“We’ll meet the producer first, then go to the stage for rehearsal. Mr. Carter, what do you think of this arrangement?” Grace Bennett said.

“Up to you.” Eric Carter was now acting like a meme—obedient cat JPG.

The tissue she used to wipe her sweat was crumpled in her hand, but Grace Bennett didn’t notice and led the way ahead.

The building was full of TV station staff, so no one was surprised to see celebrities coming and going. They first went to the program center to meet the show’s producer, Kevin Martinez. Kevin Martinez, forty-seven years old, was a strong-willed middle-aged man. When they met, he was busy negotiating with the brand sponsor, so he didn’t have time to chat.

The elevator took them to the recording site of “I Really Am a Singer.” Mango TV’s Studio No. 3 could hold 800 audience members, with cold seats and the stage at the far end. As a competitive variety show, Mango TV spared no expense: cold fireworks, strobe lights, digital silicon box moving light racks, and top-notch audio equipment like equalizers, effects processors, crossovers, and limiters. The stage effects were impressive.

On stage, Eric Carter met the band and the show’s music director, Brian Cooper. After exchanging greetings, he began to explain his ideas for the arrangement.

Arranging and composing are two different things—the latter is about what melody to sing, essentially the skeleton, while the former adds accompaniment to the melody. Arranging requires practice from scratch, which was why Eric Carter came to Star City early.

Jay Chou and Vincent Fang were known as a match made in heaven—the former’s composing skills were explosively exaggerated, the latter’s lyric-writing skills were equally so.

After more than ten minutes, Eric Carter finished explaining his arrangement concept for “Wheat Waves in the Wind.” The room fell a bit quiet, and the band members looked conflicted.

First, the previous cold arrogance was indeed gone, but the direction of the song had changed too much—switching directly from electronic to classical? Brian Cooper was very puzzled.

Grace Bennett had been watching faces the whole time and hadn’t paid attention to what was said. Noticing the quiet atmosphere, she quickly tried to mediate: “Director Cooper, is Mr. Carter’s arrangement plan very difficult to execute?”

“On the contrary, it’s very simple. Our band has no problem with the arrangement, we can easily do it. But I’m afraid Mr. Carter’s traditional arrangement isn’t suitable for competition.” Brian Cooper expressed his concern: “A quintet of piano, harp, violin, and cello for the main melody? The arrangement is too classical, like something from the last century.”

“Classical works are at a disadvantage in competition, but I feel ‘Wheat Waves in the Wind’ is a good piece, and I want to sing it for the audience on stage,” Eric Carter said.

He knew the quality of “Wheat Waves in the Wind” better than anyone. Besides, without relying on outstanding original work to score points, with his current ruined reputation, he’d be eliminated no matter who he challenged. Bringing something different was more important—and he had a secret weapon.

“Since you insist.” Brian Cooper offered one more word of advice out of professionalism, but since the contestant insisted, as music director, Brian Cooper couldn’t say more.

“No wonder our show is the hottest music program right now. We have a responsible music director and contestants who want to contribute good works.” Grace Bennett added, “Chunsheng Organic Milk sponsoring our show is truly a strategic move.”

Brian Cooper couldn’t help but smile. Since they were on the same show, they’d meet often. Grace Bennett always mentioned the sponsor’s product, and it had almost become an inside joke at the station.

The atmosphere became much livelier, and they moved on to arrangement details.

“I think it’s better to use an Irish harp. Sorry to trouble you all,” Eric Carter said.

Compared to the common harp, the Irish harp is smaller and has no pedals, with a lighter tone.

“For this part of the chorus, let’s have the clarinet in the woodwind section replaced with an alto oboe.”

“Sorry to trouble everyone, let’s practice once more.”

It was Eric Carter’s first time singing in a formal setting since crossing over. He made quite a few mistakes at first, but fortunately, the original body’s stage presence was decent—after all, he was a top star who had held dozens of fan meetings in just one year after debuting. He inherited this well.

Facing the empty seats, there was always a bit of nervousness. The only thing Eric Carter could do was practice a few more times. Arriving early was an advantage—there wouldn’t be other artists waiting to use the stage later, though it did mean troubling the band and music director.

In the afternoon, celebrity partner Grace Bennett did take him to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, Yihua Home Cuisine, inside the Liuzheng Street community.

The restaurant was hidden in a residential building, with a hardware store on the left and a nail salon on the right. The stairs inside were typical of old residential buildings, the handrails covered in a glossy patina, rusted underneath.

Inside, the restaurant had yellow window frames that evoked childhood memories, and white checkered wall tiles.

Whether or not it had a business license was debatable, but the food was quite good. Eric Carter especially liked the stir-fried frog dish—the spiciness of Hunan cuisine was fully on display, and he could also accumulate [Ruthless Butcher] points.

“Mr. Carter, does it taste good?” Grace Bennett asked expectantly.

“It’s delicious, but it’s a pity there’s no Chunsheng Organic Milk,” Eric Carter teased, poking fun at Grace Bennett’s habit of mentioning sponsors.

“Love your job, love your line—mention the sponsor every time you talk about the show.” Grace Bennett said, picking up food with big chopsticks. “If it’s good, eat more. Now that you’re in Star City, I have to take good care of your stomach, Mr. Carter.”

During her free time that afternoon, Grace Bennett secretly followed Eric Carter again with her alternate account. She found that Eric Carter’s followers had dropped from 11.54 million to 8.29 million. The insults were unbearable to read—personal attacks were the mildest, and many even involved family members.