Superstars of Tomorrow Chapter 342: High-Pressure Assistantship

Chapter 342: High-Pressure a.s.sistants.h.i.+p

Translator: Min_Lee Editor: Tennesh

Nanfeng returned to his apartment and shared the good news with several of his closest friends in Huangzhou.

Even though he was envious of Fang Zhao's high income, Nanfeng didn't feel jealous. He figured that Fang Zhao had leveraged his talent into a comfortable living. He couldn't argue with that, and he had his own talents. He was confident that a brighter future was in store.

Yet Nanfeng's good mood was soon shattered. He came across a headline, "Fang Zhao's a.s.sistant in a.s.sault during Live Broadcast."

Nanfeng's heart leaped immediately.

A further search yielded similar headlines. The headlines were written in the most sensationalist way possible. They all included key phrases like "Fang Zhao's a.s.sistant," "Huangcheng black street" and "a.s.sault during live broadcast." They all but screamed, "Come check out the commotion! Fang Zhao's a.s.sistant attacked someone in front of an audience in the tens of millions!"

The news reports about Fang Zhao's encounter with the live broadcast crew mostly focused on the matter of his a.s.sistant launching an attack. Many readers blurted obscenities as soon as they saw the headlines, but when they clicked the links and read more carefully, they reacted differently. F*ck, we were conned again!

Still, after reading the full story, these internet readers who loved a spectacle kept following the aftermath.

"Serves them right! You have to prepare for the possibility of getting beaten up if you make these kinds of shows. Who knows if you're acting?"

"If I ran into the same situation, I'd throw a punch first too. If it were a genuine a.s.sault, then I would be in the right. If it was just acting, I'd be innocent by virtue of not having prior knowledge. I wouldn't be liable for any compensation."

"Fang Zhao's a.s.sistant held back. If I were him, I would have beaten the a.s.sailant to a pulp."

"Oi, cut the bulls.h.i.+t! Not everyone has the courage to step up. Many folks like to mind their own business on black streets."

"I'm curious if Fang Zhao actually has mob connections."

"Isn't the main attraction the a.s.sistant's eye? After the blurring effect was removed, you could see that one of the a.s.sistant's eyes was red! Is he of mixed heritage?"

"What type of mixed race would that be? Even someone of mixed race wouldn't have eyes of a different color. He must have some type of eye disease."

"A bunch of country b.u.mpkins! Haven't you heard of colored contact lenses? For a while, it was quite the fad to wear just one colored lens. It was a form of street culture."

"Apart from colored contact lenses, there are also prosthetic eyes that vary in color."

"It's a shame that the eye only showed up in the footage briefly."

After reading the comments in several of the more popular discussion forums, Nanfeng felt his career was over. During the time of the attack, Nanfeng had neglected to disable the color variation function of his prosthetic eye, so the color of the eye had adjusted according to his mood and become red.

News of the a.s.sault had spread so quickly and on such a large scale. Nanfeng was convinced this wasn't just regular word of mouth. He was positive the TV crew was working behind the scenes.

What could he do about s.n.a.t.c.hing the spotlight away from his boss? What would happen if the story tarnished his boss's reputation?

He had just landed this job and was at risk of losing it before he had warmed his chair.

At a loss, Nanfeng asked Yan Biao for advice.

After getting the full lowdown, Yan Biao was quite calm. "Based on my understanding of Boss from these past two or three years, he's not going to quibble with you over having the limelight stolen, but you did act improperly on this matter. Why don't you apologize to Boss first? He's not that petty."

One had to give credit where credit was due. Yan Biao had been an attentive employee these past two or three years. He was spot on—Fang Zhao was not about to throw a fit over a drop in publicity.

Fang Zhao knew what was being said online. Silver Wing had also contacted him to get a full briefing. There was no shady business involved and the incident wasn't a big deal in the first place. Silver Wing also knew that the TV crew was trying to generate publicity. The company knew how to respond.

As for his a.s.sistant Nanfeng, the way Fang Zhao saw it was that even though Nanfeng was a bit impatient, he had a lively personality and was quite energetic. In key moments, he showed the right balance of intelligence and emotional intelligence. Even though he had his own agenda, Nanfeng had an upright character. If he didn't cause any major problems during his probation, Fang Zhao was going to keep him on as a permanent employee.

