Chapter 56: Level 3 (Newcomer Requests Monthly Votes)

Deng Qin took a deep breath, the weight of great responsibility on her shoulders. Her pearly teeth bit down gently, rosy lips slightly parted, yet no words came out.
Why am I nervous…? Deng Qin, the capable and efficient agent, found it unbelievable.
She took a large gulp of water and glanced at Li He, probing, “Teacher Jia Bei, He Luoluo, are either of you considering signing with a company?”
Her tone was soft, as if it would be an honor for any company should Li He wish to sign.
He Luo put down his glass, looked at his close friend Li He, and his left hand on his lap unconsciously tightened—a sign that serious business was about to begin.
Li He, however, was in no hurry. After taking a leisurely sip of water, he replied, “Sister Qin, I’m not sure what kind of signing you mean when you talk about a contract with a company.”
This question left Deng Qin momentarily stunned.
Were there different ways to sign with a company?
How could someone as capable as she not know this?
Four seconds passed.
Deng Qin, in a somewhat conflicted tone, said, “Just… just a normal contract.”
She truly didn’t understand what Li He meant by “what kind of signing.”
She decided to ask directly; either Starlight’s business ability was lacking, or Teacher Jia Bei was utterly clueless.
Li He nearly wanted to kneel in exasperation.
Was there such a thing as an abnormal contract? Was this so-called normal contract really legitimate?
Perhaps his question was unclear. After thinking it over, Li He explained, “If I sign with a company, does that mean I must do whatever the company tells me to do?”
Li He had researched some information about the entertainment industry in this world, but certain deeper aspects remained elusive.
He remembered in his previous life there were online rumors about an artist being forced by their agency to take on work, like singers being compelled to act, resulting in awkward performances and a ruined public image.
“No, that’s not the case,” Deng Qin said with a smile. “Signing with a company is like taking a job—everyone has their own positions, and as long as you do your part, that’s enough.”
She elaborated, “I can’t speak for other companies, but at Starlight, lyricists and composers are only responsible for writing lyrics and composing music; nothing else is required.”
“Starlight’s lyric and composition division is split into twelve groups. Each group is assigned tasks by the company, which include songs needed by our own singers as well as orders from outside clients. Tasks are assigned to groups, but there are also individual tasks, which are usually for higher-level writers composing custom songs for specific singers.”
Deng Qin then explained the industry’s ranking system for lyricists and composers, adding that Starlight had great faith in Teacher Jia Bei and was willing to offer a Level 3 contract.

Including the recently signed performance rights for “A Bridge of Fate,” Li He had only written three songs at this point.
Though securing three number-one hits on the charts would qualify someone as a Level 3 writer in the industry, the problem was that “A Bridge of Fate” hadn’t yet climbed the charts, so no one could guarantee it would dominate.
After some thought, Li He asked, “What happens if a group fails to complete its task?”
Deng Qin was baffled—why would anyone consider the possibility of a group failing?
Since the formation of Starlight Entertainment’s lyric and composition department, no group had ever failed to complete a task.
“If a group doesn’t finish its assignment, the task is handed over to another team. But no group would ever allow that to happen.”
She explained, “As you know, Teacher Jia Bei, lyricists and composers are extremely proud. Having a task reassigned is the greatest insult. If a Level 1 writer fails, there are Level 2 writers; if Level 2 writers fail, there are Level 3; if Level 3 fail, there are Level 5, then gold-ranked writers, and even the legendary top writers.”
Failure to complete a group task was simply unthinkable, because no team would ever believe they were inferior to another.
Incredible.
It was like a ring toss game—if the juniors fall short, the seniors step in… Li He was beginning to suspect that lyricists and composers truly held extraordinary status.
Jiang Qi chimed in to speak for the company: “Teacher Jia Bei, lyricists and composers are held in very high regard within the industry. Especially talented individuals like you—companies value you even more.”
This was also why she fawned over Li He so shamelessly.
A single good song could make a singer’s career.
But a truly outstanding writer could create opportunities for a whole group of singers.
With such powerful creators backing them, a singer could be elevated to legendary status, even crowned King or Queen of Pop.
Seeing her good friend already currying favor, He Xier, unwilling to be left behind, parted her lips slightly, “That’s right, Li He. In the music world, lyricists and composers are as important as blockbuster directors in the film industry. Singers are like actors—they do whatever the director says.”
Judging by how desperately you’re all flattering me, I’m pretty sure lyricists and composers really are that important.
“What about individual tasks? What if someone fails to complete one?” Li He asked.
Group tasks would never go unfinished, as pride would drive people to work through the night for the sake of honor.
Deng Qin patiently explained, “Individual tasks are voluntary. If you don’t think you can finish, there’s no need to accept. But once you’ve accepted an individual task, it must be completed.”

If you’ve accepted an individual assignment, it means you’re confident you can deliver. After all, who would be foolish enough to accept a task they know they can’t complete?
The way tasks were allocated was truly considerate… Li He marveled inwardly at how humane Starlight’s management of its writers was.
What Li He didn’t know was that it wasn’t so much that Starlight was lenient, but that lyricists and composers were simply too valuable.
A single singer, no matter how outstanding, is still just one singer.
But a top-tier writer could support many singers.
Such was the standing of lyricists and composers in the music industry.
A director could turn a newcomer into a household name, and a writer could do the same for a new singer.
At this point, Deng Qin was certain that Teacher Jia Bei was inclined to sign with a company.
She immediately took her phone, excused herself to the restroom, and called Liu Kang.
Soon after,
Deng Qin, in her black high heels, returned to the private room, smiling brightly.
After sitting down, she declared, “Teacher Jia Bei, if you’re considering signing with a company, Starlight is absolutely your best choice.”
She’d only just stepped out to make a call—where had this new confidence come from? Li He wasn’t in a hurry and asked, “Why do you say that?”
Deng Qin replied with a smile, “Starlight can offer you Level 3 treatment in advance.”
“It’s just one song. Other companies can do the same,” Li He responded confidently.
Offering Level 3 benefits up front may have defied convention, but Li He believed that the truly powerful companies wouldn’t sweat the small change.
“Perhaps other companies could, too,” Deng Qin smiled, “but you’re from Lu Province, and so is Starlight. When people from the same hometown meet in a strange land, they’re often moved to tears—let alone when you’re still in your home province. Besides, Qingcheng isn’t far from Quancheng; it’s convenient for you to visit home.”
Well now, here comes the emotional pitch… Li He remained unmoved. Starlight must have an ace up its sleeve.
Until they played it, he would not give in.