Huayu: A master director who debuted as a singer

Chapter 101 Love Song? No problem at all.

Peninsula Hotel, Executive Suite.

The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking panoramic view of Victoria Harbour.

Zheng Hui sat at his desk, twirling a pen in his hand, with a stack of blank musical scores in front of him, his brows furrowed.

He has been in Hong Kong for two days now, and he has completely put the controversy at the media conference behind him. He has locked himself in his room and is focusing on preparing for his third album.

On May 1st, Universal Music will hold a signing ceremony for him with a record-breaking price tag. He needs to finalize the outline of his new album and the title track before the ceremony.

It would be even better if the release could be announced at the press conference, as it would be the best way to justify the 50 million signing fee paid by Universal.

However, he has a bit of a headache now.

He had so many songs in his head, like a warehouse full of treasures, but because there were so many treasures, he didn't know which one to take out and show first.

How about we do something avant-garde?

Jay Chou's "Jay"? David Tao's "Black Orange"? Or JJ Lin's R&B?

Zheng Hui wrote the words "Nunchucks" and "Tornado" on the paper, then crossed them out heavily.

No, taking too big a step might backfire. It's only the first half of 1999, and the public's ears are still dominated by traditional pop music and Hong Kong and Taiwan ballads.

If a long stretch of Jay Chou's rap and extremely complex R&B arrangements were to be released at this point, the market might not be able to absorb it instantly, and it might even be criticized by those old-fashioned music critics as incomprehensible noise.

We can't take that risk. Although his current status is at its zenith, what he needs is to solidify his divine status, not to become some kind of pioneering experimenter.

How about something with a Chinese style? "Dong Feng Po" or "Blue and White Porcelain"?

That's not advisable either. The wave of Chinese style needs time to develop. If it's released prematurely without sufficient cultural confidence, it may be amazing, but it may not achieve the explosive effect of sweeping across the market.

He casually pressed a few chords on the piano next to him and played a short prelude to "Jiangnan." It sounded nice, but it felt like something was missing.

"Not enough," Zheng Hui muttered to himself.

He just made some remarks to the media about choice and freedom, elevating himself to the level of an artist.

If he were to release a regular pop album right afterward, no matter how catchy the melody or how well it sells, it wouldn't be enough to justify his current high-class image.

The third album must be a blockbuster that can hold its own in 99 and showcase a style completely different from the previous two.

I can't figure it out, I really can't think of how to combine them.

Zheng Hui simply threw down his pen and stood up from his chair. Working in isolation wasn't the solution; he needed to talk to someone knowledgeable and spark some ideas.

"Dashan, have the hotel prepare a car," he shouted outside, grabbing his coat from the sofa and putting it on.

"Boss, where are we going?" Lin Dashan pushed the door open and came in.

"Go to Tsim Sha Tsui, Universal Music headquarters."

The headquarters of Universal Music (formerly PolyGram), which had just undergone acquisition and restructuring, was bustling with activity. Various departments were adjusting personnel and coordinating business operations, and employees carrying documents hurried along the corridors.

But as Zheng Hui walked in, every executive and employee who saw him, no matter how busy they were, would immediately stop and call out, "Mr. Zheng."

This is the kind of prestige a cash cow with 1.3 million album sales should have.

Upon arriving at the CEO's office on the top floor, the secretary didn't dare keep him waiting and immediately knocked on the door to announce his arrival.

Zheng Donghan was sitting behind his desk, looking at a stack of documents and reports. Several large cigars had already been extinguished in the ashtray on the desk, indicating that he had encountered a lot of troublesome messes.

But when Zheng Hui pushed the door open and came in, Zheng Donghan immediately pushed the documents in his hand aside, his tightly furrowed brows instantly relaxed, and he put on an extremely warm smile.

"Hui, what brings you here? Didn't you say you were going to be working on your new album in seclusion at the hotel?" Zheng Donghan personally left his seat, walked to the tea station, and brewed Zheng Hui a cup of Da Hong Pao tea.

Zheng Hui sat down on the sofa, took the teacup, and gave a wry smile: "Mr. Zheng, I came here because of the new album. It's giving me a bit of a headache."

Zheng Donghan was taken aback upon hearing this.

In his eyes, Zheng Hui was an absolute genius, the kind of prodigy who could create a masterpiece like "Floating Life" with his bare hands in seven days. And now this prodigy was coming to him complaining of a headache?

"What's wrong? Struck by a creative block?" Zheng Donghan sat down opposite him, asking with concern, his tone even tinged with anxiety. The creative state of this cash cow was crucial to the company's financial report for the second half of the year.

"Is it because you've been dealing with too many things lately, going to Beijing for exams and dealing with the media, that you're under too much pressure?"

If it really doesn't work out, take a break for a while. You only officially signed the contract on May 1st anyway, so you don't need to push yourself so hard for your third album. Take it slow.

"It's not that I can't write it." Zheng Hui took a sip of tea and sighed.

"I don't know what to write."

""

"No inspiration?"

