Translator: Min_Lee  Editor: Tennesh
Even though Beavis was mad that Fang Zhao had hung up on him, he was more intrigued by Fang Zhaoâs comment before he hung up.
âWhy donât you ask him who the actual composer of his first three songs was?â
Which three songs? The actual composer? So Fang Sheng hadnât written them after all?
Beavis wasnât in charge of newcomers. He wasnât on top of the inner workings of the newcomers department. He merely scanned the list of newcomers Neon Culture had recruited this year. If his bosses didnât want to poach people from Silver Wing, he wouldnât have bothered studying the list.
But even though he wasnât familiar with the workings of the newcomers department, he could deduce from Fang Zhaoâs parting comment.
A gloomy Beavis sat in his office pondering the matter for some time. Then he got in touch with newcomers department and requested Fang Shengâs personnel records. He gave them a careful look. The more he read, the angrier he got.
If he was 70 percent skeptical of Fang Zhaoâs allegations, then after reading the personnel files, that figure dropped by 20 or 30 percentage points.
Fang Zhao had graduated from the Qiâan Academy of Music, probably the best music school in Yanzhou, while Fang Sheng had graduated from a so-so school. That didnât necessarily make a difference. During the recruitment process, graduating from a top school wasnât a prerequisite. Even if you attended a low-ranked university and flunked all your classes, as long as you had musical talent of some kind, if you shined in some way, you would be considered.
In other words, setting aside your educational background and connections, the key was real skill and talent.
The reason Fang Sheng had caught the eye of Neon Cultureâs newcomers department and was signed was because of the three songs heâd submitted.
Nothing stood out in Fang Shengâs files. He wasnât a stellar student and heâd never won any prizes. But the three songs still won over the newcomers department. The songs werenât top-notch, but they were slightly better than what the average newcomer produced. One of the three also placed well on the newcomersâ chart. The label actually wanted to promote Fang Sheng, but he hadnât submitted any new songs since.
Beavis summoned Fang Sheng and his agent. He scanned both of them with a vicious gaze. Beavis usually smiled, but he looked scary when he got serious.
Fang Shengâs agent was still a bit pissed and disgruntled about being summoned by Beavis. Even though he managed newcomers, he had managed B-level stars before. He had also spent more time at Neon Culture than Beavis. Beavisâs tone was downright rude, hardly befitting the respect he deserved as a senior employee. But now that he saw Beavisâs expression, he could tell something was wrong.
âIs something wrong?â Fang Shangâs agent asked. He knew Beavis had looked over Fang Shengâs files, but he still didnât know why Beavis had asked to see them.
Beavis ignored Fang Shengâs agent and stared at Fang Sheng hard, as if launching a flurry of daggers. âWhat I want to know is: who actually wrote the three songs you submitted when you joined the label?â
Already a bit fidgety at the outset, Fang Shengâs heart leaped when he heard the question, and he broke into a cold sweat. The muscles by his mouth twitched, but he didnât know what to say. He remained silent but clasped his hands nervously. When his agent cast him a questioning look as well, he knew there was nowhere to hide. He tried hard to mask his guilt, somehow managing to eke out a smile. âDid someone say something? Donât believe them. I wrote those three songs myself.â
âOh?â Beavis didnât press on, looking at Fang Shengâs agent instead. His gaze seemed to say: âYou signed the guy. Itâs your move.â
The agent stared at Fang Sheng with piercing eyes. He had managed dozens of artists. Even though he might not be as competent as Beavis, he could still spot a liar. The subtle changes in expression on Fang Shengâs face hadnât escaped his notice.
Panic. Guilt. Fear. Lack of confidence.
Once Fang Shengâs agent became suspicious, everything made sense. The arranger of the three songs had told him in private that Fang Sheng had a poor grasp on the three pieces. His understanding was hazy and incomplete. Initially, the arranger had chalked it up to the usual inexperience of a newcomer and thought a bit of training and guidance would do. But Fang Sheng hadnât produced any new songs since the three heâd entered in the new talent competition. Again, heâd thought Fang Sheng had simply been running low on inspiration. But it had been so long that it was becoming a problem.
The three songs may very well have been stolen.
