Chapter Seventeen: A Nomination That Slightly Breaks the Rules

Regarding the nomination for the Golden Melody Awards, Fan Zheng was utterly bewildered. When he had registered for the award, he never imagined he would actually be nominated—it was the Golden Melody Awards, after all, and the odds were minuscule. So, after submitting his application, he paid no further attention to any news about the award, not until the shortlist was announced and friends from Taiwan called to congratulate him. Only then did he realize he’d been nominated, and immediately he called Chen Ling to discuss it.

“Hey, Old Fan, is this nomination even legitimate? I’ve never set foot on a single stage. Does that count as being a newcomer?”

Chen Ling’s first question upon answering Fan Zheng’s call was about the rules, as they’d grown quite familiar during the recording of the album and had moved past formalities in their address. Chen Ling knew a bit about the Golden Melody Awards’ criteria; the selection was based on albums and songs released in the previous year. But this nomination seemed a bit irregular.

“How is it not legitimate? Your ‘Just Once’ and ‘Keyword’ were released online last year, weren’t they? That counts as last year’s album, doesn’t it? Zhang Jie even performed them at the New Year’s Eve gala. How could they not count?”

On the other end, Fan Zheng’s voice was loud and animated—after all, it was the Golden Melody Awards! The most prestigious accolade in the Mandarin pop music world, bar none. To be nominated was more than he had ever dared to dream. Back when he worked in Taiwan, he had hoped to someday win Best Producer; that would have fulfilled his life. But reality had been harsh—not only did he never win, he was banned and forced to return to the mainland in disgrace.

Years later, the record company that had blacklisted him was on the verge of collapse, but Fan Zheng knew that his chances of ever standing on the Golden Melody stage were slim to none, and he’d long since lost his youthful ambition. Who could have guessed that just as he was nearing retirement, fortune would drop this opportunity in his lap? When he had suggested Chen Ling register for the award, he hadn’t dared hope for a nomination, let alone a win. He simply wanted to remind his old friends in Taiwan that he could still produce top-tier albums—a bit of self-validation.

And yet, against all odds, he’d received four significant nominations.

At this point, he didn’t care about compliance. The shortlist was already public; if there were any issues, the authorities could take it up with the Golden Melody committee.

“So that’s how we made the shortlist?” Chen Ling was still dubious.

Even if they met the requirements, shouldn’t it have been harder? It wasn’t that he doubted the album’s quality, but it all felt too easy—almost unreal.

A freshman from the directing department, who recorded his first album in the midst of shooting his debut film, and whose main motivation was to win over his girlfriend—now nominated for the Golden Melody Awards!

It felt surreal, like something out of a dream.

Moreover, up to now, Chen Ling had never performed live on a public stage. In his eyes, the nomination seemed dubious, almost absurd.

“There’s nothing mysterious about it,” Fan Zheng explained over the phone.

“The music scene in Hong Kong and Taiwan has shrunk drastically these past two years, even faster than the film industry. Meanwhile, the mainland is developing at breakneck speed. They can’t afford to sit and wait—they have to embrace the mainland.”

“Also, my friends over there told me that the main reason we were nominated is because of your identity.”

“You see, most singers and actors in Hong Kong and Taiwan are cross-disciplinary, working in both film and music. But you’re not just a singer—you’re a student in the directing department at the Beijing Film Academy, a bona fide member of the academic establishment. Having you in the running not only boosts the Golden Melody Awards’ profile in the mainland, it sends goodwill to mainland directors. It’s a win-win.”

Fan Zheng had clearly done his homework before speaking to Chen Ling. He’d been away from the Taiwan music scene for years, and these tidbits were practically insider information—details that ordinary people couldn’t easily uncover, possibly even released to him by the Golden Melody committee.

Thanks to the vast market, the mainland’s film and music industries had galloped ahead in recent years, while Hong Kong and Taiwan had declined sharply. Their local markets could barely sustain them, so singers and actors flocked north in search of opportunities.

Yet, used to their former prestige, many struggled to adjust to their new status—after all, it used to be mainland artists who sought a living in Hong Kong and Taiwan. It was hard to break through; everyone knew how difficult it was for mainland actors like Gao Yuan, Fan Bingbing, and Zhan Lang, who were talented and hardworking yet rarely landed lead roles.

The music scene was just as tough, though less publicly discussed. At first, these newcomers couldn’t accept their changing roles, and conflicts with mainland artists abounded.

But the mainland now had the money, the talent, and, crucially, the market. Friction was inevitable, but the Hong Kong and Taiwan side usually came out worse, as the power balance had shifted. Over time, seeing that things couldn’t go on like this, they had no choice but to adjust their strategy. If force didn’t work, they had to try diplomacy.

Chen Ling simply happened to catch this wave, as Fan Zheng pointed out. He was not only a singer, but a director with an upcoming film, a bona fide student at the Beijing Film Academy. Moreover, the assistant director on his film was his class advisor—a prestigious fifth-generation director whom many in the industry would respectfully address as “teacher.”

Showing goodwill to him meant showing goodwill to multiple circles—a sure bet.

“All right, you’ve both got your calculations. Do you think we have a chance to win?”

Having understood Fan Zheng’s analysis, Chen Ling wanted to cut to the chase. After all, a nomination alone wasn’t much use.

“The odds are good. I suggest you make the trip—it’s a perfect chance to promote your film,” Fan Zheng urged, worried that Chen Ling might not want to travel to Taiwan just for a nomination.

He knew how to persuade Chen Ling; at this point, Chen Ling’s priority was undoubtedly his film, and he might not be inclined to go to Taiwan just for the Golden Melody Awards. But Fan Zheng wanted to go! He too was nominated for Best Album Producer, and if he returned to Taiwan, he could really show off.

“Besides, think about it—the main reason for your nomination is to show goodwill. If you go and they don’t give you the award, would that still count as goodwill? Making you travel all that way for nothing would only offend you, damaging the Golden Melody Awards’ reputation and alienating the mainland entertainment industry. Unless the committee has lost their minds, they won’t let us walk away empty-handed.”

Fan Zheng’s reasoning was convincing, and Chen Ling was tempted.

“I’ll think about it. Let’s talk in person later,” Chen Ling replied, neither agreeing nor refusing.

He preferred to discuss things face-to-face, since some matters couldn’t be clarified over the phone.