Chapter 5: The Producer

In Xu Wei’s room.

Xu Wei sat before her computer, racking her brain to come up with lyrics for a song.

As the head of an entertainment company, she was also a producer who handled both lyrics and composition.

In truth, Lin Entertainment’s situation was far from optimistic.
As one lead artist after another left, capable and creative producers became increasingly scarce—until she was the only one left.

Artistic creation had always required inspiration and originality.

Sure, one could rely on solid fundamentals and years of experience to mass-produce formulaic pieces—but neither the quality nor the sales would be anything to brag about.

Take the song she was working on now, for instance.
It was composed by another company producer, but the monotonous and cliché melody was so dull it nearly put her to sleep while writing the lyrics.
Yet this kind of mediocre work had become the company’s mainstream output.

Lin Entertainment was barely hanging on—mass-producing generic, uninspired works just to balance the books.
There was no shame in admitting that.

“Mom~ what are you doing?”

The door opened.
A girl in pajamas walked in, stepped behind Xu Wei, and began to massage her shoulders.

Normally, Xu Wei disliked being disturbed while working.
But her daughter was the one exception.

“Writing lyrics. What’s up? You only come running when you need something—what is it this time, you little rascal?”

She smiled as she spoke, not a hint of complaint in her tone.

For parents, their children’s troubles never truly felt like trouble.

“Noo~ Mom, do I really look like that much of a burden to you? You’re so mean~”

The girl pouted.
Xu Wei chuckled softly.
But in truth, Lin Xiyue was a little guilty—because in her past life, “Young Master Lin” had been something of a burden.

“Alright, alright, I’m wrong. So what brings you here?”

“Mom, how’s the company doing lately?”

The question brought the room to a standstill.
Mother and daughter stared at each other, the air thick with awkward silence.

After a long moment, Xu Wei moved her mouse and clicked play.
The very song she had been writing lyrics for began to play through the speakers.

“Listen for yourself.”

Lin Xiyue immediately perked up her ears.

The melody was bland and repetitive—utterly unremarkable, though technically competent.
It was the sort of tune that would pass as a “commercially viable” piece, yet had nothing to do with the words good music.

For a B-tier entertainment company, mass-producing work of this quality clearly signaled decline.

“Mom, is there anything I can do to help?”

When the song ended, Lin Xiyue turned to her mother and asked earnestly.

Xu Wei froze, taken aback by her daughter’s sudden sense of responsibility.

“There’s no need, sweetheart. Let Mommy handle it.
You just enjoy your summer vacation and go back to school happy.
That’s more than enough for me.”

Hearing her mother’s gentle reassurance made something tighten in Lin Xiyue’s chest.

Her mother had carried this entire family alone, shouldering all that pressure just for her sake.

Whether a son or a daughter, that motherly love had never changed.

“Mom, it’s like this—I heard some universities are starting to require incoming students to have social practice experience.
So… maybe I could start early by interning at our company? Like, say, as a producer?”

She quickly shifted to a more “legitimate” excuse.
One way or another, she needed to get involved in the company’s affairs first.

In fact, she felt she might have a real shot at being a producer.
After all, she possessed knowledge from the future.

The online ecosystem in Country C was only beginning to take shape, but she knew that in the coming years, idol marketing would rely heavily on digital strategies—where online promotion would utterly outshine print and television advertising.

And while the previous “Young Master Lin” had been lazy, he had been an expert internet surfer, well-versed in all kinds of digital marketing tricks.

What’s more, both Lin Xi and Lin Xiyue possessed natural creative talent.
It was just a pity that in her previous life, she had little interest in music—otherwise, she could’ve recalled a few future hit songs and easily turned things around.

“You really want to be a producer? Silly girl.”

Xu Wei hesitated for a moment.
Her daughter’s reasoning was sound, and it wasn’t exactly a grueling job.
After some thought, she relented.

“Alright then, you can come to the office with me tomorrow.”

“Um… can we make it the day after tomorrow instead?”

“Pfft—look at you, negotiating with your boss before you’ve even started the job?”

“Hehe~ but I already promised Jin Nian we’d go shopping tomorrow~”

At the mention of “Jin Nian,” Xu Wei’s expression softened slightly.

She had always held a good impression of Xia Jin Nian—her daughter’s best friend—and admired her determination.
Despite coming from a modest background and lacking family support, that girl still pursued her dream of singing.

In fact, Jin Nian had even won the Guangnan City Student Singing Competition three years in a row.
Lin Xiyue, on the other hand, had chosen not to participate—so as not to steal her best friend’s spotlight.

“Well, you’ve finished your college entrance exams. You should go have some fun.”

Xu Wei nodded approvingly.

“Just remember—if you need to pay for anything, cover it.
If your allowance isn’t enough, ask me. Jin Nian’s family isn’t very well-off.”

“Got it, Mom~ heehee~”

Overjoyed at having her wish granted, Lin Xiyue left the room in high spirits, unable to hide her smile.

It seemed that in both lives, her mother had always had a soft spot for Jin Nian—almost treating her like another daughter.

‘No wonder she’s my future wife. So likable~’

After watching her daughter leave, Xu Wei’s attention returned to her work.
But her thoughts drifted once more to the company’s future.

There was one thing she hadn’t told her daughter.
Aside from keeping the company’s finances balanced, she also needed to raise ten million yuan by the end of the year.

The entertainment industry in Country C was vast—so large that it required direct government oversight.

Lin Entertainment was a certified B-tier company.
That “B” wasn’t a random ranking from others—it was a national certification.

Holding a higher-level certification meant more lucrative contracts and better talent recruitment opportunities.
But it also came with a price.

Every certified company had to pay an annual maintenance fee to retain its level.
For B-tier companies, that fee was ten million yuan.

If a company failed to pay half the fee in a given year—or failed to pay the full amount for three consecutive years—it would be downgraded.

And Lin Entertainment… had already gone two full years without paying in full.
This year was the third.