Chapter 6: The MV

Song Ya seemed to be overthinking things. That evening, Xiao Luori's call came directly to the house, telling Tony that the filming of his first MV was about to begin.

Ten days later, on Sunday, at one in the afternoon, the four siblings emerged from their hideout.

Tony was clinging to a stunning woman, both of them walking in a haze of intimacy, stumbling along the street. Their suggestive compliments and bursts of laughter frequently made their way to the ears of those behind them.

"Bitch."

Connie scoffed at the exaggerated curves of the woman's body ahead of them, muttering quietly to Song Ya, "Look at that disgusting ass. It wasn't that big when she was with Tony. Who knows how many men she's been to bed with since they broke up!"

Song Ya, holding Emily's hand, smiled but said nothing.

The relationship dynamics between the men and women around here were chaotic, with breakups and makeups happening as routinely as eating or drinking. Tony had made a quick phone call, and as soon as his ex-girlfriend heard there was a chance to appear in the MV, she immediately 'came back to her senses.'

No wonder Connie wasn't happy.

However, after almost a month of being here, Song Ya had come to understand Tony's rough yet subtle personality very well. It wasn't clear who was playing with whose emotions.

The group crossed the street and arrived in front of a sign that read "XX Dance Studio," where "Silencer" was standing guard, flanked by AK, one on each side.

"Hey~ Look, look who it is! I almost didn't recognize you!"

Tony approached, teasing Silencer, who responded with a shy smile.

"Alright, let's get down to business. We only rented the venue until five, and it's not safe around here once it gets dark."

AK finished greeting everyone and quickly distributed folded papers to everyone.

Song Ya glanced at the paper handed to him—it seemed to be an authorization for using his image in the MV. "We're not even eighteen, do we need parental consent for this?" he asked, puzzled.

"Can you keep quiet for once?"

Tony waved him off, tossing a pen into Song Ya's hand and pointing at his head. He said to AK, "Don't mind him. He's been having some issues here recently."

AK patted Song Ya's shoulder, smiling as he explained, "Normally, no one cares about these little details."

While Song Ya was signing, AK turned back to Tony. "Once we're inside, help El maintain order. Once filming starts, listen to the director."

"Don't worry, leave it all to me."

Tony led the way into the door and planted a kiss on his ex-girlfriend's cheek. "Did you hear that? From today on, I'm diving into the entertainment industry."

Connie rolled her eyes behind them.

Since the first day of his arrival, Song Ya had been observing everything around him. After the crime rate spiked, Chicago had tightened approval for entertainment venues, especially nightclubs that sold alcohol. It was no surprise that every single one had someone from both the black and white sides of the underworld behind it, making money hand over fist.

The entrance hallway, with its graffiti in the style of the 70s and 80s hippie movement, the worn-out facilities, the faint smell of urine in the corners, and the outdated central dance floor all pointed to the fact that this "dance studio" used to be a disco club. After losing its popularity, it had to shift to dance lessons.

Aside from the director and a few crew members tinkering with equipment, about twenty to thirty young men and women were already moving to the music on the dance floor. The atmosphere was lively.

The music playing was from Xiao Luori's rap album, and Song Ya's first impression was… it didn't sound great. As far as chanting went, Xiao Luori's music was much more mediocre than what you'd typically hear on the radio, especially the lyrics, which were forgettable.

"Hey! Tony!"

El waved at Tony from the DJ booth. "Come here!"

Tony ran over, and El placed the headphones around his neck. "Don't touch any of the settings, just remember this volume knob. When I give you a signal..." He showed Tony a few simple instructions.

"Got it!"

Excited, Tony put the headphones on and immediately began dancing exaggeratedly to the music. He moved his hands in the air as if controlling the equipment, pretending to know what he was doing.

"Hey! Isn't that Tony?"

As El walked away, a heavily made-up young woman immediately approached. "Remember me? I'm from the 11th grade..."

"Bitch!"

His ex-girlfriend cursed and quickly rushed over to assert her territory.

Song Ya watched everything in silence, reflecting on how just ten days ago, both Tony and his ex-girlfriend had been cast aside by the football team. Now, look at them!

"Looks like Tony's 'career' plan worked out," Song Ya thought to himself.

"We're almost there!"

Connie was entirely focused on the dance floor. She noticed El was already arranging the positions, so she hurriedly pulled Song Ya and Emily over.

"Hey, APLUS!" El winked at Song Ya. Well, ten days in, his nickname was already well-known.

