Chapter Seventy-Three: Return (Double Chapter)

Early the next morning, Zhou Miao left the island with the production crew by boat. Before departing, he asked the photographer to take plenty of pictures for him as keepsakes.

Upon returning to Beijing, Zhou Miao didn’t immediately report to school. Instead, he slept at home for an entire day, restoring the vitality he’d lost in the past half month.

That evening, Hu San came over and prepared a sumptuous dinner for him. Seeing Zhou Miao devour the food ravenously, she felt a pang of sympathy.

“Slow down and have some soup,” she urged.

Zhou Miao struggled to swallow the food in his mouth, feeling a bit choked, so he quickly took two sips of chicken soup. Only then did he feel relieved; he’d spent the whole day sleeping and hadn’t eaten a thing.

“Life on the island was truly unfit for humans,” Zhou Miao recalled. “At first, we had no fire, ate everything raw—raw loaches, raw fish slices. Later, we found a breadfruit tree. The fruit tasted sweet and sour—it was actually pretty good…”

After dinner, Zhou Miao pulled Hu San onto his lap and showed her the photos on his phone. When he scrolled to a picture of himself and Zhao Jingya together, Hu San grabbed his hand.

“Don’t move, let me see,” she said, inspecting the photo closely, her lips pursed into a pout.

“She’s quite pretty, and those long legs…” A faint tang of jealousy filled the air.

Sensing her lips about to launch into a barrage of words, Zhou Miao decisively blocked them all.

“Um… there are still dishes to wash…”

“What dishes? Wash me first,” Hu San realized something was amiss and tried to slip away, but Zhou Miao hoisted her onto his shoulder. Her two little legs flailed as he carried her straight to the bathroom, and then…

Zhou Miao lounged like a lord by the bathtub’s edge. “Put some muscle into it.”

Hu San, her face flushed, scrubbed his back with a bath towel, her eyes fixed firmly on his back, not daring to look anywhere else.

“Anything interesting happen while I was gone these ten days?” Zhou Miao asked.

Hu San thought for a moment. “Interesting? Yes. Several talent shows in preparation were suddenly halted. Seems there’ve been too many talent shows in recent years, always with negative news. The authorities are tightening controls on these programs.”

Zhou Miao laughed. “That’s actually good news. Otherwise, every year there’s a wave after wave of idols, like harvesting chives, never-ending. It’s best to stop.”

“But I heard the Goose Company is investing heavily in a brand-new music variety show to fill the gap.”

Zhou Miao snorted disdainfully. “Probably another adaptation of some Korean show. Brand new? I don’t buy it.”

“I guess so, too. Domestic entertainment has nearly emptied Korea’s vault over the past years—anything that could be copied has been copied. I haven’t seen a blockbuster homegrown variety show in ages.”

At this, Hu San, a devoted fan of variety shows, slapped Zhou Miao’s back in frustration, clearly vexed by the lack of progress.

Zhou Miao caught her little hand and kissed it. “How about you stay over tonight?”

Hu San stiffened entirely, her face red enough to bleed, her gaze darting everywhere. “…Isn’t it a bit too soon?”

“I just want to hold you and sleep, really. I promise to do nothing!” Zhou Miao solemnly swore.

Hu San bit her lower lip, torn, not quite believing Zhou Miao’s words, yet unable to refuse him. She hesitated for a long while.

“You really won’t do anything?”

Zhou Miao’s lips curled up. “Really! How could I lie to you?”

“…Alright then.” In the end, Hu San couldn’t resist Zhou Miao’s hopeful gaze and shyly agreed.

Zhou Miao was so excited that he jumped to his feet, startling Hu San, who quickly covered her eyes. “You’re crazy!”

Freshly bathed, Zhou Miao lay in bed, brimming with excitement, his grin nearly reaching his ears.

After more than half an hour, Hu San, wrapped in a towel, finally tiptoed into the bedroom.

Zhou Miao thoughtfully lifted the duvet for her, patting the spot beside him with a mischievous smile, prompting Hu San to roll her eyes.

Seeing Hu San hesitate to climb into bed, Zhou Miao abandoned all pretense and pounced like a big bad wolf…

The next morning, Zhou Miao woke with heavy dark circles under his eyes, bloodshot and weary.

