It seemed Zhang Xiyang and "Song to Myself" were a match made in heaven. The recording was effortlessly completed the following day, and Lin Xi promptly arranged for the song's release.
The efficiency of Shinhwa Music Department's work was commendable as always.
The battle for the season rankings had already commenced this month, though "Song to Myself" hadn't debuted strictly on schedule. Nevertheless, it was just a day delayed, earlier than Lin Xi had anticipated.
Before the song's official release, Lin Xi had a serious conversation with Zhang Xiyang.
"Mister Zhang Xiyang," Lin Xi began earnestly.
"If you chose not to release a song for three years, I respected that decision. But now that you've released one, you must cooperate with its promotion. It's your responsibility to the song and to yourself."
Zhang Xiyang had once been immensely popular, his fans spread across Qinzhou. Many in the industry believed he had the potential to become the king of singers.
However, after his divorce, Zhang Xiyang went into a Slump, and his musical output dwindled until three years ago, when he disappeared entirely from public view.
When Lin Xi brought Zhang Xiyang into the Thirteenth Department, she didn't rush him into work, choosing instead to exercise the patience the Three Departments lacked.
It was akin to waiting for her brother to emerge from a dark period.
Now, after three years, it seemed destined that her brother and Zhang Xiyang, both scarred by old wounds, would have such a fortuitous encounter.
Lin Xi felt her patience had paid off, but she couldn't help but worry: Was Zhang Xiyang truly willing to accept her arrangements?
"Don't worry, I will fully cooperate with the department's promotional efforts. Some songs shouldn't be let down."
There was a pause and He softly expressed his gratitude.
"Thank you for waiting for me. I know there are many others out there waiting for me too."
"Three days from now, 'Yunge Hui.' That's your first stop for promotion!" Lin Xi announced, smiling, using the song to herald Zhang Xiyang's return to Qinzhou's music scene.
"Alright. I'm looking forward to it," Zhang Xiyang said, deciding to re-enter Qinzhou's music scene.
At the same time, Lin Zhibai received a message from his sister on his phone:
"8 PM, tune in."
"OK," Lin Zhibai replied tersely.
For this task, the system posed an additional challenge to Lin Zhibai: achieving first place in the season rankings.
Lin Zhibai felt his chances were slim.
It wasn't that "Song to Myself" was lacking—it was quite good, in fact, and Lin Zhibai liked it. It was just that, often, the best works weren't necessarily the most popular. The style of this song might not resonate widely enough to top the charts.
Yet, the allure of a good song couldn't be easily dismissed.
Lin Zhibai didn't expect "Song to Myself" to top the season charts. His goal this time was simply to make it into the top ten.
Just cracking the top ten should be achievable, right?
Didn't Zhang Xiyang once have a large fan base? Surely some of his fans remained.
Season rankings were about quality, but fan support couldn't be ignored.
Hadn't Lin Zhibai observed how, in the past, young idols with dedicated fan bases could outshine industry veterans?
Of course, Qinzhou's market wasn't that simplistic. Lin Zhibai had studied the season charts and noticed that while top songs were popular, they also possessed substance.
This was the opportunity for "Song to Myself."
Perhaps he should have more confidence in the song's chart potential?
...
At 8 PM that evening.
Several music streaming platforms, in collaboration with Shinhwa Entertainment, simultaneously launched "Song to Myself."
In a rented apartment.
After work, Zhao Yu lounged comfortably on the sofa, listening to music as usual.
Suddenly.
His phone buzzed: [The Composer you follow, Bai Di, has released a new song!]
"Bai Di?" Zhao Yu perked up.
He had taken a liking to "Xiaochou" last month and had started following Bai Di on the Huoshaoyun platform, ensuring he'd be notified of any new releases.
He hadn't expected Bai Di to drop another song so soon.
Curious, he tapped to check it out.
The song was titled "Song to Myself." The name was intriguing, but Zhao Yu had encountered plenty of peculiar song titles in his years of music appreciation. Thus, he didn't dwell on it. Yet, the singer's name gave him pause.
Zhang Xiyang?
Was this the Zhang Xiyang who, three years ago, had been so popular he'd challenged the king of singers and reached the top?
He hadn't heard from the man in years.
Zhao Yu had listened to some of Zhang Xiyang's songs back then and still kept a few on his phone, occasionally revisiting them. Now, this artist was making a comeback with Bai Di, the creator of "Xiaochou."
Could this be a powerhouse collaboration? Zhao Yu grew excited and immediately clicked to listen.
The song ran for four minutes and thirty-eight seconds.
Initially intrigued, Zhao Yu found his brows furrowing as he listened.
How would he rate this song?
The composition was skillful, and the lyrics were good, though not as ornate as "Xiaochou." They were straightforward, yet carried a poignant quality, more directly hitting the heart than "Xiaochou," almost as if tailor-made by Bai Di for Zhang Xiyang—
Many knew Zhang Xiyang had struggled post-divorce.
Each word he sang in this song seemed to embody his own experiences.
But here was the issue: Zhao Yu simply didn't connect with it.
Sometimes, a single unfavorable impression could outweigh a thousand praises.
To draw a comparison, it was akin to classical piano pieces—admired by many for their quality but failing to resonate with everyone. "Song to Myself" left Zhao Yu with a similar feeling.
"No feeling," Zhao Yu murmured, shaking his head. Yet, out of respect for Bai Di and Zhang Xiyang, he listened again.
No change. The song failed to capture his interest.
Out of curiosity, he scrolled down to the comments section, wondering how others perceived Bai Di's new release and Zhang Xiyang's return to the music scene.
"The prodigal son returns!?"
The top comment made Zhao Yu smile knowingly.
"I haven't heard from Zhang Xiyang in ages. Is he making a comeback?"
"Is Bai Di the genius behind 'Xiaochou'?"
"Bai Di and Zhang Xiyang's collaboration marks the latter's return. One plus one isn't adding up for me. Why does this song feel so ordinary?"
"Agree with the above. Maybe 'Xiaochou' set my expectations too high for Bai Di?"
"I expected a lot from Zhang Xiyang, but this song doesn't quite hit the mark for me."
"Seriously? Or is my taste too niche? Does this song fall short? Maybe I'm being too critical. I almost shed tears halfway through listening to it."
"I'm a Zhang Xiyang fan, and I think this song is great. Huge thanks to Bai Di for welcoming back the music industry's big comeback!"
"Why is Zhang Xiyang a music industry big shot? Does this song really justify that?"
"Lao Zhang had such a following back then. If not for his divorce, he might be a king of singers by now. His vocal prowess is on par with the best. As for this song, I struggle to evaluate it. I'm sure I like it, though—it feels tailor-made for Zhang Xiyang by Bai Di, hence the title 'Song to Myself.'"
"This is just as good as 'Xiaochou.'"
"I'm just glad to see Zhang Xiyang back!"
"Give it a few listens. This song grows on you, reflecting Zhang Xiyang's journey. It's his personal tale."
"Hmm, seems like the opinions are polarized."
Zhao Yu didn't scroll further. He felt his taste likely mirrored the majority.
In the top ten comments, irrelevant ones aside, about 60% expressed a disconnect with the song.
"'Xiaochou' it is," Zhao Yu muttered, switching back to play it.
He'd listened to the song for over ten days now and was beginning to tire of it, though he could still appreciate it.
That was natural; few songs retained their appeal over such prolonged exposure.
Meanwhile, in Qinzhou's music scene, others were beginning to take notice of the new song.
"Bai Di?"
"Zhang Xiyang?"
These were two names that demanded attention