Chapter 206: Too Dark, Way Too Dark
“They’re all old schemers.”
Yu Wei clearly felt that the elderly senior was not easy to deal with.
It wasn’t just about how many thoughts they had; these people had been rolling around in the entertainment industry for decades, having eaten more salt than the bitterness he had endured.
This gap in experience easily led to a subconscious sense of superiority.
Just like the company’s seniors; no matter how capable or educated you were, in their eyes, you were still small fry.
Yu Wei was now a small fry in the entertainment industry. While the industry recognized his strength, they also secretly thought, “He still needs practice.”
This thought had nothing to do with status or position; it was just the condescending gaze that came naturally with age.
He had to admit, it was still easier to deal with people his own age…
“You’ll understand when you reach my age.”
Yu Wei casually complained, then began writing on his mobile phone. Today, he had to write a proper competition plot: Music Teacher Jiang Si Heng from the outer circle versus Native Character Lu Ren Jia.
The first fused extra had finally reached its final battle.
This Teacher Jiang had strong strength and top-notch singing skill; the outer circle was just at odds with his music philosophy due to prioritizing traffic.
If Meng Han hadn’t personally invited him and there were no benefits involved in this competition, he would probably still be teaching instruments.
He heard it was against AI, and this guy went all out, seemingly treating this thing as a heretic that desecrated music. He picked up his guitar and sent over a super top-tier performance video.
Truly top musicians were still far stronger than AI; winning this competition was basically inevitable for him.
He didn’t need tricks like those of Chi Leying or Tong Yulu, nor did he rely on Yu Wei’s songs like Zhou Mumu; he defeated them head-on with strength.
Yu Wei was just about to write an epic human-machine battle when the lounge door rang again. His train of thought was interrupted, so he had to get up and open the door.
Damn interpersonal relationships…
But this time, it was a young face: Xu Xinian, a popular film and television drama male actor. He was genuinely handsome, with passable acting skills; it wasn’t surprising he was popular.
“So Teacher Yu has his own lounge. No wonder I didn’t see you in the public lounge.”
His tone was very cheerful, with no sense of disparity from different treatment, which actually made Yu Wei quite comfortable.
In an entertainment novel, this would be the moment a small fry villain popped out to annoy him with “How dare you” or “Why don’t I have one.”
There were still many perceptive people in the entertainment industry.
“It came with the VIP.”
Xu Xinian was stunned for a moment upon hearing this, but then smiled, giving a polite response to Yu Wei’s joke.
“Everyone wants to meet you. Want to come over and see?”
It turned out he was inviting him to socialize. Yu Wei was popular now, but he hadn’t appeared in a star-packed setting yet, so other artists were naturally curious about him.
Xu Xinian was just a messenger; there was a big group of people over there waiting to connect with him.
Yu Wei hesitated for a moment and nodded. Of course he didn’t like meaningless socializing, but if he didn’t go, there would inevitably be a second or third messenger.
Socializing at such events was unavoidable; better to get it over with once and for all, then come back to write in peace.
Yu Wei went out and glanced at the exclusive lounges nearby. Besides Gu Ningyue’s sign opposite, he also noticed Meng Han.
As for Aunt Chen, she was with the organizer and had the staff lounge…
The public lounge wasn’t a perfunctory symbol; it was even more spacious than the exclusive ones, with more complete facilities.
Exclusive lounges were mainly about status; there weren’t many special perks.
“So many people.”
The dozens of people in the lounge instantly turned to look at him in unison. Looking around, it was all handsome men and beautiful women; this was a scene Yu Wei was seeing for the first time.
The most eye-catching was Chi Leying sitting in the middle of the sofa, with several people close to her side, vaguely making her the center of conversation.
Her socializing attribute was very strong, plus she was currently at the height of popularity, handling such occasions with ease.
Fellow acquaintance Shen Yutong was quietly standing by, chatting idly with a female artist; they seemed like old acquaintances.
“Rare guest.”
The short-haired female artist near the entrance came over first. Yu Wei clearly felt she was the lively type with no sense of boundaries, as she tried to hook her arm around his right away.
There were too many such overly familiar female artists in the entertainment industry, some even handsy with male stars; Yu Wei chose to steer clear.
“Who are you?”
Yu Wei took a step back, directly creating distance. He had eaten plenty of entertainment industry gossip; this type was either a player or a pimp…
“This is Little Song, Song Shu; she starred in ‘Yearning Melody’.”
Xu Xinian stepped in to help out. In the entertainment industry, asking “Who are you?” was too damaging; not recognizing her meant she wasn’t famous, a real hit.
Yu Wei was just about to say something polite like “I’ve heard so much about you,” when Song Shu’s expression changed upon hearing it.
“‘Yearning Promise’!!”
The scene became a bit awkward for a moment. Yu Wei almost couldn’t hold it together—turns out you didn’t know either, buddy?
Xu Xinian had no choice; there were so many costume idol dramas, with titles more artsy than the next, unrelated to the plot; forgetting was normal.
“Ignore him, Teacher Yu, let’s add each other as friends.”
Song Shu gritted her teeth and ignored it, then put on a smiling face and pulled out her mobile phone.
Before Yu Wei could react, a gentle female voice interjected from the side—it was Chi Leying.