He hadn’t been busy last night—he was simply frustrated.

Just as they were about to reach the final step, Zhou Miao remembered he had no umbrella. Hu San was still in university; if luck struck, her father would skin them alive.

Frustrated, Zhou Miao had to muster superhuman willpower to restrain himself.

Hu San had classes in the morning and left early for school. Zhou Miao, after pounding the bed in frustration, could only get up and head to class himself.

After half a month’s absence, the backlog of assignments was terrifying. Many believe that university means no homework, and for some departments that’s true, but the composition department still assigns plenty.

Though the teachers said he could catch up on the lessons and skip the assignments, Zhou Miao decided to complete everything. Only through constant practice could he truly master the skills and knowledge.

So, Zhou Miao fought through several days and nights. As he was buried in his studies, Zuo Qiu called, asking him to come to the company that evening for an important discussion.

Zhou Miao felt puzzled—what couldn’t be discussed over the phone? But the boss insisted, so he had to go. The driver was already waiting downstairs.

At seven that evening, as soon as Zhou Miao stepped into the company, he heard several loud bangs. Confetti rained from above, startling him.

Then Zuo Qiu, along with the company trainees, emerged from all corners to applaud him.

Yang Xiaoya approached, carrying a banner. “Congratulations, Zhou Miao, for setting a record in digital album sales in the Chinese music industry!”

Zhou Miao smiled helplessly. So that’s what this was about—such a fuss for this…

He took the banner from Yang Xiaoya and opened it. It read, “‘Listen’—the sound that breaks records!”

Zhou Miao flicked her forehead. “Always up to useless antics.”

Zuo Qiu walked over gracefully. “Congratulations! Your debut album sold 5.8 million copies, with a total revenue of 116 million, breaking the all-time digital album sales record in Chinese music!”

Hearing this figure, Zhou Miao was surprised. So many copies sold? Honestly, it exceeded his expectations.

However, this total only broke the digital album record. Including physical albums, it barely ranked in the top ten of sales history in the Chinese music scene.

In the era of digital albums, a ten-track album typically sold for about twenty yuan—much cheaper than physical albums.

Twenty years ago, a legitimate physical album already cost thirty-five yuan, and money was worth much more then.

Even so, in those golden days, top singers could still sell millions of albums.

Now, it’s rare for serious artists to sell over a million digital albums.

Instead, traffic-driven idols break sales records as if riding a rocket, but when you actually listen, it’s utter rubbish.

They’ve turned the music market into a numbers game, a means for fans to funnel money to their idols.

This left countless musicians shaking their heads with bitter smiles—the times have changed.

That’s why Zhou Miao’s album, “Listen,” topping the digital sales chart, was a shot in the arm for all artists who take music seriously.

Are albums hard to sell? If you can create something of “Listen’s” caliber, will it really struggle for buyers?

The times may be tough, but we must be better!

Tonight’s surprise was a celebration party Zuo Qiu organized for Zhou Miao, with endless food and drink, a shower of red envelopes, and everyone at the company—staff and trainees alike—joining Zhou Miao in the festivities.

While the others enjoyed themselves downstairs, Zhou Miao was led by Zuo Qiu to her office, where a document lay quietly before him.

Zhou Miao glanced at it and frowned. “Equity gift contract? Sister Qiu, what’s this…”

Zuo Qiu smiled. “I admit I’m not a qualified boss. Without you, Rainbow would’ve collapsed last summer when we failed to secure financing.”

“Compared with other companies, Rainbow has no real advantages. Frankly, Rainbow could do without me, but not without you. This is what you deserve—consider it compensation for how I coaxed you into joining.”

Zhou Miao looked it over carefully—it was an unconditional gift contract, offering him 10% equity!

Don’t think 10% is insignificant—it’s a free gift. Capital interested in investing in Rainbow now stretches beyond the Fifth Ring Road; if Zuo Qiu accepted investment, those shares would instantly be worth over a hundred million.

“This is too much,” Zhou Miao said, knowing that the company had other shareholders. This 10% must have come from Zuo Qiu’s own stake.

Zuo Qiu handed him a pen. “Take it. Rainbow is only just starting to grow, and its valuation isn’t very high yet. So you need to work hard for me—release more albums, take more endorsements. The better you do, the better Rainbow does, and your shares will become more valuable.”