He knew that serving as his a.s.sistant was only a stepping stone for Nanfeng. Nanfeng was ambitious and had set his sights higher. That was perfectly understandable. Everyone wanted to progress. When the time came for Nanfeng to move on to greener pastures, Fang Zhao wasn't going to get in his way. In fact, if Nanfeng did a good job, Fang Zhao was going to help him along.

So when Nanfeng called to apologize, to admit his mistake and reflect, Fang Zhao didn't say much in the way of a reprimand.

When he realized that Fang Zhao wasn't going to fire him, Nanfeng's mood improved. His boss wasn't a petty person, which meant Nanfeng would have a much easier time serving as an a.s.sistant.

The next day, when Nanfeng arrived at Fang Zhao's dorm room, Fang Zhao had just returned from the gym.

"Good morning, Boss!'

Nanfeng had bought breakfast and some ingredients, which he placed in the kitchen. Thus started his first day as an a.s.sistant. He had already taken notes on the tasks Fang Zhao had a.s.signed to him.

He had to inspect the "rabbit" in the tank and check how much feed was left in its feeding tube. He also had to check the readings on various indicators and throw in two freshly snipped leaves.

He didn't dare touch the slug. Fang Zhao had cautioned that the "rabbit" was poisonous and wasn't to be touched.

Nanfeng didn't question Fang Zhao's claim. He had a friend who kept a poisonous sea slug at home that couldn't be handled with bare hands. Special gloves were required.

"Boss, I'll walk Curly Hair, then?"

"Go ahead! Did you memorize the route?"

"Yes, yes!" Nanfeng showed Fang Zhao the route he had marked on a map.

"The leash is in the cupboard by the entryway. Curly Hair will fetch it himself."

Just as Fang Zhao finished his sentence, Nanfeng saw Curly Hair open one of the doors to the cupboard next to the entryway and drag out his leash with his mouth. He closed the door, then trotted toward Fang Zhao.

"What a smart dog! You even know how to open the cupboard yourself and fetch your leash. Boss, you did a great job training him!" Nanfeng wanted to add "This $200 million dog is truly worth its value," but he remembered Yan Biao's advice and held back.

After attaching the leash to Curly Hair, Fang Zhao let Nanfeng take Curly Hair on his regular walk on campus. Even though HuangArt's campus security wasn't top-notch, it was better than taking a walk off campus.

Fang Zhao didn't intend to let Curly Hair hole up in his dorm room for the entire length of his program. The student gym was off-limits to dogs, so Fang Zhao walked Curly Hair within the HuangArt campus, tracing several regular routes and frequenting one of the on-campus parks. Even dogs weren't suited to gaming all day. It was good for them to get a breath of fresh air and experience nature and the local community.

When Nanfeng returned from walking the dog at a lightning pace and extracted himself from thoughts that he had just taken a dog worth 200 million dollars for a stroll, he noticed Fang Zhao signing for a delivery.

Ten gigantic boxes of fresh fruit from Muzhou.

Nanfeng remembered Yan Biao mentioning that Fang Zhao had a stake in a Muzhou farm, guaranteeing him a steady supply of fresh produce. Fresh fruit from Muzhou fetched a handsome price locally. Nanfeng rarely sampled this Muzhou specialty. The sight of the crates made him hungry.

After observing Fang Zhao carry two crates into the storage room of his dorm room, Nanfeng figured the boxes weren't heavy. After detaching Curly Hair from his leash, he scrambled over to help out.

Nanfeng flexed his limbs, walked over, and grasped the first crate.

Deep breath, and go!

No luck.

Nanfeng tried another box.

Still no luck.

After trying to lift the remaining boxes one by one to no avail, Nanfeng watched Fang Zhao carry another two crates into his storage. He was blown away.

On only his first day on the job, Nanfeng had already experienced the sense of powerlessness and resignation that Yan Biao had described.

When Fang Zhao noticed Nanfeng just standing there dejectedly, Fang Zhao instructed him, "The two boxes on the side contain melons. Why don't you unpack them, give the melons a wipe, and bring two of them next door? Will should be up by now."

