Chapter 45: The Ban Order

The person who called her was none other than Chen Feng’s uncle, Chen Shihong, who currently serves as the vice president of the National Music Association. He said only one thing to Ning Cai: “Get rid of Liu Sheng, or I’ll make sure your Yu’an Media has no place in this industry. You should know I have plenty of ways to ensure that no songwriter will ever dare write for any of your artists again!”

Back when Liu Sheng debuted as the runner-up in a talent competition, he was very popular. At a banquet, he failed to toast Chen Shihong, who took it as an affront. Later, Liu Sheng refused to sign with Red Queen Entertainment, which further incurred Chen Shihong’s grudge, and he was subsequently blacklisted. That ban lasted more than a decade. Liu Sheng missed his golden years and, now at forty, had lost any chance of a comeback. His appearance on “The Vocalist” marked his return to the screen.

Both Ning Cai and Liu Sheng believed that, after so many years, Chen Shihong would have let bygones be bygones. After all, a man of his status need not hold a grudge against a mere artist for so long. Besides, he had already ruined Liu Sheng’s prime years—surely that was enough. But to their surprise, Chen Shihong proved to be a man who never forgave nor forgot.

If Chen Shihong truly issued another blacklist, then, apart from buying songs from the original music database, no songwriter would dare compose for Yu’an Media. What would be the point? If no one dared perform the songs, they could never become hits. Without hits, the talents of lyricists and composers would go to waste. Every producer dreams of making their name overnight. Writing for Yu’an Media’s artists would mean their work would never see the light of day.

So, indeed, no one would risk writing for Yu’an’s artists. Ning Cai gripped her phone, her lovely face frosted with indifference. “Vice President Chen, what if I insist on protecting Liu Sheng?” she asked coldly.

“Then call your father and have him deal with me. Let’s see if he agrees,” Chen Shihong sneered.

Ning Cai’s father had never approved of her joining the entertainment industry. Even if he wielded power and influence, he would never intervene to help her. He wouldn’t even offer comfort; perhaps he would rather the company collapse, so he could call Ning Cai back to the capital and put her on the path he had designed.

Ning Cai was not like Zhou Wan. Zhou Wan was rebellious to the core—the more she was threatened, the more defiant she became. She needed coaxing; when obedient, she was truly compliant, but when rebellious, she yielded to no one.

Ning Cai, by contrast, was utterly rational but possessed a fierce pride. Rationally, abandoning Liu Sheng was the best choice. But if she did, Yu’an Media would be finished. If an entertainment company could be manipulated and threatened at will, what credibility would it have? What would artists considering a contract with Yu’an think?

They would assume the company was weak. If they joined and ended up like Liu Sheng, wouldn’t they also be blacklisted or shelved? Better to steer clear and sign elsewhere.

From a dignity standpoint, if Ning Cai abandoned Liu Sheng, she would break her own spine and never stand tall again. If she couldn’t even protect a blameless, talented artist, what was the point of running an agency?

So, both reason and pride compelled Ning Cai not to give up on Liu Sheng.

“Vice President Chen, not only will I not abandon Liu Sheng, I’ll put all my effort into promoting him. Do what you will,” she said, and hung up.

Shen Xian narrowed his eyes, watching Ning Cai, feeling that in this moment she radiated an undeniable aura of authority.

Liu Sheng seemed to have caught wind of the situation. He knocked and entered, handing over a contract termination agreement. “President Ning, thank you for your care all these years. I know the situation you’re in. Here’s my termination agreement.”

Having said this, Liu Sheng sighed with relief, looking at Ning Cai and Shen Xian with calm resignation.

“Are you afraid?” Ning Cai asked him.

Liu Sheng shook his head. “No. I’m just tired. This internal struggle will be the death of me.”

