Chapter 38: If You Don’t Sign, You’re Out

Fang Xing once again pushed the contract back to Dai Huiyun, smiling as he refused, “Sorry, I won’t sign this.”

Dai Huiyun’s expression turned cold, then shifted to one of anger as she threatened, “Aren’t you afraid of being eliminated?”

Fang Xing laughed, spreading his hands, “If Chao Yin Culture can manipulate the show, then go ahead and eliminate me. I really don’t care.”

Dai Huiyun switched to a more persuasive tone, trying to reason with him, “Fang Xing, you’d better think carefully. There have been plenty of artists before you, thinking they’re so talented, going against the company, only to be shelved or blacklisted. You’re at your prime now. If you get banned for a few years, by then your chances will have passed.”

Fang Xing grew increasingly speechless, chuckled softly, “That’s fine by me. I can just go back to school. Don’t tell me Chao Yin Culture can even get Dong Yin University to expel me.”

Dai Huiyun finally realized Fang Xing was utterly unyielding; trying to trick him into signing was impossible. She sighed and said, “Then tell me what kind of contract you’d be willing to sign. I’ll report back to the boss.”

Fang Xing thought for a moment, replying, “It’s unrealistic for a newcomer to demand a high revenue share for the first few years, so I don’t have high expectations for that. But I do have a few demands.

“First, I want to choose my own jobs; the company can’t force assignments on me.

“Second, I’ll only sign a music management contract. We’ll need a separate agreement for music production rights.

“Third, the contract term is only three years. If I want to renew, we’ll negotiate after that.”

Dai Huiyun’s eyes widened in shock, “That’s impossible—your demands are the equivalent of a platinum contract. No company would ever agree to them.

“Do you know what a platinum contract is? Have you heard of platinum records? Thirty years ago, only albums that sold a hundred thousand copies were called platinum. Platinum contracts are reserved for the superstars who’ve released platinum records. No company would agree to your terms.”

“Just report back as you see fit. If your boss thinks we can’t reach an agreement, have the production team notify me to withdraw from the show,” Fang Xing said, then left without another word.

Dai Huiyun was a bit stunned—this was the most difficult artist she’d ever encountered.

...

News of Fang Xing’s failed contract negotiations quickly reached Tong Fei.

“Tomorrow’s Star” was her program; something like this could never escape her notice.

At first, she thought someone like Fang Xing, a newcomer, would be easily handled by Chao Yin Culture. After all, just dangling a big promise, there were plenty of trainees eager to sign.

Yet Fang Xing was an exception—he’d refused twice, and put forth extremely lenient contract terms.

In fact, Fang Xing’s demands were almost reminiscent of a platinum contract in the entertainment industry. Such contracts were usually reserved for superstars, and even top idols struggled to attain them.

However, his revenue share didn’t match—the ratio wasn’t high, more like a high-level contract.

But the demands Fang Xing made would give the agency almost no control over him. He could pick and choose jobs at will, and refuse anything he didn’t want.

Even for top-tier celebrities, companies would never agree to such terms.

The popularity of idols doesn’t last long—usually a year or two at most. In recent years, there have been “drama-dump idols,” whose fame fades quickly.

Agencies have to squeeze all possible value out during the peak. There have even been cases where girl group members, sick and hooked up to IV drips, still had to take jobs.

Fang Xing refused to be treated as a money-making machine, working non-stop like livestock.

So, he’d rather quit than sign away his freedom.

...

At six in the afternoon, Fang Xing was notified by staff and made his way to the chief director’s office.

“Sit.”

Tong Fei pointed to the chair in front of her desk.

Fang Xing sat down, taking in the mature, dignified, yet still delicate and beautiful woman before him.

There was an air of mature elegance about her; at first glance, she resembled an ideal wife and mother, even seeming somewhat submissive.

But her appearance and personality couldn’t be more different.

Her looks suggested compliance, but she was actually a powerhouse—a behind-the-scenes force behind the country’s first generation of fan-elected idols.

After observing for a while, Fang Xing realized: when she smiled, she seemed warm and easy-going, but when she didn’t, she exuded a sharp, decisive energy—swift and efficient.

Tong Fei felt a bit awkward under the young man’s gaze, and quickly got to the point, “I heard you made outrageous demands to Chao Yin Culture?”

“It’s not outrageous. I don’t even care about the revenue share,” Fang Xing shrugged.

“What’s your reasoning?” Tong Fei asked, curiosity lighting her face.

“I just want to make music quietly, without too many publicity obligations,” Fang Xing said frankly, revealing his true intentions.

Tong Fei nodded, fiddling with a platinum lighter, “Other trainees fight for every publicity opportunity. But you’re the opposite.”

They chatted idly for a bit.

Fang Xing took the initiative, “Are you here to persuade me to sign with Chao Yin Culture?”

Tong Fei lit a cigarette, holding it between her fingers as she waved dismissively, “No, their business isn’t my concern.”

She took a couple of puffs before asking, “Mind if I smoke?”

“It’s fine—a smoky voice can be a unique trait,” Fang Xing joked.

Tong Fei took a few more drags, then stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray and closed the lid, smiling, “I thought you’d sign with Chao Yin Culture.

“If they were willing to promote you, you’d have had a real chance to debut as part of the ‘Trident’ with Wu Junchen and Liu Yichen.”

Fang Xing replied half-joking, half-serious, “Why should I carry those two dead weights?”

Tong Fei raised an eyebrow, “You really think they’re dead weights?”

Fang Xing was blunt, “Their vocal abilities aren’t up to my standards—working with them would only drag down my music production quality.”

Tong Fei regarded Fang Xing with renewed scrutiny, asking, “How many songs of ‘Nocturne’ quality do you have in reserve? Can you keep it up until the finals?”

Fang Xing grinned, “What do you think?”

Tong Fei was frustrated by his answer, gritting her teeth, “You’d better be honest. This will determine how far you go in the show.”

Fang Xing guessed what was happening and asked, “Is Chao Yin Culture pressuring you?”

Tong Fei didn’t deny it, “It’s no secret. Chao Yin Culture is the investor—contracts for the final group go to them.

“They are indeed applying pressure. Normally, if you don’t sign, you’ll be eliminated at the next performance.”

Fang Xing smiled, unconcerned, “If Chao Yin Culture can interfere with production, then I’ll just quit.”

Tong Fei shook her head, a sly smile on her face, “You’re forgetting something. You haven’t signed with an agency, but you did sign a contract to participate in the show. If you withdraw, you’ll have to pay a penalty.”

Fang Xing paused, realizing she was right.

Participating in the show definitely required a contract with the production team—unless it was force majeure, breaking the contract meant paying a penalty.

Fang Xing smiled and nodded, “Seems that’s the case. All right, then. Next performance, I’ll just slack off and get eliminated.”

Tong Fei was surprised by his answer.

So far this season, only two songs had gone viral.

Both were Fang Xing’s, especially “Nocturne,” which had already taken the music world by storm and received high praise from industry professionals.

And the second performance, recorded just days ago but not yet aired, gave Tong Fei a strong sense that “The Lovers of the World” and “Hard to Chant the Sutra” would also become hits.

If this trend continued, this season of “Tomorrow’s Star” might break all previous records.

All of this was thanks to Fang Xing’s songs.

Under such circumstances, Tong Fei had no intention of letting this golden goose slip through her fingers.