51: Chapter 51 The Million-Dollar Threshold and the "Spider-Sense"

Friday morning, it started raining in Nashville.

Alex stood in the recording booth of Taylor's studio, the final mix of "We Are Young" playing in his headphones. Rain pattered outside the window, but his Environmental Perception Enhancement allowed him to catch other sounds—the faint click of a car door closing after a gray sedan's engine cut out two blocks away.

The stinging sensation of Crisis Prediction had been escalating since morning—like fine needles pricking the back of his neck, persistent and clear.

"Alex?" Producer Karl poked his head out of the control room. "Should we dial back the emotion in this chorus a bit? It feels a little..."

"A little too 'hard-working'." Alex took off his headphones and rubbed his temples. "Let's re-record this part. I want an effortless feeling—not screaming at the top of my lungs to declare 'we are young,' but singing with a smile, knowing full well that youth is fleeting yet choosing to sing anyway."

Karl was stunned for a moment, then smiled. "That's an interesting interpretation. Ten-minute break?"

Alex nodded and walked to the lounge area. He pulled up the system interface, and the fame numbers were ticking:

998,550

Only 1,450 away from one million.

Only one step away from the Transcendent Domain.

Outside the window, the people in that gray sedan got out; this time, there were three of them. They didn't come this way but instead walked into the coffee shop across the street—it was too obvious, as obvious as telling him: "We are watching you."

"Hank," Alex said into the communicator under his collar, "coffee shop across the street, three people. Have two people from Team B go over, order a coffee, and sit next to them."

"Already on it," Hank's voice came through. "But Alex, today's surveillance feels a bit... provocative. Not as covert as before."

Alex knew why. Senator Winston had been questioned at a hearing in Washington last week—about whether the defense procurement bill he pushed involved a conflict of interest. Although it ultimately ended up coming to nothing, public opinion had already begun to ferment.

And Alex Su, the young musician who released the new song "Neon Pulse" on the day of the hearing and whose lyrics obscurely mentioned "transparency and lies," naturally became a subject of suspicion.

His phone vibrated. Marcus sent a message:

"'Neon Pulse' is number 71 on Billboard this week! Radio airplay is up 40%! James from Universal Music just sent a formal cooperation proposal and wants to schedule a video conference this afternoon to discuss it in detail."

Alex checked the time; it was 10:30 AM. He was just a little short of a million fame points and needed to complete this milestone first.

"Tell him 3:00 PM works," he replied. "Send me the proposal to look over before the meeting."

Five minutes later, a fifteen-page PDF was sent to his inbox.

Alex scanned it quickly. Universal Music was offering a standard "promising newcomer" contract, but the terms were quite harsh:

Basic distribution deal: three albums over five years

Advance: 300,000 dollars (100,000 upon signing, with the remainder paid in installments before each album release)

Royalty split: 30% for the artist, 70% for the company (industry standard for newcomer terms)

Copyrights: Universal Music requires all master recording rights plus 50% of publishing rights

Promotion budget: 1 million dollars for global promotion of the debut album

A typical "major label newcomer contract"—trading resources for control. If the artist gets big, the company takes the lion's share; if they don't, the company's loss isn't significant.

But Alex could not accept such terms. Especially regarding copyrights—the rights to all his works must remain in his own hands; that was the bottom line.

He needed leverage, the confidence to negotiate. And that confidence came from—those thousand-plus fame points and some "future works" he could showcase.

---

Fame points: 999,220

Still over seven hundred short.

Alex walked toward the control room and said to Karl, "Give me three minutes, I want to record an improvisation."

"What kind?"

"I don't know." Alex stepped into the recording booth, put on his headphones, and closed his eyes.

Environmental Perception Enhancement made the sound of the rain, the traffic on the distant street, and even the whispers of those three people in the coffee shop across the street clearly discernible. The sting of Crisis Prediction pulsed under his skin like a certain rhythm.

He began to hum.

There were no lyrics, only a melody. It was a tune filled with tension and hope, with an explosion hidden within the suppression. He alternated between chest voice, falsetto, and breathy voice, as if painting a picture with sound—a person walking in the rain, chased by shadows, but with light ahead.

Three minutes, completed in one go.

The control room was quiet for a few seconds, then Karl clapped. "My God... this should be made into a song!"

"Let's call it 'Walking Alone in the Rain'," Alex said, walking out of the recording booth. "Release it as a digital single this afternoon as the B-side track to 'We Are Young'."

"Today? But the mixing..."

"No mixing needed," Alex said. "Keep it exactly as it is, with the rain in the background and the ambient noise. I want authenticity."

An hour later, "Walking Alone in the Rain (Live)" went live on all major platforms. A simple caption read: "An improvisation during a recording break, dedicated to all those creating under pressure."

Alex stared at the system interface.

The fame points began to jump:

999,580, 750... 999,880...

One hundred and twenty to go.

The rain outside got heavier. In the coffee shop across the street, the three people paid and left, getting into another car parked by the curb—they had switched vehicles, becoming more covert.