He didnât want to believe that heâd signed someone like this. He had heard of similar cases of theft or plagiarism. Some were exposed and some were kept secret. The final outcome depended on company policy and individual finesse. Of course, the safest practice was to avoid folks like this. The bigger the label, the more it cared about its reputation. So he had the manpower and resources necessary at his disposal for a cover-up. But heâd never thought something like this would happen to him.
Even if he had made the mistake of signing the man, the mistake couldnât be made public. To do so would be slapping himself in the face. It might also create unnecessary hassle for the label at this critical juncture.
He had to get rid of Fang Sheng as soon as possible.
Even if Fang Shengâs theft was exposed, they could prepare in advance and take the backlash in stride.
Fang Sheng was signed to a three-year contract. His contract stipulated that if he was fired without cause, he was entitled to severance totaling three times his income during his employment.
This wasnât an unjustified firing, but the label couldnât reveal the real reason behind the dismissal. They also had no proof that Fang Sheng had stolen the three songs. Fang Sheng would never admit to it.
Based on the number of downloads the three songs had generated, Fang Shengâs severance would amount to more than 10 million dollars. That was an expense the label didnât want to incur. Even though the amount was nothing to Neon Culture, they didnât want it spent that way.
So after âamicableâ negotiations that were stick-and-carrot in reality, Neon Culture agreed to a severance pay of 1.5 million. Fang Sheng was terminated effective immediately.
Fang Shengâs agent conducted the negotiations on his behalf. Beavis stayed mum, giving his tacit approval to the deal. So Fang Sheng stole someone elseâs songs, most likely Fang Zhaoâs. Even if they confirmed the theft, if Fang Zhao was a nobody and Fang Sheng had potential, they wouldnât have fired Fang Sheng. They might even have helped cover up the theft. They were businessmen, after all. Their financial interests came first.
But Fang Zhao was a rising star with the full backing of his label, while Fang Sheng wasnât an asset worth protecting. His firing was a no-brainer, and it had to be done fast. They had to get rid of him before the scandal broke and the finger-pointing began.
If people asked, they would just say that Fang Sheng had poor character.
âPoor characterâ was a catch-all term in the industry. It could refer to personality issuesâan inability to get along with colleagues or a foul temper that affected morale. It could also refer to specific behavior, like theft or plagiarism. The former wasnât a big deal. As long as the person in question was talented, personality wasnât an issue. But the latter was a problem.
There were no secrets in the industry. If they pried enough, prospective employers would find out about the âpoor characterâ assessment in Fang Shengâs personnel files at Neon Culture even if he tried to hide it. That was enough to make him off-limits for most record labels in the industry.
Fang Sheng was kicked out of Neon Cultureâs headquarters half an hour later.
He struggled to maintain his composure as he got all sorts of looks from the people around him. He didnât linger.
He ran to an empty corner and quietly cursed to himself. His eyes were bloodshot. Lord knew how long it had been since he had rested properly. His face was paler than Zu Wenâs after two straight days of gaming.
As for the 1.5 million in severance pay, the old Fang Sheng would have counted his blessings. But after enjoying the adoration and the easy money the three songs had generated, the 1.5 million was a pittance. But he didnât want to lock horns with Neon Culture.
If heâd stayed at Neon Culture, he would have earned much more.
He was entitled to much more.
After taking a few deliberate breaths, Fang Sheng turned his attention to his bracelet and looked up Fang Zhaoâs number.
It was just a matter of time before he could buy another song from a music student desperate for cash. But Beavis had to tear into him now and interrupt his plans.
How had Beavis found out he stole the three songs?
The raw hatred gushed like a raging current when the call went through. âFang Zhao, you son of a b*tch! You said you considered me a brother, but you had your bases covered all along, right? Youâve got quite a few songs up your sleeve besides those three songs, right? Nicely done. Slick move.â He was so agitated the veins on his neck were bulging.
He rambled on for nearly three minutes until his voice went hoarse. But no response came from Fang Zhao.
âYouâre mute now?â Fang Sheng screamed at the top of his voice.
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The other end answered with a series of barks. They were real barks, not simulated ones. The barks were followed by clear sound of panting.
He had just delivered a three-minute tirade to a dog.
Fang Sheng was so pissed his body shook. He felt like spitting blood.