"No, it's just that I have too many inspirations."

Zheng Hui looked at Zheng Donghan and said seriously, "I have at least thirty or forty songs in my head right now. I could put together a very high-quality album from any ten of them."

But I don't know which style to choose. I feel like choosing this theme would be a waste of such a good song.

Zheng Donghan had just picked up his teacup to drink when he heard this, and his hand trembled so violently that he almost spilled the scalding tea on his trousers.

He looked at the eighteen or nineteen-year-old young man in front of him with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

If it were any other singer, even those so-called kings of song who have been famous for a long time, they would be thankful and celebrate with champagne if they could come up with a barely listenable hit song after half a year of hard work.

This kid is something else, coming to me, the CEO, to fawn over me, saying he has thirty or forty songs in his head, so many inspirations he doesn't know which one to choose.

"You little brat—"

Zheng Donghan pointed at him, shook his head with a helpless smile: "If those musicians outside who can't write a single line of lyrics even after staying up all night heard this, they'd line up and come at you with their guitars."

Zheng Hui shrugged, looking completely innocent: "I'm serious, Mr. Zheng."

The first album, "Stubborn," is inspirational; the second, "Floating Life," is a medley of love stories; this third album should have a clear focus and soul.

Otherwise, if we just send it out like a hodgepodge, it won't be perfect, and it won't do justice to the 50 million signing bonus the company offered."

Zheng Donghan put away his joking expression, leaned back on the sofa, and fell into deep thought.

As a music industry godfather who has been in the business for decades, he understands all too well the decisive role of an album's positioning.

A catchy song is a success for a single, and its popularity may only last for a short time; but an album with a unified concept and a soul that touches people's hearts is the foundation for a superstar to remain popular for a long time.

"Hui-zai, since you feel there are too many choices and it's hard to decide, then I'll give you the simplest and most business-like advice."

"Let's skip the fluff and go straight for a pure love song album."

"A love song?" Zheng Hui raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Yes, pure love songs." Zheng Donghan nodded and began to analyze the market in a serious tone: "Look at the current Chinese music scene, whether it is Hong Kong, Taiwan, or even the mainland, the songs with the widest audience and the easiest to sell high are always love songs."

"Which of Jacky Cheung's 'Goodbye Kiss,' Jeff Chang's 'Too Much,' and Andy Lau's 'Ice Rain' didn't touch millions of people and sell massive quantities of music by focusing on love and romance?"

Zheng Donghan paused, observing Zheng Hui's expression, and continued, "Love songs have the lowest barrier to entry and the largest audience base. From teenagers just beginning to experience romantic feelings to men in their forties and fifties, who hasn't been in love? Who hasn't been heartbroken?"

As long as your melody is catchy enough, and your lyrics are poignant, heart-wrenching, and deeply emotional, sales are practically guaranteed.

"You're currently at the peak of your popularity, and what you need most is to take a steady and solid approach. A high-quality love song album can not only solidify your current market position but also prevent you from losing existing fans due to a large stylistic shift."

This is the safest and most reliable strategy. Since you have so much inspiration, just pick ten good love songs, and leave the rest to me and the company's marketing department. I guarantee you'll get the best-selling song in all of Asia.

After listening, Zheng Hui touched his chin noncommittally.

Zheng Donghan's statement is very accurate. From a purely business perspective, this is the most perfect and lowest-risk strategy.

But for Zheng Hui, this was too boring.

"Mr. Zheng, of course I can write love songs, and I guarantee I can write them better than most of the love songs on the market right now, and even force other singers not to release albums at the same time as me." Zheng Hui looked at Zheng Donghan with extreme confidence.

To prove he wasn't just talking nonsense, Zheng Hui cleared his throat, tapped his fingers on the mahogany coffee table in a 4/4 rhythm, and casually sang a melody that came to mind.

"Having nothing to say is more agonizing than arguing. Let's just break up and leave me to live alone—"

"Please stop clenching your hands so tightly. At least I can be clean and tidy when I'm alone—"

The chorus consists of only two short lines, sung a cappella without any instrumental accompaniment. Yet, the melody is extremely melancholic and flowing, and the lyrics, though straightforward, carry a strong sense of helplessness and resolute acceptance, instantly evoking vivid imagery.

Zheng Donghan's eyes lit up instantly. Just those two sentences!

With his decades of experience in the industry, he dares to guarantee with his head that as long as the arrangement is done, this will definitely be another hit song that will dominate the streets and alleys and make countless lovelorn men and women sing their hearts out in KTV!

"You see, this kind of song is a piece of cake for me, it's no challenge at all." Zheng Hui stopped tapping his fingers and shrugged.

He looked at Zheng Donghan, his eyes revealing the sharpness and ambition unique to young people.

"If I'm too busy making movies to create music in the future, or if I want to make some quick money, I can just close my eyes and release an album of pure love songs to fleece the market. But I can't do that now."

"I just signed a contract with Universal Music, and I've just established my public image in front of all the Hong Kong media. I want to seriously release an album that is original, innovative, and amazing."

