Huayu: A master director who debuted as a singer

Chapter 100 What is freedom?

The following questions mostly revolved around his future academic plans and whether they would affect the pace of his album releases. Zheng Hui answered fluently, stating that he would balance his studies and music, and that his third album was already in the works.

The meeting lasted about twenty minutes, and the atmosphere remained friendly and even somewhat harmonious. The Hong Kong reporters had already been thoroughly fed with information by PolyGram, and going to school was, after all, a positive event. Without a conflict of interest, no one felt the need to nitpick about it.

With time running out, the PR director prepared to announce the last two questions.

He randomly pointed to a reporter sitting in the back row who had his hand raised. The reporter stood up and took the microphone from a staff member.

"Hello Zheng Hui."

As soon as he opened his mouth, his Taiwanese accent echoed throughout the conference hall, causing Zheng Donghan, who had been relaxed on the stage, to suddenly frown.

"I am a Hong Kong correspondent for the Taiwanese newspaper United Daily News."

"Your record sales in the entire Chinese-language market are astonishing, and your album 'Floating Life' has even received five nominations at the Golden Melody Awards."

"I would like to ask you, does this mean that your future creative direction will also become biased?"

The moment the question was raised, the entire conference room fell into an eerie silence.

All the Hong Kong reporters put down their pens and turned their attention to Zheng Hui on the stage.

That's too toxic.

This isn't asking about entertainment news anymore; this is deliberately setting a trap!

The business world is like a battlefield, and the explosive popularity of "Floating Life" has threatened the interests of too many competitors. This reporter was clearly bribed by another record company and came with a malicious mission targeting Zheng Hui.

Jung Dong-han's face darkened. He was about to turn to press the microphone of the public relations director, intending to cut off the question on the grounds that it was unrelated to today's topic.

But Zheng Hui gently placed his hand on the microphone, indicating that he didn't need to do that.

He stared directly at the reporter, his smile gradually fading.

"Mr. Reporter," Zheng Hui's voice was no longer as gentle as before.

"I think you're confusing music with your personal biases. I sing because I love music; I go to school because I want to study film. Neither of these things should be maliciously misinterpreted."

The reporter wasn't intimidated by Zheng Hui's tone. Instead, as if he had found some leverage, he immediately pressed on: "If it's really unrelated, then why don't you come here to study?"

These words can be described as extremely presumptuous and rude.

The Hong Kong reporters in the audience, though fond of watching the spectacle, felt that their colleagues had gone too far. They were simply trying to use their prejudice to label an eighteen or nineteen-year-old.

Zheng Donghan was plotting in his mind how to expose the rival company behind this mess and, incidentally, ban the newspaper's reporting rights in Hong Kong.

Faced with this aggressive questioning, Zheng Hui's expression turned completely somber.

He didn't get angry, nor did he slam his fist on the table.

He simply stared at the reporter for a full three seconds.

Zheng Hui gave him no chance to catch his breath: "My feet and my brain belong to me; they are free."

"I chose that place not for any utilitarian purpose, nor to show loyalty to anyone. It was because I believed that what I needed was there. There were teachers who could teach me how to make a good film, and there was fertile ground for me to settle down."

"I believe that true freedom is not about using the word 'freedom' to attack others."

True freedom is having the right to choose and the courage to take responsibility for those choices!

"I chose the mainland, and that is my freedom."

After saying this, Zheng Hui leaned back in his chair and didn't look at the reporter again.

The meeting room fell silent for a few seconds.

Immediately afterwards, a rapid series of camera shutter clicks rang out, and the flashes were so bright they were almost blinding.

Hong Kong reporters were frantically scribbling in their notebooks.

That was brilliant! That was brilliant!

This is not something an 18 or 19-year-old singer would say! This discourse on choice and freedom is logically rigorous, sharply countered, and has a grand vision. It can be regarded as a textbook example of a perfect response in the public relations field!

The reporter who had come with a mission stood there, unsure whether to leave or sit.

In the end, he could only sit down sheepishly amidst the strange looks from his colleagues.

Zheng Donghan watched Zheng Hui with admiration from the side. He originally thought that Zheng Hui would be provoked, and was even prepared to clean up his mess.

But to his utter surprise, this young man not only avoided falling into the trap set by his competitor, but also used this philosophical reasoning to completely refute the other party, while also elevating his own status in the process.

"This concludes today's media briefing! Thank you everyone!" The PR director tactfully cut off the Q&A session, knowing when to stop.

Escorted by security guards, Zheng Hui and Zheng Donghan quickly left the conference hall, leaving behind a group of reporters who were still excitedly discussing the matter.

Back to the executive suite on the top floor.

As soon as Zheng Donghan entered the room, he couldn't help but burst into laughter, patting Zheng Hui's shoulder forcefully.

"Hui-zai! What you just said was absolutely brilliant! I bet tomorrow all the newspapers in Hong Kong will be headlined with your line, 'True freedom is the right to choose!' These writers love these philosophical yet slightly rebellious golden quotes!"

