dkrc Preparations before the press conference for Chapter 77
Preparations before the press conference for Chapter 77
The next morning, Li Si'an took Chen Nan and one of her friends to the company.
The office in the annex of the Beizhan Hotel hasn't been properly cleaned since the contract was signed.
The three of them wiped down all the desks and filing cabinets, and swept the floor. They opened the windows to let in some fresh air, and the September breeze carried away much of the dust and grime in the room.
At noon, he was treating Sister Nan and her friends to hot pot when his phone rang.
"Anzi, I'll pick you up at two o'clock this afternoon to meet that old accountant," Zhou Weidong's voice came through the receiver. "He's retired from the cultural center, his surname is Meng. You come with me, don't say much, just listen."
"understood."
At 2 PM, Zhou Weidong's car was parked downstairs at the Beizhan Hotel. Li Si'an opened the car door and got in, driving deeper into the alley. Zhou Weidong gripped the steering wheel, a cigarette dangling from his lips.
"This Meng Fanjiang worked as an accountant at the cultural center for thirty years, and later became the deputy director. He was skilled in his work and kept his mouth shut. Now he's retired and staying at home."
He paused for a moment, then said, "We need to find a reliable person for the finance department, and the accounts need to be clear."
Li Si'an nodded.
The car turned into an alley and stopped in front of a drab, gray residential building. Zhou Weidong went up to the third floor and knocked on the door.
The person who opened the door was an elderly man in his sixties, with gray hair, wearing reading glasses and a faded blue shirt. He was holding a newspaper, presumably reading it.
"Old Meng, this is Zhou Weidong."
"Come in, come in." Meng Fanjiang stepped aside.
The house wasn't big. In the living room, there was an old-fashioned writing desk with an abacus, a stack of account books, and several pens neatly arranged on it. A calligraphy scroll hung on the wall that read, "Honesty is fundamental."
Meng Fanjiang poured them tea and sat down. Zhou Weidong didn't beat around the bush and explained the company's situation.
I just registered and don't have much money yet, but the album is about to be released, and Motorola needs to send in $100,000. Someone needs to open a foreign exchange account for me.
Meng Fanjiang held his teacup, listened, and then put the cup down.
"Weidong, who are the shareholders of your company?"
"It's a 50/50 split between me and my nephew."
Meng Fanjiang glanced at Li Si'an, nodded, and didn't ask any more questions. He turned to Zhou Weidong and began to discuss the specifics—how to set up the accounts, how to file taxes, and which bank to use for the foreign exchange account.
Li Si'an sat beside him, listening. The two chatted for almost an hour, and Zhou Weidong only stood up after asking all the questions he needed to.
"Old Meng, I'll leave this to you. Name your price."
"We'll talk about payment later," Meng Fanjiang waved his hand. "I'll set up the accounts and get the foreign exchange account set up for you first. We'll discuss the money after the work is done."
After leaving Meng Fanjiang's house and getting into the car, Zhou Weidong lit the cigarette in his mouth.
"How's this old man?"
"Reliable," Li Si'an said.
"Of course." Zhou Weidong exhaled a puff of smoke. "He retired from a state-owned enterprise and is an expert at bookkeeping."
A day later, Zhou Weidong called.
"Anzi, come to the company this afternoon. We've hired an assistant; come meet him and get to know him."
"OK."
When Li Si'an arrived at the company in the afternoon, Zhou Weidong was already there.
Standing next to him was a girl in her early twenties, with short hair, wearing black-rimmed glasses and a white shirt. She looked quiet and reserved, but her eyes were clear, open, and unwavering.
"This is Lin Xiao," Zhou Weidong introduced. "She graduated from a junior college with a major in Chinese literature. She'll be helping out with phone calls and organizing documents."
"This is Li Si'an, your boss," Zhou Weidong said, pointing to Li Si'an again.
Lin Xiao glanced at Li Si'an and smiled. "Hello, Mr. Li."
Li Si'an chuckled. "Don't call me President Li, just call me Anzi."
Lin Xiao smiled but didn't reply.
The suspense building on the radio was orchestrated by Xu Zhongming.
Two days later, he called.
"Baidu Music Radio, China National Radio, and several other music programs have all made arrangements. Starting tomorrow, they will only play the chorus once a day, not the whole song, and they won't say who it is. You can find out what they say for yourself later."
"What about the newspapers?"
"We've contacted several media outlets. The Beijing Youth Daily, Beijing Evening News, and China Youth Daily are all interested. They'll send reporters to interview you after the press conference."