“All these years, I’ve hoped that if there was the slightest chance of a comeback, I would fight for it with everything I have. But the higher the hope, the greater the disappointment. Every day I hoped, and every day I was disappointed. I’ve lived in this cycle for so long. Today I finally realized—better a quick pain than a lingering one. Maybe I’ll miss the stage and those old days in the future, but for now, leaving is best for both of us.”

Liu Sheng spoke at length, his eyes gradually losing their light. An artist’s golden era is from eighteen to forty. Miss that window, and chances may never come again. Late bloomers exist, but they are rare. So Liu Sheng decided to leave the industry and abandon unrealistic dreams. The decision was painful, and he was reluctant, but once made, a weight lifted from his heart and the gloom vanished.

“I’m not tired, so why should you be?” Ning Cai said. “You’re not allowed to leave. I’ll put you back on stage.”

Liu Sheng gave a bitter laugh. Was it really possible to return to the stage?

Shen Xian pondered for a moment. “Old Liu, you have the talent, you just lack the opportunity. If you’re willing to try, I can provide lyrics and music. Don’t forget, I bought quite a few songs from Postman recently.”

“How many are there?” Ning Cai pressed him. “Are they suitable for Liu Sheng?”

“There are enough for a full album,” Shen Xian replied.

Zhou Wan looked on coldly, inwardly grumbling about Shen Xian’s incredible luck. Three years ago, sheer chance had put her in his room. Three years later, he’d bought over a dozen of Postman’s songs for a song.

“Old Liu, are you willing to give it one last shot?” Shen Xian asked.

Liu Sheng hesitated. “Even if I have Postman’s songs, where can I perform them?”

Ning Cai flipped through the calendar on her desk, each date marked with important tasks—company events, TV competitions. She quickly found what she was looking for: “The wedding of Binzhou’s richest heir—two hundred million lavished, celebrities invited to perform live!”

“This is an opportunity. The wedding of Binzhou’s richest heir will draw the elite from every field. I happen to have an invitation. If we find the right song, you could amaze everyone at the wedding and make a comeback!” Ning Cai explained.

Originally, this opportunity had been meant for Liu Ruyun, but she’d switched companies, so the plan was shelved.

Liu Sheng knew well who Binzhou’s richest man was, and the heiress’s family was equally formidable. Such a powerful union meant only the most influential attended. But the quality of the music would face stringent demands:

First, it had to be absolutely festive—no melancholy love songs allowed. Second, it had to appeal to all ages; top idols like Wu Fan wouldn’t suit this occasion. Third, the song must be filled with heartfelt blessings for the couple.

These three requirements ruled out many artists. So, when the event was announced, every company began selecting singers and songs.

This wedding might not shake the world, but it would certainly make national headlines. Moreover, the Binzhou tycoon’s main business was telecommunications—mobile phones, a global top ten seller. The media industry was entirely dependent on telecom services; short video platforms, music apps, streaming sites—all had to curry favor with him. If he was pleased, he could promote you via in-built ads or pop-ups on his phones—who could resist that?

Unfortunately, both the tycoon and his son were hard to approach, especially in business—they had their own ideas and wouldn’t favor you for the sake of a connection.

Thus, the wedding became a golden opportunity for many artists to showcase themselves. In fact, every major entertainment company and music platform was brainstorming ways to shine at this event.

“This is… too grand,” Liu Sheng said with a wry smile.

He’d come up through reality shows and had sung before tens of thousands, but he was intimidated by a wedding of this caliber.

“Don’t be afraid, Old Liu,” Shen Xian encouraged him. “I really do have a song that suits you. If you trust me, let’s start rehearsing tonight!”

Liu Sheng was still hesitant.

Shen Xian added, “You weren’t afraid to leave the industry—why be afraid of this? Just treat it as your last time on stage.”

On hearing this, Liu Sheng nodded resolutely. “Alright, let’s do it!”

Almost simultaneously, the four entertainment giants and several top management companies began holding their own meetings, plotting how to make a splash at this wedding.