Chapter Seventy-Six: New Year's Day · As Always

A year passed in the blink of an eye; with 2000 now behind, the twenty-first century had finally arrived. On New Year's Day, television stations across the provinces and cities broadcasted their New Year's galas, celebrating the dawn of the new century with stars singing and dancing, joyfully welcoming the future.

Of course, these galas were recorded in advance. After all, there were only so many celebrities, and none of them could be in two places at once; there simply weren’t enough to go around for every station.

This year, Tang Wei had become popular thanks to her song "I Believe" and received many invitations from regional stations—though none from the national broadcaster. The central television station preferred either celebrities who were famous across the mainland, Hong Kong, and Taiwan, or veteran artists from the mainland. A newcomer like Tang Wei, who had risen to fame overnight, stood no chance of being invited.

In recent times, Tang Wei had been rushing from one variety show to another without rest. Faced with so many invitations, she chose only the nearest—Jingbei Television—and declined the rest.

Gu Zhi remembered Jingbei TV as a station not known for scruples; in the future, it would be notorious for incidents such as the altercation involving Guo Degang’s apprentices and the scandal with Ms. Yang and Xiaomi. For money, fame, and ratings, there was little the station wouldn’t do.

With the rise of internet communication, public accounts, headline platforms, and all manner of new and self-media, the traditional news media was losing ground. To stand out, traditional outlets increasingly resorted to sensationalism, cherry-picking facts, and stoking social tensions. The Southern group and the “Pig Farm” led the charge in print, while Jingbei TV was the television representative.

As an industry entered decline, its desperate last struggles often left it shameless. In later years, the credibility of society eroded; it was hard to tell whether the fault lay more with the government or the media.

But for now, none of that had happened yet. The moral standards of the media, if they still existed, were not yet so swiftly undermined.

Tang Wei was to attend Jingbei TV’s New Year gala, and Gu Zhi had no reason to object. He could hardly tell her, “Jingbei TV will have scandals in the future, so you mustn’t go”—such words were pointless.

On the day of recording, Tang Wei pulled him along for moral support. Jingbei TV graciously arranged him a seat at the front, at a table with a group of stars whose names he knew, but whose faces he didn’t recognize.

Jingbei TV lacked the depth of the central station; their guests were all second- and third-tier celebrities. Gu Zhi rarely interacted with such people, and it wasn’t the right place for conversation anyway. They exchanged a few polite greetings and then fell silent.

Among these minor stars sat one rather ordinary-looking man, so unremarkable that Gu Zhi nearly failed to recognize him at first glance. They both smiled and nodded in greeting, nothing more.

After sitting for a while, Gu Zhi caught sight of the man again out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly, it clicked—he realized who he was.

Mao Ning!

One of the mainland’s hottest male singers, he had debuted a decade ago and released six solo albums, performed at the national gala, won awards, and with his hit "Waves Remain the Same," had helped usher in the golden era of '90s pop music.

That was about all Gu Zhi knew of him. He wasn’t a fan—otherwise, he would have recognized the man right away.

Mao Ning stuck in his mind for another reason: this year, he’d been at the center of a scandal that rocked the nation.

Correction: last year.

On November 22, while Gu Zhi was still filming "My Sassy Girl" with the crew, Mao Ning was stabbed three times in the capital by an unidentified man. Thanks to timely medical intervention, he survived.

But then, one of Mao Ning’s staff members assaulted a female journalist from a Beijing news agency at the hospital, escalating the situation.

The impact of Mao Ning’s stabbing was immense. Even in this era of slower information flow, everyone knew about it. The nature of the crime, so violent and disruptive of the harmonious social atmosphere, caused an uproar.

If it had ended with the stabbing, there would have been no further trouble with the journalists. But there was another, widely rumored secret, much discussed in the tabloids. If not for the distraction provided by Gu Zhi’s own Golden Horse Awards incident, public attention might have fixated even more tightly on Mao Ning.

This secret revolved around three letters: G, A, and Y.

Truth was elusive; rumors were tangled and contradictory, and unless you were directly involved, it was impossible to know what had really happened.

Gu Zhi treated these reports as nothing more than gossip.

After finishing his film, he saw in the papers that Mao Ning, under media pressure, had checked out of the hospital before fully recovering and gone abroad for treatment. So why was he already back, performing at this gala?

Apparently, making money took precedence over any trouble.

The gala was halfway through when, after a long wait, Tang Wei finally took the stage. As the familiar melody of "I Believe" filled the hall, the audience and guests erupted in applause.

Truth be told, hearing a love song on New Year’s Eve felt a bit out of place amidst all the festivity.

Later, Gu Zhi reflected that even "My Heart Will Go On" had made it to the national gala; singing a love song on Jingbei TV was hardly a big deal.

When Tang Wei finished, Gu Zhi left his seat for the backstage area to fetch her. In the absence of a manager, he had quietly become her assistant.

Of course, she had to listen to her assistant.

Backstage, Tang Wei had just changed out of her gown and was removing her makeup when a certain portly, middle-aged executive from Jingbei TV approached, his expression full of “kindly” paternal benevolence.

“Little Tang, after the gala, our station is having a dinner at the Lisunde Hotel. You must do us the honor and attend,” he said, reaching out a thick, sausage-like hand, clearly about to touch Tang Wei’s shoulder.

Tang Wei instinctively stepped back, faster than usual, deftly avoiding the legendary “salty pig’s hand.”

Her focus was entirely on this kindly-faced executive and she didn’t notice the person behind her. Her retreat was so sudden that she bumped directly into someone.

Startled, Tang Wei worried it was yet another executive. In her panic, she grasped the makeup table to steady herself and tried to stand.

“It’s fine, it’s me.”

A clear voice sounded behind her. At the same moment, someone reached out and gently grasped Tang Wei’s right hand.

The familiar timbre, the gentle touch, the intimate presence—all at once, Tang Wei’s anxiety vanished, replaced by the comfort of long-missed security.

“You’re always late…” Tang Wei stood beside Gu Zhi, glaring up at him fiercely.

Their hands were still tightly clasped.

Gu Zhi made a playful face at her, then turned, his own expression instantly hardening, his eyes cold as he stared at the embarrassed executive.

The executive gave an awkward smile and was about to speak.

“Ah… Little Gu…”

Gu Zhi interrupted him without expression, his voice forceful and unyielding.

“Deputy Director Wang, we’re all in the business. We all know the rules. You definitely know who I am, and you certainly know who Tang Wei is. Before you do anything, it’s best to use your head. You’re older, you outrank us, so your conduct should be exemplary—don’t let someone catch you with your guard down, that wouldn’t look good. These days, with so many powerful media outlets around, who doesn’t have connections? Don’t you agree?”

By the time he finished, the executive’s face was livid, his eyes blazing. If he could breathe fire, Gu Zhi would have been reduced to ashes.

Others in the dressing room quickly looked away, pretending they had no idea what was happening. Neither of the two was easy to cross: one had considerable fame and had just publicly rebuffed a Hong Kong director last month; the other held real sway at Jingbei TV. It was best to stay out of it.

Without waiting for a reply, Gu Zhi led Tang Wei away.

...

“Wasn’t that a bit much? Did you have to offend him like that?”

“It doesn’t matter. At worst he’ll try to smear me, but there will always be people who dislike me and want to drag me down. One more or one less makes no difference. Besides, it’s just a TV station with unimpressive ratings.”

“Sorry, I…”

“Don’t be silly, you did nothing wrong.”

“From now on, don’t do any more shows for Jingbei TV. That station is as shady as ever.”

“As ever?”

“That’s right!”