Blue Star, China, Yanjing, Yanjing Broadcasting Building.
The year is 2000.
This year is known as the "Millennium Year," the final year of the 20th century.
In Yanjing, the average housing price ranges from 3,000 to 6,000 yuan per square meter.
Mentioning housing prices inevitably brings out the familiar refrains of "Back in the day..." "If only..." and "Who knew?"
The trope of time travelers investing in Alibaba and Tencent before buying multiple properties in the CBD has become a cliché in time travel stories.
These were exactly the things Shen Lang desperately wanted to do.
Yes, he was a time traveler, from the year 2024 in a parallel universe Earth.
Now, he was a recent graduate of China Media University's Broadcasting Department, assigned as a little assistant to Yanjing Music Radio's late-night program, Midnight Melodies.
He had traveled to a golden era.
The best way to get rich was to make money work for you.
Stocks, real estate, gold, Bitcoin, crude oil, futures...
Shen Lang wanted to do it all, but he couldn't.
His salary was a mere 1,000 yuan.
Though he was single and had no dependents, after deducting rent, transportation, and daily expenses, he was left with only a few hundred yuan.
What could he possibly do with that?
Shen Lang's immediate priority was to secure seed capital—preferably in the millions or tens of millions.
This was the only option.
With this thought, he sighed softly.
At that moment, a deep voice boomed, "What's the point of sighing? Look at the numbers yourselves! Midnight Melodies' listenership rate has hit record lows this year. We need ideas—now! How can we improve the show and boost those numbers?"
Shen Lang snapped out of his thoughts.
The speaker was Yang Lin, Director of the Radio Program Center. His face was grim. His cold, authoritative gaze swept across the conference room. No one dared to speak.
Since Shen Lang joined the team, Midnight Melodies' listenership rate had been steadily declining. Of course, this wasn't his fault. The host was Wu Zhoutong, and Shen Lang was merely an assistant.
"You're in charge of this program," Yang Lin said, fixing Wu Zhoutong with a pointed look. "Explain yourself."
"Director, the midnight slot is inherently unpopular," Wu Zhoutong began, his voice tinged with resentment. He had long resented being assigned to this time slot, but seeing Yang Lin's darkening expression, he quickly backtracked. "However, we can boost listenership by making the show more engaging. I've been thinking—we shouldn't limit ourselves to playing cold, recorded music. I can sing and play the keyboard, and Xiao Shen here plays the guitar. By collaborating and pouring our hearts into live performances, we can truly connect with our listeners."
"Does this have any potential?" Yang Lin asked, sounding skeptical.
"It does," Wu Zhoutong replied, forcing himself to sound confident.
"Then let's start tonight and see how it goes," Yang Lin said. He didn't have any better ideas anyway, and things couldn't get any worse.
"Yes, Director," Wu Zhoutong said, exhaling in relief.
Inwardly, he had no confidence at all.
But he couldn't afford to lose his job.
He'd just have to wing it.
Shen Lang, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow slightly.
Isn't this basically like modern-day live streaming with singing?
He remembered Wu Zhoutong had indeed been a singer, having released an album and even served as a judge on Super Girls.
But he wasn't optimistic about this format in this era, especially on a radio program.
Still, he was on probation. His only job was to follow orders.
He needed to become a permanent employee first. Even a small gain was still a gain—his entire livelihood depended on this salary.
"Xiao Shen, I'll give you a song list and sheet music later. After we take listener calls tonight, I'll sing and you'll play," Wu Zhoutong said to Shen Lang.
"Alright, Brother Wu," Shen Lang agreed readily.
"Everything will be alright," Wu Zhoutong said, patting Shen Lang on the shoulder with a forced smile.
"Yeah," Shen Lang nodded.
The playlist included Aaron Kwok's "Should I Quietly Walk Away," Chyi Chin's "Perhaps in Winter," Wang Jie's "Do I Really Have Nothing," Sandy Lam's "Home Again Without You," Zhao Chuan's "I Am Just a Little Bird," and Jacky Cheung's "With You All the Way."
Six songs in total.
Combined with the phone calls, this would perfectly fill the hour-long program.
The songs ranged from melancholic to uplifting to romantic, covering the emotional spectrum of the callers.
