Superstars of Tomorrow

The documentary was still being made, but its marketing campaign had already kicked off. The first step in the campaign, a three-minute trailer, drew quite a bit of attention because of the Fang Zhao effect.

"So I hear that Fang Zhao wrote the score for the trailer? That’s awesome. Are there any music professionals out there? How is the score? Let’s hear some professional analysis."

"I’m not a professional and I can’t offer professional comment, but I think the score sounds good. Coupled with the trailer, it’s quite a moving combination. Sigh, it’s not easy being a Hull-virus patient or the family member of one."

"Are there any Hull-virus-related charity events going on? I want to donate to the researchers, but I can’t find anything online. I wonder if they have enough funding? I hear the treatments they offer are all free."

"There’s no need for donations. The major research institutes behind the cure are all backed by major investment funds. Such an important project like curing the Hull virus isn’t short on funding. What they lack is the right talent."

"It’s time to study medicine. No, I mean to study music, so we can save lives like Fang Zhao."

"Let’s be down-to-earth and stick to medicine. After all, only one Fang Zhao has surfaced in the 500-odd years of the New Era."

Other folks had other concerns.

"The director of the documentary said that the score was an in-kind donation from Fang Zhao. Does that mean Fang Zhao composed a song for the documentary without charging a single cent?"

"Something like that. After all, documentary filmmakers need to hire folks to compose their scores. Master-level musicians don’t come cheap at all."

"Fang Zhao’s market value is something to be reckoned with, no? A commissioned piece from him should cost at least 10 million dollars, no? I remember he sold a piece for 10 million at one point. That’s 10 million we’re talking about! And he made the offer without a thought."

"Ten million is low. How long ago was that? His fee will definitely go up now that he’s won the Supernova Award. Plus he is immensely popular now. The filmmakers behind the documentary clearly wanted to use Fang Zhao to draw attention. I don’t know what level of artistic mastery Fang Zhao has reached right now, but in terms of market value, he must command a lot more than 10 million, at least twice as much. The director of the documentary was smart. Think about how much of his marketing budget he saved with Fang Zhao’s gift."

"Fang Zhao is like a god. One moment he’s taking the gaming world by storm, the other he’s mining and battling beasts on a foreign planet. Before you know it, he’s starring in a blockbuster TV series—and his songs can cure diseases? I haven’t rested my knees since the day I started following this star."

"I wonder what Fang Zhao will endorse next."

For most people, the curing of the Hull virus was just a casual topic of conversation. They quickly moved onto something else, even though it was widely covered by major news outlets and there was the Fang Zhao factor. Anything that didn’t concern their immediate interests was trivial. They would move on after dwelling on it briefly.

Meanwhile, the Hull-virus patients and their immediate families treated Fang Zhao as a savior. Ming Cang had said in public on many occasions that he would lend Fang Zhao his unconditional support on many matters. Their gratitude was not something outsiders could comprehend.

Due to the latest round of saturated news coverage, the four movements of the "100-Year Period of Destruction" series, which folks dubbed the key to curing the Hull virus, rose in value.

Silver Wing Media, Fang Zhao’s management company, took advantage as well. Polar Light, the first-generation Silver Wing virtual idol that was already somewhat passe, started trending within Yanzhou again.

Online discussion picked up as well.

"Does Fang Zhao own the rights to the four movements of his ’100-Year Period of Destruction’ series or does Silver Wing? Has he sold the rights to any of the movements?"

"If not, I’m thinking their market value has just doubled."

"Bullsh*t! I think it at least tripled."

"Speaking of which, I remember that idiot from Leizhou, Mr. Z, bought the rights to the third movement for a movie of his."

"Are you talking about Zaro, that generator of trashy movies? A crappy film paired with a godly score. What an insult!"

"We Leizhou natives are used to it."

"I just searched for that Zaro movie and watched it. To be perfectly honest, the part of the film that used the third movement of the ’100-Year Period of Destruction’ score kind of stood out. It was quite good. The scenes were especially epic and mindblowing. Those armored vehicles were the real thing!"

"Really? Let me search for it too. What’s the name of the movie?"

"It’s called ’God of War’."

So viewers dug out and watched a film that even Zaro himself had forgotten about. Within a short time frame, the film racked up enough fresh views to push it into the top 10 on Leizhou’s biggest video-streaming website.

When Zaro saw the data his agent showed him, he was blown away.

"This hardcore? That can’t be the case. In terms of driving traffic, I can certainly rival Fang Zhao!" Zaro was convinced there was something wrong with the data.

Zaro’s agent stared at his client with a blank expression. "Why don’t you read the news more often? You’ve barely been skimming the entertainment headlines recently," he said as he brought up stories from major news outlets about the Hull virus and Fang Zhao’s Supernova win on his tablet.

Zaro scanned the stories quickly. He looked like he had just witnessed a 10-ton elephant take off in flight.

Lately, Zaro had been busy reading several novels and scripts that Woo Tianhao had passed to him. The duo had had a good time dabbling in garlic speculation and now were planning on investing in a movie project together.

The past two days, Zaro had been mulling over how to use garlic to improve his acting. Then he’d heard about the spike in the views of "God of War."

Zaro also read some of the online comments, which left him fuming.

"What do they mean that donating to charity is better than splurging on a crappy movie? I spend my money how I like. How am I getting in their way by having a good time? Did I dip into their savings? I’ve never been late on a single tax payment. These folks have nothing better to fidget over."

"It’s ’fuss over’."

"Huh?"

"Forget it, fidget it is, then." Zaro’s agent tried to calm his client, who had rolled up his sleeves and was gearing up for a war of words. "Cool down, Senior Master! You know, no amount of words is a substitute for action. You have to let everyone know that you have ambition too."

