Chapter 22: Show Off Your Talent

In Shen Yan’s view, artist management was essentially a brokerage service: they helped employers secure acting roles and commercials, taking a commission in return.

In his past life as an idol, he had signed a contract once—a thirteen-year term with a 2:8 split. That company had certainly invested a fair amount of money; paying for trending topics and hiring producers for a debut single all required capital. Unfortunately, Dream Boys had collapsed the moment they debuted. However, looking back with his current perspective, even if they had launched successfully, Dream Boys wouldn’t have had much of a chance to become superstars; after all, TFBoys actually had several genuinely good songs. Setting aside "Manual of Youth," tracks like "Remaining Midsummer," "It’s You," and "Petty Love" were undeniably catchy. Times Fengjun had made a major investment, bringing in the likes of Liu Jia, Li Ronghao, Huang Junlang, JJ Lin, Wang Leehom, and Jay Chou to write songs for them.

Returning to the meeting, Shen Yan shared his understanding of artist management. It was nothing more than helping artists land roles and handling business liaisons.

Wang Jinghua was stunned. "...That’s it?"

Shen Yan smiled. "...I don't know much."

Wang Jinghua was intrigued by him. "I feel like you’re very calm. Whenever I sign new talent, they’re usually very excited!"

"I am excited, actually..."

"Do you have any requirements for me?"

"None for the moment," Shen Yan thought for a moment and added, "Though I do need to head back to my hometown next month."

"Don't you have any requirements regarding the roles you take?"

"What kind of roles could I possibly get at my age? I’d either be playing the protagonist's younger brother or their son."

Wang Jinghua nodded. Just as she was about to speak, Wen Zhang interjected, "This kid has quite the temper. I heard he almost got into a fight on set!"

"It didn't happen... someone stopped me."

"With a personality like that, you're going to offend people easily."

Shen Yan was indifferent. "It doesn't matter. My second uncle always said that some people just deserve a beating."

"...What about your parents?"

Shen Yan replied casually, "Divorced. Neither of them wanted me. I was raised by my grandparents."

"Divorced?"

"They split up when I was seven or eight. My mom probably forgot she even has a son like me. As for my dad, he went to Guangdong. I haven't seen him in over a decade."

"I'm sorry..."

"It's fine, it’s been over a decade now. Besides, my grandparents raised me quite well. Whatever I wanted to learn, they supported me—violin, piano, guitar, even taekwondo, I’ve studied them all."

"What does your grandfather do?"

"He runs a small business; we have a little supermarket at home."

"Then how did you have the money to learn so many things?"

Shen Yan answered nonchalantly, "It didn't cost anything. My second aunt is an artist herself. She runs an art training school back home, and she’s the principal. She never charged me. After I graduated from high school, I even taught there for half a year!"

Fan Fan chimed in, "Well then, go back up there and sing another one!"

"Sure... I'll sing an original. It's a folk song, too."

Wang Jinghua was surprised. "An original? You can write songs?"

Shen Yan waved his hand. "It's just an original—slap a melody together and write a few lines of lyrics, that's all..."

...

Shen Yan returned to the stage. He plucked the guitar strings and began to sing: "Light, falls upon your face, as lovely as it always was, inch by inch, you fill up the desire; the city is a bit dirty, passersby are in a hurried rush~"

Chen Li’s "Light"... It was a song that felt somewhat pseudo-intellectual—the kind where you understand every individual lyric, but the whole thing feels slightly elusive. Yet, it was beautiful. The arrangement was certainly not crude.

Many people claim folk music is low-brow, but what they despise isn't the genre itself, but the vapid, meaningless garbage—songs with shoddy arrangements, piled-up vocabulary, feigned depth, and performative sentimentality. Those who make this kind of "folk" music often use the "independent musician" label to package themselves. To a significant portion of the public, "independent musician" and "folk singer" are synonymous.

In truth, the core of folk music isn't a specific musical form, but a way of letting sorrow flow through a languid, lazy attitude. Like Chinese rock once did, folk music also hopes to express humanist thoughts and emotional outlets that differ from the mainstream. Later on, folk music... well, the lyrics became truly abysmal: girls, distance, sorrow, wandering, wings, brides, hesitation, confusion—they never escaped these tropes. If they threw in a curse word or two, some pseudo-intellectual youths would be overcome with emotion, though heaven knows which word hit the spot.

Looking at their educational backgrounds... good grief! Most of them were "top students" from communication universities. Then, they were completely overshadowed by the soundtrack of *Black Myth: Wukong*. All the lyrics for the *Black Myth: Wukong* inserts were written by Feng Ji. As for the quality of that soundtrack? It was the level of the masses rejoicing while the literary circles dared not even let out a peep.

Thus, the literary world is mostly filled with incompetent, double-dealing deadwood. Theoretically, those studying art should require more intelligence and culture, so why is it that in our country, the people with the lowest test scores go to art school? Perhaps it really is that old saying: "The sorcerers, physicians, musicians, and craftsmen—the noble man feels no shame in them."

Ahem, back to "Light"...

Shen Yan continued to sing: "~You hang your head in silence, you head toward the grey, you dwell in the deep of the chaotic sea, you begin to wait in despair~"

Someone in the crowd cheered! This was a quiet bar, clearly modeled after Hu Yufan’s "Hutaoli" music bar, and those who came to drink were mostly music lovers who could distinguish good from bad.

Shen Yan was getting excited. He had always yearned for the stage—otherwise, he wouldn't have become a trainee idol!

After finishing "Light," he immediately strummed the strings again and began: "I walked through the gloomy forest, the frozen stream, and the seabed full of fish, yet I couldn't bring you along; we agreed on the mountaintop to watch the sun rise slowly, you and I holding hands, how sweet that would have been; but I have no chance to hold you again, I can only make a wish that you will come to find me~"

"Better to Go Home and Drink Tap Water"... This song gave off a feeling of near-madness, half-depressed yet strangely defiant. It was like a rotting rose tossed onto a muddy black earth, with ten thousand wild horses galloping past without a single hoof trampling it—even though the rose was decaying, it remained seductively red.

Translated into plain English: it had a sense of hysterical madness.

"~The sunlight is so bright, yet I am in a pile of mud, how could it be possible that you would really come to find me! This love, I think, has long since rotted into pieces, the surging tide pushes me, then flushes me into the mud~"

As he sang, he walked over to the drum kit and played a rhythm... then he continued, his tone slowing down: "~I walked through the gloomy forest, the frozen stream, and the seabed full of fish, yet I couldn't bring you along; we agreed on the mountaintop to watch the sun rise slowly, you and I holding hands, how sweet that would have been!~"

Even Wang Jinghua was surprised this time. She had only intended to sign a newcomer, but hadn't expected Shen Yan to bring so many surprises. And he wasn't done yet...

Shen Yan played an intro and continued to sing...

"I watch, my naive self, appearing, in a story that doesn't include me~"