Just because I wrote "Zhu Xian," the school beauty sent me razor blades.

"Summer Wind" dominated the top of the Star Cloud Chart for several days, and its popularity remained high, causing undercurrents in the music scene.

Executives at major music companies stared at the data for a week, their eyes practically popping out of their sockets. A second-tier singer, Xu Nian, along with an unknown composer—had so easily overturned "Midsummer," a song written and composed by senior composer Chu Nan and sung by renowned A-list female singer He Ying?

The seasoned veterans in the music industry may not say it, but they're all wondering: who exactly composed this song?

No matter how you check, on the music copyright registration platform of China, the lyricist and composer of "Summer Wind" clearly states—

Lin Yuan.

A name that has never appeared on any list and cannot be found.

The name "Lin Yuan" remained a mystery throughout August.

Some people guessed it was an alias of a top composer, while others guessed it was a musical genius who had returned from overseas.

The entire industry is searching for the answer.

Lin Yuan himself was lying on the sofa at home, holding a glass of watermelon juice that his mother had just squeezed, looking exactly like a college freshman who was still slacking off during the summer vacation.

Starway Entertainment, Boardroom.

On either side of the long table, a dozen or so directors took their seats. Some held teacups with blank expressions, some flipped through data on their tablets with furrowed brows, and others clearly came with a belly full of anger, slamming their folders on the table as soon as they sat down—the sound wasn't loud, but the noise was considerable.

Zhou Hongyuan, chairman of Starway Entertainment, sat in the main seat. He was nearly sixty years old, with gray hair that was neatly combed. His face was calm, exuding an air of authority. He didn't rush to speak, but instead glanced around at everyone present. His gaze was steady and slow, as if he were weighing the thoughts hidden behind each person's expression.

"Everyone's here, let's begin."

His voice wasn't loud, but the meeting room immediately fell silent.

Wu Liang sat at the lower end of the long table, having looked at the tablet in his hand at least ten times. On the screen, the playback data and the ranking on the Star Cloud Chart of "Summer Wind" were like two nails, firmly fixed on his eyes, impossible to remove.

He had beads of sweat on his forehead, and the back of his shirt clung to his skin, feeling cool as if a snake was sliding down his spine.

"Regarding the results of the August Nebula Rankings," Zhou Hongyuan looked at him, "Wu Liang, you go first."

Wu Liang put down the tablet, cleared his throat, and stood up with a stiff upper lip.

"Distinguished board members..." He licked his dry lips, "In the August Star Chart, our song 'Midsummer,' sung by He Ying and with lyrics and music by Chu Nan, is currently ranked fifth."

He paused for a moment, as if he were mentally preparing himself.

"At Tianxing Entertainment, Xu Nian's rendition of 'Summer Breeze' is currently ranked number one. It has surpassed 120 million views, and all data metrics are overwhelmingly superior to ours."

A murmur rippled through the conference room.

"One hundred and twenty million?" A balding director frowned. "What's the marketing budget?"

"Two million." Wu Liang's voice sounded like it was being squeezed out.

"Two million?!" Another director nearly jumped out of his chair. "Our 'Midsummer' promotion cost eight million, and it's being overshadowed by a song that cost two million?"

The whispers in the meeting room instantly turned into a buzzing discussion.

Zhou Hongyuan didn't speak, but simply tapped the table twice.

The sound of the tapping was crisp and restrained, like a gavel in court.

The meeting room fell silent again.

"Wu Liang," Zhou Hongyuan's voice remained steady, "what is the background of Lin Yuan, the composer of 'Summer Wind'?"

Wu Liang's body stiffened.

This is the problem he fears most.

"Our people checked the name and found absolutely no record of it in the entire industry; he's a complete newcomer."

"A newcomer?" Zhou Hongyuan narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Yes," Wu Liang said, forcing himself to continue.

The meeting room was silent for two seconds.

Then, a director with gray hair and gold-rimmed glasses slowly spoke, his voice not loud, but every word clear:

"Wu Liang, are you saying that Chu Nan, the top composer you poached from Tianxing, was defeated by a newcomer? Is that what you mean?"

Wu Liang's face turned pale.

That sentence was like a dull knife, not sharp, but it hurt.

He took a deep breath, trying to make his voice sound calm—even though a second layer of sweat had appeared on his forehead.

"Distinguished directors, this is truly unexpected."

Wu Liang placed his hands on the table, leaned slightly forward, and spoke urgently and sincerely, much like a student who had been caught failing an exam explaining to his parents that "the questions were actually too obscure."

"Lin Yuan was at most incredibly lucky, just happened to write a song that resonated with the public's emotions. This isn't unprecedented in the music industry—many newcomers have one hit song, then their subsequent works simply disappear from the public eye. This is a case of accidental success, not a sign of consistent output."

He glanced around at the board members, his eyes filled with an earnest plea: "You have to trust me."

"I implore the board to give me a chance to redeem myself. I will definitely turn things around in the September rankings."

No one responded in the meeting room.

The air was so quiet you could hear the hum of the air conditioner vents.

After a few seconds, Zhou Hongyuan picked up the teacup, took a sip, and put it down.

"Where is Chu Nan? What is Chu Nan's attitude?"

Wu Liang's face paled even more: "Chu Nan... Chu Nan said he didn't expect this either, and admitted that we miscalculated."

"Admit a miscalculation?" The director with the gold-rimmed glasses sneered. "An eight million publicity budget, plus Chu Nan's name, lost to a newcomer and a second-tier singer. Is admitting a miscalculation enough?"

Wu Liang lowered his head, not daring to reply.

The atmosphere in the meeting room was so oppressive it was hard to breathe.

Just then, a middle-aged man who had been sitting at the far end of the long table and had remained silent slowly spoke.

"Tianxing is preparing for this year's annual music awards ceremony."

His voice wasn't loud, but every word was as heavy as a stone.

Everyone turned to look at him—Chen Ting'an, Chief Strategy Officer of Starway Entertainment.

Chen Ting'an was in his early fifties, thin, wearing frameless glasses, with a refined and scholarly air, and spoke in a calm and unhurried manner. But those who knew him knew that he never fought an unprepared battle; once he opened his mouth, it was usually followed by bad news.

"Gentlemen, I'd like to say a few words." He adjusted his glasses, his gaze sweeping over the piles of data reports on the table. "The Nebula Rankings are never just a simple monthly ranking for any company."

He paused for a moment, and all eyes in the conference room fell on him.

"Firstly, at the end of the year, singers are promoted, with second-tier singers rising to first-tier status, and first-tier singers aiming for the titles of Best Female Singer and Best Male Singer. The Star Chart performance is a key indicator."

He held up one finger, speaking slowly and deliberately, yet every word he uttered was suffocating.

"Secondly, for annual awards such as Song of the Year, Best Singer, and Best Composer, the Star Chart is the most crucial reference. Whether you get a nomination, and how many nominations you receive, the judges look at your performance on the Star Chart throughout the year."

He raised his second finger, his voice deepening.

"Therefore, the upcoming competition for the Nebula Chart is not just a matter of face; it concerns the company's development over the next few years. If we can't win the charts in the next few months, the singers' path to advancement will be blocked, the annual awards will slip through our fingers, and the company's industry standing and influence will decline. This isn't about losing a single song; it's about losing the entire game."

He closed the report and calmly swept his gaze over everyone present.

The voice wasn't loud, but it made everyone in the room sit up straight.