“Didn’t we run into each other at the airport yesterday?”
Though it was reminiscing, the intent to interrupt was obvious. Yu Wei smoothly replied with a “mm,” brushing past the friend request.
Chi Leying simply stood up and came over, proactively introducing the others present to Yu Wei. She was meeting many of them for the first time too, but she had already noted them down.
People with emotional intelligence thrived in any setting; Yu Wei had witnessed it.
In comparison, Chi Leying’s introductions were much clearer: full names, representative works, all complete, like reading off a menu.
But after introducing over thirty people, Song Shu came over again to add him as a friend; she was unusually persistent about it.
Normally, Yu Wei wouldn’t refuse a colleague’s friend request, but Chi Leying had clearly interrupted on purpose earlier. Someone as quick-witted as her wouldn’t do it for nothing.
It seemed this one’s friend request really couldn’t be accepted…
Just as Yu Wei was about to make an excuse to return to the lounge, Shen Yutong, who had been silent nearby, came over and asked if he had seen Aunt.
“I saw her, but we didn’t talk.”
Their cryptic exchange left the others baffled. Which aunt? They hadn’t heard Yu Wei had connections.
Shen Yutong’s words were too cryptic; Song Shu couldn’t get a word in, but she was genuinely patient, just holding her phone and waiting nearby.
But this situation didn’t last long. Soon Liu Ning hurried over and called Yu Wei back on work pretext.
Seeing him leave with his agent, Song Shu had no choice but to give up reluctantly.
“You can’t add her as a friend; you can block her after if you do.”
Liu Ning knew all about these industry matters. The entertainment industry wasn’t just capital and talent; there were also shady dealings.
Some things couldn’t be said outright, but Song Shu had connections. She was just a small fry, but the middlemen were indispensable.
“She likes organizing gatherings, calling them friend meetups, but really just introductions. Entertainment industry stuff, plenty of business.”
Yu Wei neither confirmed nor denied upon hearing this; he had guessed it—maybe she really was a pimp…
Such things were consensual; nothing to say about it, but he didn’t need it.
Dark, too dark.
“Zhang Lingye has her as a friend. Back in Beijing, she called him out eight times in a row. No matter how he refused, she kept shamelessly pursuing until he had to block her.”
Liu Ning casually gossiped about it; only company insiders knew, as spreading it could offend people.
“That ruthless?”
Refusing seven times and still asking shamelessly—this was thicker-skinned than Meng Huo…
He hadn’t expected Old Zhang to have such a fun story; he hadn’t even mentioned it to him. Treating his brother like an outsider?
It seemed Leying and Yutong had intentionally helped him avoid trouble.
He could understand Shen Yutong, but for someone as self-interested as Chi Leying to risk offending people and intervene, she clearly saw him as a real friend.
“Forget it, I’ll just write.”
Real-life entertainment industry had some darkness; entertainment novels were so much better—protagonists just made a slight move, and all villains had nowhere to hide.
Actually, in entertainment novels, even villains respected strength and wouldn’t stoop to shady deeds…
Yu Wei finished one chapter, and it was time for the song title rehearsal segment. Concert songs weren’t sung randomly but divided into several acts by theme.
Nostalgia, inspirational, family and country, reunion—the gala process was roughly divided into four stages, corresponding to several popular song styles.
The program list was arranged by process; Yu Wei’s “Red Sun” was a distinctly styled inspirational song, so it would be placed in the second stage.
Rehearsal strictly followed the formal process: host walked the stage first to confirm entrance positions and lights cooperation.
Then the formal singing segment: director guided artists on entrances, exits, and performance details; lighting technician programmed based on movement paths; sound engineer tuned microphone effects.
Others followed this process, but Yu Wei was different; his rehearsal was more troublesome because he was singing a new song and needed to rehearse with the band in advance.
For such large events, other artists basically chose old songs—not that new songs couldn’t be sung, but they weren’t safe.
Old songs were market-tested; singing them directly guaranteed good results, and rehearsals were quick without wasting time.
New songs were uncertain: audiences might not buy it, and the band had to cooperate from scratch.
Plus, not everyone had many new works, so these events were cover song battles. Even Meng Han’s classic reconstructions showed sincerity.
If really bringing a new song on stage, the organizer would review it first; poor quality would be rejected outright to avoid delaying rehearsals.
This year’s concert had two and a half new songs: Yu Wei’s “Red Sun” and Shen Yutong’s “Willow Catkins”; Chi Leying’s “Youth” counted as half.
Music Blind Box episode ten had just been filmed and not aired yet, so in the audience’s eyes, that song had no official version yet—thus half.
“Teacher Yu, please sing a short segment simply; we need to confirm the reverb effect.”
The sound director communicated via internal intercom. Yu Wei nodded understandingly, walked onto the stage to prepare for rehearsal.
Just as he was about to start singing, the artists and singers who had been slacking in the lounge suddenly gathered in the audience area, clearly ready to watch.
Normal rehearsals were old songs everyone had heard and weren’t worth crowding for, but they were very curious about Yu Wei’s “Red Sun.”
Yu Wei dared to sing a new song in such a setting, meaning he was very confident in it—so they had to listen.
Previously, they had only heard it through screens; they needed to see just how much this “new generation mainstay” really had.
