Chapter 2027: The Korean Entertainment Industry

For Zhao Fusheng, he simply wouldn't consider who the person in front of him was.

Because for him now, opponents no longer mattered.

No matter who this person was, or who was behind him, he would just crush them.

Even if the other party could appear at the Shilla Hotel, with bodyguards, and make those around them dare not speak out.

So what?

In Zhao Fusheng's eyes, this kind of playboy who relied on family power to bully others was no longer his match. He needed to face old foxes like Lee Kun-hee and Lee Maeng-hee, or heirs like Lee Boo-jin and Lee Jae-yong who had hopes of inheriting the family business.

As for this guy in front of him, who did he think he was?

"Let's go."

Zhao Fusheng said to Song Qian.

"Ah?"

Song Qian was stunned.

Just leave like that?

"Let's go."

Zhao Fusheng nodded, looking relaxed: "Let them handle things here."

Then he looked at Liu Yiming: "Handle it cleanly. If there's a problem, contact the Shilla Hotel. Lee Boo-jin took my money, she should do something."

"Yes, Chairman."

Liu Yiming bowed.

He indeed didn't take this matter seriously. After understanding the strength of Hanxing Investment, Liu Yiming increasingly felt that his chairman was too low-key.

So low-key that some people dared to ignore his existence.

After all, if it really came to a falling out, even Samsung might not be able to overturn Hanxing Investment.

That was Zhao Fusheng's confidence.

"You!"

Although the language was a barrier, that man could still tell that this guy clearly intended to leave.

Before he could speak, Zhao Fusheng waved his hand and left with Song Qian and the others.

For him, this really wasn't a big deal.

"Stop them!"

The man pointed in the direction Song Qian and Zhao Fusheng had left and ordered his bodyguards.

The four had just taken a few steps before Zhao Fusheng's two bodyguards stepped forward and, in a few moves, took them down.

"Ah?"

The man was dumbfounded.

What's going on?

Weren't they always boasting that the Baekho Group was invincible? How did a few strangers from China defeat them?

"Shibal..."

The man cursed, but before he could say more, Liu Yiming had already left with his people.

"Director..." One of the bodyguards got up and approached the man: "They're from the Chinese military, and from a very elite unit."

"What do you mean?"

The man snorted: "They beat me, Lee Jae-jin, at the Shilla Hotel, and you tell me they're formidable?"

"Director, those people's skills are truly extraordinary." The bodyguard, enduring the pain, said to Lee Jae-jin: "They're definitely not ordinary people. That guy must be a big shot from China."

"A big shot?"

Lee Jae-jin frowned and waved his hand: "Go check if any important Chinese guests have checked into the Shilla Hotel recently."

He was lecherous, but not stupid.

A guest from China who could stay at the Shilla Hotel and had such formidable bodyguards was clearly of no ordinary status.

Even if his family wasn't afraid of them, Lee Jae-jin knew he had to find out who they were before making a move.

He was a playboy, but not an idiot.

...

...

"Have a seat."

Zhao Fusheng led Song Qian and Choi Jin-ri to his room and pointed at the sofa, speaking to the two frightened girls.

Then he glanced at Song Qian: "Every time I see you, there's always some story."

"Cough, this... I didn't mean to."

Song Qian said helplessly: "If I had known Korea was like this, I would never have come."

That was her honest thought.

Originally, Song Qian had been really looking forward to the entertainment industry.

After all, becoming a star is a glorious thing for ordinary people.

In China, if a child becomes a star, it's basically a win-win for fame and fortune. Everyone knows how much money stars make and how famous they become.

But only after arriving in Korea did she realize that becoming a star wasn't that easy.

Earlier, she had chatted with Han Geng, who told her that being a trainee was extremely difficult—eating only one meal a day, practicing dance for over eighteen hours, barely any time except for sleeping.

Even so, there was no guarantee of debuting.

In fact, if SM hadn't been trying to expand into the Chinese market, Han Geng might not have debuted at all.

Song Qian remembered clearly that Han Geng once said his arm hurt continuously, and when he went to the hospital, it turned out to be a fracture. The doctor told him that although it was a fracture, it had already healed—but misaligned.

If trainees had it tough, artists weren't much better off.