Zhou Miao understood. Zuo Qiu was afraid he might leave, so she wanted to tie him to Rainbow with shares. If he refused, she’d never feel secure.

Having made up his mind, Zhou Miao signed his name at the end of the contract without further hesitation.

Seeing him sign, Zuo Qiu finally relaxed. She would no longer have nightmares about Zhou Miao being poached by others.

“Boss Zhou, work hard from now on!”

Zhou Miao laughed. “Got it. Tomorrow I’ll see if there are any suitable endorsements to take on and help the company make money!”

Rainbow had just completed its first settlement with the platform for album sales. After deducting the company share, platform fees, and taxes, Zhou Miao would pocket around thirty-five million. With this money, he could finally start on some plans he’d made earlier.

The next morning, Zhou Miao called Gu Zhiyin. “The album revenue will soon arrive. The charity fund I mentioned to you before can start preparations. Every year I’ll contribute twenty percent of my income. The fund will focus on two directions.”

“First, charitable aid for minors with congenital heart disease. The older they get, the harder it is to treat; priority goes to children aged three to five.”

“Second, building Hope Primary Schools in impoverished areas—preferably directly connected to local authorities, not via any third-party organizations.”

Gu Zhiyin understood, but hesitated. “Isn’t twenty percent too much? Right now you’re still in school, so it’s not obvious, but after graduation, when your activities fully launch, your annual income will be in the hundreds of millions.”

Zhou Miao shook his head, smiling. “It doesn’t matter. Once you have enough money, it’s just a string of digits. Rather than letting it sit idle in the bank, it’s better to use it for charity.”

Since Zhou Miao insisted, Gu Zhiyin said no more.

Truth be told, she admired Zhou Miao. Not everyone could be so indifferent to wealth. Many in entertainment have more money than they could spend in eight lifetimes, yet they still keep grabbing more.

Many keyboard warriors say, “If I were as rich as a celebrity, I’d donate a hundred million!”

But in reality, if they were as rich as celebrities, they wouldn’t give a single dime.

“Should I get the media to publicize it?” Gu Zhiyin asked. That’s the standard practice after a star does charity—if you spend money and don’t publicize it, isn’t it wasted?

Zhou Miao looked at her, confused. “Do I really seem like someone who loves putting on a show?”

Gu Zhiyin couldn’t help laughing. “Sorry, my mistake. I shouldn’t doubt your character, Brother Miao.”

Zhou Miao snorted, head held high as he prepared to leave, but suddenly remembered something. “By the way, could you help me order a Maserati when you have time? Model and color are up to you—it’s for my mom.”

Hong Xue had always liked that brand, but being thrifty, she never splurged. Now that Zhou Miao had money, he wanted to fulfill her wish.

As for his dad, he had his own money.

Gu Zhiyin worked efficiently. A week later, Hong Xue saw a white Maserati parked at their door and was moved beyond words, then called Zhou Miao and scolded him for two hours.

Meanwhile, Zhou Ye spent the next week coming home early, waiting expectantly at the door, but never received his share.

Eventually, he realized this brat hadn’t bought him one!

“Achoo!” Far away in Beijing, Zhou Miao sneezed forcefully. The weather was turning autumnal.

“Stop the car!” Zhou Miao suddenly told the driver, rubbing his nose and feeling a bit awkward. He turned to Yang Xiaoya. “Could you go across to that pharmacy and buy me something?”

Yang Xiaoya looked at him anxiously. “Are you sick, Brother Miao?”

“No, I mean…” Zhou Miao glanced at the driver and typed “TT” on his phone.

Yang Xiaoya’s face instantly flushed bright red, reacting intensely. “No way! How can a girl buy that for you?”

“This month’s bonus will double.”

“How many boxes?”

Zhou Miao thought it best to do it all at once, to avoid hassle. “Um… ten boxes.”

Yang Xiaoya stared at him in surprise. “You need to exercise restraint, Brother Miao.”

Zhou Miao’s face reddened. “Enough nonsense, just go!”

As Yang Xiaoya was about to step out, Zhou Miao pulled her back and whispered, “Remember to get the large size.”