Chapter 67: Qi Zhengqing, the Relentless Shadow

Last night, Young Master Qi arrived in Nanzhou. He nearly turned the city upside down searching for Zhou Wan, and many people were well aware of this. Word had also spread that Lin Dao’an, a producer of legendary stature, had suddenly announced before the program’s premiere that he would no longer be writing a song for Zhou Wan.

For a concert of such high caliber, many contestants’ songs had been in the works for over a month or even two, with entire teams collaborating to shape them. From the initial lyrics and composition to the arrangement and instrumentation, even the smallest detail was meticulously polished and considered. Each word in the lyrics was scrutinized and refined.

Then Lin Dao’an suddenly broke his contract, leaving Zhou Wan with only two days to prepare. Could she possibly produce a good song in such a short time? Certainly not.

A few of the other industry heavyweights had already said privately that no one could craft a quality piece in just two days.

Wu Shaodong, a legendary musician from Red Queen, had prepared a song for Liu Ruyun. After composing it, his team of dozens worked tirelessly, tweaking and refining every element, while the band teachers experimented with different instruments again and again. It took a full two months before the song was finally completed.

So, in many people’s eyes, Zhou Wan’s prospects this time were bleak.

“Well, if it isn’t the Diva Zhou herself. Still here to compete, huh? Should I call you brave or just foolish?” Zhou Wan had just finished touching up her makeup when a voice dripping with sarcasm sounded behind her.

She turned to see a woman about twenty-four or twenty-five standing behind her with arms crossed, smiling slyly.

This was Xu Zhenzhen, an artist under Zhou Wan’s former agency, Pegasus Entertainment—a top-tier singer, not far from the title of Diva herself. With two more albums and a couple of music awards, she could very well challenge for the Diva position within the next two years.

Her popularity slightly eclipsed Liu Ruyun’s, and her talent was a touch greater. She’d debuted at sixteen, also rising from live-streaming roots.

After Zhou Wan terminated her contract with Pegasus, the company immediately shifted its focus to grooming Xu Zhenzhen for stardom.

And tonight, Xu Zhenzhen would be singing a song written by Lin Dao’an, one he had originally prepared for Zhou Wan.

Naturally, Xu Zhenzhen brimmed with confidence, certain she’d secure a top spot, overshadow Zhou Wan, replace her, and ultimately surpass her. That was her goal for the coming half-year.

Zhou Wan looked at her and said, “So getting Lin Dao’an’s song is all it takes to boost your confidence?”

Xu Zhenzhen replied, “Of course. Without Mr. Lin, would you have become a Diva so quickly? And now he’s fully supporting me. I should thank you, really.”

Zhou Wan smiled and shook her head. “Childish.”

The others watched the exchange, their eyes flickering with curiosity, but most had little faith in Zhou Wan.

Lin Dao’an might be arrogant, but his talent was undeniable—especially with this genre, his specialty.

“All right, all right, Zhenzhen, enough talking. Save your energy. Don’t waste your breath or it’ll affect your performance,” said Hongjie, Xu Zhenzhen’s agent, as she walked over. She was a middle-aged woman with short hair and had once managed Zhou Wan herself.

“Go rest for now,” Hongjie told Zhenzhen again, then turned to Zhou Wan, her gaze tinged with regret.

But it wasn’t Lin Dao’an’s support she lamented Zhou Wan losing—it was the loss of a cash cow. The influence of a Diva brought in far more profit than even the brightest up-and-comer. To raise Xu Zhenzhen to Zhou Wan’s level would take at least another year, maybe two.

“Wanwan, what can I say to you?” Hongjie sighed. “Young Master Qi truly adores you. Would it hurt to just agree? It’s just one night, after all.”

“In the end, don’t all women rely on men? What difference does it make who you sleep with? How can you be sure the man who’ll be with you in the future will give you enough love, care, or emotional value?”

“Qi is a bit of a playboy, but he brings real benefits. And benefits are tangible—much more so than those airy notions of love.”

“Besides, since you jumped ship to Yu’an Media, you’ve gotten fewer gigs and endorsements. Was it worth it?”

“You’re still young, not enough life experience—too headstrong. When you’re my age, you’ll understand the importance of money.”

“Look at you now, your resources gone, snatched by Xu Zhenzhen. Listen to my advice: after this is over, apologize to Young Master Qi, and you can return as Pegasus’s number one star.”

Hongjie went on and on, filled with nothing but pity.

Zhou Wan remained silent for a long time, then raised her head. “Hongjie, what you said today has truly shocked me. I used to think you were a person of principle, but now I see you’re not. You have no bottom line.”

“But as for a bottom line—I have one.”

“I’ve already terminated my contract. From now on, I have nothing to do with Pegasus. You don’t need to say more. Whether Qi or Lin Dao’an, they can support whom they wish, write songs for whomever they like. None of it concerns me.”

“I don’t regret my choice. If I make a fool of myself today, I’ll have only myself to blame. Besides, the competition hasn’t started yet. How can you be so sure my song won’t surpass Lin Dao’an’s?”

Though Zhou Wan was usually quiet and reluctant to engage in arguments, she could hold her own when the moment called for it.

Hearing this, Hongjie’s face hardened. “Wanwan, you’ve had it too easy, never tasted failure. No one’s life is smooth sailing forever. Can you really be sure all will go your way? There’s still time to turn back. But if you wait until you fall, there won’t be another chance.”

Zhou Wan put on her headphones. “Enough. Go do what you need to.”

Hongjie scoffed. “Well, I’ll be watching to see what kind of song you can present today. Do you really think you’re something special? Just watch how Xu Zhenzhen wipes the floor with you!”

Zhou Wan closed her eyes, immersing herself in her music.

Ning Cai, standing nearby, spoke coldly, “You can go now. Don’t disturb my artist’s rest.”

Hongjie sneered and walked away.

Those nearby exchanged knowing glances, relishing the spectacle.

How very entertaining.

“Young Master Qi is here!” someone suddenly announced.

In the distance, Qi Zhengqing strode forward in a sharp suit, surrounded by a small entourage. He was chatting and laughing, every bit the center of attention.

Many female artists gazed at him with admiration in their eyes.

“Excuse me, everyone. Give me ten minutes, I have someone to see,” Qi Zhengqing said politely to the group of middle-aged men beside him, cupping his hand in a gesture of respect.

Then, with long strides, he headed straight toward Zhou Wan.