Someone once saw the backstage of a Korean artist's rest area, which was a mess, littered with food wrappers. It was said that these people often didn't eat well and had to endure physically demanding performances. This wasn't for weight loss; under the irresponsible management of record companies, Korean artists lived in such harsh conditions.

Some members only got their own car years after debuting, which is almost impossible for Chinese and Western artists, and even that car was bought by scrimping and saving.

"So, do you regret it?"

Zhao Fusheng asked Song Qian with a smile.

Song Qian nodded: "Honestly, a little."

The more she learned after coming to Korea, the more she feared the Korean entertainment industry.

Korean agencies generally took a very high commission, and since most artists debuted in groups, the money each person received was minimal. Much of that had to be reinvested in performances, leaving very little for personal use.

During the trainee period, all living expenses were self-funded, and they earned nothing. Once they got a bit older and could serve as backup dancers for seniors or do some specific performance work, they started getting paid, but the pay was very low. Even after becoming famous, they still didn't earn much initially because only after releasing an album were they considered officially debuted and eligible for royalties. But the timing of the official debut was decided by the company's top management, which could take years.

If you wanted to act, getting a role was extremely difficult. Even for a minor supporting role, you had to audition dozens of times. The director would constantly remind you that many others were competing for the same role. A role might have over a thousand people auditioning; getting selected depended not only on skill but sometimes on luck.

Moreover, contracts in Korea were exploitative.

The profit split was usually 70-30 or 80-20, and for newcomers even 90-10. Additionally, Korean idol groups had many members. For example, TVXQ split their income 10-90 with the company, and the 10% they received was divided among five members.

Only when a single album sold over 500,000 copies would each member receive about 10 million won in royalties for the next album.

Otherwise, they got nothing. Teams with poor sales were often shelved or even disbanded by the company.

For this reason alone, Song Qian felt she might as well try to debut in China.

It was hard to become famous and hard to make money. If the company's top management hadn't promised her a debut next year, Song Qian would have left Korea long ago.

Zhao Fusheng smiled, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Song Qian's words.

Everyone has the right to choose their own life, and Song Qian was no different.

Even though she regretted it, she still hadn't chosen to return to China, which meant she had already made her choice.

Although the competition in the Korean entertainment industry was fierce, compared to China, it had its advantages.

At the very least, Koreans were indeed skilled at creating and training idols.

Turning stars into assembly-line products—Zhao Fusheng had to admit that Koreans were quite impressive.

Of course, because artists became assembly-line products, their income and status naturally weren't very high.

Even top stars like Kim Soo-hyun rented apartments for seven years after debuting, only buying his own house after the huge success of "My Love from the Star" and earning a lot of money in China.

In Korea, even established artists found it hard to escape the tight control of their agencies and had to be careful about what they said and did, always watching their boss's and manager's moods.

To gain favor, artists usually had to unconditionally comply with all company demands. For example, they had to report their whereabouts at all times, disclose all personal issues—whether family members had debts, who they were dating, and even answer questions about their sex lives. They had no right to refuse company-arranged activities and had to fully cooperate with performances, promotions, and appearances.

Zhao Fusheng had read a report stating that in the Korean entertainment industry, many managers acted as intermediaries, organizing dinners and parties for industry bigwigs. They would invite female artists to the bigwigs' homes under the pretext of discussing work. After a few rounds of drinks, they would play games like Truth or Dare, with shocking levels of explicitness. After such铺垫, various transactions would naturally follow.

So, even if Song Qian didn't say it, Zhao Fusheng could roughly guess.

It was nothing more than those sordid affairs.

He glanced at the little girl sitting next to Song Qian, looking nervous and uneasy, and shook his head.

No wonder in later years this child would leave the group, let herself go, and eventually choose suicide.

Anyone who had to bear such pressure from a young age would eventually be completely crushed.

With that thought, Zhao Fusheng sighed and said to Song Qian: "Do you need me to handle the rest for you?"

Song Qian's eyes lit up: "Really? You'd be willing to help?"

Zhao Fusheng smiled and nodded: "You're Beibei's friend, and also my guide and interpreter. If I hadn't brought you here today, you wouldn't have encountered this. So, I'll take care of it."