Chapter 21: The Path to Becoming a Silver Medal Composer

On Blue Star, releasing a song was no simple feat. It required lyric writing, composing, arranging accompaniment, recording, registering copyrights, connecting with music platforms, organizing promotional resources—a whole series of tasks that could not be managed by one person alone. There were too many stakeholders involved throughout the process.

Entertainment companies existed precisely to handle these matters: providing accompaniment and recording facilities, acting as copyright agents, leveraging their roster of artists, connecting with music platforms through professionals, investing in advertising to promote songs, and so forth. With these costs in play, profit-sharing was inevitable—much like on Earth. Thus, Su Chen saw nothing amiss with the arrangement. As an unknown, unestablished newcomer, no one would bother with him otherwise. Besides, business dealings were conducted between companies, not individuals.

Now, as a senior composer, he faced fewer restrictions apart from the requirement to clock in and out, but he hadn’t gained any other privileges yet. He needed to advance to Silver Composer as soon as possible! That way, he wouldn’t have to stay at the company every day. The past few days had been spent sitting so long at his desk that he felt as if he’d split himself in two.

“Director Wang, may I ask, how can I be promoted to Silver Composer?” he inquired.

Wang Yan and the others were momentarily surprised, silently musing, “This kid’s ambitions aren’t small, are they?” Still, it wasn’t enough for them to dismiss Su Chen as overreaching. After all, his song “White Fox” had shown he possessed some talent. Privately, though, they had discussed it and concluded luck likely played a significant role. Su Chen had mentioned that the song was one he had written before, simply repurposed now. How long had he spent composing it? How much effort had gone into it, and had others been involved? These questions remained unanswered. So Wang Yan’s praise earlier had been mostly for show.

They would love for the company to produce a genius composer, but they were all seasoned professionals, and their judgment was rational. For a fresh graduate to succeed, the odds were slim.

“So, Xiao Su, you’re thinking of becoming a Silver Composer already?” Wang Yan joked, not expecting Su Chen to nod seriously.

“Yes. I’ve reviewed the company’s policies but found no clear guidelines about promotion to Silver or Gold Composer.”

Goodness! He already had his sights set on Gold Composer as well. Wang Yan couldn’t help but be amused. Clearly, Su Chen had no idea how difficult these promotions were. Otherwise, why would there be just a handful of Silver Composers among thirty-odd staff in the department? Since Lao Jie left, there hadn’t been a single Gold Composer.

“Su Chen is new—let me explain it to him,” Liu Wenxiong offered, stepping in.

“Xiao Su, you’ve noticed the company guidelines only outline the benefits for each composer tier, but don’t specify promotion criteria, right?” he began.

“Actually, ‘ordinary composer’ and ‘senior composer’ are internal terms, used for staff evaluations. For instance, an ordinary composer must produce a qualified song within three months, or they’re let go. However, if an ordinary composer creates qualified songs for six consecutive months, they can be promoted to senior composer. Likewise, if a senior composer fails to deliver a qualified song in any given month, they’re demoted back to ordinary composer. As for what counts as a qualified song, we have internal review meetings, and only approved works are deemed acceptable.”

Su Chen nodded; he had read all this in the company policy. What he hadn’t found was the path to higher ranks.

Liu Wenxiong quickly clarified, “Silver Composer and Gold Composer are industry-standard titles. The Weilang platform evaluates composers based on the quality, results, and popularity of their past works, updating the list once a month. In other words, our company doesn’t control these promotions.”

This surprised Su Chen, but he found it reassuring—should he ever leave the company, the title would remain his.

“So, does Weilang platform have clear standards? Are there specific requirements for promotion?” he asked.

“There are,” Liu Wenxiong explained patiently. “But it’s not as simple as meeting a set standard. Rather, there are minimum criteria you must satisfy to be eligible. For Silver Composer, for instance, you must have achieved a Top 10 spot in the Annual Rookie Chart at least once, or been in the Top 10 of the Monthly Rookie Chart three times. Only then are you considered for promotion.”

Su Chen’s calm expression prompted Liu Wenxiong to caution him. “Don’t think it’s easy. This is only the baseline. Many have met these criteria and still waited a long time for promotion. The platform also considers other factors, such as ongoing popularity, the number and quality of previous works, and so forth. These additional considerations aren’t as clearly defined—it all depends on the final evaluation. Moreover, making it onto the Monthly and Annual Rookie Charts is no simple task. Plenty of composers are eyeing those spots, and especially at the start of each year or month, there’s a flood of releases. It’s truly a battle of titans.”

With Liu Wenxiong’s explanation, Su Chen felt he had a good grasp of the process. To be promoted from Silver to Gold Composer, the minimum requirement was to have achieved a Top 3 place on the Annual Prestige Chart at least once, or to have been in the Top 10 of the Monthly Prestige Chart six times. In other words, the bar for Gold Composer was set even higher.

“What about Lao Jie?” Su Chen asked. He had reviewed Lao Jie’s works and found their quality rather average. By these standards, it seemed unlikely he should have passed muster. Yet Lao Jie was a bona fide Gold Composer.

Mentioning Lao Jie, Liu Wenxiong’s tone turned resentful. “Lao Jie’s skills are better than most, but still not quite Gold Composer level. He was promoted because the company pushed his songs, giving him the numbers he needed. And then, without a hint of gratitude, he jumped ship to Star Ocean Media.”

Su Chen nodded, voicing his last question. “So, once someone is promoted, if they stop producing new works, do they get demoted again?”

Liu Wenxiong shook his head. “Once you’re promoted to Silver or Gold Composer, the title is for life. Composers have their peak periods—during those times, their output and quality may be outstanding. Afterward, it’s natural for both to decline. But you can’t dismiss their earlier achievements, so the title remains. Of course, industry insiders know perfectly well who’s at their peak and who’s past their prime. There are distinctions, even among Gold Composers.”

Now everything was clear. The path to becoming a Silver Composer would require careful planning. Su Chen began to strategize in his heart.