Shen Lang practiced the guitar Wu Zhoutong had prepared backstage.
In truth, he was not only proficient with the guitar but also a skilled singer.
His voice and singing ability were both exceptional.
His voice, inherited from the original owner of this body, possessed a magnetic timbre, rich texture, and a hint of raspiness that gave it remarkable carrying power.
Shen Lang's singing skill was something he carried over from his previous life. After graduating from the Shuchuan Conservatory of Music and working as a professional music teacher, his talent far surpassed that of typical pop idols, though perhaps not quite reaching the level of national-class singers.
Becoming a singer and entering the entertainment industry had been one of his backup plans after transmigrating.
"How's the practice going?" Wu Zhoutong finally appeared as the show's broadcast time approached, asking Shen Lang about his progress.
"I've got it down," Shen Lang replied. He wasn't one for half-hearted efforts; if he committed to something, he went all in. He immediately played a song to demonstrate.
"Not bad, very professional," Wu Zhoutong remarked. He had initially assumed Shen Lang's claim of being able to sing meant casual student-level skills, but he was clearly much more talented.
"Just something I do for fun," Shen Lang said, keeping his explanation brief.
"Let's go. It's almost time," Wu Zhoutong checked his watch and gestured for Shen Lang to follow him to the studio.
Radio programs, focusing solely on audio, required no makeup or special attire. Normal clothes would suffice.
In his previous life, Shen Lang had been born in the 1990s.
His most vivid memory of radio came from Stephen Chow's film All's Well, Ends Well '92, where Maggie Cheung, dressed in an outlandish outfit, met him at the radio station.
Chen Chichi's television series Love Apartment featured the iconic line: "Welcome to Your Moon My Heart. I'm the good guy, I'm Zeng Xiaoxian."
In this life, I found myself working at a radio station.
I discovered that art truly does imitate life—there wasn't much difference between the fictional world and reality.
The small studio housed a broadcasting director, an editor, a host, and an assistant—just four people in total.
"Equipment check complete!" the director confirmed.
"Open your soul, embrace your innocence. A cozy little cabin, a midnight serenade..."
Exactly at midnight, Wu Zhoutong began the broadcast.
After the opening remarks, the hotline connected.
"Let's take our first listener of the night."
"Hello."
"Hello, this is your host Wu Zhoutong. Thank you for tuning in. How can I help you?"
"It's my girlfriend's birthday today, and I'd like to dedicate a song to her."
"Certainly. This song, With You All the Way, is for your girlfriend. Happy birthday, and may your love last forever."
"Thank you, Wang Yuchen, I love you!"
The first phone call was simple and direct.
Wu Zhoutong stood before the electronic keyboard.
Shen Lang picked up his guitar.
"Do you know...
Loving you isn't easy.
It takes so much courage..."
A straightforward performance.
No fancy techniques.
Just pure emotion.
The subsequent calls followed the same pattern.
Wu Zhoutong was enjoying himself, but he gradually realized the idea wasn't working.
It lacked novelty and a real hook.
A heavy atmosphere settled over the studio.
As time passed, the show neared its end.
They were about to take the final call when Wu Zhoutong's stomach began to churn violently.
He tried to hold it in, but he suddenly understood the saying, "You can hold your pee for miles, but diarrhea gives you no quarter." He frantically gestured to the broadcasting director to mute the microphone.
"I can't take it anymore! I've got a bad stomach. I need to use the bathroom. Xiao Shen, you take over for me." Wu Zhoutong ripped off his monitor headphones and bolted out of the studio.
"Brother Wu!" Shen Lang had indeed heard the rumbling sounds from Wu Zhoutong's stomach, but the sudden turn of events left him frozen in place.
"Xiao Shen, hurry up!" the broadcasting editor shouted from outside.
After over a month of training, Shen Lang had mastered the hosting procedures. Regaining his composure, he sat in the host's chair and signaled the director to unmute the microphone. "The night stretches long, and sleep eludes us. Thank you for keeping your rendezvous with Midnight Melodies, come rain or shine..."
This kid's got talent.
No wonder he's from China Media University's Broadcasting Department.
His voice and Mandarin pronunciation are top-notch.