Chapter Thirty-Seven: Debut of Summer in the Bubble (Double-Length Chapter)

On November 11th, Singles’ Day, the official release of “Fragrant Rice” took place across the internet, immediately soaring to the top spot on every major music chart. The anticipation for this song among netizens had been almost unbearable; when “Transformation Plan” aired, it was the height of summer, but by the time the finalized track was launched, autumn was already deep.

“No kidding, I’ve waited so long for this song that the flowers at home have wilted.”
“The official version didn’t disappoint—this is just too beautiful!”
“Why doesn’t Zhou Miao open a Weibo account?”
…

Although countless influencers and amateurs had already covered the song on various short video platforms during this period, the popularity of the official track remained unaffected. After professional recording, the song took on an even richer, lingering quality; the fresh, natural arrangement, with the addition of cicada and bird sounds, made listeners feel as if they were transported back to that unforgettable summer.

In an era obsessed with dazzling, electric dance music, suddenly hearing such a sincere and moving song brought emotions and awe that words could not capture. It was like rediscovering the thrill and wonder of the first favorite song in youth.

The songwriter, Zhou Miao, swiftly became countless people’s favorite. Everywhere, posts discussed him, eagerly awaiting his next creation.

At that moment, many fans who followed Rainbow Records’ official Weibo because of Zhou Miao suddenly came across a message:

“Ta-da! On November 15th, Miao’s latest work will be released, passionately performed by two senior colleagues from the same label @Summer of Bubbles. ‘Chinese Words’—stay tuned!”

Upon seeing this announcement, fans erupted—not just with excitement, but also with anger!

“What a shameless move—using Miao’s popularity to promote other artists. Wishing this chicken farm of a company a speedy bankruptcy!”
“Feels like Zhou Miao is being exploited! The company didn’t give him any resources; instead, he became their only resource.”
“Though the company’s actions are sickening, I’m still looking forward to Miao’s new song!”
…

Their reactions had long been anticipated by Zuo Qiu. Her maneuver resulted in Summer of Bubbles attracting a sizable group of haters before even debuting. But in today’s entertainment world, being hated is just another form of fame. The only real danger is when no one cares enough to hate you.

Once the new song is out, there will be chances to clear their name; then all will be well.

These days, Li Qin and Zhao Li felt as if they were dreaming—the stage they’d longed for was drawing closer. Previously, those trainees who’d mocked them now didn’t dare even breathe near them.

The company assigned them a manager and assistant, along with a shared van. Even though they had to share, they were satisfied.

Their mood was like brides awaiting their wedding; in the days leading up to the song’s release, they lay awake every night, anxious that listeners might not like it.

Amid such nervousness, at midnight on November 15th, “Chinese Words” was simultaneously released across the web.

Interestingly, the summer-themed group Zuo Qiu and Cumin had envisioned was debuting in autumn. The debut track kept getting delayed—after Zhou Miao finally wrote a song for them, the girls’ vocal skills needed improvement, resulting in nearly two more months of waiting.

By the time everything was ready, not only was summer gone, autumn was almost over. Zhou Miao even felt the chill in the air these days.

At the moment the song launched, the two girls kept refreshing the internet, eager for feedback.

“Wonderful! Miao, you never disappoint! The girls’ singing is fantastic too!”
“It’s actually hip-hop, which surprised me—but it’s still so good!”
“The lyrics are genius—tongue-twisters for rap, what a wild idea.”
“This song is so timely; more and more people worldwide are learning Chinese, and Chinese culture’s influence will only grow!”

…

In just two or three hours, still in the dead of night, they watched in disbelief as comments surpassed ten thousand. Meanwhile, the Weibo topic was trending fast.

Such heated discussion said it all—they had made it! Deep into the night, the two girls hugged each other, crying like fools, finally seeing their day of deliverance.

Unexpectedly, the next morning, the People’s Daily shared the song on Weibo, lavishing praise and calling it an outstanding work capable of inspiring national consciousness.

Official endorsement!

This honor stunned many in the entertainment industry, but upon reflection, it made sense: the song had lofty intentions and managed to be highly popular at the same time.

In a music scene awash with petty romance, this was a breath of fresh air.

From the second day, the song’s click rate soared, climbing straight to second place on major charts, with signs it might even dethrone “Fragrant Rice.”

Zuo Qiu, seeing those two songs topping the charts, was beside herself with excitement in the office.

She couldn’t recall how many years it had been since Rainbow Records had songs on the charts, let alone dominating the top two.

Her persistence and effort had finally paid off. Several investors had just called, eager to invest in Rainbow, but she turned them all down.

The hardest times were over. Overnight, Summer of Bubbles became a golden goose, their manager’s phone bombarded with calls from businesses waving cash for performances—just one song would earn millions.

Just this morning, their commercial performance schedule for the year was fully booked, with remaining slots pushed to next year.

Thinking about how she personally traveled to Suzhou to sign Zhou Miao, Zuo Qiu felt it was a stroke of genius—so clever she almost wanted to kiss herself!

Thinking of Zhou Miao, she wondered what her precious talent was up to, and gave him a call.

The phone connected quickly. “What are you up to, Miao?” Zuo Qiu now liked to call him Miao, just like the fans.

Zhou Miao was out viewing apartments with Yang Yan. “Looking at apartments, planning to move out. It’s not always convenient in the dorm.”

Zuo Qiu understood what he meant by “not convenient”—there were frequent late-night knocks on Zhou Miao’s door from those seeking shortcuts, and rumors had long reached her. She’d recently tracked down the troublemakers via surveillance and kicked them out.