Xu Zhongming paused for a moment, then said, "There's one more thing—you need to prepare a few photos. The newspaper needs them for illustrations."
After hanging up the phone, Li Si'an leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling for a while.
Radio broadcasts, newspaper interviews, press conferences... all these things suddenly came crashing down on him, making him feel a little unreal and a little panicked.
It wasn't that I was scared; it felt like you were walking slowly along the shore when suddenly a wave swept you in. Before you even had a chance to think about whether you could swim, you were already in the water.
The photographer for the poster reshoot was someone hired by Xu Zhongming.
His surname was Song, his given name was Song Jianguo, he was in his early thirties, and he had long hair. We arranged to meet in the courtyard outside the Beijing Exhibition Center Theater—with the exhibition center's spire as a backdrop, red brick walls, ginkgo trees, and the autumn light.
Li Si'an changed her clothes three times: a white shirt, a black T-shirt, and a denim jacket.
He was completely clueless about how to take good photos of himself; all he could do was obey. He would stand wherever Song Jianguo told him to stand, and he would pose his body however Song Jianguo told him to pose.
At the end of the shoot, Song Jianguo put down his camera and nodded in satisfaction at Li Si'an.
"A model like you who knows how to cooperate makes shooting quick. Okay, that's good enough for today. I estimate we can get seven or eight usable shots."
"Is that enough?"
"That's enough. Your face is easy to photograph, no need to pick a good angle." Song Jianguo put the camera back in his bag. "Get it fixed when you get back, and I'll take it to your uncle the day after tomorrow."
A few days later, Li Si'an was having lunch at the shop, with the radio on the counter turned on.
BJ Music Channel, a music program airing at 2 PM. The host paused briefly after playing an old song.
"Listeners, we recently received a new song. The singer is very mysterious; so far, we've only been allowed to play the chorus."
The piano prelude began, followed by his voice.
"I wish I could become the angel you love in a fairy tale. I would spread my arms and turn them into wings to protect you."
After the chorus finished playing, the host's voice came back on.
"The creator and singer of this song is only eighteen years old this year. What's even more surprising is that he is not only a singer, but also a successful Google copywriter."
"One of his slogans has been adopted by international telecommunications giant Motorola as their global slogan. Who exactly is this mysterious young man? The answer will be officially revealed at Motorola's press conference on September 18th."
Li Si'an put down her chopsticks, leaned back in her chair, and stared at the ceiling.
The radio has already started playing a song.
The corners of his mouth slowly turned up.
The day before the press conference, my phone rang from morning till night.
In the morning, Zhao Hongyu's assistant called first to confirm the procedures and time for tomorrow, and reminded him to bring his ID card and register upon entering.
In the afternoon, Xu Zhongming called.
"The radio station is doing well. In the past two days, listeners have been calling in to ask what song it is and who sings it. The host answered as we agreed—you'll find out on September 18th. The suspense is on."
He paused.
"The album will be available for purchase tomorrow afternoon, and all major music stores have already stocked it. It will go on sale as soon as your press conference ends."
A little while later, Zhou Weidong called again.
"Lin Xiao proofread the press release again, and it's fine now. I'll go with you tomorrow, so don't be late."
Li Si'an had been on the phone all day, and her throat was a little dry.
It was getting dark. He squatted on the steps in front of the shop, clutching a bottle of Coke in his hand.
My phone rang in my pocket. It was Tang Yun's dorm room number.
"Feed?"
"It's me," Tang Yun's voice came softly from the receiver. "What time is your press conference tomorrow?"
"10:00 AM."
Are you nervous?
Li Si'an thought for a moment. "It's alright."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.
"Tang Dynasty style?"
"I'm here." She paused for a moment. "I just wanted to tell you not to be nervous. Your music video was so well-made, and the lyrics were so good too, there's nothing to be nervous about."
Li Si'an chuckled. "You called just to tell me this?"
"Hmm." Tang Yun's voice lowered. "Also... I can't make it tomorrow."
"I know. You're in class."
"I'll celebrate with you when you're done with your work."
Li Si'an was taken aback. "How are we going to celebrate?"
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. Tang Yun's voice was low, carrying a hint of embarrassment, yet also a sense of recklessness.
"Just... kisses, hugs, and piggyback rides."
Li Si'an held her phone and chuckled.
Last time Tang Yun was on TV, he said he wanted to celebrate, that's how he teased her. She still remembers it.
The streetlights in the alley suddenly turned on, casting a warm orange glow that illuminated a small patch of the step where he was squatting.
Tomorrow is a big day.