Musician In Love-hate with Fans

The next morning, bright and early.

Paul, having just woken up, immediately called Julian, urging him to drive back to the company as soon as possible.

"Julian, we need to get to the company ASAP. Tell Bob to bring the car around," he said, his voice still groggy from sleep.

"What? Now? It's barely dawn..." Julian mumbled, clearly not fully awake.

"It's important. Those songs need to be approved."

Julian, sporting two large dark circles under his eyes, truthfully hadn't slept well the previous night. He had spent the night wondering if Paul's sudden decision to sing a new song at his next concert had meant he was serious, or if there had been some hidden message in his words...

Just to be safe, he had locked his door and even placed a chair against it. For good measure, he had dragged the heavy writing desk in front of the door too. The resulting barricade had looked like something out of a zombie apocalypse movie.

Better safe than sorry, Julian had nodded to himself, admiring his handiwork.

He hadn't even dared take a shower, fearing that if he had made himself too clean or smelled too nice, it might have led to some unnecessary misunderstandings. Instead, he had spritzed himself with a concoction of old cologne, leftover takeout, and a dash of garlic powder he'd found in the kitchen.

After all, he had heard stories about a certain short celebrity in the entertainment industry who, in the middle of the night, had crawled onto an assistant's bed, only to politely say with a smile:

"Can I send you a cease-and-desist letter?"

Although that incident had been later exposed, the celebrity, having been famous for years, had easily brushed off the controversy. However, the joke about the cease-and-desist letter had continued to circulate widely.

So, it was no wonder Julian had been being extra cautious—after all, protecting his dignity had been his top priority.

Every little noise had made Julian jump. The ice machine down the hall had become a potential threat. The distant ding of the elevator had been a warning bell. Even the air conditioning kicking in had sounded suspiciously like someone trying to pick the lock.

At one point, he could have sworn he had heard footsteps outside his door. Julian had held his breath and pressed his ear against the door.

Is that... humming? It's Paul! He's coming!

He had frantically looked around the room for a weapon, settling on a hotel umbrella. The footsteps had passed. He had exhaled, lowering the umbrella. False alarm. But you could never be too careful.

Around midnight, a knock at the door had nearly given Julian a heart attack.

"Room service!"

He had peered through the peephole. A young woman in a hotel uniform had stood outside, holding a covered tray.

It could be a trap. Paul could have bribed her. Maybe he's hiding around the corner.

"You can leave it outside!" Julian had called.

"But it's hot food. It'll get cold," the woman had replied, looking confused.

"That's... that's fine! Just leave it there. Please."

Julian had watched through the peephole as the woman put down the tray and walked away. He had waited a full ten minutes before slowly moving his barricade.

Opening the door a crack, he had peered out. The hallway had been empty. The covered tray had been innocently on the floor.

He had quickly grabbed the tray and retreated back into his room, rebuilding his barricade in record time. With the tray safely inside, Julian had approached it like it was a bomb he needed to defuse. Slowly, he had lifted the cover.

Spaghetti? Is this some kind of message? Like, Paul wants us to be tangled up together like noodles?

He had poked at a meatball suspiciously. And what are these supposed to represent? No, better not to think about it.

Despite his growling stomach, Julian had decided it was too risky to eat. He couldn't be sure it hadn't been laced with sleeping pills or some kind of love potion. So, he had dumped the entire meal into the trash, making sure to bury it under several layers of crumpled papers.

As the hours had passed, Julian's paranoia had reached new heights. He had fashioned a tin foil hat out of the spaghetti tray cover, convinced it would block any mind-control rays Paul might try to use.

Every shadow had become a potential threat. The rustling of the curtains in the air-conditioned breeze had sounded like whispered declarations of love. At one point, he had even eyed his own reflection in the mirror suspiciously, worried that Paul might have somehow replaced it with a two-way mirror.

By the time dawn had broken, he had been a jittery, exhausted mess. He'd spent the night alternating between keeping watch and trying to decipher hidden messages in the hotel's room service menu.

When his phone had rung at 6 AM, Julian had nearly jumped out of his skin. He had answered it with shaking hands.

"H-hello?"

---

In the car, Paul couldn't help but notice the dark circles under Julian's eyes. "You look exhausted. Rough night?"

"Last night was... yeah, rough. I'd rather not talk about it." He quickly tried to change the subject. "So, have you really made up your mind?..."

Paul nodded. Though he had already resolved to do this, he knew the upcoming week would be extremely busy. These twenty or so songs had only been written; they still needed arrangements, and the accompanying tracks needed to be prepared. After that, the most bothersome part—getting approvals—would begin!

"Absolutely," Paul said, his eyes fixed on the passing cityscape.

From the front seat, Bob glanced in the rearview mirror. "You are really doing it? Is that why we're rushing to the company at this hour?"

"That's right, Bob," Paul confirmed. "There is a lot to do."

Bob chuckled. "I hope it's worth all this fuss. But I've been hearing some rumors..."

"Rumors?" Paul asked.

Bob hesitated before responding. "When you were writing those songs in the car, I thought they were your usual folk style. But now there's talk that you're changing things up. Is that true?"

Julian, who had been quietly listening, couldn't contain himself any longer. "It's true, Bob. I've seen the lyrics. They're... more pop-oriented."

"Pop? Really?"

"Paul, I've never heard you sing pop before. Are you sure you can pull it off?" Julian asked worriedly.

"That's what I'm wondering too," Bob added. "I mean, your folk style is what made you famous. How are you going to tackle a whole new genre?"

"Don't worry. It's all part of a plan."

Thankfully, the company was there to help. If it were up to him alone, there would be no way he could handle it all.

