an unimpressive star? How cowardly! So spineless it was disgraceful!

Except for Murong Xue, the younger singers felt a pang of contempt, believing Ren Qian lacked spirit.

Meanwhile, Sun Munan and Sha Pulian exchanged glances, both seeing a hint of dread in each other’s eyes.

Cai Chengyu, nose upturned, was now full of arrogance, wearing the expression of someone who believes he deserves to be crowned king.

This was a grave mistake. For a singer, nothing is worse than vocal cord damage, though even that can be recovered with effort.

The most terrifying thing is to confine oneself within self-imposed boundaries. Once a singer succumbs to self-inflation and loses the drive to improve, failure becomes a lifelong companion.

And Cai Chengyu was teetering on the edge of this precipice, with no sign of awakening. If Ren Qian continued to fuel his ego, Cai Chengyu would be ruined forever.

There exists a kind of destruction called “killing with praise.”

Killing with praise is far more sinister than driving someone out with sticks. The dog beaten out will bark madly, but the dog killed with praise, even if half-paralyzed, will still wag its tail in submission.

At that thought, the two veterans couldn’t help but curse, “Damn, this young man is ruthless!”

They were relieved to have guessed Ren Qian’s intention. Ren Qian’s plan was to spend the next fourteen days praising Cai Chengyu to the utmost.

He wanted Cai Chengyu’s confidence to swell so much that he forgot his own limits.

That was why he let Cai choose his song and encouraged him to arrange it himself.

He would regularly give him subtle hints of “I am king; everyone must bow before me.”

It was easy to imagine that, in such a state, Cai Chengyu would frequently flaunt his attitude, blame the band for his own mistakes during rehearsals, and so on…

If you wish to destroy someone, first let them expand. This is the true essence of killing with praise.

…

“Of course, I became a top singer at a young age. How could an idle person who relies on family background ever compare?”

Cai Chengyu spat his venom, then glanced around the studio.

“This place is way too small—not even a tenth of my concert venues. What a joke! How could this setup match my lofty aura? I have to complain to the higher-ups; you definitely cut corners!”

Ren Qian could only smile helplessly. Cai’s emotional intelligence was so low, he couldn’t even find the right way to praise him—it was exhausting.

Oh well, a casual compliment would suffice.

“King Cai, this show is merely a stepping stone to your fame. Think about it: every song you choose, every way you perform—it moves the audience in front of their televisions. You’ll gather a loyal following.

After a dozen episodes, just imagine how many fans you’ll have.”

Cai Chengyu’s eyes lit up. Yes! With his abilities, gathering fans would be a breeze. The show might be small-scale, but anything produced by Jiangnan TV would surely have high ratings.

No doubt, he was about to reach the pinnacle of his career and ascend to the throne of greatness.

With that thought, his gaze toward Ren Qian softened. Now, even though Ren Qian was more handsome, he didn’t seem quite so hateful.

In fact, Ren Qian’s words were not just for Cai Chengyu, but for all the singers present: as long as they gave their all, becoming a top-tier singer was within reach, and with more effort, they might even rise to become legends.

How much each person could understand depended on fate.

Having said all this, Ren Qian left the group of singers, taking the recording tapes with him, and walked straight out.

He planned to find an editor to add subtitles to both videos so he could upload them to Weibo. Paired with the viral “Ladder Love Story” of the past two days, it was the perfect way to attract fans—even though he already had plenty.

…

Back home, Ren Qian first wolfed down two pieces of bread—he’d missed lunch because he was busy with “I Am a Singer.”

After devouring his meal, he put on an apron and started cooking. His culinary skills didn’t rival his nurse sister’s, but were more than sufficient compared to the diva aunt’s!

Speaking of the diva aunt, one must mention the recently tormented “Beggar Gang Jiangnan Branch.”

They were truly miserable.

Over the past half month, “gang members” frequently found neatly packaged meals in the trash. But, tempting as the packaging was, the food inside was utterly revolting.

“Thinking of that night’s dash under the streetlights, I felt utterly hopeless.”

“Have you ever experienced despair?”

“The worst food in the world isn’t excrement, but the meal boxes you pull from a trash can!”

So, this evening at the botanical garden in White Dove Square, the Beggar Gang gathered en masse. Their “branch leader” delivered a passionate speech.

“We are beggars, yes! But beggars are human too, and we have human rights!”

He cried out, voice trembling with emotion, clearly someone who’d once sprinted under streetlights, lain on the ground with vacant eyes, and felt the sting of despair.

“We can eat leftover bread! We can eat leftover rice! We can even go hungry! But we cannot eat food saltier, drier, and more disgusting than excrement!

Yet, malicious people keep making a mockery of our lives. Over the past half month, how many gang members have suffered? I am heartbroken—this cannot go on!

We cannot stand it! Let’s go report this to the broadcasting authorities! Let the truth be exposed; we demand justice.

Brothers, bring the meal boxes that have wronged you. We must defend our rights!”

They were determined to bring the culprit to justice!