Connie, as expected, ended up standing in a prominent spot with Song Ya, while Tony's ex-girlfriend moved next to them. Emily was placed in the front row with a few others of her age.

"Alright, everyone!" The director, the only white man in the room, finished adjusting his equipment and stood behind the camera with his arms wide.

El snapped his fingers at Tony, who turned off the music.

"Once we start filming, everyone focus all your attention on me..." The director began going on and on about various instructions.

This was clearly the cheapest kind of MV, where the singer performs in front, and everyone else just dances along in the background.

"Okay, we're ready to start." The director wrapped up his instructions and returned to focus on the viewfinder.

Several powerful lights switched on at once.

Tony, following El's signal, turned the music back on. "Action!" the director shouted.

If there's one thing about natural talent, it showed. Everyone on the dance floor moved with rhythm, and each person was able to improvise, making the atmosphere even livelier.

"Cut!" The director suddenly shouted, halting the music. He pointed at Song Ya. "You! Yes, you! Stop looking around! Find the beat! The beat!"

"Oh! Okay, sorry." Song Ya knew he was in trouble.

Sure enough, a moment later, the director called for another stop. Again, it was Song Ya.

"Move to the back row!"

"Cut!"

"You! Yes, you again! Move even further back!"

Song Ya was getting frustrated. He didn't know how to dance, and with the smell of perfume mixed with body odor in the air, he could hardly breathe. "Forget it, I'm not dancing anymore." He decided to leave the stage and step off to Tony's side.

"You've got a problem! A big one!" Tony glared at him, clearly upset. "Do you think these opportunities come by every day?!"

Song Ya shrugged. "I'm not really cut out for this kind of environment."

The director was happy to see the drama unfold. Just then, Xiao Luori appeared at the side of the stage, immediately drawing everyone's attention.

"Everyone, please welcome, Lo Lo Lo Lo Rui!" El loudly hyped up the crowd.

The young women all screamed…

Xiao Luori was already made up, looking very polished. Unlike other rappers, he had no tattoos or any gang-related symbols. His lyrics didn't feature any violent or vulgar themes, and there were hardly any bad words.

Aside from being slightly self-centered, Song Ya didn't have a bad impression of him.

Xiao Luori took his position at the center of the stage, and the director announced that filming officially began.

When you're a participant, you don't really notice time passing, but when you're an observer, it feels like it drags on forever. "I'm going to get some fresh air," Song Ya said to Tony.

Tony, still dancing to the music with his headphones on, had his attention entirely on El, remembering what he had been told about keeping an eye on the signal.

However, El was busy. He was responsible for the vocal percussion part of the rap, mimicking the sounds of drums and other instruments. It was a performance style that seemed to be all the rage right now. He stood next to Xiao Luori, pretending to make the beat, mouth synced to the music.

Trying to avoid the cameras, Song Ya made his way toward the exit, only to realize he had turned the wrong way. He ended up walking into an office deeper inside the building.

"The DJs in all the major cities have received the unofficial albums we mailed them. Want to know how they responded?"

A deep, resonant male voice came from the office.

"Go ahead," came another voice in response.

"Phil from Philly said if a man sings like a woman, looks like a woman, and writes lyrics like a woman, then he's a woman. Luther from Miami said he wouldn't admit this is rap music. BOI from Atlanta told us to stay up north and eat shit. The New Yorkers said music from the trash cans in Brooklyn is better than ours. LA sent us back some records saying we should listen to what real music sounds like!"

"Whose fault is this?! You didn't listen to me, and now this is what we've got. I planned for us to make a name in Chicago first, then go nationwide..."

"There's no name to make! The Chicago DJs are only backing us because of my connections and money!"

"We can offer Philly money, we can offer New York money..."

"FUCK! That's a bottomless pit! And it's too late to pay now. That'll just stop them from being the first to jump out and attack. These shameless bastards will come out as soon as they smell blood and will ridicule Luori, ridicule you, ridicule me, ridicule everything!"

"Well... Let's not bother with them. Once the MV is out, we can focus on the young female market. Luori's image is very popular with the girls."

"That's all we can do, but my record company is small, so we can't take too many risks. We've pressed 5,000 cassettes for the first batch, only distributing them in Chicago. Vinyl and digital CDs are on hold, and we'll make a plan after the MV is promoted on TV."

"FUCK! Five thousand? That's like surrendering before the battle even starts! We're admitting we're done for!"

"We're already done for!"

"No, at least ten thousand. Even a dog can sell ten thousand records nowadays."

"Six thousand."

"Eight thousand..."

"Seven thousand, FUCK! Why are we even negotiating for this!?"