Traffic Star Development Program

Chapter 90 The Boss's Hands

"Okay." Chu Ran put down her backpack.

"You got 98 in our acting class, first in the whole class. That's already all over the department. Now we're just waiting for the final grades, right?"

Chu Ran nodded in agreement.

Tian Xi understood slightly and didn't ask any further questions. She turned around and packed her bag, saying, "There's still hot breakfast in the cafeteria. I'll go grab a bite. You don't have classes this morning, so you'll just relax in your dorm?"

"Yes. I know you're grumpy when you wake up, and I don't know what time you'll sleep, so I didn't bring you anything."

"It's okay, I was already exhausted from my physical fitness assessment, thank goodness you didn't call me. I'll be going now."

Tian Xiwei picked up her bag and left, the door clicking shut behind her.

Chu Ran sat on the edge of the bed, put her bag on her lap, took out her phone and glanced at the time: 8:20.

She opened her chat window with Zeng Hao, stared at it silently for a long time, but ultimately didn't type a single word. She then locked the screen and placed her phone on the desktop.

He then opened his backpack, pulled out the performance class textbook, and found the lesson preparation page for "The Caged Ape".

The paper was covered with pencil marks, all of which were her notes from refining the play and pondering the characters' feelings.

Confined in a cage, yet yearning for freedom.

The deepest cry is the ultimate restraint.

She gently stroked the paper with her fingertips, closed the book, placed the textbook at the bottom of her schoolbag, and put the bag on the bedside table.

Then he lay down and stared at the ceiling.

The warm sunlight slanted into the dormitory, and the surroundings were quiet, with only the occasional faint voices coming from the corridor, ethereal and distant.

She lay there quietly until Tian Xiwei pushed the door open and came back.

Her roommate plopped down on the bed and pushed the milk tea in her hand in front of her: "I brought this especially for you, strawberry flavor, your favorite."

Chu Ran sat up and took the milk tea: "Thanks, sister."

Tian Xiwei leaned against the headboard, raised her glass and clinked it with hers: "There's no doubt that I'll be first in a single subject, but waiting for the total score is really agonizing."

Chu Ran responded softly, took a big gulp, and the sweet strawberry flavor melted in her mouth.

"If your total score stays consistently among the top, you'll be a legend this semester," Tian Xiwei said.

"That would be best."

"What if the ranking is a little lower?"

"Just start over steadily and catch up step by step."

Tian Xi hummed in agreement, put the milk tea on the bedside table, picked up her acting class textbook, opened it, and buried herself in reading it, ceasing the idle chatter.

Chu Ran didn't say anything more. She slowly finished her milk tea, put the empty cup aside, took out her textbook again, and stared at her notes on "The Caged Ape" to savor them.

The dormitory quieted down, with only the soft sound of turning pages.

Outside the window, in the courtyard of the Shanghai Theatre Academy, the warm winter sun cast long, straight shadows of the bare sycamore trees on the ground.

2 PM, Finance Office of Sunshine Entertainment.

Xu Wen printed out the monthly expense details, walked in, and placed the sheet in front of Zeng Hao.

Zeng Hao picked it up and glanced at it.

The figures on the books are still there.

Seventy-five-seven million, continuous expenditures, this month there is another prepayment for publicity and distribution compared to last month, the final payment for the later stages of "Ning An Ru Meng" has not yet been settled, what kind of system is this to get the payment back in 59 days.

He folded the list, put it aside, and picked up another document beside him.

"Any news from Chen's business department?"

Xu Wen checked his phone. "Not yet. They said it would take three to five business days. Today is the second day."

"understood."

Zeng Hao opened the document, which was the second quarter broadcast plan for "Ning An Ru Meng". It contained three different broadcast window options. He read through all three options, paused on the second option, wrote a few words in the blank space, closed the document, and pushed it to Xu Wen.

"Have the channel department prepare according to the second plan, and start the process once the approval results are available at the end of January."

