A song called "The You of the Past" has prompted the entire internet to beg me not to leav

"You have to show them that you're really not scared!"

"You're playin' with your life, this ain't no truth or dare!"

Lao Xue's voice, with its tearing explosive power, accompanied by soul-stirring drumbeats, completely ignited the entire stage.

At this moment, the Wilshire Banquet Hall was no longer a glamorous charity gala; it had clearly become a scene of Lao Xue's lone slaughter.

Justin Davis, sitting in the audience, gripped his wine glass tightly, his body trembling uncontrollably.

As a North American pop king, he knew better than anyone what the melody pouring into his ears meant at that moment.

This is a timeless masterpiece that will be etched in the history of pop music!

The perfect collision of rhythm and blues with hard rock, it's no exaggeration to say, was at least an era ahead of current North American pop music.

The bizarre, gravity-defying yet incredibly sexy and wild slide on stage was a miracle that would make the entire American dance community kneel in awe.

"Beat it! Beat it! No one wants to be defeated!"

"Showin' how funky strong is your fighter!"

"It doesn't matter who's wrong or right!"

The final, extremely intense electric guitar solo reached its climax.

Lao Xue finished with a highly dynamic spin, his left hand pointing straight to the sky, his right hand pressing down the brim of his hat, perfectly freezing the moment.

The accompaniment stopped abruptly.

In the huge banquet hall, even the clinking of knives and forks disappeared.

For a full ten seconds, no one dared to breathe loudly.

"Slap! Slap!"

The black gold medal producer who dropped his cigar on his crotch and burned a hole in it was the first to jump up from his chair, clapping wildly and letting out meaningless screams.

It's like pressing a switch, and then a second person, a third person...

All of the more than one hundred top producers, platinum singers, and financial tycoons who wield considerable influence in the North American music scene pushed back their chairs and stood up!

Thunderous applause mixed with whistles nearly lifted the dome of the banquet hall.

Music knows no borders. Faced with a truly overwhelming force, these once proud Anssa people could only bow their heads and offer their most primal fervor.

Old Xue's chest heaved violently as he looked at the superstars below the stage who had ignored him just half an hour ago but were now shouting like fanatical believers. His eyes suddenly stung with tears.

His gaze fell, sweeping over Justin in the first row.

The superstar's face turned ashen. He tried to force a disdainful sneer to save face, but his facial muscles were completely out of control, and he ended up awkwardly avoiding Lao Xue's gaze.

Lao Xue didn't mock him.

The boss once said that when a lion passes by an ant colony, it doesn't need to care about the ants' mental health.

He bowed deeply, pressing down on the brim of his hat, then turned and strode off the stage.

That night, the blurry video, shot directly by the experts at the scene with their mobile phones, went viral on Twitter and YouTube.

The extremely catchy and rebellious melody of "Beat It" gave North American audiences a small shock of Chinese culture.

The terms "moonwalk" and "mysterious Chinese singer" aggressively occupied seven of the top ten trending topics on Twitter.

North American netizens were immediately thrilled.

[Holy shit! Newton can't control him? He's sliding around on the floor!]

This is what hardcore pop is all about! Justin Timberlake's synthesized voices are like a music box next to this!

[I need all the information on this man who crushes Hollywood in three minutes!]

Netizens, whose very identities had been exposed, quickly identified Lao Xue as an artist under the Huaxia "Don't Want to Work" Entertainment Group.

What truly shattered their worldview was Lao Xue's fervent speech during a backstage interview with a North American reporter:

"I didn't write this song. The lyrics, music, arrangement, and even this moonwalk routine were all taught to me by my boss via video call from across the Pacific Ocean half an hour ago!"

The reporter was frantic, shoving the microphone into his mouth as he pressed for details about who the boss was.

Old Xue raised his head, his face brimming with undisguised pride: "That man who, a few days ago, filled nine trophies with a plastic basket meant for cabbages. Lin Yan!"

boom!

The servers on the global Internet almost crashed.

The North American music industry is completely stunned.