"OK, Boss!"

a.s.signed a fresh errand, Nanfeng felt he had value again. Maybe he couldn't handle heavy physical labor, but he did a decent job of delivering gifts and cultivating relations.h.i.+ps. On previous a.s.sistant gigs, he had delivered gifts to fellow actors on the same shoot on behalf of minor celebrities. It was the kind of work he knew well.

After unpacking the crates, Nanfeng picked one melon of each kind, placed them in a clean basket, and went next door. Flas.h.i.+ng a friendly smile, he pressed the doorbell.

The door opened soon to reveal a pale, serious-looking young man.

Nanfeng maintained his smile. "Good morning, Mr. Will. My name is Nanfeng. I'm Fang Zhao's a.s.sistant."

Will said nothing, his expression stone cold.

"These are fresh fruits from a farm in Muzhou. My boss asked me to bring them over. My boss has a stake in the farm, so these are technically home grown."

Will stood by the door, frowning. His gaze s.h.i.+fted from Nanfeng to the melons in the basket.

Nanfeng kept up his friendly smile, but Will's serious expression remained.

Seconds later, Will extended his hands but gave no indication of welcoming Nanfeng into his room.

Keeping his composure, Nanfeng handed over the basket. "The melons are quite heavy."

After accepting the basket, Will seemed to be getting ready to close his door, so Nanfeng left. But after taking a few steps, he still hadn't heard the sound of the door closing. Will's gaze lingered.

Nanfeng turned around to find Will staring at him through a small gap next to the ajar door. Will's room was dimly lit. His face was blurry, giving off weird vibes.

Will remained silent and kept observing Nanfeng.

Nanfeng froze and returned Will's gaze with a smile.

Two seconds later, Will closed his door and returned to his studio.

So it's decided. Fang Zhao's a.s.sistant is too easy to draw. I'm going to pa.s.s. But Will still felt the itch to draw. He scanned his room, and his gaze landed on the basket of melons that had just been delivered. I'll draw a melon, then.

Next door, back in Fang Zhao's room, Nanfeng was oblivious to Will's thought process. He did, however, feel he had been scrutinized.

Fang Zhao's circle of friends was different from the people Nanfeng was used to dealing with. Accustomed to folks who hid their true feelings behind a mask, Nanfeng was at a loss as to how to deal with temperamental artists like Will.

Just like Yan Biao had predicted, this was a tough job.

Nonetheless, Nanfeng was confident he could do well. Today he was going to show Fang Zhao his cooking skills. He had trained with a master chef. Nanfeng was going to let Fang Zhao know that he was a versatile a.s.sistant.

As he kept busy in the kitchen, a thought popped into his head. The series finale of "Founding Era" was airing over the next two days.

But was "Founding Era" going to fall off the radar after the series finale?

No such chance!

Setting aside the issue of online reruns, it was awards season on all continents.

Regardless of the continent, the blockbuster project "Founding Era" was bound to mount a clean sweep at all the major awards ceremonies. For the sake of their own careers, the actors featured in the TV series weren't going to let the buzz die down just yet.

Fang Zhao had taken on such a key character in the Yanzhou chapter. His performance spoke for itself. He was bound to pick up a newcomer or supporting actor award of some sort.

And as Fang Zhao's a.s.sistant, Nanfeng was likely to attend these prize ceremonies.

Previously, he had worked as an a.s.sistant for two-bit stars. The most prestigious awards ceremonies had been out of their league. They would have become a laughing stock if they had shown up on the red carpet uninvited, but things were different now with Fang Zhao as his boss.

All sorts of awards ceremonies, all sorts of red carpets covered in flas.h.i.+ng lights.

Just the thought of them got him excited.

Nanfeng rubbed his hands.

He had to do a good job so Fang Zhao would bring him along to these prize ceremonies.

While Nanfeng was busy in the kitchen proving his versatility to his new boss, proving his worth, Fang Zhao got a video conference call from Xue Jing in Yanzhou.

Xue Jing had been in Yanzhou for some time working on a new textbook with a few old friends. He never made it to Huangzhou.

Xue Jing asked Fang Zhao about his studies and his transition to campus life.

Fang Zhao answered Xue Jing's questions in detail.

Xue Jing was pleased with Fang Zhao's answers. After pausing briefly, he said with a chuckle, "Fang Zhao, I'm calling with some good news."