Xu Wen took it. "Okay, there's one more thing." He paused for a moment. "As for Xue Zhijian, the Spring Festival Gala rehearsal is the day after tomorrow. The production team asked if we should send someone to accompany him."

Zeng Hao thought for a moment and said, "It's his own business, no need to worry about it."

Xu Wen hummed in agreement, put the folder away, turned and walked to the door, paused for a moment, and said, "Also, you signed the business notice for Dilireba today, and they confirmed it this afternoon."

Zeng Hao didn't look up, but simply hummed in response.

Xu Wen closed the door and left.

The office quieted down.

Zeng Hao leaned back in his chair, picked up the expense details on the table again, and looked at it once more.

Fifty-nine days.

What a mess! That payment arrived 59 days later, and the amount was 150 million.

The approval process for "Ning An Ru Meng" is expected to be completed by the end of January. The goal is to maintain the approval process in the second quarter and reach 20 million viewers for the first broadcast.

The pressure on the books is real, but not the kind that can't be suppressed.

The waiting area is at the end of the third corridor on the left side of the stage.

The waiting area for the Spring Festival Gala rehearsals wasn't as glamorous as it looked from the outside. The corridor was lit by incandescent bulbs, which gave a harsh light. There were non-slip mats on the floor, and several rows of folding chairs were placed against the wall. Each chair had a nameplate for a different program group hanging on its back. The program lists were arranged in order of appearance and pasted on the wall, with some of the corners already peeling off, but no one seemed to care.

Xue Zhijian sat on the row of folding chairs.

There were still forty minutes before he went on stage to sing "Something from Outer Space".

The production team came once to confirm the waiting process with him, told him to pay attention to the in-ear monitor, said that the stage manager would be holding a sign on the left, and said that someone would call him three minutes before he went on stage.

He listened to all of this, nodded, and after the other party left, he called his assistant Fang Yuan over and said one sentence.

"Take off your in-ear monitor."

Fang Yuan paused for a second, then asked, "Do we have to take them off even during rehearsals?"

"Um."

Fang Yuan took the in-ear monitors off the shelf, and Xue Zhijian took them, placed them on his lap, put his hands on them, and said nothing more.

There were two other production crews waiting in the waiting area. Diagonally opposite was a dance performance; several performers were stretching against the wall, some were talking quietly, and others were scrolling through their phones. At the other end of the corridor, someone pushed a prop cart past, the wheels making a slight sound on the non-slip mat before disappearing.

Xue Zhijian sat there, quietly listening to the sounds around him.

He was discerning the unique sound field of the scene.

It wasn't the background noise from the waiting area, but a reverberation emanating from deep within the stage, faintly drifting over through the soundproof curtain. The low frequencies were deep and heavy, hazy and indistinct, yet it was the unmistakable sound field of a stage capable of holding ten thousand people.

This is completely different from the meticulously edited sound effects in the in-ear monitor.

The in-ear monitors have been tuned by engineers to produce perfect sound; the live performance is an authentic atmosphere that envelops the audience, the lights, and the entire stage.

He needs to have a clear understanding of the situation beforehand in order to feel at ease.

Fang Yuan sat beside him without saying a word. He glanced at his phone and saw that there were still thirty-eight minutes left. He then silently put his phone back in his pocket.

The production team came over again to check the costume and styling. They glanced at him from head to toe, nodded to confirm that everything was correct, and then left.

Xue Zhijian rubbed the in-ear monitor in his hand and silently recited the song "Extraterrestrial Object" in his heart.

This classic song, perfectly suited for the Spring Festival Gala, boasts a grand and majestic melody and warm, healing lyrics.

He spent a long time polishing the lyrics, and the line in the chorus, "You are like something from outer space that I cannot obtain," was the perfect note he painstakingly found over three days and three nights.

Not too flamboyant, not too gentle, just right, touching the heart.

The repeated practice in the recording studio was to get the right balance in this singing style. Now everything is ready, and we are just waiting to go on stage.

An announcement came over the loudspeaker in the waiting area, signaling the end of the previous program.

