mijobooks Chapter 42 Spring Blossoms
Chapter 42 Spring Blossoms
After reading it, Chen Mo adjusted his glasses and smiled: "That's a good thing. President Su's marketing tactics are indeed brilliant. But Wang Bo, I have to remind you, the higher netizens praise you today, the harder they can drop you tomorrow. So, stay calm, your work is what truly matters."
After less than a day of getting to know him, Chen Mo discovered that Wang Bo was not a good-for-nothing.
It's not the kind of talent that says, "Look at this noodle, it's so long and wide."
Wang Bo nodded: "I understand."
The entertainment industry can elevate you to the heavens, or it can crush you into the mud.
Therefore, one must not drift.
Just then, Su Xiaoxiao pushed the door open and came in.
She was clearly in a great mood today, with a smile constantly on her face, and she even walked with a swagger.
"Did you see the trending topics?" she asked as soon as she came in.
"I saw it," Wang Bo asked. "President Su, did you arrange this?"
"Otherwise what? There's no such thing as a free lunch." Su Xiaoxiao raised an eyebrow. "If I don't take advantage of such a good opportunity, wouldn't I be a useless CEO? But Wang Bo, did you really write this poem?"
Wang Bo paused.
Strictly speaking, this poem belongs to Hai Zi, and comes from another world.
But in this world...
"Yes," he said, "I suddenly had an inspiration."
"You can suddenly have an inspiration and write this kind of poem," Su Xiaoxiao stared at him. "Wang Bo, how many more surprises do you have that I don't know about?"
Wang Bo laughed: "President Su, just keep exploring."
"Okay, I like your attitude." Su Xiaoxiao patted his shoulder. "But seriously, have you given this poem a name?"
Wang Bo thought for a moment and said, "Let's call it 'Facing the Sea, with Spring Blossoms'."
"Great name!" Su Xiaoxiao's eyes lit up. "It fits the content perfectly. I'll have the publicity department step up their efforts and formally compile this poem, pair it with your handwritten draft, and create a special feature."
She paused, then continued, "Also, I've finalized things with Yu Ji. From now on, you'll regularly create content for her travel videos—poems or songs, depending on your inspiration. This will maintain your exposure and solidify your image as a talented woman. Of course, this is all on the premise that you're willing and have inspiration; it's not mandatory."
Wang Bo nodded: "I'll try my best."
"Then it's settled." Su Xiaoxiao checked the time. "That's all for today. Go back and get some rest. We'll officially start writing the new song tomorrow. Chen Mo, is the production plan ready?"
Chen Mo nodded: "It's done. We'll start tomorrow."
"Okay, I'll be going now, I have a meeting." Su Xiaoxiao turned to leave, but turned back at the door. "By the way, Wang Bo, was the soup Yiyi made delicious?"
"It's delicious," Wang Bo answered honestly.
"Then drink more," Su Xiaoxiao smiled. "After all, you're the first man my sister has ever personally cooked and brought over."
After saying that, she closed the door and left.
The recording studio fell silent.
Wang Bo stood by the window, looking down at the bustling city below, his phone still vibrating with congratulatory messages.
He recalled that just two weeks ago, he was a struggling, unknown singer worrying about next month's rent.
Now, he's famous, rich, has a team, and... a group of people who truly care about him.
"Wang Bo," Chen Mo suddenly spoke, "how are you feeling right now?"
Wang Bo thought for a moment, then smiled: "It feels like... I had a very long dream, and I've finally woken up."
"and then?"
"Then," Wang Bo turned and walked towards the control panel, "it's time to write songs."
Shanghai.
After deleting his Weibo posts one by one, Li Xuan silently turned off his phone.
He walked to the window, looked down at the dimly lit street, and recalled the scene three years ago when he and Wang Bo entered Yuji Entertainment at the same time.
Back then, they were all at the bottom of society, struggling and dreaming.
Three years later, Wang Bo stood in the light.
But he is still in the shadows.
"Why should I..." he muttered to himself again.
This time, there was no anger, no jealousy, only a deep sense of powerlessness.
Perhaps, this is life.
Some people are destined to shine.
Some people don't even have the right to get close to the light.
He turned around, went back to the sofa, reopened his phone, opened Wang Bo's poem, and read it again.
Starting tomorrow, I will be a happy person.
Feeding horses, chopping wood, and traveling the world.
Caring about food and vegetables from tomorrow
I have a house facing the sea, where spring is warm and flowers bloom.
... "
Li Xuan's gaze was blank.
"I want to too."
"But I don't even have a place to pay next quarter's rent tomorrow."
In the recording studio of Xiaoyi Culture Media in Lin'an.
Wang Bo sat cross-legged on the carpet, a pile of sheet music drafts spread out in front of him, and held the light wood guitar in his hands, strumming it idly.
Chen Mo slumped in the swivel chair in front of the control panel, spinning around, holding a cup of instant coffee that had gone cold.
"So," Chen Mo pushed up his black-rimmed glasses, which had slipped down to the tip of his nose, "what do you think is the biggest problem in the Chinese music scene right now?"
Wang Bo didn't even look up: "It's not plagiarism, it's not the proliferation of catchy pop songs, and it's not about the dominance of internet traffic."
"Oh?" Chen Mo's interest was piqued. "What's that?"
"Yes..." Wang Bo stopped plucking the strings, looked up, and said seriously, "It's because no one dares to write grand songs anymore."
Chen Mo raised an eyebrow: "What's a 'big song'?"
"It's not about the scale of production," Wang Bo put down his guitar and picked up a crumpled piece of draft paper next to him, "it's about the grand scale, the profound emotions, songs that can carry the shared memories and feelings of a group of people or even a generation. Look at those classics from the 90s, why can they transcend time? Because they sing not just about personal emotions, but about the resonance of a group."
He paused, then continued, "These days, songs are either melodramatic like 'I love you, but you don't love me,' self-indulgent like 'I'm so handsome, I'm so cool,' or short, catchy 15-second clips. Very few people dare to write songs that can be heard late at night and remind people of their youth, dreams, and regrets."
Chen Mo was silent for a few seconds, then laughed: "The way you're saying that sounds like a fifty-year-old artist."
"I'm only in my early twenties," Wang Bo said seriously, "but my mental age is probably already 250."
Chen Mo almost spat out his coffee: "So, do you think 'The You of the Past' counts as a 'big' song?"
"Sort of," Wang Bo nodded, "but it's still more of a personal narrative. My ideal big song should make everyone who hears it feel, 'This is me,' even if their stories are completely different."
"That's quite a high bar." Chen Mo stood up from his swivel chair and walked to the window. "So, what kind of song do you want to write next?"
Just as Wang Bo was about to answer, his gaze suddenly fell on the document on the table—the invitation to sing a song from Su Xiaoxiao to his vocational college.
He picked it up and looked through it.
"Oh, an invitation to write a school song?" Chen Mo came over after noticing. "This kind of job is not easy. It has to meet the official requirements and also make the students like it. In the end, it often turns out to be a hybrid—the leaders think it's not solemn enough, and the students think it's too old-fashioned."
Wang Bo remained silent, reviewing the specific requirements on the document once more.
The more he looked, the brighter his eyes became.