Chapter 82: The Auction

Within the manor, there were quite a few newcomers like Zhou Yun. Under the gentle sunlight, her white cap shielded her hairline, making her round little face stand out more, giving her an even younger appearance—she could easily pass for eighteen.

“This is the cafeteria, also the main leisure area. Although it’s technically a dormitory for everyone, after each stage recording, almost everyone leaves—artists are busy people…” Zhou Yun explained as she walked side by side with Tang Zhichu.

“When did you get here?” Tang Zhichu asked in return.

“The day before yesterday.”

“No wonder.”

“No wonder what? Didn’t see me in the gym and thought I was avoiding you?”

Tang Zhichu chuckled, hands in her pockets, looking rather relieved. “Not at all. Without a certain little brat supervising me these past two days, I’ve felt so relaxed.”

Zhou Yun protested, “Why am I a little brat? You think I don’t know what’s going on in the gym just because I’m over here? Didn’t you do aerobics with Wang Xiaoyan yesterday?”

Tang Zhichu widened her eyes. “How do you even know that?”

“Uh-huh! So, tell me, why am I a little brat? Who are you looking down on?”

Tang Zhichu turned and walked backwards, facing Zhou Yun as she moved. “Just look at yourself. Don’t you look exactly like a college student? The kind who hasn’t even graduated yet?”

Zhou Yun glanced down and stretched out her arms for inspection, muttering, “Can’t help it—it’s the uniform. Who wears pink in daily life? You think I want to? Still, I’ll take it as you complimenting my youth.”

Tang Zhichu fell silent. Zhou Yun’s tone carried a hint of grievance. “You think I want to?”—obviously implying she was only here for Tang.

“I think it’s nice. Quite cute, actually.”

“Thank you so much.”

Tang Zhichu almost added another comment, wanting to say it made her seem carefree, but held back. Zhou Yun was just Zhou Yun—calm, calculating, or adorable, she was all of these.

Suddenly, Tang Zhichu changed tack. “You look great.”

This time, Zhou Yun laughed, revealing neat, white teeth. She shifted to one side, deliberately arching her hip. “So, you think my figure isn’t good?”

Tang Zhichu covered her face in mock disdain. Zhou Yun glared and chased after her.

After a playful sprint, Zhou Yun caught hold of Tang Zhichu’s shirt, pointing to a large building ahead. “That’s where your main recordings will be. There’s a big stage inside, but I’ve never actually seen what a stage recording looks like.”

Tang Zhichu stopped and could see staff coming and going over there.

Zhou Yun helped smooth out the wrinkles in Tang Zhichu’s clothes that she’d just grabbed, then continued, “Don’t feel too pressured. This show isn’t like a dating program—it’s on a professional level.”

Tang Zhichu nodded. “It’s fine. Do I look stressed to you? Just being here is a win. And if it doesn’t work out, don’t we still have our media company?”

That perked Zhou Yun right up.

She pulled out her phone, swiped through it, and handed it to Tang Zhichu. “Here, these nine girls I follow—they’re all from my studio. See, they’ve even got official certification from Zheguang Media.”

Tang Zhichu scrolled through the profiles—none of them lacking in looks, some cute, some sexy, and even a few with a mature vibe.

“Why does one of them have two hundred thousand followers?” Tang Zhichu asked, intrigued.

Zhou Yun grinned. “Oh, that’s my account! I have several, and I let them use them. Now Wang Xiaoyan has the most—almost three hundred thousand followers. Your connections on DY are solid; their numbers are all high.”

“Impressive.”

“Hahaha, when are you, the big boss, going to do another dance?”

“I’ll have to think about it…”

...

By evening, Tang Zhichu finally received the notice—the recording was about to begin.

Meng Qi met Tang Zhichu at the villa entrance and led him to the recording building. But they didn’t go in through the main doors; as a newcomer, Tang Zhichu’s identity was a bit of a secret.

He was brought to a simple makeup room backstage, where they’d thoughtfully prepared a small monitor for him showing the main recording camera.

The room was small, but two mobile cameras were aimed at him as well.

Tang Zhichu sat on the little sofa and watched the screen. It showed a large, specially decorated room. The space was semicircular, with four tiered sections from left to right—each likely corresponding to one of the four alliances.

The camera panned past a large screen—the program’s mission board.

Tang Zhichu understood the reason for this task board; it was essentially a permanent high-traffic advertising spot. Whoever was willing to pay to commission a song got prime exposure—the entire show revolved around this project.

The shot passed quickly, so Tang Zhichu didn’t catch the details, but there seemed to be around ten missions listed. According to the rules, the mission board was continually updated—when one was completed, another was added.

Tang Zhichu waited in the small room for about twenty minutes before people started to enter.

The first was a bald man, around thirty, whom Tang Zhichu recognized—a popular rapper these past two years, though he didn’t know his real name. His stage name was Sig, and his fans called him Brother Xi.

The bald man headed straight for the section on the far right.

There were twenty-two musicians; Tang Zhichu could recall most of their names. He’d done his homework recently and remembered the preferred genres of more than half.

For instance, Yu Hua had mentioned Shen Jianxin, now fifty-one, who’d been in the industry for thirty-four years. He started with rock, was average when he played in a band, but became famous after going solo—one of the most formidable musicians of his era, with high standing in the industry.

Shen Jianxin was the founder of the Wildfire Alliance, one of the four major groups. After a glance around, Tang Zhichu could guess why Yu Hua had arranged for him to join Shen Jianxin’s team: they were wild, or rather, didn’t have a fixed style.

Sig, the rapper, was also in his alliance, as was a woman named Yun Miao, formerly an impressive musician who’d retired after marriage, now reportedly divorced and making a comeback. As for the other two, Tang Zhichu only recognized their names—they were independent musicians with notable works.

Why only five people? Clearly, one had already been eliminated.

Once everyone had arrived, the host entered and began to explain the current situation.

This was the third stage recording. Four stage projects had been recorded in total, with ten songs delivered and three projects completed.

Of the four alliances, both Wildfire and another called Sunflower had each lost a member.

“First, welcome everyone to the third stage’s mission selection. Yes, selecting from the mission board. But before that, there’s another segment. Since two alliances are currently short of members, we need to bring in two newcomers…”

Everyone listened attentively, though the winning teams weren’t too concerned.

But for the two losing alliances, this was a critical decision.

“Who is it?”

“No idea. Doesn’t really concern us—the ones who should worry are Teacher Shen and Sister Wei.”

“Is it an auction with points? Whoa, that intense?”

“Going all out, are they? Even an auction?”