The hype from the VALENTE endorsement hadn't fully subsided when the follow-up effects of the "R&B Godfather" feature in "Chinese Music Weekly" began to ferment.

Old Zhao pushed open the studio door, clutching three gold-stamped envelopes in his hand.

He walked quickly to the coffee table.

Thwack.

The three envelopes were slammed down in front of Lu Zhixian.

“Penguin, NetYi, Gugu.” Old Zhao rattled off the names of the three major domestic music platforms in one breath.

He pulled over a chair and sat down, picking up a water glass and taking a large gulp. “The annual music festivals—they’ve all come looking for you.”

Lu Zhixian leaned back on the sofa, twirling a pencil in his hand.

He glanced at the envelopes on the table but didn't move.

“The weight of the title 'Godfather' is much greater than you think.” Old Zhao pointed at one of the envelopes, his tone excited.

“Penguin’s offer: the grand finale performance, the penultimate slot on the red carpet, and a ten-minute solo stage for you alone.”

“NetYi is focusing on sentimentality. Gugu, in order to snatch you away, has directly offered an astronomical appearance fee.”

Old Zhao crossed his hands on the table. “How do you choose?”

Lu Zhixian stopped twirling the pencil.

He reached out to push the three invitations aside and flipped through the specific terms inside.

“Take Penguin’s.” Lu Zhixian picked out the Penguin envelope and tossed it back to Old Zhao.

“Reason?” Old Zhao asked.

“It was the first one I grabbed,” Lu Zhixian replied succinctly.

“Not considering anything else?”

“Not considering it,” Lu Zhixian said flatly.

Old Zhao slapped his thigh. “Dominant. We’ll do it as you say.”

The news spread throughout the industry that very afternoon.

The three major platforms fighting over one person simultaneously—this was a treatment usually reserved for Heavenly Kings and Queens.

Now, it had landed on the head of a newcomer who had debuted less than a year ago.

Someone in an industry WeChat group sent a message: “Does this count as the start of the Lu Zhixian era?”

The group went silent for a full two minutes. No one replied.

Most people felt it was premature. But absolutely no one dared to publicly refute it.

Lu Zhixian's track record was too solid; it was right there for everyone to see.

The well-known producer who had previously led the charge on Weibo questioning the “Godfather” title quietly deleted his long-winded post.

Netizens' eyes were sharp.

“Why did a certain producer delete his post? Wasn't he jumping pretty high just two days ago?”

“He fled overnight with standing-room tickets. With that knee-slide speed, it’d be a crime if he didn't win an Olympic gold.”

The online mockery didn't affect Lu Zhixian, but it very much affected someone else.

Xingyao Entertainment, top-floor conference room.

Shen Yihang was looking at a data report.

After the semi-finals, his data was still good; his fans were working hard to boost his rankings, and all indicators were steady.

But the atmosphere was oppressive.

The manager stood by the projector, her face looking very grim.

“How is your operations department doing things? The trending search terms have been suppressed by Lu Zhixian for a week, and you can't even make a splash!”

The operations manager wiped away sweat.

“Sister Wang, it’s not that we aren’t trying. Lu Zhixian’s all-English interview went way too viral; even official media outlets have stepped in to like it. The paid commenters we hired don't even dare to show their faces.”

Sister Wang sneered and turned to look at Shen Yihang.

“The renewal negotiations for two brands are stuck. The other party mentioned Lu Zhixian's name. They are comparing.”

No one spoke in the conference room.

“One is a high-end watch brand, and the other is a new energy vehicle.” Sister Wang took a deep breath.

“The brand's exact words were that Lu Zhixian has secured a VALENTE global endorsement, and his commercial tone is now half a level higher than ours. They are demanding we lower our price or increase the benefits.”

Shen Yihang didn't speak after hearing this. He picked up his phone and unlocked the screen.

On the screen was a photo. The official VALENTE main visual poster of Lu Zhixian.

In the photo, Lu Zhixian was wearing a suit without a tie, looking calmly at the camera.

That kind of relaxed vibe couldn't be faked.

Shen Yihang stared at the photo for ten seconds. He pressed the lock button and slapped the phone face down on the table.

The “clack” sounded exceptionally harsh in the quiet conference room.

On the other side, Lu Zhixian's studio.

Lu Zhixian wasn't as relaxed as the outside world imagined.

After Old Zhao saw off several waves of business people coming to discuss collaborations, he closed the door tight.

“The title of Godfather is a double-edged sword.” Old Zhao put away his usual playfulness, his tone serious.

“The resources have come to you, but the scrutiny has followed.”

“Every song you release next, every decision you make, will be put under a magnifying glass under this label.”

Lu Zhixian sat in his executive chair, saying nothing.

“Once this hat is on, you can't just take it off.” Old Zhao leaned his hands on the desk, staring at Lu Zhixian.

“Your next work will decide if this title is real or hollow. If the next song flops, you know exactly how massive the backlash will be.”

“I know,” Lu Zhixian nodded.

After Old Zhao left, Lu Zhixian sat in the studio for the entire afternoon.

He closed his eyes and summoned the system panel.

A pale blue light screen unfolded before his eyes. He skipped over those life skills and locked his gaze on the music-related skill bar.

