Chapter 208: Dog Planner Yu Wei
Seeing that Yu Wei really had serious business, Xu Xinian and his group could only leave grudgingly.
Although in their eyes, writing books didn’t count as serious business either…
But for Yu Wei, writing novels was indeed countless times more important than such meaningless socializing; star dinner parties and drinking parties weren’t suitable for him.
“Why are you still here?”
Yu Wei was still waiting for the car to take him to the recording studio. Looking back, he found that Chi Leying hadn’t left either. For someone like her who liked to cultivate connections, she surprisingly didn’t attend the gathering, which made Yu Wei quite surprised.
“Wanted to take some time to practice singing.”
Connections in the entertainment industry boiled down to value; without utilization value, connections were nothing.
Chi Leying naturally understood this reason. For her, fighting well in the concert was far more important than a single gathering; this time was better spent practicing singing.
Yu Wei had given her the opportunity, but to seize it, she still needed to put in more hard work.
Yu Wei nodded knowingly. If there really were any “Wei Girls,” Chi Leying would absolutely be one of the most shrewd and capable among them.
“Keep it up.”
Seeing the business car where Liu Ning was parked nearby, Yu Wei didn’t have time for more talk and left a word of encouragement before getting in the car.
Time was tight and tasks were heavy; his special forces journey had only just begun.
This time, the internet celebrity song Yu Wei selected for the AI was “The Person Who Orders Songs.” Most people might not know the song title, but it was that line “A person’s life is just a pile of ups and downs”…
Selecting this song was mainly based on consideration of the contestant’s style. Although Lu Ren Jia was a fusion native character, he sang “We Are Not the Same” in the first round.
Extras also had their own personas, and Yu Wei paid attention to details. It had a world-weary man persona in the first round, so the second round needed to continue that persona.
Worth mentioning, Liu Mangbing and Tu Feijing were both set as female, so both rounds were female-voiced internet celebrity songs.
Yu Wei now had too many readers; there would still be people nitpicking details, so he needed to be a bit more rigorous or risk making a joke.
This was Yu Wei’s first time at a Beijing recording studio, but the staff treated him with great courtesy. For a small to medium recording studio, his visit was truly like adding luster to the place.
One sentence that Yu Wei had recorded here was a solid live signboard.
The song wasn’t very difficult; he nailed it in one take. After sending it to the technical department, the finished product was ready in just over an hour.
Yu Wei didn’t dare delay and promptly updated the new chapter while releasing the two competition tracks.
He had thought Jiang Si Heng would lead with an overwhelming advantage, but unexpectedly, the votes were neck-and-neck from the start.
“Won’t this backfire?”
From a music angle, Jiang Si Heng’s performance should be a complete victory, but Yu Wei didn’t have the final say in such matters—netizens did.
Netizens knew Jiang Si Heng sang well, but when they heard the AI singing “I’ll dedicate this song to you in your disappointment, whether joy or sorrow is fated by dust, don’t torment yourself” in a world-weary and slightly hoarse male voice, they couldn’t help it.
The song was quite rough, but it was real and heartfelt enough. That line “A person’s life is just a pile of ups and downs” landed like a heavy sigh on their hearts.
“My dad said if I don’t vote for this song, he won’t let me come home.”
“07 girl, loves this song, is that right?”
“Whether joy or sorrow, fated by dust, don’t torment yourself (thumbs up).”
“Driving and listening to this song is such a pleasure.”
Yu Wei felt like this song had veered into some strange track; everyone seemed to have such stories?
“The Person Who Orders Songs” had indeed been very popular back then; he’d seen plenty of people using it as their ringtone. “Disappointment,” “confusion,” “world-weary” struck at ordinary people’s survival struggles, easily resonating.
The song’s flaws were obvious too: the melody was clichéd and tacky, with some plagiarism controversy.
But on Blue Star, that controversy naturally didn’t exist. While Yu Wei was checking comments, this song had even taken the lead, very much like random punches defeat the master.
If Jiang Si Heng could still lose like this, that would be unprecedented; bad money driving out good money in concrete form.
……
“This song is really good.”
Chen Jinyi opened the video intending to listen again. “But it’s still a bit short of the one he sang during rehearsal.”
In the afternoon when Yu Wei was singing, Chen Jinyi had actually been there too, watching the whole thing backstage without showing up.
She acknowledged the kid’s strength, but she still needed to observe him more. After all, she was choosing a son-in-law, not a king of singers; she wouldn’t rush to hand over her daughter after just two songs.
No need for scrutiny; better to make contact first and see.
Qi Luo An quietly ate beside her without speaking. She’d already seen the rehearsal singing segment from Shen Yutong, but she wouldn’t comment on Xiao Chen’s taste.
It was a bit short? It was way short!
“Feels like Xiao Jiang is going to lose.”
Chen Jinyi knew Jiang Si Heng; he was a singer with great ambitions. He’d chosen to retire precisely because of the traffic-dominated market. If he came back and lost to an internet celebrity song, it might become his inner demon.
From artistry and musicality, his song was a sure win, but Yu Wei’s song was truly devious; the kid understood the internet too well.
“Hard to say.”
Honestly, Qi Luo An hoped this guy would lose. After all, if he won, there was theoretically a possibility he’d select “Peach Blossom Promise”; one less hidden danger if he lost.
She hadn’t placed much importance on “Peach Blossom Promise” at first—there were plenty of good songs, just switch to another. But after all the back-and-forth, she now had an obsession.
