Looking at Sister Hua's somewhat nervous and pleading eyes, Chu Tian couldn't help but let out a wry laugh.

"What's there to agree or disagree with? Aren't songs written to be sung by people?"

It wasn't that he suddenly didn't want to play hardball anymore; the key point was that these were his own people. What was there to be so tough about?

Sister Hua wasn't doing this for herself, but for the entire studio. The studio belonged to his girlfriend, his future wife. By that logic, it was practically his own.

She was putting so much effort into this venture, which was essentially his. He really couldn't complain.

"You agreed? That's great!"

They say talented people always have their quirks and tempers.

Sister Hua, despite her usually decisive nature, didn't want to appear pushy, but she felt she had no choice. After all, Chu Tian was just Xu Qingqiu's boyfriend.

Even if he were her husband, so what?

This wasn't ancient times, where being a family truly meant being a family. In today's world, weren't breakups and divorces as common as eating and drinking?

If she appeared too demanding, giving off an impression of insatiable greed, wouldn't that subtly make Chu Tian feel like they were just trying to exploit him?

If that were truly the case, it would undoubtedly introduce unwelcome material considerations into Chu Tian and Xu Qingqiu's relationship.

Throughout this journey, Sister Hua was the one who had witnessed how much Xu Qingqiu had invested in this relationship.

That's why she was being so cautious and considerate of Chu Tian's feelings.

Although Chu Tian was unaware of her thoughts, Sister Hua's actions made him very comfortable.

"What kind of songs do they need? Have you made any plans for them?"

Being an artist doesn't mean you'll automatically have a development path laid out the moment you join, nor does signing a contract mean you'll be neglected.

These two seemingly contradictory points were actually truths gleaned from years of experience.

According to the standard operating procedure of entertainment companies, they usually recruit a batch of people, then select the best among them, retaining a group under contract.

Then, they find opportunities to produce some works and promote these individuals to see how the market reacts.

If they become popular, the company then analyzes the market, plans their career trajectory, and increases investment.

If they don't become popular, it's not that they're completely ignored. Instead, they're put on the back burner for a while. They might be given some minor, less valuable opportunities to make appearances.

What if, by some chance, one of them unexpectedly becomes a hit?

Unless you're truly talentless or have abysmal luck, showing no signs of progress for three to five years, what's the point of keeping you? Once the contract expires, you just pack your bags and leave.

Even though the basic salary is only two or three thousand—not much—who wants to support a bunch of freeloaders?

It's just that the studio's model is slightly different. Right from the start, Sister Hua intended to take the boutique route, which is why the last batch of new singers all had some skills.

"You've seen the files on those few before, right? Any thoughts?"

Chu Tian had indeed looked at the files, but it had been so long that he'd almost completely forgotten them.

Luckily, as soon as Sister Hua finished speaking, she handed him a file, even more comprehensive than before. It included not only each person's strengths and professional history but also recent analytical data from their company training.

After looking it over for a while, Chu Tian had a rough idea. There weren't many, just four people in total, but that actually boiled down to three acts since two were a duo and couldn't be counted separately.

"Did you find this Feng-Lin Group at a bar?"

He didn't know if he had overlooked it last time or simply forgotten, but it was only now that he realized there were resident bar singers among them.

"They've already changed their name, now called Phoenix Legend. A friend recommended them to me. I'd seen their live performance, and it was impressive. I felt they had potential, so I signed them."

Chu Tian was about to nod in agreement when he suddenly sensed something wasn't quite right.

"Wait a minute! Phoenix Legend? What the hell is that?"

"Ah, didn't you suggest it? Last time, you said their original name wasn't good and most likely wouldn't help them become popular, so you convinced them to change it. They mentioned that since you're the Music Director and so talented, you must have had a good reason. After discussing it amongst themselves, they came to me to request the name change. Have you forgotten?"

Chu Tian genuinely had forgotten. He didn't even remember what he'd been thinking at the time. Was it some kind of prank, or what?

He just never imagined that after all this, the issue would trace back to him.

It almost made him wonder if there was some temporal distortion at play, or if someone else had transmigrated.

"Oh, no problem. The name sounded so familiar; it looks like I forgot."

With this realization, Chu Tian began to form some ideas.

As a Music Director, he might not have much practical experience, at best only a general understanding.

But when it came to cultivating stars, he did have some insights.

These insights might not work for others, but they would definitely work for him.

It was simply a matter of identifying these newcomers' unique traits and then matching them with the successful formulas—including songs and styles—of artists he knew from his previous world.

This way, he could not only maximize the new talents' abilities but also readily provide them with suitable material.

The key was having access to proven development paths from his previous world; he just had to guide their training accordingly.

This would not only save him time and effort but also allow him to perfectly avoid the pitfalls those artists from his previous world had encountered.

Two words: Absolutely perfect!

Take, for example, this group formerly known as 'Feng-Lin Group,' now called Phoenix Legend.

For these two, it was a no-brainer. Given their numerous hit songs and distinctive, meme-worthy personas from his previous life, he just needed to apply that successful formula.

The only question was which song to choose for their debut.

After all, a debut was crucial; both the opportunity and the song itself were incredibly important.

Should he start them off with a square dance anthem? While those songs didn't scream 'outdated,' they could still be considered somewhat old-fashioned.

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