"Competing on the charts?"
"That really does seem to be my only way out."
Recalling Brother Yu's parting words, Lu Chen went back inside, retrieved an acoustic guitar, a notebook, and a pen, and headed to the balcony by the living room.
Sometimes he strummed chords to test the sound, and other times he lowered his head to scribble away in his notebook.
In the entertainment industry—or rather, the literary and artistic circles—of Hua Nation, charts in three domains commanded the most attention.
These were music (pop music, classical, and so on), film and television (movies and TV dramas), and literary works (novels, essays, poetry, and the like).
Within each of these fields, monthly charts tracked the top fifty most popular works for all twelve months of the year.
Among them, the early-year charts in January, the mid-year charts in June, and the year-end charts in December were considered the most prestigious, the most closely watched, and the most fiercely competitive. The mid-year and year-end charts, in particular, could aptly be described as a battlefield of the immortals.
Take the music industry, for instance.
The top twenty spots on the mid-year and year-end charts were presumably occupied by Gold-tier singers at the bare minimum, with even top-tier Ace singers from the entertainment world joining the fray. Positions twenty through fifty were a chaotic brawl among Gold-tier singers whose popularity lagged slightly behind, or Silver-tier singers currently on a rising wave.
By comparison, the ordinary charts for the other nine months were far less competitive.
Although Gold-tier singers did occasionally release songs during those months, the volume was relatively low. Those chart positions offered numerous Bronze-tier, Silver-tier, and even unranked singers a chance to show their faces and build up their popularity.
In the past, he had company resources to back him up. Even though he wasn't favored, he still occasionally had opportunities through other events to accumulate popularity for promotion to a Bronze-tier singer, drive up song sales data, and so on.
Now, stripped of corporate resource support, if he wanted to advance, he had to rely squarely on his own ability to release songs, then use the monthly chart competitions to climb as high as possible.
Other than that, there was no other way.
Yet even though the pressure had multiplied, it was not enough to defeat him.
On the contrary, he rather enjoyed the feeling.
***
"Click—"
The living room lights flickered on. When Zhong Lan returned home carrying a large bag of daily necessities, it was already dark.
She had already hashed out all the film-related matters with Zhang Jiajia. Zhang Jiajia would find a suitable voice actor and record the lines against the script. For the next phase, Zhong Lan only needed to wait at home to listen to the trial recordings and select the most suitable person.
Making her first movie was turning out to be surprisingly effortless; the thought brought a trace of hidden smugness to her heart.
"Oh, Lu Chen."
"What are you so busy with this late?"
As soon as she stepped inside and prepared to head to her room, Zhong Lan's peripheral vision caught the dim, warm light glowing from the living room balcony.
Under that light, Lu Chen was still buried in writing something.
Yet Lu Chen seemed entirely oblivious to her call—or perhaps he simply didn't want to bother with her. In any case, he didn't even raise his head.
"Hmph."
"Who cares, anyway."
Zhong Lan pouted, squatted down in front of the refrigerator, organized the vegetables, drinks, and other items she had bought, and then retreated straight to her bedroom.
*Calls* was a low-budget film, and since steps like casting actors were skipped entirely, she estimated that the entire production could be wrapped up in a week at most.
So, taking advantage of this relatively relaxed period, she needed to put some serious thought into the subject matter for her second film.
Not long after she returned to her room, Lu Chen put down his pen on the balcony, stretched his back, stood up, and looked around.
"Did someone call out to me just now?"
After pondering for a moment, Lu Chen scratched his head and decided not to dwell on such trivial matters.
He had spent the entire day pondering over the new song, and the result was certain.
Absolutely nothing.
It wasn't a matter of personal talent; rather, the mainstream of the Hua Nation music scene was dominated by love songs.
Brother Yu had also advised him to produce a single love song to contend for the October monthly chart.
Especially since this was the first song he was releasing as an independent musician after leaving the company, the quality had to be at least passable.
But here was the problem.
He didn't have an ounce of romantic experience!
The subjects he used to write about were campus folk songs, mainly revolving around the trivialities of university life.
His sole experience with romance came entirely from watching movies and TV dramas.
Under those circumstances, trying to compose a decent love song within a single day was really asking the impossible of him.
"Sigh, I'll take a break first and carry on tomorrow!"
Rubbing his hollow, rumbling stomach, Lu Chen walked over to the refrigerator.
The moment he opened it, Lu Chen froze.
The contents inside had been deliberately rearranged, clearly segregated into left and right sides with a gap cleared right down the middle.
The right side was packed with bread, milk, eggs, and vegetables, while the left side contained merely a few random bottles of water and a box of ready-to-eat bento.
Without needing to guess, he knew it had to be Zhong Lan's handiwork.
This was her way of reminding him that from now on, the fridge was split down the middle—men on the left, women on the right, minding their own business.
"She really is a piece of work."
Crying out in exasperation yet laughing despite himself, Lu Chen picked up the bento he had prepared earlier, headed to the kitchen, and prepared to heat it up in the microwave to make do for a meal.
Meanwhile, inside her room, Zhong Lan was lounging with her legs crossed, browsing entertainment and television news about Hua Nation on her computer when she suddenly sneezed twice in a row. She hurriedly reached over to turn off the air conditioning; she knew that keeping the AC cranked while wrapped in a blanket was never a good habit.
Once the air conditioner was off, her attention returned to the webpage.
After skimming through a few more film reviews, Zhong Lan switched her browsing category to the entertainment circle to see if there was any juicy gossip to catch up on.
She clicked through several news articles in succession, only to find them utterly insipid.
The trending searches were all petty, trivial matters, clearly bought-and-paid-for traffic from PR agencies.
Not a single piece of explosive news was in sight—none about male stars coming out of the closet, female stars sneaking into hotels with mystery men late at night caught by paparazzi, or top-tier idols suffering sudden public scandals.
Zhong Lan prepared to click the "X" to close the page as usual, but a certain phrase suddenly caught her eye, making her pause her mouse cursor.
She craned her neck and leaned forward.
It was a news flash tucked away in the corner of the entertainment section, occupying an inconspicuous spot.
By all accounts, it should have been another trifling matter not worth paying attention to. Yet two words in the headline grabbed her.
The full headline read: [Singer Lu Chen of Starlight Entertainment unilaterally terminates contract, saddled with astronomical breach-of-contract debt in the millions]
"Lu Chen? Surely it can't be that much of a coincidence, right?"
Of course she didn't think it was the same person, but even if it were merely someone with the same name, she had to admit it piqued her interest.
Subconsciously, Zhong Lan clicked on the headline.
A moment later, the page redirected.
Right beneath the eye-catching headline was an artistic profile photo of a young, handsome man flashing a smile while sitting and strumming a guitar.
Zhong Lan's breath hitched abruptly.
Perhaps she was captivated by the man's sun-drenched smile, or perhaps...
How on earth could he be my landlord?!