Xue Zhijian put his in-ear monitor back on, and Fang Yuan carefully tuned the channel: "No problem."

Xue Zhijian stood up, took off his coat and handed it to Fang Yuan, then looked up at the stage manager holding a sign at the end of the corridor.

The stage for the Spring Festival Gala was more spacious and impressive than during the rehearsals.

This was Xue Zhijian's first time on the main stage of the Spring Festival Gala. The moment he stood still, he was completely calm, his mind focused solely on the sound field of the venue.

With nearly three thousand audience members below the stage, the soft whispers, the shifting of chairs, and the operation of equipment all blended together, creating an atmosphere unique to the grand event.

The prelude slowly begins, and low-frequency vibrations travel from the ground to the soles of your feet, feeling real and profound.

He gripped the microphone tightly, regulated his breathing, and precisely timed his opening vocals:

"You landed too suddenly."

I just happened to be passing by again.

Removing his in-ear monitor to perceive the sound field while waiting was a last-minute decision he made.

Only by understanding the reverberation at the scene can you accurately control the placement of your voice.

The stage's sound field was expansive and three-dimensional, steadily supporting his singing.

The perfect trill he had been searching for in the studio for three days finally came to fruition at this moment.

The chorus begins slowly:

You are like something from another world, something we desperately want.

Your worldly name has been taken.

Key words and phrases are presented gently and deliberately, without being deliberately piled up, allowing emotions to flow naturally.

The entire audience fell silent for a second, completely absorbed in the atmosphere by the song.

Xue Zhijian understood perfectly, and steadied himself to continue singing.

During the interlude, I turned to gaze at the stage lights and shadows, my mind at peace and calm.

The melody slowly fades away, the piano gently falls to its final note, leaving a lingering resonance.

A thunderous applause erupted instantly.

Xue Zhijian stood still for a second, bowed in greeting, and turned to walk towards the side stage.

Fang Yuan was waiting early and handed over the coat.

The production team approached him and praised him repeatedly, saying the effect was excellent and inviting him to collaborate again. He only responded lightly and walked away.

The applause behind me lingered for a long time.

The Spring Festival Gala was broadcast live on the eve of the Lunar New Year.

The next morning, related trending topics flooded social media.

Xue Zhijian was still asleep when his phone kept popping up with messages.

Fang Yuan sat in his hotel room for twenty minutes scrolling through online discussions before knocking on the door and entering the bedroom.

Xue Zhijian, with disheveled hair, sat on the edge of the bed drinking lukewarm water that had been sitting overnight.

"The third trending topic," Fang Yuan handed over his phone, "#Xue Zhijian's Spring Festival Gala Extraterrestrial Appearance is Deified# The hashtag is exploding, and its popularity across the internet remains high."

Xue Zhijian glanced at it, calmly pushed the phone back, and got up to wash up.

The boss might be behind this.

He knows it all too well.

Fang Yuan casually took a screenshot of the trending search page and sent it to the company's publicity department: "Observe public opinion, no need to report, wait for my instructions."

The sound of running water filled the bathroom. He browsed through comments on various platforms, and the reviews were overwhelmingly positive: "His singing skills and emotional appeal were top-notch, his stage presence was exceptional, and his performance was both heartfelt and grand, perfectly matching the tone of the Spring Festival Gala."

Some people remarked that his voice told a story, some were moved to tears by the classic chorus, and others were amazed that his stage performance was stunning, even without his usual variety show persona.

Fang Yuan silently organized and summarized the information, waiting for Xue Zhijian to come out.

A moment later, Xue Zhijian came out, draped a towel over his shoulders, and went downstairs for breakfast.

"Order downstairs or room service?"

"downstairs."

The two sat down at the restaurant and ordered porridge and steamed buns. Fang Yuan showed him reviews from across the internet. He took a sip of his hot tea and said calmly, "Let's get the next new song in preparation for recording."

"You've finalized the draft?"

"It's almost finished."

"I immediately contacted Li Huai to finalize the shed date."

