Chapter 67: Playing Basketball Can Make You Rich!

"Hahaha!"

Chen Meijing's remark instantly cracked up everyone in the dressing room.

After all, she was backed by Brother Can; what was a couple of insults compared to that? They simply found this bizarre angle and awkward smear campaign quite amusing.

"We still need to report this to Brother Can. I have a hunch that this clumsy method of operation looks a lot like Yao Jingye's doing. It might well be organized and premeditated."

Ever since Chen Meijing rose to fame, the only person she had any conflict with was Yao Jingye. If it was a paid troll army, Yao Jingye was naturally the prime suspect. Regardless of whether it was him or not, they would pin the blame first and report it later.

"Alright, I'll handle it right away."

The assistant nodded, immediately bundled up various screenshot contents, and sent the file to Winnie, who was in charge of coordination and external relations.

At that moment, Winnie was lying bored on the studio desk, letting out a yawn. It was the first day without Brother Can, and she already missed him.

"Sigh... he's been very busy lately, I shouldn't disturb him. Once he's free, I'll definitely drain—"

"Huh?"

Hearing the notification chime from her phone, Winnie raised her head, pulled out the device, and looked closely. She saw it was a file sent by Chen Meijing. Opening it up, her brows immediately furrowed, and a profanity slipped past her lips with zero delay.

"Suka blyat!"

Daring not to delay, she immediately began to sort through the files sent by Chen Meijing, condensing and summarizing them before forwarding them to Li Can. Then, she placed a call directly.

"Winnie, I miss you."

As soon as the call connected, Li Can's voice came through the receiver. Under normal circumstances, Winnie might have been overjoyed. But right now, she cut straight to the chase.

"Stop missing me for a moment. We have a problem. Your works are being smeared by various troll armies from all sorts of angles. But they seem to be holding back; not all the tracks are being trashed particularly hard. Chen Meijing suspects Yao Jingye is behind this. Take some time to look at it yourself."

"…Alright…"

Li Can't halfway utterance was interrupted by Winnie.

"Tell me when you're done with your work. No need to call me if there's nothing urgent. Hanging up now."

Beep.

Looking at the disconnected call, the corner of Li Can's eye twitched. He had no choice but to start typing on his phone and send a message to Winnie:

【The orchestra side won't take long. I plan to deconstruct the pieces directly. About three days should be enough, after which they can practice on their own, and I won't need to intervene temporarily.】

Looking at the text message sent by Li Can, Winnie smiled knowingly, and her mood brightened considerably.

On the other side, Li Can merely glanced at the documents Winnie sent, and he froze.

That Yao Jingye would try to smear him was something Li Can didn't find surprising. What did surprise him, however, was that just as the others were failing to hit the mark with their criticism, someone had actually stepped up.

"Huh? Wang Fusheng?!"

Although Wang Fusheng wasn't exactly speaking up for Li Can, it still came as a massive surprise to him.

"Well, well, Old Wang, I didn't expect you to actually have some spine. I really underestimated you before!"

Li Can's expression turned much more serious.

Wang Fusheng might indeed harbor prejudices against him, desperately trying to find all sorts of ways to trash him, even picking bones in an egg and awkwardly criticizing him just for the sake of it. Yet, when faced with such an absurd angle as "the integrity of an album," he still called out nonsense when he saw it.

Reading further down in the files compiled by Winnie, he spotted Wang Fusheng's deliberately exaggerated and somewhat absurdly sharp critique:

【Except for one exception, the songs Li Can tailored for Chen Meijing are all predominantly R&B. Yet the arrangement is hopelessly outdated, lacking any breakthrough or pioneering spirit. After blending electronic and rock elements, it feels like an imitation of European and American styles, yet ends up being neither fish nor fowl.】

【The original Li Can was capable of writing excellent tracks, but what about now? This is just vulgar, trashy pop music, even a joke of a work, yet a crowd of fans with low aesthetic standards are willing to kiss up to it. It's truly disgusting.】

"..."

