Chapter Twenty-One: The Red Carpet

From early the next morning, the hotel buzzed with activity. This year’s Golden Melody Awards included a red carpet walk, and with several media outlets broadcasting live, all the attending singers and invited guests had to polish their appearance. Many of them represented various brands, which placed strict requirements on their image—stipulations clearly outlined in their endorsement contracts.

The entire hotel became a hive of commotion, with people delivering gowns and accessories, makeup artists styling hair and faces, photographers snapping shots, and journalists conducting interviews. It was a lively scene.

Chen Ling, who had no endorsements to worry about, enjoyed watching the spectacle. He had only brought Fan Zheng with him to Taiwan this time, not even his manager. With his film about to be released, online promotions needed someone trustworthy to handle them—no one was more suitable than Zhao Qian.

If he hadn’t brought his manager, a personal stylist was even more out of the question. Fortunately, the official organizers had arranged stylists for the guests, and as invitees to the Golden Melody Awards, Chen Ling and his companion would certainly get camera time during the live broadcast.

Chen Ling simply asked the stylist to blow-dry his hair—he was confident in his looks and disliked makeup anyway.

Fan Zheng, by contrast, was much more meticulous. Though he had little hair left on his head for styling, he made sure his face was well taken care of. As he fussed over his appearance for ages, Chen Ling couldn’t help but tease him for behaving like a woman. Fan Zheng just grinned, unfazed. Who knew if he’d ever get another chance to attend the Golden Melody Awards? Fan Zheng genuinely wanted to make the most of it.

Once both had finished with their styling, a reporter from Sina approached, hoping to do a quick interview. In the entertainment world, few could turn down an interview from Sina and its influence on Weibo.

“Chen Ling, do you feel confident about winning an award this time?”

“Whether I win or not isn’t the main thing. I’ve come here primarily to learn and exchange ideas,” Chen Ling replied, choosing a humble answer for a tricky question. If he claimed confidence and didn’t win, it would be awkward; if he lacked confidence, it might be taken as a slight against his own work. He preferred not to be misinterpreted.

“As the first Mainland singer to be nominated for Best New Artist at Taiwan’s Golden Melody Awards, how do you feel about the past lack of Mainland nominees?”

“If the Golden Melody Awards wants to expand its influence, embracing the Mainland is essential. In fact, the awards have been moving in that direction for years. I believe more and more Mainland singers will come to the Golden Melody Awards in the future.”

It was obvious to everyone that the awards were seeking a closer relationship with the Mainland market. No one would object to Chen Ling saying so in an interview.

“So you believe more Mainland singers will compete for the Golden Melody Awards in the future? Do you have that much faith in the Mainland music scene?” While the Mainland industry had grown rapidly in recent years, with a market many times larger than Hong Kong or Taiwan, when it came to top-tier singers, there was still a noticeable gap. This was one reason Chen Ling’s nomination had caused such a stir.

“Of course. In fact, I believe it won’t be long before Mainland singers compete for the Best Male Singer honor.”

The Sina reporter was taken aback—Best Male Singer, known as “King of Singers,” was an ambitious target! Though the media had praised the Mainland’s rising music scene, Chen Ling was the first to boldly claim that within a few years, Mainland singers would vie for the top prize.

“Do you think you’ll have a chance to win Best Male Singer at the Golden Melody Awards one day?”

“To win the title, both the work and its impact are essential. I’ve just debuted—there’s a long road ahead!” Chen Ling’s answer made it clear he had aspirations for the title. Honestly, if someone like Kun Kun could win, why couldn’t he?

The reporter was impartial, also asking Fan Zheng a few questions. Though Fan Zheng was nominated as a producer and less in the public eye than Chen Ling, his presence was still noteworthy.

…

By the time the Sina interview ended, it was almost time for the red carpet. Unlike actresses who watched every calorie and barely sipped water, the two men had some food to sustain themselves—tonight’s ceremony would be a long haul.

