Chapter Three: Please, Stop Writing Already

“Is his condition really that bad?”

After a brief rehearsal of the seven-person stage routine, Zhang Lingye and the others increasingly understood why the company had no intention of renewing Yu Wei’s contract...

This couldn’t even be called dancing; even square dancing was smoother. The movements were correct, yet why did it look so awkward?

Singing was one thing—surely the live shows were just lip-syncing—but as a boy group, they should be able to dance properly.

Yu Wei had no choice; he truly tried his best.

Those seamless transitions in novels about time travel were definitely fabrications. Watching others play games is not the same as doing it yourself.

This was their debut group dance. Even if the original self had been slacking off, the routine was still clearly remembered. Yu Wei knew every move, but the movements were simply uncoordinated.

An amateur is always an amateur. Being a writer of entertainment novels, what did he really know about singing, dancing, or rapping?

In the past, if Yu Wei danced like this, the instructor would have lost their temper. But as one approaches the end, one’s words soften. Knowing Yu Wei was about to leave the industry, the instructor’s temper had eased.

Better to leave a good impression on his celebrity career...

“Alright, you guys keep practicing on stage; I’ll go to the dance studio and practice alone for a while.”

Yu Wei felt a little embarrassed. He couldn’t appreciate boy group dances, and his motions, similar to a morning exercise routine, felt somewhat abstract among the others.

His teammates just took it as him wanting to show off a bit and said nothing. But starting to work hard only now might be a little too late...

Yu Wei wasn’t really going to practice dance; he just wanted a quiet place to write.

No matter how well he practiced now, it was useless. Better to write quickly and get the song first. His comeback depended on solo performances, not dancing.

If possible, Yu Wei still wanted to stay. The company had channels and resources he was familiar with—far better than starting from scratch as an outsider.

It’s always better to rest under a big tree; going solo could wait.

Besides, how bad could a company that let him freeload for four years really be?

During rehearsals, the review for his novel was approved: "Why Do Celebrities Always Care About Ratings?" Author: Melancholy Spore, ongoing serialization.

New releases rarely get readers in the first few days, and Yu Wei didn’t care about the data. The most important thing now was to push the plot forward.

The system had explained clearly: only works that appear in the novel’s storyline can be exchanged. The word “plot” excluded the possibility of mass freeloading by listing works.

Works merely mentioned in the text didn’t count; only those appearing naturally in the storyline—i.e., performed by the protagonist—were valid.

This meant Yu Wei was synchronized with his novel’s protagonist. Whatever the protagonist performed, he could perform too.

No wonder it was called the Entertainment Domain Master System—he was drawing power from the entertainment novel world.

By then, these works would appear in his novel even before reality. He wondered how readers would react...

For several days, Yu Wei spent his time practicing dance and secretly writing. His dancing showed little progress, but his novel steadily advanced.

Though not a single comment had appeared, at least his new book was about to be archived.

Archiving marked the true beginning of an online novel’s life. Qualified new books would be displayed by genre for readers to sift through...

At this stage, all were equal, but the competition was fierce. The hotter the genre, the fiercer the competition.

Urban and light novels were the hardest hit. New releases were so numerous that flipping through a few pages never ended. Getting noticed was basically luck.

Yu Wei flipped through his phone: ten urban novels, nine about entertainment; eight top influencers, seven scandals; six celebrity breakdowns, five goddess openings; four directors, three singers; two dating shows, one ex-girlfriend...

This was the end!

Yu Wei almost fainted from shock. Why were there so many entertainment novels lately? How could a deadbeat like him stand out?

“Stop writing, please stop writing!”

He was counting on novels to exchange for songs, but with so many competitors, who could survive?

Yu Wei felt his scalp tingle from the pressure of rivals, but his typing speed never slowed. After so many failures, he had grown accustomed...

Better to cast the net than just envy the fish. In online literature, writing is always more important than thinking. While you’re anxious, others have typed half a chapter.

No matter what, just get moving.

His book was at a crucial plot point...

The earlier chapters had been emotional buildup; Yu Wei wrote quickly. The protagonist openly criticized the host at a red carpet event, which was satisfying, but to other attendees, he seemed ready to quit.

Even if the host deserved a 3-point rating, it wasn’t the protagonist’s place to say so—what right did a worthless idol have to score?