Don't be fooled by the playful, coquettish tone in Jasmin's private messages to him. In reality, Jasmin's company was thriving in this world. She was a true businesswoman, not only with a fierce drive but also an impressive career.

Thanks to the growing wave of entertainment culture, Jasmin's Germo Entertainment has ranked among the top ten companies in Germo. Especially in the last two years, with Paul as a major moneymaker, the company's status has risen rapidly.

After all, in the entertainment industry, it's rare to find a star or singer who, after becoming famous, is truly only interested in acting or singing. In this era of entertainment overload, a well-managed fanbase could guarantee a lifelong career.

But Paul seemed like an anomaly—he had no scandals, and even repeatedly turned down personal invitations from Jasmin herself.

Whenever asked, "Aren't you bored or tired living like this?"

Paul would reply with a sorrowful expression, "Yes, bored."

"Then don't you want to have some fun?"

"I do."

"Come on, tell me. How can I help you?"

"I… I… I want to…"

"Today, you can call the shots! Whatever you want to do, just do it!"

"Jasmin, I'll be straightforward…"

"Go ahead!"

"I want… to sing!"

After he said that, Jasmin was stunned. Paul wasn't following the usual playbook at all. All the effort she'd put in, even wearing her new Valentino studded heels today—completely wasted. Did he not even notice?

She caught him sniffing the air and felt a flash of paranoia. Was he implying her feet smelled bad or something? Those were just rumors. Did he actually believe them?

---

With Germo Entertainment's current resources, resolving the arrangements and approvals for these songs within a week wasn't too difficult, as long as the company gave its full support.

But even by the time she fell asleep last night while texting, Jasmin still couldn't quite understand why Paul was making things difficult for himself by not taking the easy path and earning money.

It was like how she only wanted to capture Paul's knight on the chess board—why was it so hard? Had she, after all these years, never had the chance to be the rider once?

For the first time, she felt this passionate yearning for talent. For the first time, she felt the urge to try and bend the rules.

But… no luck. It turned out Paul was as stubborn as a rock. However, the more he resisted, the more it fired up Jasmin's competitive spirit.

Paul, you can't escape my grasp forever!

Early in the morning, Jasmin arrived at her office, ready and waiting for Paul to show up.

After all, he needed her help. So, he had to soften his attitude, right? No matter how tough he acted, he would have to bend sooner or later.

Around 10 a.m., a limited-edition luxury car pulled up outside the Germo Entertainment office building. The person stepping out of the car was none other than Paul.

He didn't actually care about luxury; he only wanted to focus on his music. But how could he avoid Jasmin's plans for him?

She had lent him her beloved car, then playfully remarked, "Now that I'm without a car, what do you think I should ride?"

Paul had thought for a moment before replying seriously, "How about taking the bus? It's environmentally friendly."

"???"

Jasmin had been instantly furious. She had dealt with countless unspoken rules in the entertainment industry, but because of the government's strong promotion of entertainment culture and her status as an early star, she had quickly risen to fame and established her own company. As a result, she had luckily avoided being controlled by those rules.

Of course, she'd faced requests here and there. After all, she was the great Jasmin!

It was easy to imagine that if she had been in a different world without government support, how many rejections, sneers, and "sticks" she would have faced just to rise to the top.

But Paul's suggestion to take the bus—what had that meant? Did he think she was that kind of person? Did he believe that just because he was a man, she would try to impose the rules on him?

Just wait! One day, I'll show you exactly what pressure feels like!

---

Paul looked up at the towering building before him—Germo Entertainment. It was hard to believe someone could buy such prime real estate in the heart of the city and build such a magnificent building.

Sometimes, he couldn't help but admire Jasmin. She had worked incredibly hard to achieve this.

Germo Entertainment didn't just sign singers; they were involved in TV dramas, variety shows, movies, and more. However, their most successful ventures had always been in music and TV dramas.

Before he joined, even their music department hadn't been doing particularly well. It was only because Jasmin was a top-tier actress that their film and TV productions flourished.

She also had a keen eye for talent, having signed many excellent artists like the recently added Rido, Shindy, and others...

But sometimes, she acted strangely, like when she would randomly flaunt her black stockings and legs in front of him. Paul wasn't interested in such trivialities. Did Jasmin misunderstand something?

As Paul and Julian walked towards the entrance, a nervous intern approached them, nearly tripping over her own feet in her excitement.

"Mr. Anilani! I'm a huge fan. I heard you might be changing your style?" the intern blurted out.

Paul blinked in surprise. "News travels fast around here, doesn't it?"

Julian narrowed his eyes. "And where did you hear that?"

The intern stammered, "Oh, just... rumors, you know. Office gossip."

After the intern scurried away, Julian turned to Paul. "See? People are already talking. Are you sure about this?"

Paul shrugged. "Change always gets people talking. That's not necessarily a bad thing."

As they neared the entrance, they overheard a conversation between two employees who were also heading into the building.

"Did you hear? Our company is going to make another game!"

"No way! Next thing you'll tell me is that Anilani is going to release a new song."

Paul and Julian exchanged glances, trying not to laugh.

Then, Julian leaned closer to Paul. "You know, Jasmin's been asking a lot of questions about you lately."

"Oh? What kind of questions?"

"Personal ones. Your likes, dislikes, relationship status..."

"Huh. Probably just for PR purposes, right?"

Julian hesitated. "Yeah... PR. Sure."

He patted Paul on the shoulder. "Good luck in there. And remember, if she offers you any 'special contracts', read the fine print!"

Couldn't she wait until after my concert to discuss whatever she wanted behind closed doors?