Once ready, they took the official vehicle, following staff instructions to the outskirts of the Taipei Arena. This was the red carpet waiting area, already bustling with media crews and their cameras.

Chen Ling spotted reporters from Tudou and Youku live-streaming the arrivals. One camera panned directly to him, and he smiled and waved in greeting.

His attire was simple—a tailored black suit that showed off his figure, matched with black shoes, shirt, and tie. His entire look exuded a cool, understated style, and his camera presence was undeniable. On the streaming platforms, comments flew by:

“Forget about the award, he’s already won in looks, physique, and charisma.”

In contrast, Fan Zheng’s outfit was flamboyant: a red suit, shiny shoes, and his face glistening with makeup. He was so animated, he looked almost radiant—like a walking, talking red envelope. Viewers in the live chat joked that he looked like he was heading to his own wedding.

Fan Zheng didn’t mind the teasing—he couldn’t see it anyway. He spent his time chatting and networking. As a nominee for Best Album Producer, plenty wanted to meet him, and having spent time working in Taiwan, he was fluent in both Cantonese and the local dialects. Soon, a crowd gathered around him.

Chen Ling, who disliked such social occasions, found himself out of his depth—many of the singers spoke Cantonese, which sounded like a foreign language to him. Most of the time, Fan Zheng handled the conversation while Chen Ling just listened, unable to follow but politely smiling when everyone else laughed. He felt awkward, shifting his toes nervously inside his shoes.

Soon it was their turn to walk the red carpet. A staff member came to guide them, and Chen Ling was secretly relieved—no more listening to incomprehensible chatter.

The red carpet was just as he’d seen on TV: a long stretch lined with reporters and their cameras, ending at a towering signature wall emblazoned with sponsor logos. Next to it stood the glamorous red carpet host—a staple at large events. If a singer or guest had buzz, the host might do a brief interview to liven things up. Chen Ling wondered if he’d be interviewed.

He just hoped that if he was, the host would speak Mandarin—if they switched to Cantonese or the local dialect, he’d have to let Fan Zheng take over.

As Chen Ling and Fan Zheng stepped onto the carpet, the barrage of camera flashes was nearly blinding. The host began her introduction: “Now walking towards us, we have singer Chen Ling from the Mainland and his album producer, Fan Zheng. Their collaboration, ‘If Love is Forgotten,’ has received four nominations at this year’s Golden Melody Awards, including a historic first for Best New Artist by a Mainland singer.”

Hearing the host’s clear, standard Mandarin, Chen Ling breathed a sigh of relief. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous—this was, in all his lives, the first time he’d ever walked a red carpet.

Facing the flashing lights, Chen Ling recalled all the tips he’d learned and did his best to keep his eyes open and pose confidently. Unlike his composed demeanor, Fan Zheng was all energy—waving to the left and right, dressed in bright red, looking like a butterfly flitting about.

Fan Zheng’s excitement didn’t slow down the proceedings, though, and no staff had to intervene—thankfully avoiding any awkwardness.

At the end of the carpet, they mimicked the others before them, signing their names on the signature wall.

As expected, the reporters didn’t let Chen Ling go easily. He was the only Mainland nominee that night; of course the host would seize the opportunity for a hot interview.

Luckily, the host stuck to standard Mandarin and asked fairly official questions, which Chen Ling answered just as officially—it was best to play it safe with such interviews.

Meanwhile, the live broadcast camera zoomed in relentlessly on Chen Ling’s face. His looks really did hold up—under the high-definition lens, his skin looked flawless. Sharp-eyed female viewers even noticed he wasn’t wearing makeup.

His skin was that good, even without makeup? How did he take care of it?

Many viewers who hadn’t tuned in for Chen Ling found themselves impressed by his looks, with plenty of new fans—mostly women—being won over.

After all, worldwide, it’s female fans who are the most loyal to their idols and most willing to spend time and money on them.

Whether Chen Ling won an award tonight or not, one thing was certain: by the end of the ceremony, he would have gained a significant number of female fans.