22. Filming the Advertisement

Practice finished, Liu Qi rubbed his hands together and approached Ji Fanxing to bring up the matter of the Yiniu commercial shoot.

Knowing the connections involved, Liu Qi naturally sought out the Crown Prince of Shengshi, Chu Hao, first. He hadn’t expected Chu Hao’s initial reaction to be a flat refusal. Only after some thought did Chu Hao reluctantly change his mind, saying that if top-ranked Ji Fanxing was willing to do the shoot, he’d join as well.

Liu Qi was confident with anyone else, but facing Ji Fanxing, he couldn’t help feeling anxious.

Ever since the lip-syncing incident thrust her into the spotlight, Liu Qi sensed that Ji Fanxing had adopted a relaxed, “I’m done pretending” attitude towards him.

Ji Fanxing was indeed more relaxed, but he felt a strange pressure.

“A commercial shoot?”

Ji Fanxing wasn’t particularly interested; she’d been busy with her competition pieces lately. The game music hadn’t even begun production, and her schedule was tight.

Still, it would be a good opportunity for Hailan to gain experience, so she said, “If I can bring my teammates along for the shoot, I’ll agree.”

“Uh…” Liu Qi hesitated.

“Hailan would only participate in the shoot, no other requirements. Producer Liu, perhaps you could check with the brand’s side?” Ji Fanxing suggested, not pushing the matter.

Liu Qi relayed her words to Yiniu’s brand representative, and to his surprise, Zhou Ji, the person in charge, immediately responded that it was acceptable.

“Manager Zhou, isn’t this a bit hasty?” Secretary Zhang looked at her boss with hesitation.

Zhou Ji wasn’t annoyed by her questioning. He handed her the documents at hand. “Here are Ji Fanxing’s latest stats. Take a look.”

Secretary Zhang opened the file, bewildered, and was shocked by its contents.

In just one week, Ji Fanxing’s following across social media, her search numbers across the internet, and the public’s level of discussion about her had all reached astonishing heights—so extreme that they seemed like the fabricated figures peddled by pop idols.

But these were internal survey numbers, already conservatively estimated. Secretary Zhang’s eyes widened as she flipped further, seeing Ji Fanxing’s four songs and their download counts—she had already left the fifth-place contestant far behind.

“Ji Fanxing’s potential is limitless. I predict after the third episode airs, she’ll explode in popularity yet again,” Zhou Ji said. He had some understanding of the headquarters' motives for investing in “King of All Singers,” but out of professional habit, he investigated the first-place contestant.

The results were promising.

After the third episode, “Map of Mountains and Rivers” would surely spark a new trend in the music scene of the Dragon Nation. It was foreseeable: as long as Ji Fanxing remained consistently strong on “King of All Singers,” ratings would inevitably soar.

“King of All Singers” would become the hottest variety show of the spring.

At that point, obtaining naming rights wouldn’t be so easy.

The 150 million Zhou Ji invested wasn’t just a task from headquarters; he’d realized he could gain returns far exceeding that amount.

The market was fiercely competitive now, with new brands sprouting like mushrooms after rain. Yiniu, though a leading enterprise, had begun to lose some appeal among younger consumers in recent years.

They’d been trying to break through, searching for new opportunities.

Unfortunately, the spring-limited floral yogurt launched with much fanfare this year had suffered dismal sales, often used by peers as a negative example.

With summer approaching, Zhou Ji had been seeking a spokesperson with both strength and buzz to boost sales for this product.

At the very least, Yiniu’s reputation needed to be maintained.

Yet, as the seasonal product neared its end, he still hadn’t found the ideal candidate.

Ji Fanxing’s “Map of Mountains and Rivers” gave him hope—a sign of breaking tradition, innovating and researching, which was exactly the spirit that had carried their brand to its current heights.

Secretary Zhang put down the data, still feeling Zhou Ji was being too aggressive. This series had cost the R&D department dearly, but Yiniu’s scale could bear the risk of failure.

She thought it would be fine to just invest as headquarters required. The chairman had always disliked sycophants—why throw money at naming rights and invite criticism?

If possible, she hoped to secure Ji Fanxing’s endorsement for all dairy categories in the future. But that wasn’t a decision for now, so she shelved it.

As the Dragon Nation’s largest dairy brand, its high-end Pure Grain series yogurt targeted the young market.

The spring-exclusive cherry blossom flavor was currently their main push.

Yiniu moved quickly. Once the collaboration was settled, the commercial shoot team arrived at Robin Island the very next day.

Robin Island’s dawn looked like silk drenched in golden dust, gently spreading across the sea.

Ji Fanxing, Hailan, and Chu Hao were scheduled at the shore early in the morning for filming.

Ji Fanxing wore a pink athletic outfit, a white skirt paired with sneakers—energetic and adorable. The style was a stark contrast to her stage presence, making her stand out.

Ji Fanxing’s performance always made people forget she was a fresh graduate.

The shoot was themed around beach volleyball, highlighting the product’s “satisfying yet light” selling point.

Director Xu Yuelang, in her early thirties, looked refined. She’d previously made documentaries; her film “Spring” had an 8.8 rating on Petal, and she was even nominated for the Bauhinia Award for Best Director.

Ji Fanxing was puzzled—why would such an accomplished director be shooting commercials? She noticed that not even Xu Yuelang’s baseball cap could hide her streaks of gray hair.

Clearly, she was someone with a story.

Xu Yuelang watched the monitor, directing every detail on set. “Good! Let’s do it again! Actors, mind your positions!” Her voice was gentle but firm.

