Chapter 149: Thanks for the Invite, I Don't Want to Get Any More Famous

The endless stream of phone calls was giving Zhao Liufang a splitting headache.

Yet, he had no choice. Zhao was the only person who had ever interacted with Yang Xiaofan, even going so far as to convince him to step forward and help with a film production. Given this connection, it was impossible for people not to draw conclusions. Moreover, these callers were his business partners. In the entertainment industry, where everyone operated within an interconnected web of resources, if he didn't grant them this favor today, he couldn't expect them to grant him any in the future.

He had no alternative but to call Yang Xiaofan to bridge the gap.

"Hello! Is that you, Xiaofan?"

"I recognize your voice, Mr. Zhao. Is something the matter?"

Yang Xiaofan was still holed up in his hotel, struggling to decide on his future path. As his fame grew, so did his fan base. And the more fans he had, the less freedom he possessed. In short, his fame had become a massive cage, trapping him within. He could no longer live like the ordinary person he once was.

"Xiaofan, I truly didn't expect it. You said you wanted to dominate the charts, and you actually did it. Every music app is filled with your name right now. You’ve practically ascended to godhood!"

"I only wanted to slap those keyboard warriors in the face; I didn't have any other intentions."

"Even so, 'no intentions' won't cut it anymore. Every major news outlet has tracked me down, desperate to interview you."

"Don't, please! Interviews are the last thing I want right now. I just want to live my life in peace."

"You shouldn't look at it that way. Fame is a good thing. For a celebrity, fame means money! Who doesn't want to be famous? Besides, for many, fame isn't lifelong; it might just be a fleeting moment. You have to capitalize on it while you can. Believe me, whatever you do now will earn you more than your paintings ever could."

Yang Xiaofan knew this was true. He had already sold many of his paintings, but relying solely on that would eventually hit a wall. When there are too many collectibles on the market, their value inevitably depreciates. The entertainment industry, however, offered another way to generate wealth. Of course, it wasn't just "cashing in"—after all, Yang Xiaofan would be earning it through his genuine talent.

"I know, but the problem is, I don't need the money."

"Sigh! How am I supposed to respond to that? People are breaking their necks trying to get famous, and here you are, doing everything to avoid it. If others heard you, I don't know how much they’d grind their teeth in envy."

"Mr. Zhao, please, stop teasing me. I’ve already said I won't be doing any interviews."

Yang Xiaofan knew that interviews would increase his exposure and bring in more fans. Furthermore, he held a deep disdain for "traffic stars." He possessed real substance; any one of his skills was world-class. He didn't want to be treated like a monkey, asked about his blood type, his favorite color, his favorite fruit, or the "creative process" behind his songs... blah, blah, blah. That kind of thing made him feel like an idiot.

"Fine. Since you're unwilling, I won't force you. After all, our relationship is deeper than most. But you have to do me another favor. I haven't asked much of you; surely you can't refuse this after turning down the last one?"

"That... alright, as long as it isn't too much trouble."

"It's no trouble at all," Zhao Liufang said with a grin. "It's just that the National Music Festival, the Annual Music Awards, the White Jade Film Festival, the National Film Awards, and a few other industry galas want to invite you. Your songs and the roles you’ve played have won unanimous acclaim in both the music and film circles. They’ve all prepared awards for you and want you to attend the ceremonies."

"..."

Yang Xiaofan was rendered speechless. "I feel like I've been played. I'm not going. No way. Good grief, that's so many ceremonies; I wouldn't be done in a month. I'd much rather spend time with my wife."

Zhao Liufang couldn't help but laugh bitterly. "People are dying for these awards—some even try to buy them—and here you are, turning them down even when they're offered for free. It really is infuriating to compare people."

"If it were before, I would have accepted. But now, I feel like I'm already famous enough, so I'll pass."

"There's no helping it. When others get famous, they have one shining moment and then have to scramble to improve themselves. You, on the other hand, are like a little sun—you're all shine. A person like you is destined for fame; there's no stopping it."

"Stop it. Don't flatter me. I'm refusing your flattery, and I'm refusing to go to the ceremonies. I'm just not interested in those things."

Releasing music was only to spite the trolls; after all, Yang Xiaofan was a man of spirit, and he couldn't just sit by while people cursed his entire family without fighting back. But attending award ceremonies and getting sucked into the entertainment circle? He would pass. That circle was just too... much. It wasn't for him.

"I figured you might feel that way. But you did promise to help me. How about this: we reach a compromise. I'll send representatives to accept the awards on your behalf, in your name. Then I'll bring the trophies to you, and the prize money will go to you, too. That way, you don't have to show your face, and I can give everyone else an explanation."

"Can we really do that?"

"Of course. And I'll be honest with you—by having others accept the awards for you, I can also take the opportunity to promote some of the stars from my own company. They aren't exactly the most talented, so they need the help."

"Fine, that works. I agree."

Hearing Yang Xiaofan’s consent, Zhao Liufang finally breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Xiaofan."

"Don't mention it. You've helped me a lot, too. We're just helping each other out."

"Hehehe... one more thing. A few music websites got your number from me. They probably want to discuss music streaming fees with you. Keep an eye out for their calls."

"Alright!"

No sooner had Yang Xiaofan hung up than another call came through.

"Hello, is this Mr. Yang Xiaofan? I'm the CEO of Kufi Music."

Yang Xiaofan could tell the man’s tone was brimming with excitement.

"Yes, hello."

"Greetings. Mr. Zhao must have spoken to you already? Our company, Kufi Music, would like to offer you one billion for the exclusive streaming rights to ten of your songs. Would you be interested?"