"What good news?" Fang Zhao played along. He had already guessed the reason for Xue Jing's call.

"You've been nominated for a Galaxy Supernova Award!"

Fang Zhao had been busy with exams for the Twelve Tones program and the nomination list hadn't been finalized, so Xue Jing had held back the news.

By the time the nominations had been confirmed and Fang Zhao gained admission to the Twelve Tones program, the internet had been filled with praise for "Founding Era." Worried that Fang Zhao had been too giddy, Xue Jing had held off on sharing the news for another few days.

Xue Jing had expected ecstasy and irrepressible joy from Fang Zhao, but none was forthcoming, even after an extended wait. "You're not excited? Even though a nomination doesn't guarantee an award, a nomination for someone your age is already quite rare. This is the Galaxy Supernova Award we're talking about! It's the highest honor a young artist can receive. Not everyone can receive a nomination. Worldwide, only some 70 artists were nominated this year. It's quite a feat considering your present circ.u.mstances."

"It's not that I'm not happy," Fang Zhao explained. "I'm just confused as to why I was nominated. After all, my artistic accomplishments and contributions haven't amounted to much. Even if I pa.s.sed the initial screening, it doesn't seem likely for me to end up on the final list of nominees."

Xue Jing roared in laughter. "It's great that you've remained sober and level headed. This time, you were a special nominee jointly recommended by two jurors from the Huangcheng School of Medicine and the Galaxy Awards panel respectively. The '100-Year Period of Destruction' series you composed played a major role in the curing of the Hull virus."

Most folks were only shortlisted as prospective nominees after surviving nearly half a year of debate and discussion. In Fang Zhao's case, strictly speaking, he had taken a shortcut by bypa.s.sing the discussion phase. To be nominated in the end was in itself a form of recognition and honor.

The reason for his nomination was more or less what Fang Zhao had expected, but he kept playing along, feigning some surprise and delight. Otherwise, Xue Jing would think he didn't care about the Supernova Award and get upset.

"Keep a close eye on the email inbox on your bracelet. Set up an alert. The 10 winners will be selected soon. Each winner will be contacted individually," Xue Jing said.

Every year, 10 Supernova Awards were handed out.

Was 10 a large number?

Not at all!

That was barely one per continent.

Within a 10-year span, most continents didn't produce as many as 10 Supernova winners. Musicians, painters, dancers, sculptors—how many people were eyeing the prize? Young actors were also in the running.

Xue Jing didn't know who the ultimate winners would be, and he had no way of finding out ahead of time. Due to his own circ.u.mstances, he wasn't part of the selection panel this year, but based on his own calculations, considering the weight of Fang Zhao's contribution, Fang Zhao had a 60 percent chance of winning an award. But that was his own thinking, which he did not share with Fang Zhao.

While Fang Zhao and Xue Jing were chatting via videoconference, the activity in the kitchen had died down.

Nanfeng was eavesdropping, ears p.r.i.c.ked.

He knew he was wrong to eavesdrop. He had planned on shutting the kitchen door when Fang Zhao got on the call, but when he heard the words "Galaxy Supernova nomination," he hadn't been able to bear closing the door.

This was the Galaxy Awards. Even if it was the Supernova prize for up-and-coming artists, it was still a prestigious award. Even though Nanfeng hadn't paid attention to the award before, he knew the weight it carried.

One could put it this way: if Fang Zhao won the award on account of his music, even if he was a terrible actor and mediocre gamer, he would still return to Yanzhou to a hero's welcome.

If Fang Zhao were to seek employment at an inst.i.tution for higher learning, winning the Supernova Award would significantly help cut through the red tape and bureaucracy at the top schools.

As an artist, his pay would double or even triple without a doubt.

The mental reminders flashed in Nanfeng's head. You're a high-quality a.s.sistant! You can't eavesdrop on your boss's videoconference! You have to respect his privacy!

But he couldn't control himself, especially when he heard Xue Jing say with joy that the four chapters of the "100-Year Period of Destruction" series had helped cure the Hull virus. He nearly chopped off part of his fingers.

A gamer-slash-actor-slash-composer had actually helped overcome a virus!

At that point, Nanfeng wanted to call his mother, who often mocked the entertainment industry.

Mom, my boss is a G.o.d!