Zhou Miao was her Achilles’ heel now—others could be messed with, but anyone who dared touch him would pay dearly.

“How’s it going? Why not just move into my place? I have plenty of spare rooms.”

Zhou Miao rolled his eyes. “If I dared move into your place, you know tomorrow’s headlines would say I’m being kept by the female boss of the record company.”

Zuo Qiu thought it over and realized he was right. She hadn’t considered that, so she reminded him, “Make sure to check the security in the neighborhood. Fans can get pretty crazy these days.”

“Got it.” Zhou Miao hung up and returned inside, where Yang Yan and the apartment owner were discussing the place.

The owner, a woman in her thirties, kept sneaking glances at Zhou Miao, clearly recognizing him—his face was so distinctive. Today, he’d just thrown on a baseball cap, making no attempt to hide.

“Excuse me, are you Zhou Miao?” she finally couldn’t resist asking.

Zhou Miao scratched his head. “Yeah, that’s me.” Though he’d been famous for a while, he still wasn’t used to being recognized.

Having admitted it, the owner shyly said, “I really love your ‘Fragrant Rice.’ Can we take a photo together?”

“Of course.” Zhou Miao didn’t refuse—he liked the apartment and would likely live there for a while, so a photo was no big deal.

After the photo, he signed the lease: a spacious flat over 150 square meters, nine thousand a month—a bargain for that area in Beijing.

The next day, Zhou Miao moved in with his luggage. The place was fully furnished and equipped, everything he needed. With more space, Milk Candy, his pet, had more room to roam—in the cramped old apartment, it had gotten chubby.

He also spent over a hundred thousand on a grand piano. Living here, he couldn’t be without one. Though expensive, it was only mid-range; there were pianos costing hundreds of thousands, even millions. But since this was just for daily practice, he didn’t need anything so fancy.

While Zhou Miao enjoyed his leisurely life, Summer of Bubbles, after their official debut, became emotionless money-making machines, endlessly cycling through variety shows and commercial gigs, sleeping just four or five hours a day.

They earned plenty, but it was exhausting. Fortunately, Zuo Qiu had some conscience and, after a period of intense work, arranged a relaxing reality show, “The Life We Long For,” as a kind of vacation.

The production team was considerate of stars at the height of their fame, not making them do chores; most topics revolved around them.

During dinner, conversation turned to their trainee days.

The famous host Liu Su, playing the family head on the show, asked, “Was competition among your company’s trainees intense?”

“Not just in our company—every company recruiting trainees is fiercely competitive. There are only a few opportunities; you have to fight hard to debut.” Zhao Li still shivered recalling those days.

“How did you get Zhou Miao to write a song for you? Are you close?” another female guest asked, her expression gossip-hungry.

“Actually, before Miao came, we’d already been set to debut, but we never got the right song, so it kept getting delayed.”

“Then one day, the producer called us in, and Miao was there. We were asked to audition,” Zhao Li recalled.

“After the audition, did Zhou Miao decide to let you sing ‘Chinese Words’?” the actress guest inquired, curious about the process.

Zhao Li smiled bitterly. “No, after the audition, Miao said, ‘What are you even singing?’ Then told us to leave and wanted someone else to sing.”

“What? No way, you two sing so well!” Everyone was surprised—they’d all heard “Chinese Words,” which was a massive hit, and the girls’ singing was fantastic, as if the song was tailor-made. Yet Zhou Miao wasn’t satisfied?

“It’s true. We were really bad then—even we couldn’t stand it. Later, we enrolled in rap classes and practiced for a long time before Miao agreed to let us sing it,” Li Qin confirmed.

“Is Zhou Miao very strict? I watched ‘Transformation Plan’ and he seemed easygoing,” the female guest asked, skeptical.

At this point, Li Qin grew animated, eager to complain: “He’s pretty normal most of the time, gets along with everyone. But when it comes to music, he’s like a different person—super irritable!”

Zhao Li nodded vigorously, deeply agreeing. “Yeah, totally scary! When we recorded this song, he made us cry several times. If we didn’t sing well, he’d stare at us with a blank face! Every time I saw that look, I was terrified!”

Zhao Li even mimicked Zhou Miao’s cold, expressionless glare, as if about to hit someone, causing the studio guests to burst out laughing.

Hearing all this, Liu Su was impressed, stepping forward to defend Zhou Miao: “It’s exactly because he takes music so seriously that he can write such wonderful songs. His success is well deserved!”

“Look at today’s entertainment industry—so many people are famous for no reason, with neither works nor attitude, just their looks. I wish there were more kids like Zhou Miao.”

With Liu Su’s words, no one dared respond. Only he had the status and qualifications to say such things; anyone else would be torn apart by rabid fans.

Liu Su nudged Zhao Li. “By the way, does Zhou Miao do variety shows? If he’s willing, he should come play on our program.”

Zhao Li shook her head. “As far as I know, Miao doesn’t like variety shows. Many invited him, but he declined. Maybe ‘Transformation Plan’ left him with too much trauma.”

“Ah, I wish he would! I’m a fan, but can’t find any news about him. I’ve watched ‘Transformation Plan’ several times already,” the female guest said, genuinely disappointed—not just being polite, but truly fond of Zhou Miao.

This was the shared feeling of many of his fans—he was just too low-key. Other celebrities, once famous, practically live on television.

Zhou Miao was the opposite: “If you can find me, I lose.” No Weibo, no TikTok, no variety shows, no TV appearances—he was virtually untraceable. Fans were powerless to reach him.