Chapter 36: The Rules of the Entertainment Industry

Fang Xing stood out as something of an anomaly on this show—he still hadn’t signed with a management company. The reason for this had much to do with Chen Chaonan. When “Tomorrow’s Star” was in its early planning stages, Tong Fei, relying on personal connections, invited Chen Chaonan to serve as vocal coach for the program. During their conversation, Chen Chaonan asked Tong Fei to give students from Donghai Conservatory of Music more opportunities. Tong Fei graciously obliged, hosting a three-day audition at Donghai Conservatory to specifically select students for the show.

Fang Xing was still a student at Donghai Conservatory and wouldn’t graduate until June. He happened to participate in the show’s audition while still in school and thus slipped into “Tomorrow’s Star.” Because he wasn’t recommended by any entertainment company, he hadn’t signed with one yet.

Ordinarily, someone in Fang Xing’s situation would make a brief appearance in Class F and then return to school. No one expected that in the very first performance, Fang Xing would become the center of attention with an overwhelming display of talent. When “Nocturne” and “Wild Bird” first trended online, ChaoYin Entertainment didn’t pay much attention. After all, Fang Xing had only showcased those two songs. If that was the extent of his repertoire, then in the eyes of a major company, his potential was limited.

Liu Rongxuan happened to be on a business trip to Donghai, so he stopped by the set to see if Fang Xing had greater potential. After listening to “Lovers Under Heaven” and “The Difficult Sutra,” he realized this newcomer was far more formidable than expected.

Liu Rongxuan didn’t bring up Fang Xing immediately. Instead, he looked at Tong Fei with interest and asked, “Fei, do you have time for dinner tonight?”

Tong Fei laughed. “We just wrapped filming for this episode, and it airs next Friday. Do you think I have time for dinner?”

“That’s a pity,” Liu Rongxuan sighed, then shifted to the main topic. “Those two songs just now—did Fang Xing produce them himself?”

“Yes. He composed every note right in front of the cameras,” Tong Fei replied.

“I heard from the crew that Fang Xing hasn’t signed with any management company. How did that happen?” Liu Rongxuan found it odd. Practically all the trainees on “Tomorrow’s Star” were sent by various entertainment agencies. Independent trainees were rare.

“We found a gem at Donghai Conservatory,” Tong Fei said with a smile.

“Has any agency tried to approach him?” Liu Rongxuan pressed further. Feifan Entertainment and ChaoYin had always been partners, so he spoke candidly.

“What do you think?” Tong Fei’s smile carried a clear implication.

In truth, ever since the first season of “Tomorrow’s Star,” agencies privy to insider information had started courting trainees without contracts even before the show aired. Some trainees, even those under contract but with low penalty clauses, were poached by bigger companies. Competition among agencies was fierce.

That’s why, in later seasons, companies required trainees to sign contracts with hefty penalties before sending them to the show.

The day after Fang Xing performed “Nocturne” and “Wild Bird,” agencies were already trying to make contact. Tong Fei, however, had the staff keep all these headhunters at bay. When those songs trended on Weibo, agencies eager to approach Fang Xing multiplied beyond count, but again, Tong Fei fended them off. Moreover, Fang Xing had not left the training camp during this period and thus hadn’t met with any company.

Liu Rongxuan understood Tong Fei’s meaning and grinned. “Have him sign a management contract as a prerequisite for debuting with the group.”

Tong Fei’s smile faded. “Are you saying that if he doesn’t sign, ChaoYin Entertainment will intervene in the show?”

“It’s just a management contract,” Liu Rongxuan insisted. “If he’s truly talented, I won’t shortchange him.”

“That’s your business,” Tong Fei replied, refusing to get involved.

Liu Rongxuan wasn’t offended. He chuckled, “Fine, I’ll send someone to discuss the contract with him. But you should stay out of this.”

Although Tong Fei had blocked other agencies, ChaoYin Entertainment was different. The management contract for the show’s limited-time group would ultimately be handed to ChaoYin, so if they wanted to sign Fang Xing, Tong Fei wouldn’t stand in the way.

—

The next morning, Fang Xing got up early for vocal practice and only went to the training camp cafeteria for breakfast at eight. He ran into trainees from other groups, many of whom greeted him warmly—a stark contrast to before, when few would have bothered. In the entertainment industry, strength was everything, especially when it came to music production.

Fang Xing responded to each greeting with a polite nod and a smile. After breakfast, a director came to inform him that someone wanted to see him in one of the small meeting rooms.

When Fang Xing entered, he was greeted by a sophisticated woman in a professional skirt suit, who stood up with a smile and introduced herself, “Hello, I’m Dai Huiyun, assistant to the Director of Artists at ChaoYin Entertainment.”

“Hello,” Fang Xing replied politely, shaking her hand. Hearing her title, he already had a good idea why she was here.

Fang Xing had anticipated being approached by a company as soon as he realized he hadn’t signed with one. The fact that ChaoYin sent only the director’s assistant could mean they were either showing their status as a big company, or they didn’t value him much.

Dai Huiyun produced a contract. “Both the production team and investors are optimistic about you, so we need you to sign a supplementary agreement. As long as you sign and maintain your current performance, your debut in the group is secure.”

Any other trainee would have been overjoyed and signed immediately. For a virtually unknown artist, a promise of debut from a major company was already a generous offer.

There were many unwritten rules behind talent shows; things were far less straightforward than they appeared. For most trainees, not signing this contract would mean elimination in the next round. Elimination surprises were common in these shows. In fact, the final lineup was often decided before filming even began, with companies negotiating debut spots for their trainees in advance.

Only with such guarantees would major companies bother sending their trainees to compete. Some talent shows were even produced by entertainment companies solely to promote their own artists.

For a contestant without a big company backing them, debuting was nearly impossible. Even if a miracle happened—if a “black swan” suddenly became a hit—they would be forced to sign with a major company. Refuse? Then elimination would swiftly follow.