Chapter 90: The Third Stage Recording

Time was running out, and everyone was busy rushing around, constantly refining their works.

Although the alliance was supposed to send only one person to participate, was he truly the only one putting in the effort? As soon as someone from one alliance began to get help from others, the other alliances couldn’t sit still either. For instance, the Stellar Alliance—it was rumored that their entire group would take the stage this round, all of them playing instruments. There were six songs in total, with a guarantee to deliver performances within seven days—an immense challenge.

Tang Zhichu felt uneasy and had secretly observed the stage rehearsals for several days. He noticed that everyone’s setups were simple; they focused all their energy on the music itself, which finally put his mind at ease. He kept feeling that since he finished first, the others might be holding back something special for later.

On June third, everyone gathered at the recording and performance building.

At ten in the morning, buses one after another drove into the manor. Tickets were checked at the entrance to the performance building.

As a "White Cap" staff member, Zhou Yun had entered the hall early to help set up the area designated for the sponsors. Since the number of people coming from each sponsor’s team was unpredictable, more seats were added if needed, or removed if there were fewer. In the previous round, one project brought nine people, taking up two rows. This time, the notice said 4+5—meaning one project had four representatives, the other, five.

The audience seating flanked the sponsors’ teams on both sides. If you sat on this side, you could catch the reactions of the audience in the first few rows just by turning your head—a handy reference point. Of course, the audience’s influence on the show was limited; they could vote, but it was mainly to provide feedback to the sponsors’ teams. After all, it’s the sponsors who pay for the projects.

After finishing her tasks, Zhou Yun retreated to a corner she had scoped out earlier, from which the entire stage was visible.

Five minutes later, the audience arrived, and the once-empty hall instantly buzzed with chatter.

“What seat are you? I’m left 2-7! Damn, this is a great spot!”

“I’m way over on the right, so far!”

“Stop complaining—mine’s a secondhand ticket, cost me a fortune.”

“Who’s performing this round? Did you get any updates?”

“I think Cheng Yi is here; he’s with the Stellar Alliance!”

“And Pu Jingshi too—he’s a big shot!”

“Whoa, Pu Jingshi? He’s He Shuyuan’s mentor, right?”

...

Zhou Yun was in the left corner, where the lighting was dim. Many "White Cap" staff were stationed in such spots to be prepared for emergencies. Listening to the crowd’s discussions—even though the tickets weren’t sold publicly, everyone still had their favorite artists. Zhou Yun’s thoughts drifted—would Old Tang ever reach this point, where people loved him for his music?

Backstage, everyone set to perform was getting their makeup done.

Tang Zhichu sat in front of the mirror as the makeup artist worked on him. Next to him was Sig, also having his makeup applied.

“How are you feeling?” Sig asked.

“I looked at the program schedule, and I’m actually the last one up from our group!”

Sig laughed. “Now you see why so many people avoid being the challenger? The challenger has to close the show.”

Tang Zhichu pursed his lips. No wonder no one bore him any ill will; in recent days, quite a few people had even expressed their admiration.

“You’re being so mysterious—are you going to surprise us?” Sig joked again.

Sig was several years older than Tang Zhichu. Initially, he’d thought about taking the creative studio in the morning and letting Tang Zhichu use it in the afternoon, but the latter didn’t use a minute of time, giving it all to Sig. This gesture made Sig even more convinced that Tang Zhichu was just here to support him, and he was moved—such loyalty was rare, not just in the entertainment industry, but even in the hip-hop scene.

Sig decided this was a friend worth having. Over the past few days, he’d looked after Tang Zhichu especially well, always inviting him along wherever he went. Even now, as they sat for makeup, Sig tried to offer some encouragement.

“Come on, don’t be nervous. Just do your best and don’t worry about me.”

“I’m not nervous, really. No pressure. They don’t get you, but we do.”

Tang Zhichu did feel a bit of pressure, truth be told. After so long away from the spotlight, he was both a little nervous and a little excited.

At eleven thirty, recording was about to begin.

The floor director took the stage, running through safety instructions—fire extinguishers, emergency exits—and then briefly emphasized the rules: don’t let anyone’s emotional outburst disturb the group, and finally, wished everyone an enjoyable performance.

At eleven forty, the host took the stage.

With spotlights and an energetic BGM, the host got the audience pumped up, stirring their excitement.

Backstage, several sponsors exchanged nods.

“The big companies really do it differently. Even without considering the projects, just this level of production is a treat.”

“Absolutely. So much better than handling business negotiations ourselves.”

“At first I thought the price was steep, but now it seems worth every penny.”

“Exactly. From what I hear, not only small projects, but even major ones have to get in line. If we don’t get results today and want to try again, we might be waiting six months.”

“Let’s hope these seasoned musicians bring their best.”

...

The host gestured for quiet, and the hall fell still.

“Thank you all, and welcome to the live taping of ‘Original Music Alliance,’ exclusively sponsored by ******. The rules aren’t complicated, but I’ll go over them again. This is a purely commercial original music competition show. We’re committed to stimulating and improving the current Chinese-language music market. We hope to see it thrive, and at the same time, that the art of music will shine with brilliance and immortality in your hands...

All of this, you are here to witness. In this round, our musicians face two commercial projects: the theme song for the major urban romance drama ‘Single Men and Women,’ and the promotional track for the large-scale Three Kingdoms game module, ‘Battle of Red Cliffs.’

After last night’s points auction, the Three Kingdoms game promotional song will be performed first. Let’s welcome the sponsors’ team from the Three Kingdoms game project! After all, without them, we couldn’t have gathered so many talented musicians. What do they say?”

“They say, you shear the wool from the cow and knit sweaters for everyone! Just kidding, sponsors—don’t mind me!”

Two hundred people, their spirits rising, filled the room with applause and cheers.

The Three Kingdoms game project team emerged from backstage—four members—guided by the host to their seats, positioned directly opposite the stage, just like judges in a traditional talent show.

As they sat down and exchanged glances, all were a bit awed; none of them were industry insiders. There was the general manager of the game company, the head of narrative design, the music director, and, most uniquely, a player representative.

Usually, they’d only seen events like this on TV.

Now, here they were, sitting in those seats—the most prestigious in the house. Each couldn’t help but feel it: this money was worth every damn penny!