[Master-level Vocal Techniques]

[Professional Instrument Performance]

[Intermediate Music Guidance Talent]

Lu Zhixian's gaze lingered on the last line.

Intermediate.

During previous recordings, Intermediate Music Guidance Talent was perfectly sufficient.

But the situation had changed now.

He carried the title of “R&B Godfather” on his head, facing the most fastidious ears and most professional dissections in the entire industry.

If he wanted to truly sustain this position, was Intermediate enough?

He wasn't sure.

He needed a stronger trump card.

His gaze moved up.

In the system popularity points column, the numbers were jumping frantically.

Over the past week, the VALENTE endorsement announcement, the viral all-English interview video, plus the aftershocks of the “R&B Godfather” trending search had brought an unprecedented surge in popularity points.

Over twelve million.

Lu Zhixian looked at that long string of numbers, his breath hitching for a second.

His finger hovered in mid-air, aimed at the “Lucky Draw” button that was flashing with golden light.

Press it.

A scene suddenly flashed through his mind.

The shadow of the three-hundred consecutive draws instantly loomed over him.

The system's mechanical prompt seemed to still echo in his ears.

“Congratulations to the host for obtaining: One pack of Qingfeng Original Wood Pulp Toilet Paper.”

“Congratulations to the host for obtaining: One bottle of Head & Shoulders Anti-Dandruff Shampoo.”

Lu Zhixian's finger froze.

He took a deep breath and abruptly withdrew his hand.

Can't draw.

This broken system has no pity mechanism at all. If he dumped these ten million points in and happened to draw five hundred iron pots and a thousand kitchen knives, he could go straight to the wet market to set up a stall.

“If I draw again, I’m a dog,” Lu Zhixian cursed through gritted teeth and decisively closed the system panel.

The sky grew dark.

Eight o'clock in the evening.

Lu Zhixian had just finished showering and was drying his hair as he came out of the bathroom.

The phone on the bedside table vibrated.

An SMS from an unknown number.

The number's location showed: Beijing.

Lu Zhixian picked up the phone and opened the unread message.

The content was very brief, without any unnecessary pleasantries.

“Hello, Mr. Lu. I am Mr. Zhou’s assistant. Mr. Zhou would like to invite Mr. Lu for tea, this weekend if convenient. The location is in Jingzhou, and we will arrange the itinerary properly.”

Lu Zhixian's hand holding the towel stopped in mid-air.

Mr. Zhou.

The true Godfather of the previous generation in the Chinese music scene.

The senior who, when the "Chinese Music Weekly" article caused controversy, had his assistant post a single word “Good,” directly helping him settle the matter once and for all.

Lu Zhixian sat up straight on the edge of the bed.

He tossed the towel aside and stared at those two lines of text on the screen.

He didn't reply immediately. He sent a screenshot to Old Zhao.

In less than half a minute, Old Zhao's call came through directly.

The moment it connected, Old Zhao's voice was so loud it nearly shattered Lu Zhixian's eardrums.

“Go! You must go! Cancel all engagements this weekend and book a flight immediately!” Old Zhao was incoherently excited on the other end. “Do you know what this means?”

“It’s just a cup of tea,” Lu Zhixian moved the phone a bit further away.

“Bullshit! This isn't just tea!” Old Zhao paced back and forth in his office.

“This is a succession! Mr. Zhou has been in seclusion for five years. In these five years, how many Heavenly Kings and Queens wanted to visit him but couldn't even get through the door?”

“Now he’s proactively inviting you. This is him formally handing this position to you in front of the entire Beijing Circle—no, the entire Chinese music scene!”

Lu Zhixian rubbed his temples. “Don't put pressure on me.”

“It’s not me putting pressure on you; it’s that this cup of tea is too heavy.” Old Zhao was panting heavily.

“Get ready. I’ll contact them immediately to confirm the itinerary. Don't do anything else for the next few days; just get plenty of rest.”

The call ended.

Quiet returned to the room.

Lu Zhixian watched the phone screen dim and eventually go completely black.

He knew very well that Old Zhao was right.

The previous “Godfather” proactively seeking a meeting—the significance of this event far exceeded a cup of tea.

If he handled it well, his status in the music scene would be completely solidified, and no one would be able to shake it again.

If he messed up, the dividends brought by that word “Good” would instantly backfire, knocking him back to his original state.

That night, Lu Zhixian suffered from insomnia.

Three o'clock in the morning.

He lay in bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

Memories of his past life surged up uncontrollably.

Back then, he was also a music producer.

For a few thousand yuan in final payments, he could stay up for three nights in a basement, revising the arrangement of a generic pop song.

He had talent, but no capital and no voice.

In this life, everything had changed.

He had transmigrated here, starting on hell mode, and relying on the song 'dispelling sorrow' to carve out a path.

He had come all this way, relying entirely on crushing strength.

A senior had proactively invited him for tea.

Lu Zhixian rolled over and looked at the night sky outside the window.

He suddenly smiled.

The things he had sought but couldn't obtain in his past life were all laid out before him in this one.

He no longer needed to look at anyone's face; he was going to use his own rules to reshape this music scene.

This weekend's trip to Beijing.

He was definitely going.