Chapter Sixty: Negotiations

When the song ended, Tang Zhichu averted his gaze, avoiding Chen Siyang’s eyes.

Chen Siyang opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but Jiang Lan interrupted, “That was lovely, Zhichu. Could you sing it again?”

Tang Zhichu nodded, adjusted the setup once more, and sang the song again.

On this side, Chen Siyang listened intently, her eyes fixed on the projected screen, paying close attention to the lyrics.

Everyone listening was focused, except for one person who seemed unusually excited, even distracted. That was Huang Zejun. This time, instead of the screen, he watched Tang Zhichu, nodding more and more as he looked on, thinking to himself that he had made the right choice—he had chosen the right boss!

...

Not far away, in a nearby van, Li Hongzhou sat in front of a computer. Two video windows were open on his screen.

One was Liu Yu (there was a mistake with the name in an earlier chapter—Liu Yu is correct).

The other window showed someone from DY, whose full name was Su Qingzhu. Li Hongzhou had met her once in person and spoken on the phone several times. She was a content director at DY.

“This is the general situation. I’ve spoken with a few of the directors, and their feedback is that the two of them are lost about the future. After all, Tang Zhichu is just a small restaurant owner—he’s quite removed from the entertainment world…” Li Hongzhou was holding a conference call with both parties.

He believed that problems should be addressed promptly, and the solution seemed simple enough: if DY could show some support for Tang Zhichu, give him a little backing, it would embolden him to pursue love.

Li Hongzhou suspected no hidden factors. He was a veteran of romance reality shows, and working with ordinary people was straightforward—just guide them with the rules. For instance, during blind selections, the crew could swap out the gifts, and by tweaking the rules, they could pair people up. As for scripts? That was a lower-level tactic, only used when things slipped out of control, as they were now.

Liu Yu and Su Qingzhu both remained silent at first. Based on current feedback, pairing Tang Zhichu and Chen Siyang would indeed maximize benefits.

However, this involved the distribution of interests, and each was waiting for the other to show their hand first.

Liu Yu finally spoke, “How about this? I’ll communicate with Chen Siyang, encourage her, and guide her to be more understanding.”

Li Hongzhou smiled; this was a clear signal. Tianhe was willing to promote the relationship between Chen Siyang and Tang Zhichu—how they managed it was up to them.

He then turned to Su Qingzhu’s window.

Appearing there was a mature woman in black-framed glasses. Su Qingzhu had never met Tang Zhichu, but she had heard him sing and read up on him.

In principle, DY operated only as a platform, not getting involved in the specifics of content or creator development.

But things were different now. Penguin was making aggressive moves, and DY needed new breakthroughs. Tang Zhichu was one such experiment. So far, the results had exceeded expectations.

Su Qingzhu spoke, “We’re a platform—we try to stay neutral. I hope you both understand. But I’ll reach out to him. Don’t worry, Director Li. If it’s as you say, we at DY do value Tang Zhichu.”

Li Hongzhou nodded with a smile, “Glad we’re in agreement. I’ll send over a document detailing ad resource allocation and future plans for the show. If you have any concerns, we can discuss them.”

He sent a copy of the file to both sides. If it were all ordinary people, he’d make decisions himself, but given the special circumstances, it was better to lay things out for smoother cooperation later.

Suddenly, Su Qingzhu asked, “Director Li, what about that thing you promised me last time?”

Li Hongzhou paused, then patted his forehead, suddenly interested, “Right, that was an unexpected bonus—Tang Zhichu just sang a song earlier, and it’s original.”

“Original?”

“Yes, I listened through it and it’s got something. I’ll export the audio and send it to you shortly.”

Liu Yu was intrigued, “Are you saying Tang Zhichu wrote an original song and performed it on the show?”

“Yes, and from what I gather, it’s written for Chen Siyang.”

“In that case, Director Li, please send me a copy as well.”

“Of course.”

...

Half an hour later, Su Qingzhu received the audio file from Li Hongzhou.

She put on her headphones and listened. The audio was a live recording; she could faintly hear the wind.

As soon as Tang Zhichu’s voice began, Su Qingzhu smiled—that was the sound she liked.

She had always followed Tang Zhichu because his singing fit her aesthetic perfectly.

Halfway through, she was pleasantly surprised. There was Tang Zhichu, the singer, and now Tang Zhichu, the songwriter—two different identities.

She listened twice, then sent the file to her operations team group chat.

“Everyone, listen to this audio and give it a quick rating.”

...

A few minutes later, the replies came in.

“That’s definitely Tang Zhichu’s voice. I’ll give it an A. Regardless of the overall song quality, the chorus section fits our fifteen-second content principle perfectly. There’s real potential here.”

“Sounds great. I suggest we push this and see the response, but it needs to be remade—the audio’s too rough. Haven’t heard this singing style in a while. As expected from Tang Zhichu’s voice.”

“Boss Su, should I take charge of this?”

“Su Qingzhu: No rush. I’ll let you know if we need to move forward.”

As the discussion continued, Su Qingzhu had already made up her mind. DY had its own audience and rules, and Tang Zhichu’s song fit perfectly with the short video format.

She could guess that Tang Zhichu had probably considered DY’s audience when writing this song—after all, he got his start on DY.

Now, she hesitated. If Tang Zhichu could write songs, his value wasn’t the same anymore.

Given that, was it still necessary to push him into a showmance for the sake of content?

She listened once more, then decided not to make the call after all.

...

Elsewhere, Liu Yu finished her work, checked the time, and was about to reach out to Chen Siyang when she noticed the audio file from Li Hongzhou.

She didn’t listen to it herself. Liu Yu always believed in leaving professional matters to the professionals.

So, she sent the audio to one of the company’s producers.

A dozen minutes later, the producer replied: “Is this a new song? The arrangement is average, just follows the chord progression, but the lyrics are pretty good. And the singing style is unique. Overall, the quality is solid. However, my suggestion is that the person is more valuable than the song. Judging by this, his chest resonance is among the best in the business.”

Liu Yu was surprised by the producer’s feedback—so the quality was really that high?

She’d assumed it was just an average song, the kind a young person writes when they’re in love—a harmless trend. As long as it wasn’t scandalous, it would be good for publicity.

She hadn’t expected the producer to rate it so highly.

Putting on her headphones, Liu Yu listened a few times, checked the time, and sent out a text message.