Chapter 53: Is This Really How You Promote Someone?

She sighed then, resignation in her voice. “But we don’t have much time left. The director needs the song finalized in the next couple of days.”

Xu Ze replied, “It’ll be quick. I can give it to you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? Are you sure you’ll have a new song ready by tomorrow?

Zhang Yingjing decided not to persuade him further. “You… fine, then. Get it to me as early as you can tomorrow.”

After hanging up, Zhang Yingjing couldn’t help but think that, though the kid was young, he was certainly bold—he actually wanted to perform an original song. From the way he spoke, he even meant to compose something specifically for this competition. Zhang Yingjing wasn’t hopeful. Let him try if he wants; if he can’t deliver by tomorrow or the song isn’t good, he can just perform “Do You Know, Do You Know” instead.

But that very evening, just as Zhang Yingjing returned home from the company, she received an email from Xu Ze.

“This kid works fast, doesn’t he?” she muttered, hardly believing he could produce anything worthwhile in so little time.

She opened the email.

“Youth of China Speaks?”

Well, the title certainly matched the occasion.

She put on her headphones and pressed play.

After a while, Zhang Yingjing sat frozen, her eyes vacant. At last, she understood the source of Xu Ze’s confidence.

This song, in terms of sheer quality, was on par with anything he’d written before. Most importantly, it radiated positivity—it was perfect for the network.

Xu Ze’s composition seamlessly wove in the words of Liang Qichao from 120 years ago, stirring her to the core, her whole body alight with passion.

Both in lyrics and spirit, the song fit the youth music competition perfectly. She had every reason to believe Xu Ze had composed it specifically for this event—just as he had written “Big Fish” for Zhu Zhenting and “Wild Child” for Sun Na.

Suddenly, she was seized by a curious urge to peer inside Xu Ze’s mind and see how many more songs he had hidden there.

An idea flashed through her mind. Without hesitation, she picked up her phone and called the director at the network.

At the headquarters in the capital, the children’s music competition studio was alive with activity as workers hurried to construct the stage.

The National Children’s Music Competition, held every two years, was co-hosted by the Ministry of Education and the Department of Publicity, and produced by Channel 3 of the state network.

The finals were just a few days away. Leaders from various departments and network executives would all be present.

At that moment, Director Chen, the show’s chief producer, was still in the studio holding a meeting with the staff.

Everyone looked exhausted, having worked overtime for days. The event plan alone had gone through countless revisions—either a leader hadn’t confirmed their schedule, or a department changed their number of attendees at the last minute.

Heads were aching all around.

Thankfully, just now, the latest version of the plan had finally been signed off by the leaders. At last, things were settled.

Director Chen was now assigning responsibilities, making sure every detail was covered to avoid any mishaps.

Suddenly, his phone rang.

His phone was always on, even during meetings—too many important people needed to reach him, none of whom he could afford to offend.

He glanced at the screen. It wasn’t a leader calling, but Zhang Yingjing.

If it had been anyone else, he might have ignored it, but Zhang Yingjing was the most prominent, most popular celebrity among their guests. She deserved some consideration.

Director Chen stepped out and took the call.

On the other end, Zhang Yingjing spoke politely, “Director Chen, I’d like to make a request.”

A request—those were the words Director Chen dreaded most these days. Still, he kept his composure. “What is it?”

Zhang Yingjing spoke slowly. “This morning I mentioned having Xu Ze perform as a guest. I’d like him to be the final act—close out the show.”

“What?” Director Chen’s voice rose, drawing glances from the staff inside.

He frowned, closed the studio door behind him, and stepped further out.

“Are you kidding? You want an un-debuted newcomer like Xu Ze to close the show?”

Director Chen wondered if he’d misheard.

When Zhang Yingjing had approached him that morning about bringing a newcomer onto the program, he’d been reluctant. Only after learning it was Xu Ze, who’d recently become very popular, did he reluctantly agree. After all, Xu Ze had a lot of attention lately, came from a prestigious school, and his songs fit the mainstream style.

If it had been anyone else, even Zhang Yingjing wouldn’t have swayed him.

But now, to have Xu Ze—a newcomer—close the show? Had she lost her mind, or had he?

Even if she wanted to promote him, this was not the way.

It was as if Zhang Yingjing had anticipated his reaction. Calmly, she replied, “Director Chen, Xu Ze composed a song specifically for this children’s music competition. I think, if you listen to it, you might agree with me.”

Director Chen felt his temper rising, but held it in check.

So what if Xu Ze wrote a song for the competition? Even if it was as stunning as “The East Wind Breaks” or “Do You Know, Do You Know,” he still didn’t have the qualifications.

If Xu Ze closed the show, people would only assume Director Chen had accepted some favor from him to arrange it. The network might even launch an investigation, demanding a written explanation.

This was not a private company or a small contest.

After a pause, Director Chen sighed heavily and said, “All right, send me the song. I’ll listen.”

He could hear the determination in Zhang Yingjing’s voice—she wouldn’t rest until he at least listened. So be it; it would only take a few minutes.

“Thank you, Director Chen.”

…

Back in the studio, the others saw Director Chen’s troubled expression and wondered if some leader had changed the plans again. But hadn’t the final plan already been signed off?

Just then, his phone chimed with an email notification. He glanced at the screen, then swept his gaze around the room. “Have you all finished your discussions?”

“We’re done, Director.”

“Good.” He nodded, frowning. “Xiao Wang, I’m sending you a song. Play it for everyone, then let’s adjourn and get back to work.”

A young man quickly got up to play the song.

The others exchanged puzzled looks. With time so tight, why was the director making them listen to a song?

Soon, the intro began—not the melody anyone expected, but a thunderous drumbeat, followed by a stirring spoken passage by a youth.

“This song?”

Everyone was startled.

Even Director Chen, who had been listening with narrowed eyes, suddenly opened them wide.

A few minutes later.

The song ended. The studio was silent, every person wearing an expression of shock.

At last, a young woman asked, “Director Chen, which teacher sang that song?”