Chapter 129: Directing the VCR Myself

During the blind audition phase of "The Great Qin Voice," although some contestants were pre-selected, a few true grassroots talents still managed to turn the mentors around purely through their genuine abilities.

Each contestant who earned a mentor's turn had a recorded segment before going on stage. However, those uncertain about whether they'd receive a turn wouldn't film this segment beforehand. Only those who actually received a turn—and thus would appear on television—would film this segment afterward. The ones who filmed beforehand were all pre-selected contestants.

Su Tong and Lin Yin were currently contemplating the filming of this segment.

“Yinyin, you should focus on practicing your singing and getting into the right mindset. Filming can wait until after the blind auditions are completed. Besides, the show won’t air for a few weeks after recording,” Yang Feifei advised Lin Yin in their apartment.

“That’s true,” Lin Yin agreed, deciding to set that matter aside and head off to warm up her voice.

It was the 8th day of the month. Su Tong skipped class, and Yang Feifei was slacking off as well. Lin Yin, preparing for the competition, certainly wouldn’t be going anywhere else.

The soundproof live streaming room had become Lin Yin’s practice studio, while Su Tong was left in the living room, deep in thought, trying to come up with a classic script.

This was a prime opportunity to promote himself. The system had also issued a task: if Su Tong failed to gain a million new followers on the night of "The Great Qin Voice" premiere, he would be punished by growing an extra 10 centimeters in length, lasting for 72 hours.

Damn it, the previous 48 hours had already been tough enough. Su Tong would rather shrink than grow—growing was too inconvenient and would disrupt his daily life.

This system was utterly cruel. It probably knew he was single now and designed this punishment accordingly. Once he had a girlfriend, maybe the punishment would be reversed.

In any case, although the system claimed there would be no more death missions and promised full support, it still refused to let him relax. To motivate him further, the "medicine" was even stronger this time.

“What are you doing, Su Tong?” Yang Feifei asked curiously.

In the living room, Sister Yaya was reading a book, Yang Feifei was watching TV, and Su Tong was holding a pen and a small notebook, writing sporadically.

“Thinking of some advertising copy,” Su Tong said. He wanted to promote himself like an ad, so the segment couldn’t be filmed casually.

The production team helped contestants who received mentor turns by filming these introductory segments afterward. They usually featured comments from friends and family, as well as the contestant’s inner monologue.

The typical storyline highlighted how hard the contestant had worked, enduring hardships for their dream of music—some had even slept on the streets or gone hungry for days. Every story was more heartrending than the last.

Su Tong didn’t want to involve family or classmates; he wanted to do it himself.

But he would need someone to operate the camera; he couldn’t do it alone.

“The production team will come to your school or home to help film later. Why are you worrying so much?” Yang Feifei said. She didn’t think Su Tong had any brilliant ideas. Everyone just followed the same formula.

“If you’re going to do it, do it right. Look at you—you’re still so young and already enjoying life. Even if it was tough before, taking these four months off should be enough. People can’t indulge in comfort; it’s easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to go back. Let’s see how you make a comeback eight months from now,” Yang Feifei lectured Su Tong, sounding quite stern. Su Tong retorted just as sharply, both of them exchanging old-fashioned rebukes.

Yang Feifei was munching on pistachios, and upon hearing Su Tong’s words, she puckered her lips and tossed a pistachio shell at him, hitting him on the arm.

Su Tong ignored it and continued scribbling in his notebook.

Yang Feifei’s curiosity got the better of her, and she leaned closer.

“You only smell my perfume but don’t see my sweat. You have your rules; I have my choices. You deny my present, but I decide my future.”

Hey, that has a certain ring to it. Could this be Su Tong’s own writing? Yang Feifei grew even more curious.

Su Tong was recalling the inspiring commercial from his previous life for Jumei Youpin. That one-and-a-half-minute ad felt more like an epic motivational film.

He wanted to redeem that ad from the system to watch it again, but the system demanded 500,000 points.

Forget it—he didn’t have enough points.

Even if he did, he wouldn’t trade for it; the price was too steep.

He only vaguely remembered the original lines but had the scene firmly in mind.

“You laugh at my emptiness, saying I don’t deserve love. I pity you for always waiting. You underestimate my youth, but I will prove whose era this is. Dreams are destined to be solitary journeys, filled with doubt and ridicule along the way. But so what? Even if covered in wounds, I will live beautifully. I am Su Tong, and I represent myself.”

After half an hour of agonizing over it, Su Tong finally completed the script.

“You’re just going to recite the lines yourself? No friends or family?” Yang Feifei, experienced in the industry, could already tell what Su Tong was planning just from the lines.

“Haha, no friends or family, but I will invite some extras,” Su Tong laughed.

Yang Feifei was speechless. Hadn’t he been talking yesterday about investing in animated films in the future, but now he was personally directing and already starting to shoot creative ads to pave the way?

“Feifei, since you’re still at school, could you ask some classmates or juniors to help out?” Su Tong tried to charm her. This ad needed not only a cameraman but also some actors.

“Spending your own money before even appearing on the show? You’re pretty rich,” Yang Feifei rolled her eyes.

“Uh…” Su Tong scoffed, “It’s only a minute and a half. Everyone’s on screen for just a few seconds. Do you really think I’d pay you just because of your reputation?”

Yang Feifei found some truth in that but said, “That may be so, but favors are better not owed if they can be avoided. Don’t you know that?”

Su Tong shamelessly replied, “I’ll just treat them to a meal—something big at a nice restaurant. Favors borrowed and repaid immediately. But don’t invite big stars like you; keep it low-key, preferably those without much acting experience. Think of it as giving them some training. Heh, I’m telling you, once this ad is out, it’ll symbolize an era—a real inspirational blockbuster. It’ll definitely be a hit.”

“A blockbuster, huh?” Yang Feifei disagreed. Every singer or director thought their work was the best, yet over ninety percent ended up flopping miserably.

“Xiao Tong, how many extras do you need?” Sister Yaya put down her book and asked.

Su Tong sighed, “About ten should be enough.” He was considering just asking classmates but knew the effect would suffer without actual acting experience.

“Feifei, please help find ten classmates to assist Xiao Tong,” Sister Yaya said to Yang Feifei.

Yang Feifei opened her mouth but then glared at Su Tong, “If you make a lousy film, just wait and see how I deal with you.”

Su Tong ignored her threats. Sister Yaya was always the one silently supporting him behind the scenes, no matter what decisions he made.

“Sister Yaya, you’re too kind…” Su Tong dared not take the goddess’s hand, so he held Yang Feifei’s delicate hand instead and uttered words that shocked her and left even Sister Yaya’s heart fluttering.