The steam rose gently as he lowered his head to drink his porridge, saying nothing more.

Three days after the live broadcast, negative criticism arrived as expected.

A professional music critic published a long article, deliberately nitpicking: "Xue Zhijian's stage presence relies on his persona, his arrangements are conservative and formulaic, he over-relies on public goodwill, his musical core is thin, and he cannot be considered a pure talent singer."

The article concludes: "What they're singing isn't music, it's packaging."

The comments section instantly erupted into a heated debate, with opposing sides arguing endlessly and onlookers stirring up trouble.

Xue Zhijian ignored him completely from beginning to end, not responding to a single word.

On the fifth day of the broadcast, he booked a familiar private recording studio in Beijing by himself. The recording was scheduled to start at 2 p.m., and he arrived at the studio forty minutes early.

The winters in the north are dry and bitterly cold, with the cold wind penetrating to the bone.

He stood outside the shed, mentally reviewing that harsh music review.

It's about the persona, not the music.

He calmly let it go.

Outsiders only see the glamour of the stage, but they can't see him meticulously working on the details and refining his singing style, can't see him quietly sensing the sound field while waiting backstage, and can't see the countless days and nights he spends polishing his work.

There's no need to explain to those who don't understand.

He pushed open the door and walked into the recording studio.

Li Huai was adjusting the equipment when he turned around and smiled, "You're here pretty early."

"It's windy outside." Xue Zhijian took off his coat and hung it up. "Is the accompaniment for the new song ready?"

It's currently undergoing final revisions.

He walked to the microphone, put on his headphones, and waited for the melody to flow.

He spent three months polishing this untitled new work, revising the lyrics seven times. The core imagery hides the delicate emotions in his heart, a secret feeling that others cannot empathize with.

He softly sang along, searching for the unique tone and warmth of the song.

"Extraterrestrial Objects" is clear and dazzling starlight, while this new song is the gentle and hazy afternoon light.

He finalized the save and said in a deep voice, "Let's do it again."

The studio was bathed in warm, soft light, isolating it from the outside world's controversies, trending topics, and noise.

In that small space, only music and himself remained.

Final grades were all updated three days before the start of winter break.

Chu Ran's long-awaited final exam score was officially announced on the 24th day of the twelfth lunar month.

With the final total score ranking among the top in the major, they secured the qualification for the award.

The academic affairs system included the following comprehensive evaluation: "Outstanding professional skills, exceptional empathetic performance, and excellent overall qualities."

Chu Ran stared at the total score on the screen, her mind calming down after a long time.

The fact that I scored 98 points in the performance subject, ranking first in the class, has already been settled. Now that my overall score has been finalized, I can finally put my mind at ease after being anxious for so many days.

In the dormitory, Tian Xiwei was frantically packing her luggage to go home, rummaging through her drawers and complaining that she couldn't find her orange sweater.

After rummaging through my clothes for ages, I haphazardly stuffed them into my suitcase. I looked up and saw Chu Ran sitting quietly, looking at her phone.

He glanced at the total score and instantly understood: "It's a sure thing?"

"Yes, a perfect ending."

Tian Xiwei didn't deliberately flatter her; she simply patted her on the shoulder and said, "Girl, you truly deserve it!"

He then continued packing his luggage, zipped it up, and pressed the suitcase tightly: "See you when I go back to school in the spring."

"Keep your teacher's comments on 'The Caged Ape' carefully; refer to them when you feel lost in the future."

Chu Ran looked up: "Do you know what the teacher wrote?"

"I don't know, but we all heard the comments on site, and it's definitely the best affirmation for you."

Tian Xiwei dragged her suitcase away, and the sound of wheels rolling in the corridor gradually faded away.

Chu Ran sat alone for a while, reflecting on the waiting and reflection of these past days.

She took out the books she had just bought from the bookstore and opened the title page.

The first line of text is clear and legible:

"All our dedicated efforts will eventually lead to a satisfactory result."

She ran her fingertips across the pages and began to read quietly.