The richest man started taking advantage of loopholes after joining Alibaba.

Chapter 185: It's not that the song isn't popular, it's that it's not being prom

Three days.

In just seventy-two hours.

In the context of geological time, this is a speck of dust; but in the context of China's internet content ecosystem, it is a devastating "species invasion".

Six o'clock in the morning, Chaoyang Park, Beijing.

A group of middle-aged women wearing red vests are doing their morning exercise.

Previously, their background music was "The Most Dazzling Ethnic Trend," which has a strong and energetic rhythm.

Today, that familiar deep bass voice is gone.

Instead, a chilling, limp electronic synthesized voice has taken its place.

"Let's learn to meow together, meow meow meow meow..."

The lead dancer, an older woman, no longer performed the traditional, sweeping Yangko dance. Instead, she clenched her fists and placed them beside her cheeks, creating an extremely incongruous "cute" gesture.

Dozens of elderly women, with an average age of sixty, meowed in unison at the rising sun.

That sense of absurdity is like a surrealist oil painting.

The joggers passing by did not laugh.

Because they weren't much better off.

During the morning rush hour, the subway Line 10 carriages are packed like sardine cans.

A programmer wearing noise-canceling headphones leaned against the door, mechanically swiping his fingers across his phone screen.

The screen was filled with that hand gesture dance.

Popular online celebrities with millions of followers are dancing, high school students in school uniforms are dancing, and even the official traffic police account wearing reflective vests is dancing.

The programmer did not turn on the sound.

But his cerebral cortex had already formed a conditioned reflex.

Whenever he sees that "clenched fist" gesture, that melody will automatically play in his brain, making him unconsciously tap his leg to the rhythm.

He wasn't even aware that he was shaking.

Until the old man next to him gave him a look as if he were crazy.

……

The terrace of a high-end Western restaurant in Sanlitun.

Music director Lao Zhang was sitting in the corner, cutting a medium-rare Wellington steak.

Sitting opposite him was Liang Yi, a well-known music critic in China, known for his sharp tongue.

Liang Yi was wearing a custom-made linen shirt, his hair was neatly combed, and he was swirling a half-full glass of red wine in his hand. But his eyes were somewhat unfocused.

"Old Zhang, the world has changed."

Liang Yi's voice was very dry.

"Three days ago, I posted on Weibo criticizing this song as 'industrial garbage' and 'a disgrace to the Chinese music scene,' and it got around 20,000 likes at the time."

Old Zhang didn't say anything, but simply put a piece of bloody beef into his mouth.

"This morning, I went to look at that Weibo post again."

Liang Yi's hand trembled slightly.

The comments section has changed.

"In the past, people would just join me in criticizing, but now, the top comment is: 'But it's really addictive, I've listened to it a hundred times.'"

"What's even more terrifying is..."

Liang Yi put down his wine glass, his knuckles turning white from the force.

"Yesterday a record company contacted me, wanting me to help promote their new artist. As usual, I quoted a price of 100,000 per music review."

"The other party was silent for five seconds, and then hung up the phone."

"Half an hour later, I saw that the newcomer posted a video on Weiguang of him filming 'Learn to Meow'."

Old Zhang finally raised his head.

He took out a tissue and slowly wiped the corner of his mouth.

"Old Liang, haven't you figured it out yet?"

Old Zhang took his phone out of his pocket and placed it on the table.

The screen displays the data backend of the Weiguang APP.

"This song, by Xiao Fengfeng, is about a loser living in a basement. In three days, it garnered over 100 million views across the internet, and his performance fee jumped from 500 yuan to 50,000 yuan, paid in cash."

"One hundred times."

Old Zhang held up one finger.

"This is just the first 'test launch' of Lin Che's algorithm system."

Liang Yi looked at that number and felt his throat tighten.

His "professional aesthetic sense" on which he relied for survival, and his "music criticism authority" which he was proud of, were as fragile as a piece of waste paper in the face of this cold, hard number.

"There's a saying going around in the industry right now."

Old Zhang's voice was soft, yet it struck Liang Yi's heart like a hammer.

"It's not that the song is bad because it's not popular."

"Don't push it if it's dim light."

Elegant jazz music was playing in the restaurant.

But in Liang Yi's ears, the sounds of those saxophones seemed to have all turned into that meow meow meow.

An unprecedented fear gripped him.

It's not because the song is bad.

It was because he realized that the power to decide whether a song was good or not was no longer in his or the experts' hands.

That man named Lin Che snatched the scepter that defined "popularity" from their hands.

Liang Yi took out his phone and opened Weibo.

Find the post where you made a rant.

My finger hovers over the "Delete" key.

