From unemployment in crosstalk to top star in Chinese entertainment

"Production team, what's wrong with you?!"

Before Wang Han had even finished announcing the show, someone in the first row of the audience stood up.

Wu Yifan's manager, surnamed Chen, is known as Sister Chen by people in the industry.

Thirty-seven or thirty-eight years old, short hair, dressed in a black suit, he stood up with the swiftness of a folding knife.

Her voice wasn't loud, but the deep, suppressed anger in it was incredibly penetrating, causing the audience in the rows in front and behind to turn their heads in unison.

The director in charge of coordinating with the judges was a young woman surnamed Lin, who had just been promoted to a full-time position last week. This was her first live-streaming project.

She jogged over, but before she could even speak, Sister Chen's second sentence came crashing down on her.

"How can a song like this pass the review? What is your production team doing?"

Director Kobayashi was stunned by this remark. He opened his mouth, then subconsciously took a half-step back.

The surrounding staff all stopped what they were doing, and no one dared to step forward.

"Where's your director? Go and bring him here!"

The cameraman heard the director's instructions through his headset, and he immediately tilted the camera towards the stage to avoid the area that was spiraling out of control.

The live broadcast signal must not be interrupted, and everything on stage must continue as usual.

Director Kobayashi clutched the hem of her clothes, her eyes already a little red.

She bit her lip, her voice low: "Is there... something wrong with this song?"

"What's the problem?" Sister Chen's voice rose half an inch, then suddenly dropped. As an experienced agent, she knew that she couldn't let her voice be captured by the camera in this kind of situation.

She took a step closer, lowered her voice, and squeezed out a few words through gritted teeth, "He's using Kris's dirt for publicity, so what's wrong with that?"

Director Kobayashi was taken aback for a moment.

She did not continue to apologize or back down as Sister Chen had expected.

She looked up, and the grievance and tension in her eyes were suddenly replaced by a genuine sense of confusion.

"Wasn't this song written by Kris Wu?"

Sister Chen's expression froze on her face.

"What did you say?"

Director Xiaolin had already turned around and retrieved a document from the worktable, handing it to Sister Chen.

This is a song approval form.

The program's logo is printed at the top, below which is a dense array of copyright information, authorization terms, and review stamps.

Sister Chen took it from her immediately.

She read quickly, her gaze sweeping down from the song title to the section on the creator information for "Big Bowl Wide Burmese"—

Composer: Yu Liang

Lyrics by: Wu Yifan

Her fingers froze on the paper.

"What a joke..." she murmured, her voice suddenly losing its strength. "Why would Kris use his own dirt on himself..."

She stopped halfway through her sentence.

She knew better than anyone that Wu Yifan was currently looking for a solution to the "wide noodles" problem.

The PR team held countless meetings and wrote countless versions of the proposal, but none of them were usable.

Neither ignoring the issue, sending lawyer's letters, nor changing the subject can truly make this meme disappear.

But she didn't know exactly when Wu Yifan wrote this song.

She turned to look at the judges' panel.

Wu Yifan was also looking at her.

In fact, from the moment Sister Chen stood up, Wu Yifan's gaze never left her direction.

He watched his agent storm into the production crew like a lioness protecting her cubs, watched Director Lin hand him the document, and watched Sister Chen turn to a certain page and freeze.

Then Sister Chen turned around and looked at him.

The meaning in that look was very complex.

There was confusion, there was questioning, and there was something else he rarely saw on Sister Chen's face: bewilderment.

Is there something you haven't told me?

Wu Yifan felt a little uneasy under her gaze.

No,

Shouldn't you continue to put pressure on the production team?

Why are you staring at me like that?

He didn't know what was written on that document.

No, the show is starting now.

Does this mean Xiao Heizi is going to sing a song?

He was unwilling to accept it.

If it weren't for the fact that it was being broadcast live, or if he wasn't afraid of being banned, he really wanted to go up and fight Yu Liang.

The prelude started playing at that moment.

A few scattered notes escaped from the strings of the guzheng, like raindrops falling on the water, clear and sharp.

Then, the sound of the xiao (vertical flute) flowed out, following the lingering notes of the guzheng (zither).

The xiao and guzheng harmonize, one high and one low, one bright and one dark, their timbres intertwining and slowly rising.

