Chapter 52: A War of Words on Microblog

Indeed, giving a gift made a world of difference. When Jin Chanjuan went out and returned, she must have checked the amount on the card. Her previously reserved smile blossomed into full radiance.

After the meal, under everyone’s encouragement, Chen Yingying sang a piece impromptu. Jin Chanjuan not only joined in but also praised her repeatedly for her talent.

This made Li Ronghao ask Gallen with a puzzled look, “How much did you give?”

Gallen held up two fingers. Li Ronghao took a sharp breath, warning at once, “There are a lot of eyes on this place right now. You mustn’t go around talking about this!”

“I understand,” Gallen nodded quickly.

Two hundred thousand wasn’t a fortune for a professor, and for someone of Jin Chanjuan’s standing, a single performance would fetch several times that amount. But people love money; perhaps she had expected a hundred thousand and would have been content with that—so getting double naturally made her even happier.

After the meal, as they walked out together, Wang Kai, who hadn’t interacted much with Gallen, suddenly grabbed him. “Young man, I heard you sing ‘Ephemeral Fireworks’ online. Did you write those lyrics?”

“I did,” Gallen answered directly.

Wang Kai chuckled. “They’re excellent—the essence of ancient Huaxia style is all there, and you even used the background from the book ‘Chronicles of Jialan.’ Have you read it?”

Gallen was caught off guard. He wasn’t familiar with the book, but he’d read about it in an alternate world encyclopedia’s entry on ‘Ephemeral Fireworks.’ So he replied simply, “I’ve read part of it. I’m very interested in its legends and anecdotes.”

“Remarkable! It’s rare for anyone to read such an obscure book. But at our Central Academy of Drama, it’s required reading for the drama literature department! I’m glad you adapted that story into a song. In all my years teaching musical theater, it’s the best example I’ve seen of a story adapted into music. We should sit down and talk sometime!” Wang Kai said.

Gallen smiled. “That would be my honor!”

Talking with a professor, Gallen found himself speaking more formally than usual.

If Wang Kai knew that a raging debate was brewing online because of him, he would surely look at Gallen with new eyes!

With Blueberry’s official endorsement and Huang Daming’s praise, Liu Pengfei suddenly felt emboldened.

After much thought, he replied to Blueberry on Weibo: “Thank you, Blueberry, for your recognition. Thank you to the public for your support. As for certain petty, self-righteous individuals, I won’t stoop to their level.”

At the end of his post, he tagged Huang Daming and wrote: “Thank you!”

Previously, many thought Huang Daming’s like was an accident. As a top-tier film and television celebrity, surely he wouldn’t get involved in such a messy affair. But to everyone’s surprise, Huang Daming replied to Liu Pengfei almost immediately, and within five minutes reposted with a comment: “Artists should be independent. Faced with ugliness, we must denounce it. Do not fear, do not retreat. We must take a firm stand against anyone who tarnishes art! I call upon my colleagues in the arts: It is our duty to question so-called bold ‘innovations’ by some newcomers!”

Huang Daming’s post was lengthy and passionate, stirring many into action.

The first to respond was Yu Changjian, certified on Weibo as an associate professor at Huaxia Music Academy, a director of the Capital Music Association, and a composer. He reposted and commented on Huang Daming’s message, tagging Liu Pengfei as well.

In his post, he wrote: “Rock is rock, Beijing Opera is Beijing Opera, rap is rap. As a musician, I like rock and rap, and I love the national treasure of Beijing Opera—but I don’t believe these styles can be fused. What does that produce? A hybrid? A hodgepodge? Art cannot be forced. Either create a new musical form, or stick to learning the basics honestly! A fresh graduate from a secondary art school, trying to create a new genre and become a master? Ridiculous!”

The second to speak up was Wang Dongsheng, music director at Starstone Records. This musician, who once praised Gallen’s music in a small private room, now jumped into the fray because of old grievances. He didn’t tag anyone or repost any message—just posted directly: “The current pop music scene has been completely ruined by some people. Is a song with a good melody and novelty automatically a good song? Is a song that saves lives a good song? Are lyrics written under the guise of folk or rock, but actually painless and meaningless, a good song? A good song’s value lies in musicality and the literary quality of the lyrics—both are essential! Overly ornate, muddled lyrics are nothing but trash!”