I don't want music critics and listeners to think that Zheng Hui only writes about trivial love stories like "you love me, I love you."

Zheng Donghan looked at Zheng Hui, secretly surprised.

He initially thought Zheng Hui was just being arrogant, but after hearing those two amazing chorus lines, he realized that Zheng Hui genuinely thought love songs were too simple.

This arrogant self-confidence would be suicidal for anyone else, but in Zheng Hui it seemed so natural, even as if it were the natural thing to do.

Those two melodies were like a barbed hook, firmly hooking Zheng Donghan's musical cravings.

As a result, after the kid finished singing, he said he didn't want to write any more, feeling it wasn't challenging enough, which made Zheng Donghan feel extremely uncomfortable.

But Zheng Donghan was, after all, a big shot, and he quickly suppressed his longing for that unfinished love song. He stood up and paced back and forth in his office.

After a full two minutes, he stared intently at Zheng Hui.

"Hui-zai, you think love songs aren't challenging enough, you want something new, you want a challenge, right?"

"Yes." Zheng Hui nodded without hesitation, meeting his gaze.

"Okay, let's go all out!"

Zheng Donghan strode back to the sofa and sat down: "Let's review the underlying logic of your first two albums."

The first album, "Stubborn," is about youthful spirit, passion, and indomitable will.

With this album, you've captivated college students and young people just entering the workforce, brimming with dreams. You've become a spiritual icon in their hearts.

"The second album, 'Floating Life,' broadened its audience."

Although I repackaged and deconstructed it into a man's life story, elevating its themes, at its core, it still explores love and loss. It appeals to urban men and women who have been hurt and experienced regret in relationships.

"These two albums have allowed you to firmly establish yourself among young people and urban white-collar workers, making you unrivaled."

"But, Hui-zai, there's a group in this society that wields absolute power and has the strongest purchasing power, and you haven't completely won them over yet!"

Zheng Hui raised an eyebrow: "Which group?"

"Adults!"

"Isn't a large portion of the sales of 'Floating Life' made by adult male listeners? Even you said that this album brought them back to record stores."

"Floating Life" merely tore a hole in their hard shell!

Zheng Donghan shook his head, directly denying Zheng Hui's statement.

"It just makes those people think your songs are good and that you understand some emotions. But, Hui, you're only nineteen this year, you probably don't understand the true nature of society yet."

For a truly established adult, or a middle-aged man, love actually occupies a very, very small part of his life.

For them, love has even become a luxurious burden.

Zheng Donghan's voice became somewhat low, and he slowed down his speech, slowly unfolding a cruel picture of life before Zheng Hui.

"When you reach your thirties or forties, every morning when you open your eyes, you are surrounded by people who need to rely on themselves, but you have no one to rely on."

"When I open my eyes, all I see are mortgage payments and car loan payments; medical expenses for my elderly parents; exorbitant education costs for my children; unreasonable harassment from my boss at work; and the ambition of my subordinates to take my place at any moment."

"They dare not quit their jobs, dare not get sick, and dare not even breathe loudly at home."

Their youthful ideals, their grand pronouncements about wandering to distant lands and changing the world, have long been worn down by the mundane realities of daily life. Their passion has been drained by the repetitive nature of their work day after day.

"Every night after get off work, they park their cars in the dark garage, and quietly smoke a cigarette alone in the car to compose themselves before daring to put on a fake smile and push open the door to their home."

F

Zheng Donghan stared directly into Zheng Hui's eyes.

"The heartbreak and unrequited love depicted in 'Floating Life' are things that only young people can experience, and are even somewhat sentimental troubles."

Their greatest pain right now isn't love at all!

"It's the feeling of powerlessness in the face of life! It's the panic of being pushed along by time and looking back to find that you've accomplished nothing!"

It's heartbreaking to be an unknown person even after years of hard work in a big city!

It's the guilt of feeling powerless to help my aging parents!

Zheng Hui listened intently. Zheng Donghan truly lived up to his reputation as a top figure in the industry; his analysis of the backbone of society was incredibly insightful.

"So, Hui-zai."

"If you really want to challenge yourself, if you want to make an album that is profound, innovative, and can truly leave an immortal mark on the Chinese music scene."

Set aside all romantic feelings and write a completely, utterly dedicated album for these ordinary people struggling at the bottom of society and enduring hardship in the middle!

"Sing of their resentment! Sing of their helplessness! Sing of their wasted lives! Sing out their heartfelt sentiments!"

"If you, a nineteen-year-old, can write this album so thoroughly, so deeply, that it touches the very marrow of those who have been battered by life, making them feel a chill run down their spines and tears stream down their faces when they listen to it late at night—"

Zheng Donghan slammed his hand on the coffee table, making a loud noise.

"Then you, Zheng Hui, are no longer just an ordinary popular singer! You are a master! You are the godfather of the music industry!"

You will crush all those self-important music producers in the Chinese music scene, leaving them only able to look up to you!

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