Chapter Fourteen: The Idol Type

On March 29, Lin Jianlu returned to Taipei. The next morning, he stayed in the hotel to rest, but he couldn’t really relax because enthusiastic fans were already waiting downstairs. After touring around for nearly two weeks in Taiwan, his popularity among fans had surged dramatically. It was no longer just that his albums sounded good—he had truly become a rising star.

The crucial point was that he was not one of those Rock Records singers from the past, like Luo Dayou, Lee Chung-sheng, Zhao Chuan, Zhou Huajian, or Zhang Zhenyue. Singers from the Rock Records era were never associated with good looks. But Lin Jianlu was the absolute top-tier in appearance, instantly inspiring fans who had previously only chased after Wang Jie, Qi Qin, Lin Zhiying, the Little Tigers, or even the Four Heavenly Kings of Hong Kong. The Taiwanese fans were electrified and adored him immensely.

He had no choice but to go downstairs, deliberately wearing a pair of disposable hotel slippers, appearing casual as he signed autographs. It took quite a while before he managed to persuade the crowd to disperse.

By the afternoon, there was a small gathering again.

This time, it was organized by Duan Zhongtan because Luo Dayou had returned from Hong Kong and unexpectedly ran into Wu Bai, though Xin Xiaoqi and Zhou Huajian were absent.

It was just eating, drinking, and chatting.

Lin Jianlu gradually found his rhythm and approach for dealing with these people.

Unlike in the capital, where his method was straightforward and direct—giving money and treating everyone to meals. Anyone who helped out was generously rewarded, and he often hosted good meals for everyone to keep spirits high. After all, the music scene in the capital was generally still struggling to make ends meet!

Artists like Dou Wei, Zheng Jun, Black Panther, Tang Dynasty, Tian Zhen, and Lao Lang were truly the minority. Although album sales might not earn them much, their live performances and gigs could bring in tens of thousands per show, sometimes even thirty or forty thousand. Liu Huan, although not affiliated with a professional troupe, had been popular since the mid-1980s with hits like "Sun in My Heart" and "Youthful Ambition," making him one of the few wealthy figures.

But most people were just drifting in the north, barely making money as the norm.

So, from the first live show in a small conference room at the New Capital Hotel, through the entire recording and MV shooting, which lasted only about a month, Lin Jianlu didn’t hesitate to spend the recording budget generously. He took good care of poor friends struggling to get by, paying them at least 350 to 500 each just to participate in the recording, whether they helped or not. If they got along, they would eat together, with plenty of perks—enough to survive at least one day without hunger.

He had a good reputation and wide connections in the capital’s circle.

But that approach definitely wouldn’t work in Taiwan. So, when he first arrived, he spoke as little as possible, observed, listened to their conversations, and figured things out within a few interactions. Be sincere and straightforward, but don’t show off or act pretentious. Occasionally, drop a hell-level cold joke or a dirty joke when the occasion and atmosphere allowed.

It worked well—everyone generally liked him.

What surprised him, though, was that most men understood his dirty jokes instantly but weren’t particularly impressed, while some older female singers burst into laughter immediately. Su Huilun even managed to fire back. Curiously, Chen Shuhua and Liu Ruoying often looked confused, seemingly not getting the jokes.

That was unexpected—they were not exactly young girls.

Liu Ruoying, though newly famous, was definitely several years older than Lin Jianlu.

Of course, at these gatherings, Lin Jianlu tried not to overshadow others. Everyone was quite gossipy. Luo Dayou spent most of his time in Hong Kong, Lin Yilian often had activities there, and even Lee Chung-sheng made time every year to accompany Lin Yilian there. There was plenty of gossip from the Hong Kong scene, which Lin Jianlu enjoyed listening to, never finding it dull.

Yet someone noticed something odd.

When Lin Jianlu silently returned with another plate of grilled meat, ready to fill his stomach while listening to Hong Kong entertainment gossip, Chen Shuhua looked shocked and came over. “Wow, that’s your third plate!”

The gathering was at a big boss’s villa with staff dedicated to cooking and grilling.

Lin Jianlu pretended to be full—the plate easily held about a pound of meat. “You were counting?”

She nodded seriously, “Yes, I saw you finish one plate after another. This is the third!”

Could he be blamed for his large appetite? Besides, he was only twenty, still growing, he said. “Don’t say that, it’s ruining my reputation. This is actually the fourth plate!”

Chen Shuhua burst out laughing. “You…”

After laughing, she became conflicted and whispered, “Do you always eat this much at every meal? Don’t you get fat? You look so good. Can you teach me how you do it? Why do I gain weight just by eating a little more?”

“Simple, I’m young!” he replied, killing the conversation in one sentence.

Chen Shuhua seemed a bit annoyed but also more comfortable with him now. The little fangirl worshipping the R&B master was gone, and the distance between them had disappeared. She slapped his arm and turned away, ignoring him.

But Lin Jianlu suddenly became serious. “It’s exercise! I run five kilometers every morning. If the weather is good, I do ten kilometers!”

She turned back, not really angry. “Really? I run too. In recent years, I’ve been gaining weight easily, so I started running.”

So they began exchanging tips on running and exercise.

While chatting, Lin Jianlu carefully examined her a few times. Judging by her bone structure, she was indeed prone to gaining weight. Without even considering other factors, her hair was thick and lush, indicating good blood circulation. She likely had heavy, regular menstrual cycles and had probably endured hunger to maintain such a slim figure. “I’ll teach you a set of weight-loss exercises guaranteed to work! But eating less and moving more is still the foundation!”

In his previous life, Lin Jianlu had been a longtime live streamer who paid close attention to his figure. After all, he had no looks to sell, so if his body became bulky and bloated, who would want to watch? No matter how well he sang, it would be useless! Being able to eat well while maintaining an excellent physique meant he had his own insights.