The stinging sensation of Crisis Prediction turned into a intense burning sensation.

His phone vibrated. Taylor sent a message:

"I heard your new improv. It's beautiful, but also... unsettling. Are you okay?"

Alex replied: "Could you help me repost it? Add a line, something like 'True creation comes from real life experiences'."

Ten seconds later, Taylor reposted it. Her thirty million fans began to pour in.

The fame points jumped:

999,950, 990... 999,998...

The car across the street started and slowly drove away.

1,000,327

The system interface erupted in blue and white light, and his entire field of vision was covered with golden text:

[Milestone Achieved: Fame exceeds 1,000,000 points]

[Transcendent Domain Permanently Unlocked]

[First Transcendent Ability Reward: Spider-Sense (Junior) - Merged for free]

No selection, no installments. The system gave the reward directly—as a congratulatory gift for breaking the million threshold.

A powerful, indescribable feeling swept through his body. It wasn't an electric current, but more like... the entire world had its clarity turned up. Tiny vibrations in the air, distant sounds, changes in light—all information became acute.

But the most important thing was that intuition.

Like right now, the sting at the back of his neck suddenly became clear and precise—it wasn't a vague warning, but a precise direction: danger was on its way. The feeling was like ice water running down his spine, making his heart race.

He also felt that at this moment, someone was upstairs in the recording studio monitoring him. No killing intent, but there was a purpose.

"Alex?" Karl poked his head out of the control room. "The comments for 'Walking Alone in the Rain' are blowing up! Lots of people are saying they hear the 'tension of being chased' and 'strength in loneliness'!"

Alex smiled. Of course, because he had created it while being monitored and threatened.

He pulled up the system interface. His fame was skyrocketing after the improv release and Taylor's repost:

Current Fame: 1,350,880 points

More importantly, as a free reward, Spider-Sense hadn't consumed any points. He now had a full 1.35 million fame points at his disposal.

First, he exchanged for Rapid Healing (Advanced).

[Exchange Complete]

[Cost: 180,000 points]

[Current: 1,170,880 points]

[Effect: Wound healing speed increased by 300%]

Then he exchanged for Comprehensive Physical Enhancement (Phase 2).

[Exchange Complete]

[Cost: 500,000 points]

[Current: 670,880 points]

[Effect: Muscle density +30%, bone strength +40%, recovery speed +50%]

Power surged through his body. Combined with the newly acquired Spider-Sense and the just-exchanged enhancement, he now had quite a strong survival capability.

But what he was going to do next was prepare the key bargaining chips for the afternoon negotiation.

---

At 3:00 PM, the video conference began on time.

On the other side of the screen was James Miller, Senior Vice President of Universal Music Nashville, a man in his fifties with graying hair but sharp eyes. Marcus was also online.

"Alex, I'm glad we can finally chat formally," James opened very directly. "I assume you've already looked at our proposal. For a newcomer, this is a standard and sincere contract."

[part:gemini-3.1-flash-lite]

Alex nodded, his tone calm: "Thank you for the appreciation from Universal Music. But I have a few core issues to discuss—mainly copyright and revenue sharing ratios."

James raised an eyebrow: "Please, go ahead."

"First, copyright." Alex looked directly at the screen, "I need to retain 100% of the songwriting copyright. I can license the master recording rights to Universal, but the license period cannot exceed seven years; after seven years, the rights will automatically revert to me."

James shook his head and smiled: "Alex, you know in this industry, companies need security when investing in new artists. If we can't own a portion of the songwriting copyright, our investment risk is too high."

"I understand." Alex was prepared, "That is why I have prepared something else to prove the value of your investment."

He shared his screen and opened an encrypted folder. Inside were not complete songs, but three meticulously prepared 'work outlines'—each outline included the song concept, core melody snippet (15 seconds), lyric summary, and market positioning analysis.

The title of the first outline: "Blinding Lights"—Synth-pop, retro-futuristic, suitable for radio rotation.

The title of the second outline: "Stay"—Electropop, minimalist arrangement, strong emotional explosive power, suitable for viral streaming.

The title of the third outline: "Bad Guy"—Alternative pop, dark rhythm, subversive persona, suitable for young listeners and social media buzz.

Each outline was marked with detailed creative thoughts, target audience, and potential commercial value.

"I have already completed the concepts and core parts for these three songs." Alex said, "They are completely different styles from 'Neon Pulse' and 'We Are Young,' proving that I have the ability to continuously create diverse hits."

James stared at the screen, his gaze shifting from skeptical to serious. He had been in A&R for twenty years and could see the professionalism in these outlines—they weren't the wild thoughts of an amateur, but well-thought-out commercial creations.

"Why are you only showing us outlines and not the complete songs?" James asked.

"Because of copyright." Alex said candidly, "If I released the full demos now, you might feel you had already 'heard them,' and the value would decrease. But what I want to prove is—I have the ability to consistently produce work of this caliber. This ability is worth you being willing to invest even without holding the songwriting copyright."