Zaro interrupted his agent immediately. "I’m well-off and hail from a powerful family. What’s wrong with talking about scoring chicks, reading novels, and speculating on garlic? Why are you talking to me about ambition?"

Zaro’s agent: "..." Are you trying to piss me to death so you can go shopping for a new agent?

Oblivious to the terrified look on his agent’s face, Zaro felt he had been maligned. He felt that he had been on good behavior, keeping a low profile. Who could have known that he’d get attacked for holing up at home reading novels?

"It’s all Fang Zhao’s fault!" Still, Zaro was full of confidence. "Just wait until this business about the Hull virus dies down. Fang Zhao won’t be trending again. Without government media taking the lead—and given how quickly entertainment headlines change—who’s gonna remember him in a few days?"

The agent had no qualms about taking Zaro down a notch. "Festival and awards season is about to begin. Fang Zhao did a good job in ’Founding Era.’ It’s very likely he’ll pick up an award."

"Film festivals? Let me be clear: I’m not going to attend any that aren’t high class enough."

The agent: "..." Who the f*ck cares whether you attend or not? None of the prestigious festivals sent you invites on their own initiative. I had to use my connections to get them.

But all Zaro’s agent did was keep these thoughts to himself. If he actually voiced them, Zaro would be royally pissed off. Zaro’s agent never bothered volunteering information that upset his boss.

But just as Zaro’s agent had pointed out, Fang Zhao was flooded with invites from film festivals big and small from all around the world. He had only been in a TV series and had yet to appear in a movie, but he still got invitations from film festivals. Some of the organizers were hoping to work with him on projects, while others wanted to hitch a ride on his recent star power. But Fang Zhao turned down most of the invites. He was busy.

The Twelve Tones program was not a walk in the park. The course load wasn’t heavy, but there were a ton of assignments. After penning the song for the Hull-virus documentary, he had to write a lengthy paper. The paper accounted for a big chunk of his grade. If he didn’t achieve a certain GPA, he wouldn’t be able to graduate.

Nanfeng had briefed him on the online commentary, but Fang Zhao hadn’t paid much attention. Even though there were plenty of news stories about him, this much he and Zaro agreed on: it would die down in a few days.

Even though all these TV and film festivals were coming up, some of which Fang Zhao would attend, by that time, every celebrity would be angling for a piece of the action. The publicity teams for many top stars had been gearing up already, but who knew this Hull virus business would land Fang Zhao in the entertainment headlines again. But that was a fluke. These crack teams were going to go all out in the days that followed. Let’s see who shines the brightest on the red carpet eventually. After such an extended shoot on Planet Wai, many members of the "Founding Era" cast felt it was their turn in the limelight.

Yet no one, including Fang Zhao, would have guessed that the name that was slowly being crowded out would dominate entertainment headlines once again a week later.

A week later, Fang Zhao’s neighbor Will finally emerged from hiding.

He had been holed up in his dorm room for seven straight days. Apart from attending to his bodily functions, all Will had done was paint. By the time he left his room, he was a shade of his previous self, barely able to stand on all fours. He had lost a ton of weight, as if he had just survived a major illness, yet he was in great spirits and looked relaxed.

Will showed his painting to his adviser after emerging from hiding.

The first time the old professor laid eyes on the painting, he was so shocked that he struggled to find words.

The crooked outline looked quite over-the-top, but somehow, it came together nicely. The extensive use of black, in contrast to the white canvas, lent passion and mystique to the piece, which was so dynamic and full of tension. If someone stared at the painting, they would feel as if they had just succumbed to a bewildering blow; they’d have no idea what had just hit them.

The old professor glared at the painting for some time before taking a deep breath. He asked Will, "Can I keep the original for a few days? I want to take a good look at it."

Will nodded decisively. "Sure."

After getting Will’s permission, the old professor took the painting home. Wanting to brag and to get a second opinion, he invited an old friend over to have a look.

"’My Neighbor’? Who’s Will’s neighbor?" the friend asked.

"Fang Zhao. You know, the guy who was all over the place a while back. He’s in Will’s class. He’s the youngest student in the program this year," the old professor explained.

"What’s so interesting about Fang Zhao? But is he really like that in real life? The portrait gives off a weird vibe. It’s kind of spooky too."

"I confirmed with Will. It’s Fang Zhao all right."

"Wow. I never would have guessed that Will would take this approach. This is a significant improvement. The sketching is superb—and he has gone beyond putting idea to paper. It’s so rare to have this level of enlightenment at this age. This should be put on display so that the other art academies can see what our Twelve Tones students are made of!"

"Well, that’s up to Will. Once it’s on display on campus, buyers will soon beckon."

"Then let’s put it up for auction. The painting will definitely fetch a good price. That is, if Will is willing to sell."

So, painting in hand, the old professor personally paid Will a visit to see if would be willing to put the piece up for auction on HuangArt’s auction website.

HuangArt selected outstanding student works every week to put on display. If the artists agreed, the pieces would be put up for auction as well.

"Go ahead and put it on display and up for auction," said an emotionless Will.

The old professor was quite baffled by Will’s casual attitude. "You’re willing to part with it now? You don’t want to keep it for a few years?"

"No," Will responded firmly.

The old professor wanted to confirm Will’s intentions. "It took a great deal of effort and reflection to produce this painting. Are you sure you want to sell it right after you’ve finished it?"

Will seemed confused. "This was only my short-term goal. Painting Fang Zhao is only the first step. My ultimate goal is actually to draw his dog."

As far as Will was concerned, painting Fang Zhao was only a transition. Been there, done that. Why keep the painting around?

Speaking of which, it dawned on Will that it was time to ask Fang Zhao if he could borrow that dog.