Huayu: A master director who debuted as a singer

In the control room, Zhang Jianguo heard the first sentence, looked up, and looked at Zheng Hui through the glass.

That voice, that penetrating power.

Without the crying tone and vocal flourishes commonly used by Hong Kong and Taiwan singers, it was just straightforward. Zhang Jianguo silently turned up the volume of the monitor speakers by one notch.

"I'm clinging to my last bit of stubbornness, holding hands tightly and refusing to let go!"

In the high register, there was no distortion or strain. The vocal cords closed perfectly, and the resonance cavities were fully open.

After the recording finished, the control room was quiet for a few seconds.

The sound engineer turned to Zhang Jianguo and said, "Director, this kid... he's got something."

Zhang Jianguo nodded: "It's good, this song will be a hit."

For the next few days, the recording studio was filled with music, except for eating and sleeping.

The sense of being torn apart in "Chasing Dreams".

The rap rhythm of "My Sky".

The ethereal echo of "The Brightest Star in the Night Sky".

The ten thousand yuan was well spent; the musicians from the provincial song and dance troupe perfectly reproduced the arrangement in Zheng Hui's mind, and even added their own understanding and embellishment to some details, making it more human than the original.

On the last afternoon, the mixing was completed. Zheng Hui, holding the newly burned DAT master tape, sat on the sofa in the control room and listened to the entire album.

perfect.

Zhang Jianguo walked in, holding a document in his hand: "Finished recording?"

"It's finished recording." Zheng Hui put the master tape into the case. "Thanks, Director Zhang. Thank you for taking care of me these past few days."

"Don't mention it, I'm just doing my job." Zhang Jianguo sat down opposite Zheng Hui: "What are your plans next? Release it through a record company?"

Zheng Hui said, "I don't plan to. Those companies have too many rules, take a lot of cuts, and you have to be subservient to them. I plan to pay them myself."

Zhang Jianguo raised an eyebrow: "Post it yourself? You have the channels?"

Zheng Hui smiled and said, "We'll work out the channels eventually. But there's an urgent matter right now. If I want my tapes to get into Xinhua Bookstore and be sold openly on the counter, I need some kind of official status."

Zhang Jianguo, a veteran publisher, understood immediately: "Buying a publishing license? You can handle that with us. We, White Swan Publishing House, are a publishing house with a dedicated distribution department."

Zhang Jianguo pointed upstairs: "Second floor, find Director Liu in the distribution department. As long as your lyrics are fine, not reactionary or pornographic, and you pay the management fee, they'll take care of the rest."

Zheng Hui nodded, picked up his bag, and went upstairs to the second floor.

The distribution department was much more formal than the recording studio downstairs, with several desks pushed together and piled high with various documents and sample tapes.

Director Liu, a middle-aged woman wearing thick glasses, was stamping documents.

"You're going to self-publish?" Director Liu took the printed lyrics and a copy of his ID card from Zheng Hui.

"Yes, I want to buy a game license."

"We call this collaborative publishing," Director Liu corrected, picking up the lyrics and quickly skimming through them.

"Stubbornness", "A Child's Heart Chasing Dreams", "Proud Youth"...

She looked at it very carefully, marking it with a red pen as she looked.

"It's better to burn brightly than to linger on in vain..."

Zheng Hui's heart skipped a beat: "Is there a problem?"

Director Liu looked up: "No problem, it's well written and very inspiring."

The government is currently promoting holistic education and positive energy, and your lyrics align with the requirements of building a civilized society.

Zheng Hui breathed a sigh of relief.

"However, you need to understand the rules." Director Liu put down his pen and took out a copy of the "Audio-Visual Products Commissioned Publication Agreement" from his drawer.

"The copyright belongs to you; we won't buy it outright. Whether the song becomes a hit or flops in the future is none of our business; you're responsible for your own profits and losses."

"We charge a management fee, which includes applying for an ISBN number for you (book number) and registering with the provincial press and publication bureau to obtain a 'Copying Authorization Letter.' Without this authorization letter, legitimate CD and tape manufacturers won't dare to press tapes for you."

"How much?"

"Since you recorded it downstairs, I'll give you a discount, 12,000."

Director Liu explained, "This includes the license number fee, the review fee, and the fee for reviewing your cover design."

However, you need to design the cover yourself, or hire someone to do it, and then submit it to us for review. You must include space for the publisher's name and the ISBN.

Twelve thousand, plus fifteen thousand for the recording, and the previous travel expenses.

The production cost of this album was kept under 30,000 yuan. In Hong Kong, 30,000 yuan wouldn't even be a fraction of that.

Without hesitation, Zheng Hui took out a stack of unopened hundred-yuan bills from his bag and counted out twenty more.

Director Liu looked at the money, and his expression softened considerably.

She pushed the agreement towards me: "Okay, sign it, put your fingerprint on it, and let me see your ID card."

Zheng Hui took out the green Macau return permit.

Director Liu glanced at it and said, "A fellow Macao resident? Then there's even less of a problem. Welcome back to the motherland to invest in the cultural industry."

After signing and paying, Director Liu gave Zheng Hui a receipt.

"Applying for a publication license requires going through a process and submitting it to the provincial bureau. It can take as little as seven days or as long as half a month."

We will give you two things: an ISBN barcode and a "Copying Authorization Form for Audio-Visual Products" stamped with a red seal.

With the authorization letter in hand, you can go find a factory to press the tapes. Our company, White Swan, also has its own replication factory in Panyu. You can go there directly; the prices are fair.

Zheng Hui put away the receipt and stood up.

"Thank you, Director Liu."

"Young man, the song is good. I wish you great success." Director Liu rarely showed a smile.

As Zheng Hui walked out of the building, he hailed a taxi.

"Where to?"

Guangzhou Academy of Fine Arts.

Near the Guangzhou Academy of Fine Arts, there are many small design studios and printing shops.

Zheng Hui walked into a studio with a sign that read "Avant-garde Design" hanging at the entrance.

The room was covered with all sorts of avant-garde posters, and several young people with long hair were editing photos on their computers.

"Design?" A young man turned his chair around.

"Make the cassette cover." Zheng Hui took out a sketch, which he had drawn himself last night.

There is no scenery, no artistic lettering.

Only black and white are available.

A beam of intense light shone down from the center.

A boy's back is against the light, holding a microphone in his hand, as if he is fighting against the whole world.

The words "stubborn" are printed on it.

The album is called "Stubborn".

Minimalist and austere, it's definitely an anomaly in a market full of brightly colored and flashy cassette tapes.

"This composition..." The young man took the sketch, his eyes lighting up: "Dude, this is interesting."

"Can you do it?"

"I can do it, I can do it so well. This kind of work is really satisfying." The young man slammed the sketch on the table: "One thousand yuan, I'll see the draft tomorrow."

"Eight hundred, I want to see the finished product tonight." Zheng Hui stared at him.

The young man glanced at Zheng Hui: "Okay, tonight it is."

That evening, Zheng Hui received the film of the design draft.