The conference room fell silent for a minute. James was calculating rapidly.

"Secondly, revenue sharing ratios." Alex continued, "30/70 (30% for the artist) was the industry standard ten years ago. Now, in the streaming era, top new artists can negotiate for 50/50 or even higher. What I want is a tiered revenue share—"

"For the first album, I am willing to accept 40/60 (40% for me). But if album sales or streaming numbers reach specific milestones, the revenue share for the second album will increase to 50/50, and the third to 60/40."

James shook his head: "That's too aggressive. I can consider 40/60, but increasing to 60/40... there is no precedent for that."

"Then let's create a precedent." Alex did not back down, "Mr. James, the advance you are offering me is only 300,000, with a promotion budget of 1 million—this is just a small-to-medium investment within the Universal system. But if my work truly explodes, the money you make from streaming and concerts will far exceed this investment. All I want is a fair share of that success."

Marcus chimed in at the right moment: "James, Alex's 'Neon Pulse' was entirely self-created and promoted; it already broke into the Top 100 without any corporate resource support. This proves his independent creative and market capabilities."

James tapped his fingers on the table, lost in thought. The three work outlines were indeed tempting—if those songs could really be made, each one potentially had the makings of a hit.

"The copyright issue..." James said slowly, "Universal headquarters will never agree to completely give up songwriting copyright. That is the bottom line."

Alex had already anticipated this: "Then we can compromise. I will retain 100% of the songwriting copyright, but grant Universal a right of first refusal—if I sell the songwriting copyright in the future, Universal has the priority to purchase it at market price. Additionally, the license period for the master recording rights can be increased from seven years to ten."

James pondered. The right of first refusal was a clever solution—the company had no copyright risk, but if the artist truly became a superstar, they still had the opportunity to profit later on.

"Revenue sharing tiers..." James continued, "Starting at 40/60, increasing to 45/55 after 500,000 units sold, and 50/50 after 1 million units—this is the highest tier I can fight for. 60/40 is impossible; headquarters won't approve it."

Alex calculated quickly in his mind. Although this tier wasn't what he wanted, it was already a major breakthrough—going from a fixed 30/70 to having a chance to reach 50/50.

"What about the advance?" He asked.

"If you can sign for five years and four albums, the advance can be raised to 500,000," James said, "But the promotion budget will also be increased accordingly to 1.5 million."

Alex shook his head: "Five years and four albums is fine, but I have two requirements: First, an advance of 700,000—400,000 upon signing, and 300,000 before the first album release; Second, if I complete four albums by the third year, the contract automatically ends, and I have the right to renegotiate or choose another distributor."

"You are..." James frowned, "Asking for both a high advance and a flexible contract term."

"Because I'm worth it." Alex pulled up the latest data for 'Walking Alone in the Rain'—three hours after release, streams had already surpassed one million, "And I have the public support of Taylor Swift, which is priceless in terms of marketing."

Mentioning Taylor, James's gaze clearly wavered. Taylor was not only a top artist, but her taste and recommendations carried significant weight in the industry.

"600,000 advance." James finally said, "350,000 upon signing, 250,000 before release. The revenue sharing tiers will be as I just stated. Copyright per your proposal—you retain 100% songwriting, ten-year master license, and Universal has the right of first refusal. Five years, four albums, but if the first two albums both reach one million in sales, we can renegotiate the contract in the third year."

Alex weighed it quickly. This was already much better than the initial proposal—the advance had doubled, there was room for revenue sharing to increase, the copyright was secured, and there was the possibility of ending the contract early.

He reached out his hand: "Deal. But I want to add one clause—if I suffer from malicious copyright lawsuits or other legal attacks during the contract term, Universal is obligated to provide legal support."

James smiled: "I can agree to that clause. Welcome to Universal, Alex."

After the meeting, Marcus called, his voice excited: "My God! 600,000 advance! Retained all songwriting copyrights! Alex, how did you think of using work outlines to negotiate?"

"Because they needed to see the future." Alex looked out the window; the rain had stopped, "And the future I can show them is worth them making concessions."

The Spider-Sense suddenly issued a strong warning—the stinging sensation at the back of his neck turned into an electric shock that almost made him jump.

Danger. Very close.

He walked quickly to the window. Across the street, that car that had been swapped out was still parked there, but now there were four people inside. One of them was looking at his side with binoculars, and another person was holding... a camera?

Not a weapon. It was surveillance equipment.

"Hank." Alex connected the comms, "Four people in the car across the street, professional surveillance equipment. They aren't here to attack; they are here to gather intelligence."

"Copy that. Should I handle it?"

"No need." Alex said, "Let them film. I want them to see—I just closed a big deal and am preparing to go to Los Angeles to sign."

He needed to let Winston know that he was valuable now. A valuable person, while in the public eye, is not so easy to "make disappear."

On the way to Los Angeles to sign the contract, something would definitely happen.

But now he had his Spider-Sense, a strengthened body, the contract with Universal Music, and... a brand new life about to unfold under the spotlight.

From now on.