Zheng Hui walked to the bar, poured two glasses of ice water, and handed one to Zheng Donghan. His rapid-fire delivery of words had left him feeling parched.

"Mr. Zheng, you flatter me. I'm just stating the facts. My rival company had someone smear mud on my face; I can't exactly accept it with a smile." Zheng Hui took a sip of water, his expression having returned to normal.

"However, as enjoyable as it is, there will definitely be some aftereffects."

Zheng Donghan's smile faded, and his brow furrowed slightly: "You don't need to worry about public opinion in Hong Kong; it's overwhelmingly praising you. But other record companies will definitely not let this go. Although you silenced that reporter, his competitors will certainly take things out of context and use that reporter's narrow-minded and biased remarks to continue hyping up the topic and smearing you. After all, your current achievements are too enviable."

"It doesn't matter. I earn money from legitimate record sales. If listeners like the songs, they'll buy them; if they find them controversial, they won't."

I can't change the minds of those with ulterior motives, nor do I intend to pander to them.

"You have a good attitude, but don't worry, the company won't just stand by and watch our competitors smear us. Universal's branch offices aren't pushovers either. I'll immediately give a firm order to use all our public relations resources and media connections to suppress those negative reports from our rival companies. With Universal's influence and influence, we can minimize the negative impact of this incident and completely erase it from the mainstream media."

Zheng Hui nodded: "Then I'll have to trouble the company."

"However, there are some hidden impacts that public relations can't resolve." Zheng Donghan sighed and looked at Zheng Hui: "For example, the Golden Melody Awards."

Zheng Donghan analyzed with a helpless expression: "You should know that 'Floating Life' leading in five nominations has long been the target of everyone's criticism."

If those envious competitors seize upon this biased question from the reporter today to make a big fuss and spread rumors about the judges, it will definitely have a significant impact.

"If they deliberately portray you as someone who panders to the mainland for resources and profit, the judges, to avoid getting caught in the controversy set up by rival companies, might give the award to other singers as a precaution."

At this point, Zheng Donghan looked at Zheng Hui with some regret. If they lost the title of "King of Singers" because of this unfounded malicious competition, it would indeed be a significant blow to the signing and press conference on May 1st.

However, upon hearing this possible outcome, Zheng Hui's reaction was surprisingly calm: "It doesn't matter, if they don't give it to me, they don't give it to me."

""

Zheng Hui genuinely didn't care. To him, music awards were merely icing on the cake, offering neither direct prize money nor special privileges in terms of distribution.

A trophy cannot change the fact that the album "Floating Life" has sold over 1.3 million copies across Asia, nor can it change the fact that he has made a fortune.

In contrast, if we're talking about awards, he values ​​film awards more.

Winning a Huabiao or Golden Rooster award in China means access to China Film Group's distribution resources, preferential treatment in theater scheduling, and more official investment. Winning major awards at the three major international film festivals means the copyright can be sold for a high price, and if the content is not obscure, it can also bring box office bonuses.

Film awards can be directly converted into real box office revenue and power; those are the real bargaining chips worth fighting for and grabbing.

As for the Golden Melody Awards? If they have the foresight to award the prizes, they'll go to Taipei to walk the red carpet themselves; if they don't award them because of underhanded tactics or malicious interference from their competitors, that's no big deal.

Zheng Donghan carefully observed Zheng Hui's expression. Having seen countless people, he could tell at a glance that this young man was genuinely unconcerned, rather than putting on a brave face.

Since Zheng Hui himself didn't care, Zheng Donghan swallowed the words of comfort he had prepared and didn't try to persuade him any further.

In fact, as the head of the record company, Zheng Donghan is more pragmatic than anyone else.

Awards are more often linked to a singer's status and fame, used to enhance their image and satisfy vanity. But in the eyes of capital, sales are the only true measure of success.

The 1.3 million copies sold for "Floating Life" represent real profits that are in your pocket. Compared to an award, this is what Universal Music truly values. It's all the better that Zheng Hui has this kind of clarity, unburdened by empty fame.

Zheng Hui looked at the draft paper on the table with some scribbled-over song titles: "For me, the most important thing right now is not worrying about whether I can win the Best Singer award. It's about putting all my energy into my third album. The new album is making me anxious, so I want to focus on making this new album and let better works speak for themselves."

Zheng Donghan looked at the young man in front of him who was still focusing on the music itself and nodded in satisfaction.

"Okay, then you can focus on your new album. If you need any resources during the preparation process, just let the company know."

Zheng Donghan stood up, clapped his hands with a smile, and said, "However, the company will still arrange your airfare and itinerary for the Golden Melody Awards on April 30th as usual. Whether you win a big award or not, we'll still walk the red carpet; we can't lose in terms of momentum."

See you at the press conference on May 1st.

"See you on May 1st," Zheng Hui replied with a smile.