The entertainment world is a web of relationships. Most of today’s active first- and second-tier singers were once Yu Changjian’s classmates or his students. Wang Dongsheng, too, has produced for many singers.

With both of them taking a stand, many rushed to support them. Some didn’t even know what the fight was about, nor who was being targeted, but for the sake of old friendships and face, they chose to back the two unconditionally.

A well-known male singer posted: “Seeing Professor Yu’s post, I was shocked. He’s a cautious educator. If he’s this angry, it must be for a good reason. I support him!”

A female group leader from a second-tier girl band also posted: “Teacher Wang is speaking out? (Laughs) I enjoyed working with him last time—he’s a good person. Everyone, please support him!”

With so many celebrities commenting on the same issue, the topic’s reach grew rapidly.

The debate spread from Weibo to major forums and fan sites, especially among fans of the stars who had spoken up, who eagerly tried to trace the source of it all.

Many, upon discovering the origin, realized it was the first time they’d heard of Gallen.

But when they heard his songs, they suddenly understood.

Oh! So all those recent hit songs are his?

Gallen’s Weibo followers soared from 280,000 to 550,000, then broke one million, and the numbers kept climbing vertically.

His new followers included curious passersby, people waiting to attack him, professional meme-makers advertising in comment sections, and some who started as haters but became fans after listening to his music.

Though Gallen remained silent all afternoon, and many thought he was backing down, his true fans grew anxious, and his supporters started to feel uneasy and disappointed.

Still, quite a few celebrities spoke up for him.

First, Zhang Peiyu posted on Weibo—not to join the fray, but openly praising Gallen: “Gallen is a newcomer and one of my favorite singers. He’s a true musician, and his work has soul. I look forward to his new music!”

Then the Super4 girl group each posted compliments for Gallen. Their tone was consistent: praise, but no involvement in the dispute.

This caution was because their Weibo accounts were managed jointly by themselves, their agents, and the company. Every post had to be reviewed for negative implications before being published.

But Zhang Weiwei had no such worries. Without an agent or a company, no media dared report on her—good or bad—and her fiery personality meant she spoke her mind.

She directly tagged Yu Changjian and Wang Dongsheng, cursing: “You two old fossils, utterly shameless! How dare you attack someone as talented as Gallen? Jealous much? Got nothing better to do? You bunch of soon-to-be-buried relics, why are you picking on a new generation singer? As a rock musician myself, I think Gallen’s great! If you have no respect for your age, go disgrace yourselves elsewhere…”

As soon as she posted, countless netizens flocked to watch—some supporting, some deriding her.

But the attacks far outnumbered the praise, especially from Huang Daming’s fans, who didn’t hesitate to mock Zhang Weiwei’s character:

“Old floozy, what right do you have to speak?”

“Go back to where you belong, you junkie!”

“Attention-seeker! What a disgrace!”

“We strongly urge the authorities to ban the Weibo accounts of such disreputable artists!”

The abuse grew louder. Zhang Weiwei’s own fans couldn’t withstand it; beyond hurling expletives, they had little to say. Occasionally, a fair-minded comment was drowned in the tide of insults.

After finishing his performance for the night, Liu Nan checked his phone and saw over twenty missed calls from Zhang Weiwei.

He thought she must be in trouble again and called her back at once.

The moment she answered, she yelled angrily, “Nan, help me! Gallen and I are being insulted on Weibo!”

“What?” Liu Nan was stunned. He was known as the peacemaker of the entertainment industry—whenever artists had disputes, they turned to him.

But he was powerless on Weibo, with its millions of fans and users. Whatever you say is lost in the din, so he’d mostly stopped using it.

He asked in confusion, “Who’s insulting you?”

“Huang Daming, Liu Pengfei, Yu Changjian…” Zhang Weiwei rattled off twenty celebrity names without pause. She was furiously cursing everyone on Weibo while begging Liu Nan for help, attacking every famous name but leaving the fans alone.

After years of being blacklisted, shunned by the industry, and watching her career decline, she was finally venting her pent-up frustration.

She’d already decided—even if her Weibo account got banned, so be it.

Hearing all those names, Liu Nan felt his scalp tingle and drew a sharp breath.

He was on good terms with many of them, especially Yu Changjian, his junior from the same school.

As he hesitated, unsure whether to get involved, something new happened online.

Gallen had finally posted on Weibo!