Chapter 77: "The Savior!"

“I think I might as well stay up here. Judging by this pattern, I’d be better off sleeping on stage,” Zhou Ran joked after delivering his acceptance speech for Best Composer.

Laughter erupted from the audience.

“What a self-assured comment!” someone remarked.

Zhou Ran’s words immediately drew smiles and amused quite a few people. Still, his remark was merely a jest. Even if Zhou Ran truly won every single award, he would still be required to step down and wait before returning to receive each prize. Otherwise, what would be the point of an award ceremony? They might as well mail all the trophies to him.

Moreover, not all the awards had gone to Zhou Ran. He had only been nominated for six categories—an astonishing number, the highest in the Chinese Golden Melody Awards—but there were still many categories for which he hadn’t been nominated. Other prizes would be awarded to different recipients.

After finishing his speech, Zhou Ran carried his new trophy back to his seat. He glanced at the three trophies accumulated beside him and felt a slight fatigue; after all, he’d walked up and down four times already, which was no small exertion.

Fortunately, upon settling back down, good news finally arrived: the next few awards, such as Best Music Video and Best Album Producer, were categories in which Zhou Ran was not nominated. This meant he could finally rest a while in his seat.

He could quietly watch others claim their prizes and deliver their speeches. If Zhou Ran had to go up again, it would truly become his personal showcase.

Best Music Video and Best Album Producer were both behind-the-scenes awards, typically honoring those who worked out of the spotlight. Because these contributors rarely received attention, the Chinese Golden Melody Awards established these categories specifically to give them their moment in the public eye.

But Zhou Ran’s respite was short-lived. For immediately after Best Album Producer came the Best Album award, a category where Zhou Ran was indeed nominated. It seemed he had a strong chance of needing to walk up on stage once more.

The Best Album award was one of the most prestigious honors at the Chinese Golden Melody Awards, second only to Best Singer.

The high prestige meant fierce competition.

In fact, Zhou Ran was at a slight disadvantage in this contest. His album had only been released for a little over a month, so its numbers certainly lagged behind those of the other three nominees.

Yet, when Zhou Ran learned this, he didn’t panic. He firmly believed in one principle: quality determines everything.

Whether a mule or a horse, it must eventually be led out for a walk.

Soon, the announcement for Best Album began. The presenter this time was Zuo Zhong, a venerable figure in the Chinese music industry.

Zuo Zhong’s greatest achievements weren’t even in music, but in education. He had personally trained many students who now held pivotal positions in the Chinese music scene.

There was once a saying about him: if anyone offended Zuo Zhong, the whole industry would shake three times. That alone was testament to his authority.

As Zuo Zhong stepped onto the stage, the big screen behind him displayed photos of the nominees.

Ren Hao, nominated album: “Heavenward”

Yu Di, nominated album: “Leo”

Fu Ran, nominated album: “Patient”

Zhou Ran, nominated album: “Departure”

Aside from Zhou Ran, the other three nominees were seasoned veterans, each representing a company.

Zhou Ran, on the other hand, was a complete exception. He wasn’t really affiliated with any company; nearly all aspects of his album’s production were handled by him alone.

After all, Zhou Ran composed, wrote, and sang all his songs himself, rarely bringing in outside help except perhaps for promotion.

Once the candidate list was displayed, Zuo Zhong shifted his gaze to the winner’s name. After seeing it, he smiled broadly, the corners of his lips turning up.

He even looked specifically toward Zhou Ran, his eyes kind and expectant.

As a senior figure in the Chinese music sphere, Zuo Zhong had been dissatisfied with its direction in recent years. In his view, the industry had stagnated, endlessly repeating itself and living off past glories. Previously, innovation had been abundant, with musicians daring to explore new styles—punk, reggae, rock—even if those genres weren’t favored. There were always pioneers chasing their musical ideals. But in recent years, Zuo Zhong couldn’t find such people anymore.

Everyone relied on old formulas, and no one sought innovation. How could such a music scene have vitality? The dominance of formulaic “catchy” songs had left the industry in chaos.

Tonight’s ceremony was, in a sense, a microcosm of the problem. Those three nominees for Best Album had been nominated repeatedly, year after year. This, too, highlighted the awkward state of the industry.

Zuo Zhong had long been troubled by this, always seeking ways to change it. Yet, by himself, it was difficult. But this year, he unexpectedly found hope in a single person.

He saw in Zhou Ran the potential to rescue Chinese music—a young man he wholeheartedly supported, for Zhou Ran persistently pursued original music and opened a new path with his “Chinese-style” compositions.

Zuo Zhong often listened to music from the current scene, and lately, Zhou Ran’s songs were the ones he played most frequently. He genuinely believed Zhou Ran could become the savior, infusing new hope into the stagnant waters of Chinese music.