It's one thing to be amazing at writing symphonies, and another to be amazing at writing love songs, but you, a Chinese person from the far East, casually throw out a hit English song and incidentally invent a robotic dance that can dominate the dance floors worldwide?

Is this some kind of entertainment project or did aliens bring in supplies?!

the next day.

The Los Angeles branch of the "Don't Want to Work" group went all out, using its terrifying financial power to flood major streaming platforms across the United States with the lossless studio version of "Beat It".

Just five hours!

"Beat It" exploded in numbers, knocking Justin Timberlake off the charts after three weeks of dominating them, and debuting at number one on the North American Billboard live singles chart!

A Chinese singer, with a single song, not only broke through the iron gates of the North American pop scene, but also dismantled the gates and used them as firewood, brazenly sitting on the owner's genuine leather sofa.

Weibo, a Chinese social media platform, crashed on the spot.

Countless netizens are watching videos of Lao Xue dominating the overseas banquet, their blood boiling with excitement.

[Lin Shen is so good at hype! He's just sitting at home, and the music comes down from the sky! I give this cross-sea output a perfect score!]

[Old Xue's slides were so smooth those days! I suggest applying for UNESCO World Heritage status!]

[Did you see Justin's face turn as green as a cantaloupe? I'm so happy! Lin is the best at protecting his own!]

Completely engrossed, Lao Xue posted a nearly 1,000-word essay on both Weibo and Twitter.

The article tearfully describes how the boss, Lin Yan, descended like a god in his despair, pulling out a divine song to save him. The adoration overflowing between the lines makes one wish they could erect a memorial tablet for Lin Yan and offer incense to him every day.

Countless onlookers flooded into Lao Xue's comment section, showering him with likes, and then collectively tagged Lin Yan, hoping that this salted fish tycoon would deliver a few domineering remarks.

At this time, in a villa on a hillside in Xinghai City.

Lin Yan placed a bowl of freshly stewed rock sugar pears next to Shen Qingqiu, who was looking at the financial report.

"Wife, this is to relieve autumn dryness. Blow on it before drinking." Lin Yan smiled and wiped her hands on her apron.

Shen Qingqiu picked up the white porcelain bowl, glanced at the trending topic on her iPad that filled the entire screen with her husband's name, and her eyes curved into a beautiful smile.

"Old Xue wrote an 800-word love confession for you online, and netizens have put you on a pedestal. Aren't you going to respond?"

Lin Yan took out his phone and glanced at the extremely cheesy tweet.

He curled his lip in disdain.

He didn't care at all about topping the North American Billboard charts.

It would be a disgrace for a time traveler to lose face if he couldn't beat a few foreign devils with MJ's trump card. He simply couldn't stand seeing his own employees being trampled on by outsiders.

My fingertips tapped the screen rapidly a few times.

Lin Yan then tossed his phone onto the sofa, turned around, and strolled back to the kitchen: "The ribs are soaking until they're bleeding, so we'll have sweet and sour ribs tonight."

At the same time, on Weibo.

Millions of netizens who had been waiting patiently finally saw Lin Yan's official reply under Lao Xue's long post.

There was no patriotic declaration as expected.

There is no lonely Versailles without masters.

[Don't want to go to work - Lin Yan: Stop fooling around outside. Come back right now, you haven't finished washing the cafeteria dishes from last month.]

The entire internet: ? ? ?

North American music scene: ? ? ?

After a brief pause, the comment section was completely flooded with "hahaha".

[What the hell?! Old Xue just had a blast in North America, and you want him to go back and wash dishes?!]

[Whether you're number one on the Billboard charts or have a Grammy Award, even if you don't want to work for a company, you'll still have to obediently go to the kitchen to wash dishes!]

[Lin Yan: Showing off is fine, but you can't leave the dishes unwashed.]

[North American singers are on the verge of collapse: The bad news is, we've been thoroughly humiliated; the worse news is, the one humiliating us is a dishwasher.]

In a hotel across the ocean.

Holding his phone, Lao Xue stared intently at the screen, unable to resist chuckling and cursing, but his eyes welled up with tears.

He understood perfectly. This was the man's purest form of protection, a way of telling him not to be afraid, that the company would support him even if the sky fell.