The next plot revolved around “whether he deserved to score.” The protagonist had to prove he was qualified to rate the song.

What would happen next was hard to predict...

“Headache.”

To Yu Wei, this was the hardest part of an entertainment novel. Everyone knew the protagonist was about to sing and show off, but how to write this scene reasonably?

Novels could be mindless but not illogical. You could step on your left foot and then your right and fly to the sky, but you couldn’t be asleep one moment and in the sky the next.

Entertainment protagonists couldn’t just start singing out of nowhere. This wasn’t a new Legend of the White Snake.

Writing this scene to be thrilling without being awkward, even bringing fresh ideas, required the author’s skill.

So Yu Wei hit a writer’s block.

If only he hadn’t written the awards ceremony scene and just done a cooking show rating Mr. Huang’s dishes—though cliché, it was easier to handle...

Poor Mr. Huang. Whether he was respected in the entertainment industry was uncertain, but in the web novel world, he was a legend, supporting many authors.

Besides Yang and Liu, he was probably the busiest in entertainment novels recently.

“I got it. If I can’t score food, then I’ll just rate the works themselves.”

The host wasn’t happy about being scolded by a junior but couldn’t step in personally. So, he tried to shift the tension by having the protagonist rate other winning works.

He meant to set a trap, but the protagonist’s ratings were fair and objective. Most awarded works were deserved, and the creative teams were satisfied.

Until he gave a winning pop song an ultra-high score of 3.6. The host finally found an opening to be sarcastic.

What followed was the usual: “If you’re so capable, go on stage,” “You really did it,” “You can really sing,” “You’re amazing.”

Such scenes were a must in entertainment novels: disdain, doubt, mockery, then surprise and shock.

Truly cliché and formulaic.

Yu Wei was pondering what song the protagonist should sing when the music supervisor called him out to discuss his solo stage arrangement.

Now it was his turn to sing.

In many entertainment novels, the protagonist’s new song stage came with perfect reverb and accompaniment, despite the song being brand new.

The band was even better than the protagonist!

Some systems even generated accompaniment USB drives, so no actual performance was needed—just virtual creation. What kind of singing was that?

Yu Wei was flesh and blood. Even if he had a song, he had to follow the proper process.

First report, then get the score. After discussing with the accompaniment teacher, the first plan formed. Then, practice and tweak the details. It took three to four days of overtime...

This approach clearly wouldn’t work now—time was tight, and he didn’t even have the song yet. The score and accompaniment were out of the question.

“How about this: no accompaniment, I’ll just sing a cappella. Is that okay?”

“Are you crazy?”

The music supervisor only wanted to ask what song Yu Wei would sing to prepare early recording and tuning for lip-syncing.

Who knew this guy would want to sing a cappella? Forget lip-syncing—no accompaniment at all.

Others he didn’t know, but after being at the company so long, didn’t he know Yu Wei’s level?

With that raw voice, staying on pitch was a feat. No technique, just emotion; gasping every few words, saliva sounds clearer than the lyrics.

This wasn’t crazy—it was trying to murder the live audience. Even if he couldn’t become a star, he shouldn’t take revenge on society!

Couldn’t they keep it down among themselves?

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“Then sing a couple of lines now for me.”

“...”

Now?

Yu Wei really couldn’t sing now. If he had the skill, he would.

“How about this: I’ll find one of your old songs, fix the audio, and just play that.”

The supervisor appeared to be seeking his opinion but had already arranged everything, just waiting for Yu Wei’s approval.

In the company’s eyes, Yu Wei was already leaving the industry; a farewell performance was just a formality.

The farewell night had both a live audience and online stream. It was about the company’s reputation and interests—they couldn’t let him make a mess.

Forget singing a new song; his microphone might even be off.

“All right then.”

In novels, such matters are brushed over. The protagonist always gets a chance to perform anywhere, as if it were effortless...

But in reality, those brief scenes represented a lifetime of struggle.

Every role’s chance to perform on stage was earned.

How many blows must one endure to become a lead?

Now, Yu Wei was the role who couldn’t get on stage. The opportunity before him also needed his own fight!

Words alone were useless.

Military orders, bet agreements—who had time for such childish games?

To be believed, one must provide convincing reasons. To get on stage, show your ability. It’s that simple.

He had to get the song soon for the program to have any negotiating room. Otherwise, no discussion.

Looks like he had to write more!