Chapter Eighty-Two: "I Am a Singer" Is About to Air!
“There’s no need to be surprised. Fifteen years ago, Rolling Verse suffered a devastating blow. Our top singers left one after another, the upper management was locked in endless power struggles, and the entire company was on the verge of collapse. It was at that moment that your mother-in-law rose to power, took control, and led Rolling Verse through a bloody path to survive. So now, everything at Rolling Verse is decided by me.”
Though the Diva Aunt’s words sounded light and casual, her dominance pierced through every syllable. One could easily picture the brutality of those business wars from her brief account. When she said Rolling Verse belonged to Ren Qian, it meant his fate was sealed—no room to escape.
Yet Ren Qian had no desire to be bound to the boardroom at such a young age. Sitting in that seat might bring him great wealth, but it would cost him some of the most precious things in life.
Like freedom. Like the time spent with Wenrun.
For the young, nothing matters more than freedom and time. No amount of money or power could buy them back.
Ren Qian was caught in a dilemma.
The nurse, his younger sister-in-law, could no longer sit still. She set down her newspaper and stood up. In truth, she had been listening in on their conversation all along.
From the start, when the two elders were so eager to recognize their son-in-law, and then entrusted Ren Qian with the critical task of launching a new artist’s album, she’d already sensed something fishy—these two old foxes were up to no good!
And now, they’d finally revealed their hand.
“Isn’t it a bit premature for Ren Qian to inherit Rolling Verse? Don’t think you can hand over the reins so soon and walk away. He and I still have our honeymoon and life together to look forward to. Who wants to spend every day scheming in the business world? Besides, he has his own career. As the saying goes, children have their own blessings; we don’t need to walk the same path you did. Rolling Verse is yours, and only yours. Don’t use this little company to tie down my Ren Qian. The entire Chinese music industry is his stage.”
Ren Qian’s heart bloomed with joy at these words.
What a wonderful line: “Children have their own blessings!” And, “Rolling Verse is yours; the whole Chinese music world is where Ren Qian will shine!”
Her words were well-reasoned, progressive yet measured, aggressive when needed, and defensive when wise—all spoken with honest conviction.
Not a word of pretense!
Not a trace of exaggeration!
Just the plain, unvarnished truth!
With a few sentences, she painted a vivid portrait of Ren Qian: a man of immense talent, on the verge of reaching the peak of life, handsome beyond compare.
An honest woman like her had always been Ren Qian’s ideal spouse.
Thinking this, Ren Qian cast a tender, affectionate glance at his nurse sister-in-law.
“Oh, wonderful! She’s not even married yet and she’s already siding with outsiders,” his father-in-law sighed, shaking his head in resignation at his sharp-tongued and clever daughter.
He was at a loss—could neither laugh nor scold.
He’d assumed Wenrun would help persuade Ren Qian for her family’s sake, but instead she’d turned the tables, catching them all off guard.
In hindsight, it made sense.
Ren Qian’s talent was enough to define an era. If he pressed forward, becoming the next universally acknowledged “God of Song” was not impossible.
If he were forced to set aside such godlike talent just to manage Rolling Verse’s daily affairs, it would be like trading a watermelon for a sesame seed.
For his future’s sake, it was best not to press him further…
Days slipped by in the blink of an eye.
On Friday, March 18th, at 10:20 pm, the first episode of “I Am a Singer” Season One was about to premiere on Jiangnan Television!
Ren Qian had been anxiously waiting for days.
“I Am a Singer” was the show he was counting on. If it failed to bring him both fame and fortune, all his subsequent plans would collapse.
So, “I Am a Singer” had to make ratings history!
Success was the only option—failure was not permitted!
Fortunately, Director Hong Tao was also fighting hard, lobbying every leader at Jiangnan Broadcasting to secure maximum exposure for “I Am a Singer.”
As a result, for a full month before its premiere, Jiangnan Television dedicated a quarter of its advertising time to promoting “I Am a Singer.”
All this effort was to create the impression that the network was pouring all its resources into this prime-time show.
While replacing regular ads with program promos affected the station’s revenue, the payoff was enormous.
Even before the show aired, the commercials alone were drawing in a steady 5.33% audience rating—one full percentage point higher than the average for ads in other time slots!
That meant many viewers were eagerly waiting.
Waiting for the show to begin.
Meanwhile, across major online forums, WeChat groups, and Weibo, Ren Qian’s fans were abuzz with discussion.
“Did you hear? Ren Qian is hosting ‘I Am a Singer,’ airing tonight on Jiangnan TV. The production team reportedly spent a hundred million on the best music setups, and the lineup of singers is stellar…”
“Jiangnan TV’s ad blitz has made it impossible for anyone in the empire to not know! Do you really need to say more? OP, you’re hilarious.”
“Even just the sneak peeks look great. I’m going to ‘try the poison’ first tonight. There’s been nothing good on TV lately—so boring.”
“It’s almost time, why are you still chatting online? Just a few more minutes and the show starts. I’m shutting down my computer.”
“I’ve watched several minutes of ads, but honestly, knowing Qian is about to appear makes even the commercials exciting, haha.”
“It’s just a bunch of singers performing, what’s the big deal? No matter how you fry the leftovers, it’s still going to taste stale.”
Naturally, for every supporter, there was a detractor.
“Exactly. Who is this kid anyway? Still wet behind the ears, and people expect him to make a great show? If he really manages to create a ratings miracle, I’ll livestream myself eating… crap.”
“If you want to eat crap just say it, don’t make excuses. We won’t judge you. Since his debut, Qian has always created miracles; this wouldn’t be the first.”
“That’s singing, but being a singer doesn’t mean you can produce a show. Do you know how hard it is to create a prime-time ratings hit? Others spend decades and still fail. He’s what, barely twenty? Others have eaten more salt than he’s eaten rice—such arrogance.”
“Have you ever heard the saying? ‘A useless person may live a hundred years, but wisdom isn’t measured in age.’ Stop using ‘I’ve eaten more salt than you’ve eaten rice’ as an argument. People like you, who rely on age alone, deserve a mediocre life.”
“What did you say!”
“I said you’re full of yourself. Think being older makes you more capable? Want to compare wealth? My monthly allowance is thirty thousand, I drive cars worth hundreds of thousands! I date women you can’t even dream of, drink wine you don’t dare buy. Can you compare? If I want to eat salt, I can buy several warehouses and pour it into my drinks every day. If you don’t have money, stop showing off!”
Floor 14567: “……”
Floor 14568: “That sudden show of wealth left me speechless.”
Floor 14569: “Does your family need a dog? The kind with a fine kennel, premium dog food, and top-quality female dogs…”
Floor 15000: “So what if you’re rich? Without your dad, who are you anyway?”
Clearly, the discussion had completely derailed—from talking about the show to a contest of flaunting wealth. And the boasting was so abrupt and down-to-earth.
“If I want to eat salt, I’ll buy several warehouses and dump it into my drinks every day!”
This line had the onlookers in stitches. Each word was innocent enough, but together they summoned the spirit of a nouveau riche from ancient times.
Floor 87645: “Everyone, disperse—the original poster has already committed suicide out of shame, and the body’s gone cold.”
Floor 87646: “Crap, hurry up and watch the show! The first ancient-style song is absolutely amazing!”