“What are you two talking about?”

Their whispering and close conversation quickly drew others’ attention. When they heard it was about weight loss and that Lin Jianlu was going to teach Chen Shuhua some exercises, especially the women perked up immediately.

Male singers didn’t need to be idols; as long as their figures were decent, it was fine. But female singers, even if they couldn’t be idols, absolutely couldn’t let their figures get out of shape. Even a slight weight gain showed up on camera and made them ashamed to be seen.

So Lin Jianlu instantly became a weight-loss expert. After biting through half a plate of grilled meat, he stood up to demonstrate. The moves were all high difficulty, which amazed everyone.

After his demonstration, Su Huilun suddenly rushed over, lifted his jacket and T-shirt, and touched his abs. “Wow… his muscles are really defined!”

A group of women swarmed over to feel his abs.

Honestly, Lin Jianlu was rarely embarrassed, but this time he was somewhat awkward.

Who just lifts someone’s clothes so directly?

Besides, he’d just eaten a huge amount of meat—where were the muscles?

By the end, even Old Luo, Old Li, and the Duan brothers, Duan Zhongyi and Duan Zhongtan, came over to feel his abs. They even dragged Zhao Chuan and called over Ren Xianqi, who was helping with the grilling, insisting that the three of them compare abs.

The three of them were all long-time exercisers, with well-formed, sturdy abs. Wu Bai also came over to join, also toned but noticeably less impressive. Yet none of the three had abs like Lin Jianlu’s—strong and vigorous, but unlike their rigid, bulky, somewhat disproportionate muscles.

His looked full of vitality, not the dead muscle blocks from heavy weight training.

“Young is really great!” Luo Dayou sighed.

…………

Still, there was some serious business.

As the gathering was winding down and people grouped in threes and fives, Duan Zhongtan took the initiative to talk with Lin Jianlu about three matters—

First, Zhang Aijia had a management company called Red-on-Red, meaning “Red upon Red.” It mainly operated in Taiwan, but she had been acting in Hong Kong since the 1970s and was a legendary film goddess. She starred in the art-house classic “Homecoming” by Ann Hui, as well as the commercial hit “The Best Partner” with Cheng Long, both over a decade ago. Zhang Aijia’s connections in Hong Kong were immense.

In the 1980s, New Art City Film Company was very popular. The so-called “Seven Wonders of New Art City” each had unique skills, enough to rival the dominant Jiahe company that had Cheng Long. At that time, Zhang Aijia was already the head of New Art City’s Taiwan branch and planned the well-received “Taxi Driver,” becoming the de facto matriarch spanning the Hong Kong and Taiwan entertainment industries.

Director Du Qifeng insisted on casting her as the female lead in “A Brighter Summer Day,” because the male lead was Chow Yun-fat, who had become popular all over Asia through “A Better Tomorrow.”

In the same year, the only actor who could rival Jackie Chan’s popularity—a nimble, chubby man—starred in his only art and romance film, “Eight Taels of Gold.” He said the reason he agreed to star was because director Cheang Wan-ting promised Zhang Aijia as the female lead.

During the mid-1980s, Lin Qingxia fell into various love triangles and gained a bad reputation in Taiwan, losing acting opportunities. Zhang Aijia sent her to Hong Kong and introduced her to the New Art City Seven Wonders, leading to her later successful reinvention and support from producers like Xu Ke.

Cheng Long invited her to ask Rock Records for songs, resulting in the signature work “Ambition in My Heart.” Lee Chung-sheng wrote and composed it, and he also collaborated with the then popular Chen Shuhua on the classic duet “Clearly My Heart,” also penned by Lee.

But Ge Fuhong was no ordinary figure either. Running her own management company was already impressive; her business extended beyond Taiwan and Hong Kong to Southeast Asia and Japan, with branches and significant influence throughout the Chinese-speaking entertainment world. She was among the top managers.

Her husband, surnamed Qiu, was a famous media tycoon in Taiwan, wielding powerful influence in Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Southeast Asia.

Though forced to retreat to Taiwan island in recent years due to special circumstances, he was reluctant but had no choice.

Even a few years ago, he invested in and promoted “City of Sadness” at the Venice Film Festival, and boldly took Hou Hsiao-hsien and the crew to film in Xiamen despite pressure. He also invested in mainland director Zhang Yimou’s “Raise the Red Lantern” and “To Live,” but due to later complications, cooperation ceased.

Even after retreating to Taiwan, he controlled large media groups like the Era Group, owning radio, TV stations, newspapers, magazines, and variety show production companies, remaining an absolute tycoon.

Backed by such a tycoon and with her own formidable skills, Ge Fuhong’s power was easy to imagine.

Now, both women highly favored you and wanted to sign you to their management companies. They had already entrusted me with this. You don’t need to decide immediately but should seriously consider it. After all, whether in Hong Kong or Taiwan, many activities and business dealings require a manager to handle.

Both of them were well-suited in terms of influence and reputation. It was up to you to decide.

The second matter: the album sold well, but everyone thought it could be even better. Taiwanese fans generally liked you, and the company discussed the possibility of making you Rock Records’ first idol-style singer. So they decided to invest more money to shoot a few more MVs.

You could choose the songs yourself. I had seen the scripts you wrote for “Fairy Tale” and “Ten Years,” both very good and ready to shoot. If you needed anything from the company or funds, just say so. But it had to be fast—strike while the iron was hot.

The third matter: rest for two days, then the company would arrange for you to go to Hong Kong. Since your sales there were also good, and your presence would boost sales further. Depending on the situation in Hong Kong, it would be best to also spend three to five days visiting Singapore and Malaysia next.