Li Can raised an eyebrow, though he didn't get angry.

"It seems very likely that Yao Jingye hired a troll army to push this narrative, but they didn't dare make it too outrageous. In the internet age, to still be arguing about 'album integrity'—it's easy to see that these trolls aren't very skilled."

"Wang Fusheng might not have taken money, but he's genuinely trying to smear me."

Li Can curled his lips, gave a light chuckle, and brushed it off. After all, anyone engaged in creation could never escape being cursed at.

Old Wang was still awkwardly bashing him, stubbornly insisting on demanding high art out of pop music. But that was only human nature.

"Old Wang isn't the real problem. The problem is Yao Jingye."

Li Can frowned. Even if Wang Fusheng had some issues, they clearly weren't severe. The one truly capable of stirring up trouble was Yao Jingye, and he had to strike first.

With that thought in mind, Li Can couldn't help but ponder.

It seemed he needed to speed up the deconstruction of the works, then rush back to the studio to train Wang Yunze—the one who couldn't play basketball. Relying on him, they would enter the trainee variety shows and clash head-on with Yao Jingye's proxy. As a "summoner" himself, he would engage Yao Jingye in a passionate duel of words. Only by doing so could he catch their flaws and let his "teacher" unleash her full power.

With this decision made, Li Can quickly returned to the office assigned to him by the National Centre for the Performing Arts, cast aside all distractions, and began working overtime to deconstruct the pieces.

It took him only a day and a half to completely dissect and mark up all the contents. Then, he spent a full day providing systematic instructions and explaining the disassembled framework to each principal.

After this, he would have at least a whole month of rest. During this period, he only needed to drop by once or twice to check on the practice progress of each vocal section under the deconstructed state.

Having compressed tasks that should have taken over three days into two and a half days, Li Can hurried back to the company. After meeting up with Winnie, the two of them headed over to the trainees' practice room.

Wang Yunze was practicing at the moment. Hearing Li Can's call, he scurried over eagerly.

"Hello, Brother Can! Hello, Sister Winnie!"

Winnie smiled without speaking, standing quietly to the side. Li Can nodded and asked with a cheerful smile, "Come on, get ready for your training."

"Alright!" Wang Yunze beamed from ear to ear.

"What about your contract with the company? Let me have a look."

Hearing Li Can's words, Wang Yunze nodded hurriedly, then sprinted back to his dormitory to fetch the contract and hand it to Li Can.

Before training a trainee, one must first verify the contents of their contract to determine the scope of operations and avoid any future complications. However, upon receiving Wang Yunze's contract, although he had already anticipated the inside story, Li Can couldn't help but frown.

Sure enough, no matter which world it was, the entertainment industry was always a bloodsucking machine. The autonomy granted to trainees was exceedingly low; one could say they had virtually no freedom.

The games played by capital were utterly cold-blooded and ruthless. Wang Yunze's contract wasn't the kind of wide-net scam aimed at extracting liquidated damages—it was meant for genuine cultivation—yet it was still a completely predatory contract with a myriad of restrictive terms.

Signed at age 15 for a starting period of 15 years, the penalty for breach of contract was as high as 34 million, while the profit share he received was a mere 6 percent.

Even if he became a top-tier idol earning 100 million a year, after deducting all sorts of taxes, cuts upon cuts, and training fees, what actually landed in his hands might barely be two million. The degree of exploitation was simply jaw-dropping.

Yet, this was a universal phenomenon. Without a good family background or powerful connections, selling yourself into indentured servitude was the price of admission to the entertainment industry.

No wonder the company had agreed so decisively when they discussed the revenue split for his musical works. As it turned out, the company held the lion's share of the profits, while the idol himself received barely over half a percent.

Allocating 1.5 to 3 percent of an idol's non-musical earnings back to him was no sweat off the company's back.

Still, it wasn't a major issue. As long as he played basketball, even a 0.6 percent cut could make him a fortune!