He hesitated for a second. That was the last, pitiful dignity of a scholar.

But the next second, he thought of the record company that had hung up on him.

Snapped.

Press down with your finger.

Confirm deletion.

……

Tencent Building, Nanshan District, Shenzhen.

The high-level conference room on the 39th floor.

Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, the gray-blue sea of Shenzhen Bay stretches out.

The air pressure was so low it was suffocating.

On the projection screen were two glaring charts.

On the left is the daily active user curve of Weiguang Video over the past three days—it has skyrocketed like a rocket.

On the right is the daily active user curve of a music streaming app under Tencent Music Entertainment (TME)—showing a clear and alarming downward angle.

"Is this what you call 'copyright blocking'?"

Peng Jiaxin sat at the head of the table, his fingers rhythmically tapping on the table.

Click, click, click.

The sound was very soft, yet it was like the second hand counting down.

"We spent a billion yuan to wipe out Weiguang's copyright library. What I want to see is Weiguang becoming mute."

"And the result?"

Peng Jiaxin slammed his pen on the table.

The pen bounced up and rolled onto the carpet.

"They used a lousy song that cost less than 500 yuan to make, along with a bunch of low-brow cat meows, and they completely breached our defenses!"

"The operations department told me how many users downloaded 'Weiguang' because of this song in the past few days? And how many users complained because they couldn't find the song in our app?"

The operations director lowered his head, avoiding Peng Jiaxin's eyes: "Mr. Peng, this falls under 'viral marketing'... These kinds of songs have a very short lifespan; users will quickly get tired of them..."

"greasy?"

Peng Jiaxin sneered, stood up, and walked to the window.

"By the time users get tired of it, Lin Che will have already used this traffic to raise funds! Then he'll have the money to buy our copyrights, and might even poach our exclusive artists!"

"He's showing off against us."

Peng Jiaxin looked down at the ant-like stream of cars below, his tone icy.

"He is telling the capital market: content is not important, distribution is. He is trying to prove that the copyright moat that Tencent Music has built with tens of billions of yuan cannot stop the flood of algorithms."

"If he confirms this logic, TME's valuation will be halved."

The conference room was deathly silent.

No one dared to speak.

This is indeed TME's worst nightmare—if future music promotion no longer relies on charts but on short video background music, then Tencent Music's status as the "copyright landlord" will completely collapse.

"This can't go on."

Peng Jiaxin turned around, straightened his tie, and a hint of ruthlessness appeared in his eyes.

"Since conventional weapons can't win, then we'll use nuclear weapons."

All the executives looked up.

They know who that "nuclear weapon" is.

That name is the last unified standard of measurement in the Chinese music scene, a god that cannot be bypassed no matter how the algorithm is calculated.

"Contact JVR Music."

Peng Jiaxin gave the order.

"Tell them that TME is willing to offer the highest guaranteed revenue share, plus the only S+ level promotional resources on the entire network, whether it's splash screen ads, pop-ups, or QQ Music's red dot push notifications, give them everything."

There is only one condition.

Peng Jiaxin narrowed his eyes, his voice sharp as a knife.

Jay Chou's new album will be exclusively released online next Monday.

"And, sign an exclusivity agreement."

"The use of any clips from the new album on the Weiguang video platform is strictly prohibited."

A senior executive in the legal department hesitated somewhat: "Mr. Peng, Weiguang is currently protected by the 'safe harbor principle,' so if users upload it themselves..."

"Then send a lawyer's letter and issue a blacklist order."

Peng Jiaxin's voice was devoid of any warmth.

"Issue an industry-wide announcement."

"I want all users in China to know one thing: if you want to listen to real music, to listen to the songs of the king of pop, you can only come to Tencent."

"Where there is only vulgar garbage."

"This is war."

……

At 8 p.m. that evening.

An explosive news pop-up instantly ignited the entire Chinese internet.

[Breaking News! Jay Chou's new album will premiere exclusively on TME next Monday! Tencent Music issues a stern statement: Unauthorized use by the Weiguang video platform is strictly prohibited and will be prosecuted!]

The topic instantly went viral on Weibo's trending searches.

#JayChouNewAlbum#

#Weiguang banned from using Jay Chou's new song#

#Real Music VS Meowing Like a Cat#

A massive publicity machine has been started.

Subway stations, bus stops, and app splash screens are all plastered with the Heavenly King's familiar, aloof profile.

This is an open conspiracy.

This is a devastating blow from the overlords of the old era.

Microlight Technology, CEO's Office.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, Beijing's nightscape is dazzling.

Lin Che stood by the window, looking at the glaring red news notification on his phone screen.

The light from the screen illuminated his face, revealing no emotion.