Chapter 44: How Did You Drape the Sunset Over Your Shoulders?
The August Newcomer Debut Work Scheduling Meeting was attended by the Artist Department, Composition Department, Market Branding, and other divisions.
General Manager Wang Yan personally presided over the meeting.
Perhaps it was because “A Prose Poem Written by Father” and “Boundless Sky” were both rare masterpieces; the company did not want any mistakes to occur due to work negligence.
Therefore, the entire meeting was conducted with painstaking detail.
The work plan was organized along a timeline, accurate to the hour, listing all the tasks each department needed to coordinate:
What time to air promotional programs…
What time to release announcements on Weilang…
What time to upload to music platforms…
What time to follow up resources with entertainment media accounts…
And so on, and so forth.
Once everything was arranged, Wang Yan smiled warmly at Su Chen and said,
“Xiao Su, you don’t have a Weilang account yet, do you? You can register one!”
“If you ever plan to release a song, you can tease it there in advance and build some buzz!”
“When our company’s other artists have singles coming out, you can also help share them!”
“It’s a tradition in our company!”
“In your spare time, you can also share some knowledge about music. Having a following is beneficial for a composer’s advancement.”
Su Chen nodded slightly.
He hadn’t thought about this before. He had planned to register an account later on.
After all, in the current music industry, it’s very difficult for behind-the-scenes composers to gain public attention.
When we listen to a song and like it, at most we’ll look up who sings it.
Very few people care about who wrote it.
There are even cases where wildly popular songs sweep the nation, yet the singer remains unknown.
Unless a composer produces a large number of classic songs and their popularity accumulates to a certain point, they might gain some recognition.
Like Fang Wenshan in his previous life.
Otherwise, behind the scenes is just that—behind the scenes, and composing is just composing.
Fame and popularity are limited to within the industry.
That’s why Su Chen hadn’t been in a hurry to register a Weibo account.
But now, since it was requested, he went ahead and registered.
It was a simple process, using his phone number.
He verified himself as a composer under Star Orange Entertainment, with the nickname: Tang Guo.
After registering, he searched for company artists.
He followed them. Done!
Casually scrolling through the feed, just as he was about to close the window, a system-recommended post suddenly caught his attention.
“My dream at twenty: to be a soulful young woman, welcoming the most important decade of my life.”
The photo showed a fresh-faced, pretty girl, vibrant and youthful.
She wore a camisole dress, and on her left shoulder was a large, red birthmark, almost covering her entire shoulder.
It stood in stark contrast to the fair skin on the rest of her body.
A special girl! That was Su Chen’s first reaction.
Then, a surge of sympathy and compassion arose in his heart.
It was an unavoidable instinct.
Although he hadn’t belonged to any special group in his previous life, his looks were not much different. He had faced uncountable instances of discrimination because of his appearance.
He knew all too well how that felt.
So he felt a genuine emotional connection.
“This must be the girl’s angry cry!” Su Chen thought to himself.
It was a “Star Moves the Heart” event on Weilang.
Officially launched by the platform.
Anyone could share their experiences and dreams under the topic.
After the event, the top three posts—based on likes, shares, and comments—would have a chance for their wishes to be granted.
He anticipated that the girl would share her “tragic” experiences.
After all, in activities like this, eliciting sympathy can be a way to attract attention.
He clicked on the post.
But the result was unexpected.
In her post, the girl recounted her experiences growing up: her family, her studies, her work, her dreams.
She grew up in a loving family. Though not wealthy, her parents had a harmonious relationship.
She hadn’t studied hard enough, often struggled in school, and eventually dropped out.
After entering society, she had worked as a restaurant waitress, a mall sales assistant, and even a real estate agent.
It was only after being knocked about by reality that she realized the value of education.
But it was too late to return to the past!
So now she worked hard, saved money, and planned to attend an adult university to fulfill her dream of going to college.
Her goal was to complete her degree within the next decade, find a job she liked near home, and live with her parents.
Nowhere in her post did she mention the red birthmark on her shoulder.
There wasn’t a hint of complaint.
The whole piece radiated an optimistic, positive attitude toward life.
Exhaling softly, Su Chen was moved by her spirit.
Thinking back to his past life, he felt a tinge of shame.
He opened the comments section, intending to leave an encouraging message, but the top few comments were jarring.
“You’re so ugly!” 24,000 likes.
“That kind of blood-red birthmark is a disease, and it can spread. Maybe soon it’ll cover her whole shoulder!” 19,000 likes.
“My child was scared to tears by your photo. Next time, please cover up more!” 8,000 likes.
In an instant, fury surged to his head.
Most replies beneath these comments were rebuking the commenters.
Yet each of these malicious comments still had over ten thousand likes.
Su Chen couldn’t fathom what kind of twisted values led people to be this vicious.
He couldn’t help but marvel at the peculiarities of creation.
He wanted to curse those people out, but in the end, he refrained.
Anger only dulls one’s wisdom.
He didn’t want to stoop to their level.
Frowning in thought, he wrote in the comments section:
“How did you drape the evening glow over your shoulder?”
He sent and shared it.
That became his very first post on Weilang.
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At 8 p.m., “Mango Base Camp” aired.
Previously, Luo Jiaxing and Qu An’an had been arranged by the company to appear on “Mango Base Camp” for promotional purposes, preparing for their debut.
After recording, the broadcast was scheduled perfectly for the day before the new songs went online.
The timing was impeccable!
Unfortunately, throughout the show, Luo Jiaxing and Qu An’an were practically invisible except during the mid-show performance segment, where they sang their new songs.
In other segments, especially the games, they had almost no screen time or interaction.
“No one paid attention to us when Qu An’an and I recorded the show!” Luo Jiaxing had complained after taping “Mango Base Camp.”
To this, Su Chen could only chuckle and offer some encouragement.
He told them to work on raising their profile.
Only then could they secure better opportunities.
There was no helping it; with so few paths to debut, programs like “Mango Base Camp” had become the entertainment industry’s most common choice.
New song promotions, new movie launches.
Clients lined up at Xiangnan TV.
Even getting those few shots had required Wang Yan to pull significant favors.