A sense of江湖 (jianghu, a world of martial arts and chivalry) spirit arises spontaneously.

The entire studio fell silent at that moment.

The audience members who were still whispering to each other fell silent.

The agent, who was still angry, had somehow returned to his seat.

Nayoung, who was adjusting her posture on the judges' panel, sat up slightly. Yang Mi tapped her fingers lightly on the table and then stopped.

Yu Liang walked out from the depths of the stage.

A white martial arts robe with wide sleeves and a hem that reaches the ankles, swaying gently with each step.

The cross-collar, cinched waist, and slit at the hem are just right, and the flowing fabric makes the clothes flutter as you walk, giving off a dashing and agile vibe like a young swordsman.

Yu Liang walked to the center of the stage and turned around. The spotlight cast a long shadow behind him.

Someone in the audience gasped.

"That's so cool..."

"They're definitely professionals; they put so much effort into even their jokes and punchlines."

Wu Yifan sat on the judges' panel, his fingertips icy cold.

He was prepared to be offended.

I'm ready to give you the cold shoulder.

He had even prepared his standard response to media inquiries: "I respect every creator's expression, but I will not comment on this kind of opportunistic behavior."

To nail the other party to a lowly label, so that they can never rise again.

However, Yu Liang spoke up.

"Why--"

Yu Liang raised the microphone,

A standard rap opening move.

"I never dared to believe that a big bowl could make you happy—"

"But this was indeed my intention, perhaps it was fate—"

Wu Yifan's brow twitched slightly.

The audience members went from looking at each other blankly to beaming with joy.

Some people started nodding along, one nod at a time, keeping time with the beat. A girl with a ponytail in the front row turned her head and said something to her companion, her lips vaguely forming the words "It sounds so good."

The scrolling speed of the comments in the live stream suddenly increased.

Holy crap! You're serious?!

[This intro, this voice... what happened to the planned special performance??]

[Kris Wu: Bro, you're singing all my lyrics!]

[Wait, this song just keeps getting better and better!?]

Oh no, oh no, oh no! I was just laughing at him, now I feel like a clown.

[A comedian singing Chinese-style rap?]

"This bowl is big—don't let vanity get the better of you—"

Yu Liang leaned forward slightly, her voice rising for the first time. It wasn't a shout, it was a push.

Then he raised the microphone in his hand.

He wore a large gold chain today, which the props team found for him; it looked exactly like the real thing under the lights.

He pulled the chain out of his collar as casually as if he were pulling a bunch of keys out of his pocket.

Then he put on sunglasses, covering half of his face.

At this moment, Yu Liang wore a white robe with a gold chain, a guzheng with sunglasses, a mix of classical and street style, creating an incongruous yet inexplicably harmonious look.

It's like a character straight out of a martial arts novel, parachuted onto a hip-hop stage, and then deciding to blow up the crowd!

The audience erupted in cheers.

"Wow, they're fully equipped!"

"They even provided sunglasses! That's so professional!"

"Comedians are singing hip-hop, this world is really out of control."

The live stream's popularity skyrocketed.

There are more and more people!

The chat started lagging.

Someone shouted, "It's lagging!"

Someone shouted, "Don't cut it, I haven't seen enough!"

Someone is spamming "skr" like crazy; it's unclear whether it's sarcasm or genuine emotion.

Wu Yifan looked at Yu Liang on the stage, the man wearing sunglasses, a big gold chain, and a white robe, singing "Look how long and wide this embankment is" under the spotlight.

He suddenly felt a little dazed.

From what moment did things start to get out of control?

Was it the moment Wang Han announced "Big Bowl Wide Mian"?

Was it his agent who stood up and ineffectively lashed out at the production team?

Or was it when Yu Liang walked out of the elevator wearing that white robe?

he does not know.

All he knew was that he was prepared to be offended, ready to teach him a lesson after the performance, and then use his capital to blacklist him.

But what he wasn't prepared for was—

Yu Liang actually winked at him.

Here comes a wink!

Ok?

What's going on?

Wu Yifan was stunned; he clearly hadn't expected Yu Liang to do this.

He subconsciously touched his gradually shrinking cerebellum.

However, this scene was spotted by sharp-eyed viewers.

"Wait, why are they interacting now?!"

Everyone was startled.

"Has the world become so absurd?!"

"So, Brother Fan has been... tamed like that?"