Despite having long known that at a certain level everything is a circle, Chu Tian had never imagined the circle to be this large.
Having sat here for just over eight hours, the crowd in front of him had changed several tis, many of whom were figures well-known by na.
There was a famous film director, who sat nearby with keen interest watching the performance, apparently having a good relationship with Zhao Fengsheng—otherwise, he wouldn’t have co all this way, likely to offer so advice.
There were also all sorts of stars; it might seem just a simple performance, but listening to their conversations, you could tell they all had relationships, big and small.
They either knew the boss, had worked together, or their parents were friends.
After all, when you think about it, those who make it into a circle would certainly cross paths over the course of several decades, and such relationships either lead to enmity or friendship, with acquaintance being no exception.
By the ti you get to Zhao Fengsheng’s age, many of the currently popular stars are younger generations whose elders would definitely have made introductions long ago.
Plus, don’t forget that Zhao Fengsheng is from the Capital, a well-known figure of the Capital Circle that everyone knows.
Of course, these weren’t his primary focus. He was more interested in the resources and connections these people hid behind them, discerning whom to collaborate with and whom to treat cautiously when they crossed paths.
After all, this was a national gala, and you could say that about ninety percent of the resources in the circle could be pulled in, indicating a plethora of underlying implications.
In addition to the local Capital Circle, there were those from Shanghai, from both sides of the strait and three regions, and from Tieling—all sorts of circles had basically gathered here.
It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that the big nas had gathered. Indeed, none of those sitting next to Zhao Fengsheng were simple characters.
So seemingly inconspicuous old n could very well be the masters of certain circles.
Speaking of circles, the concept is even more complicated. Circles exist everywhere in the world—humans have theirs, and animals have theirs too.
But circles vary in size and rank.
These regional circles hold the greatest strength, below which are the smaller circles gathered by the big nas.
As for the little circles painstakingly established by certain stars, like weaving a net, let’s not even ntion them—they’re frankly insignificant.
Take, for instance, a well-known fast-talking host who built a circle by acting as a ’connector’; what good are such connections? They might help with small favors, but in a real crisis, who would care about you?
Regardless of the size, Chu Tian was still willing to learn more about them.
After all, we’re all in the sa circle, essentially all competitors. Knowing a bit more certainly won’t hurt.
Seeing that it was almost their turn to go on stage, Chu Tian quickly returned to Xu Qingqiu and the others, leading her out to wait backstage.
During the first rehearsal, Xu Qingqiu was scheduled quite late, but since the act was selected, the director arranged for it to be in the middle of the sequence.
If the formal performance follows the sa order, then it’s likely to be between ten and ten-thirty, which could be said to be a very good ti slot.
Although having a good act is a fact, one must also face reality.
The reality is that the closer the performance gets to the midnight bell, the more attention it draws, usually being reserved for heavyweight figures and veterans.
Just like the operatic tenor currently sitting behind Zhao Fengsheng or the fixture of the New Year’s Gala resting in the lounge, and so on.
Aside from these presence-commanding figures, nine and a half out of ten others had their eyes on this ti slot.
Is it really possible to assign tis based on the quality of the acts?
No matter how capable Zhao Fengsheng is, he’s just a director. He doesn’t have the power or courage to make enemies with so many people, nor can he singlehandedly suppress all dissent.
So, the reality is that consensus is sought through compromise, resulting in a lineup where, apart from a few veterans, most of the acts around midnight are choirs.
Even within a single song, they cram in five, six, seven, eight people until no more can fit.
Even Xu Qingqiu’s song has many people eyeing it, trying to insert either themselves or their protégés ever since its confirmation, even if it ans just showing a face.
Fortunately, Xu Qingqiu’s solo was preserved by Zhao Fengsheng.
He had no choice but to save it. The song was genuinely unfit for a choir—it wasn’t a family-friendly tune, and any choral version would have been nonsensical.
Another point was that Zhao Fengsheng truly believed the act was eye-catching and also a key part he prepared for the leaders to watch, which is why he paid it so much attention.
Moreover, he had thought carefully before arranging it for the ten-thirty ti slot.
If the act started too early, everyone would be busy with New Year’s Eve dinner. If it was too late, so people might already be asleep.
But around ten-thirty was just right, especially for the leaders. At that ti, they wouldn’t have gone to bed yet, likely wouldn’t have much else to do, and could therefore take the ti to watch the performance.
It could be said that he had put a lot of thought into it.
At this mont, the performance on stage had ended, and as they were leaving, soone went outside to notify Xu Qingqiu to get ready to go on stage.
"Rember, this act is to be perford on Stage 2, and right after the performance, the cara should imdiately switch to the main stage. The staff needs to coordinate well, get everything needed ready in advance, and there can be no mistakes—just now the music was too slow."
Reviews
All reviews (0)