“Don’t be nervous,” Ji Fanxing softly comforted Hailan, who had missed her mark on camera due to nerves. “Just imagine you’re standing on stage, singing.”

“I… I’ll try,” Hailan bit her lip, trying to relax.

Following Ji Fanxing’s advice, Hailan imagined herself onstage, with the crew as her audience. She felt much more at ease.

“Excellent! Just like that!” Director Xu nodded. “Keep it natural.”

The first shot took three tries to get right.

With that experience, the rest of the shoot went smoothly; within an hour, the volleyball scenes were wrapped.

Then the camera zoomed in on Ji Fanxing, who looked exhausted and delivered her line: “So tired, no strength left. What do I do?”

“Try this!”

A bottle of Yiniu yogurt was placed in her hand; the cap was opened for a close-up.

“Wow~” Ji Fanxing exaggerated her surprise. “Such rich floral aroma—it’s the taste of spring!”

She took a sip, her expression full of enjoyment. She seemed to revive with spring itself, regaining energy, picking up the volleyball and saying, “Let’s play another round!”

“Cut!”

Ji Fanxing executed the sequence flawlessly.

Xu Yuelang was amazed by Ji Fanxing.

Nailing a shot in one take was a skill honed by seasoned actors. How had this newcomer to the music scene managed it?

Had Ji Fanxing practiced last night?

She suspected that the simple scene and lines had limited Ji Fanxing’s performance; given more room, she could surprise them further.

Whether it was talent or diligence, Ji Fanxing made a deep impression on Xu Yuelang.

With Ji Fanxing’s outdoor shots finished, only Chu Hao and Hailan’s remained before moving to the indoor set.

Ji Fanxing put on sunglasses and lounged in a chair, basking in the sunlight. The spring sun was gentle, warming her and making her drowsy.

Having always been pushed to extremes by the system, Ji Fanxing’s greatest skill was finding ways to enjoy life amid chaos.

She never missed a chance to relax during work breaks.

It was her survival tactic—otherwise, in endless high-pressure situations, she’d go mad even without the system’s intervention.

She didn’t know how long she’d been lying there before a shadow fell across her.

“Aren’t you afraid of getting tanned?” Chu Hao looked at Ji Fanxing, who seemed perfectly content.

“It doesn’t matter.” Not just spring, even the summer sun could hardly darken Ji Fanxing’s skin.

She slid her sunglasses down, looked up to see Chu Hao’s face above her, then nonchalantly put them back and asked,

“You need something?”

Chu Hao circled around, pulled over a spare lounge chair, sat down, and looked directly at Ji Fanxing.

Ever since the last stage ended, he’d been restless—haunted, unable to sleep, turning over the events in his mind.

Now, he finally had a chance for closure.

He’d specifically agreed to this commercial shoot to get close to Ji Fanxing; after finishing his own scenes, he came straight over.

He got right to the point:

“I want the rights to ‘Map of Mountains and Rivers’.”

“Oh?” Ji Fanxing didn’t respond directly, just echoed him coolly. Her sunglasses hid her eyes, making her impossible to read.

Chu Hao grew anxious. His upbringing meant he rarely had to ask favors, but he truly loved “Map of Mountains and Rivers”—the song had inspired him in rap, and the single stage performance left him wanting more.

He frowned, looking sharp and severe—enough to intimidate most people. But Ji Fanxing’s expression didn’t change; she seemed absorbed by something interesting, and after a long pause, she spoke.

“Sure, no problem.” She went on, “You’re the only one who can sing this song. If you need, I can record the female vocals for you in advance.

But the contract will have to wait until the competition ends.”

Chu Hao hadn’t expected Ji Fanxing would agree so easily.

“In exchange, come to the studio when you’re free and record it with me again. I need it for release.”

“So… you want me as the original artist?”

“I said: only you can sing this song.” Ji Fanxing was matter-of-fact. No other rapper in the Dragon Nation had Chu Hao’s skill to capture the essence of “Map of Mountains and Rivers.”

Chu Hao’s heart skipped a beat at her words. Was she showing favor to him? He was sure she was.

Because of his status, he’d had countless people try to curry favor with him, but Ji Fanxing’s offer was irresistible.

He glanced at Ji Fanxing, who still seemed lost in thought. This woman, even her gestures of goodwill were so casual.

He finally couldn’t help but ask, “What are you looking at? So absorbed?”

Ji Fanxing rose, took a small mirror and a tissue from her bag and handed them to Chu Hao. “I saw something cute.”

After handing him the items, she went to check on Hailan’s shoot. Chu Hao, bewildered, picked up the mirror and saw a striking man with sharp brows, handsome features—and a circle of white yogurt above his lips.

Clearly left from the earlier commercial shoot.

Chu Hao’s ears reddened instantly.

“Ji! Fan! Xing!!”

So that’s what she’d been watching the whole time?

And she’d kept a straight face while discussing their collaboration.

Truly… outrageous! Outrageous beyond belief!!!

Chu Hao felt he’d completely misjudged her, thinking Ji Fanxing would try to flatter him.

He grabbed the tissue and wiped the yogurt off, feeling odd—though Ji Fanxing had teased him, he wasn’t angry. His heart thumped wildly, unsure what it meant.

With a sponsor secured, Robin Island’s set was quickly decked out. Every visible spot was plastered with Yiniu brand stickers.

Even their dorm rooms were covered.

The omnipresent Yiniu stickers drove Song Qing into a frenzy.