The song itself wasn’t important, but getting this song was very important to her.
“Don’t worry, Xiao Jiang won’t select the song you like.”
Chen Jinyi had heard about their situation. “A guy who dislikes traffic wouldn’t collaborate with an idol drama.”
Qi Luo An fell silent for a moment upon hearing this. If that was the case, then she hoped the old musician would win.
But the current situation wasn’t favorable for Teacher Jiang…
Melancholy Big Spray Mushroom’s move was too ruthless: Plants vs. Jiang Master.
Yu Wei had still underestimated the advantage of new songs. New songs spread much faster than covers, and internet celebrity songs were inherently easy to spread. Suddenly, many came to vote by name, while Jiang Si Heng faced increasingly headwinds.
“It’s over; little idols being captured by AI is one thing, but how can even professional musicians not hold up?”
It wasn’t bias; if even professionals couldn’t beat it, the AI would seem overpowered.
Then Yu Wei as organizer would become a dog planner; no need to explain game planners’ reputation.
Professional players can’t even beat wild monsters; isn’t that overpowered?
Actually, what was overpowered was never the AI; AI singing was middling at best. Mainly, the discarded drafts Yu Wei pulled out were too overpowered.
Though internet celebrity songs, they were market-tested ones; even sung by AI, they were still brainwashing.
With no threshold for voting, it was all about headcount, and internet celebrity songs spread super fast—like creating a dung monster himself.
Dung monster plus excellent matching mechanism; dog planner confirmed.
“Come on, Teacher Jiang; if you don’t win, what about my household registration book?”
If the organizer intervening wasn’t unfair, he’d personally solicit votes for Jiang Si Heng.
But just as Yu Wei was about to become a “everyone shouts to beat” dog planner, the votes suddenly turned around, with Jiang Si Heng’s votes surging at a terrifying rate to catch up.
If it were some little idol with such a vote spike, he’d suspect vote manipulation, but Teacher Jiang probably wouldn’t; he retired from the circle precisely because he hated that stuff, unlikely to become the evil dragon.
Yu Wei casually checked the book friends circle and saw a picture about Jiang Si Heng.
Half an hour ago, he’d posted, roughly some personal thinking.
Jiang Si Heng said he’d been too extreme before; traffic wasn’t a complete denial of music. At least people like Meng Han and Yu Wei were still using music to speak.
This time, even if he lost to “The Person Who Orders Songs,” he wouldn’t escape again but would strive to find new possibilities for Chinese music in the new era, rather than clinging to old things and complaining.
Jiang Si Heng’s words showed great vision, aligning perfectly with Yu Wei’s ideas. The wheel of the era rolled forward; adapting to the times and innovating was the right path.
If you didn’t like traffic-dominated entertainment, try changing it instead of living in the past.
Though Jiang Si Heng’s reflection was clear-headed, just that clearly wouldn’t get so many votes; today’s netizens didn’t buy empty talk.
Makes sense, so what?
The reason Jiang Si Heng’s votes surged was the last sentence:
“Yu Wei’s song taught me a lesson; it’s a flawed but very interesting work. If I luckily win, I’ll select it and do a cover.”
This sentence was brilliant, directly turning enemy into friend, same source.
People voted for AI originally because they liked the song, but no matter how well AI sang, it couldn’t match a real singer—let alone an old-generation professional musician.
For those who liked the song, voting for him wouldn’t mean hearing an even better version?
“Teacher Jiang singing this song with his story-filled voice line and top-tier singing skill—can’t help but hum along just thinking about it.”
“Have to vote now.”
“Teacher must have immortal’s guidance behind him; he’s quite suitable for this song. Voted, looking forward to it.”
Jiang Si Heng’s move really made sense; current netizens wouldn’t act on empty talk, but with tangible benefits, it was different.
A favorite song getting a better rendition—that was the tangible benefit, enough to change netizens’ minds. After all, they weren’t taking sides; they just wanted to listen to music.
Though clever, Yu Wei didn’t think there was immortal’s guidance behind it. Teacher Jiang probably said it sincerely; he didn’t seem so calculating.
Someone calculating wouldn’t retire from the circle for so many years; he was likely just genuinely interested in the song and mentioned it, ending up with a lucky hit.
The god of music blesses every music lover…
Whether intentional or not, the result now was good: Jiang Si Heng’s votes came from behind to lead, even far ahead.
“Phew.”
Good thing Teacher Jiang stepped up, or Yu Wei really would’ve become a dog planner.
Jiang Si Heng might’ve lucked into it, but this move provided a new playing style for human-machine matches.
Who says liking the song means voting for AI? A singer says “vote for me and I’ll sing it,” turning enemy to friend, flipping offense and defense.
AI is ultimately rigid, can’t play human relationships.
But this move isn’t universal; it depends on the ID.
A strong singer says “love it, vote for me,” and fans are double thrilled, all in.
If a good-for-nothing little idol shouted that, everyone knows his level—fans would think he’s out to ruin the song and definitely not vote.
This move helps masters, not noobs; it’s icing on the cake, with little impact on competition fairness.
Not long after Jiang Si Heng’s votes pulled far ahead, Qi Luo An sent a private message.
“Was this in your calculations too?”
Teacher Jiang won the match, but song selection was fixed, no threat to their goal. Wasn’t this really arranged by Yu Wei?
“Yeah, all in my calculations; I did it all.”
How could Yu Wei be that amazing? Everyone loved overinterpreting.
“What about me then?”
“?”
