This Girl Forced to Become an Entertainment Company Boss

Random Entertainment has been making rapid moves over the past two months. During the summer, they were showcasing their financial strength domestically, and before long, they expanded their operations overseas, demonstrating their ambition to conquer the international market.

By the end of October, Random Entertainment officially launched a global talent search, signaling their determination to break into the international scene. Those who had previously dismissed Random Entertainment as merely seeking quick profits in Thailand were now silenced, as it became clear that the company was genuinely committed to going global.

No one could have predicted that Random Entertainment would achieve such success today. Recently, Jiang Juyou has been inundated with invitations to various social gatherings. Some seek collaboration, while others hope to secure a spot for their children within Random Entertainment.

At this moment, Jiang Juyou stands by the floor-to-ceiling window, sharing good news with her sisters over the phone.

“The offer has come through…” she says with a smile, her heart finally at ease after more than a year of anticipation.

“When are you planning to go?” Jiang Tang, who is in her RV, is both happy and concerned for her sister. Ever since learning of Jiang Juyou’s plans to study abroad, she has been bombarded with unsettling news about foreign countries, leaving her anxious.

Meanwhile, Jiang Liuxing chimes in excitedly, “Take me with you, take me with you!”

“She’s going there to study. What would you do there? You can’t cook or clean, and she’d end up having to take care of you,” Jiang Tang scolds her.

Jiang Juyou reassures them both, “Don’t worry. Study abroad agencies offer a lot of support these days, and if that’s not enough, I still have my assistant.”

While her sisters support Jiang Juyou’s decisions, they don’t fully understand her choice to study fashion management. If it were up to Jiang Liuxing, as the owner of Random Entertainment, she would have handed over the reins to professional managers and simply enjoyed the monthly dividends. Jiang Tang, on the other hand, thinks Jiang Juyou should focus on business management instead of fashion.

“By the time you leave, I should have wrapped up filming. I’ll have over two months off, so I can accompany you to help you settle in,” Jiang Tang says, still uneasy about her sister being alone abroad.

Jiang Liuxing chimes in again, “Then I’m coming too!”

“Alright, alright, you can both come,” Jiang Juyou says, slightly exasperated. She notices someone entering the room and adds, “I have some work to take care of now. Let’s talk more tonight.”

“Okay, see you tonight.”

“Bye.”

After hanging up, Jiang Juyou walks over to the reception area, where Lin Jie is waiting, holding an iPad. Recently, Lin Jie has taken on more responsibilities as an assistant, even making decisions on behalf of Jiang Juyou, particularly in matters related to group operations.

Lin Jie sits down and begins her report: “The promotional team has been doing well lately. The response in East Asia has been particularly strong, followed by Canada and Australia, mainly due to the large Chinese communities there, which reduces language barriers.”

“The song ‘NeonLight’ has been trending on international platforms, and some overseas distribution companies have reached out to us, expressing interest in signing Timetrain for international releases…”

Jiang Juyou nods, “That’s good. If we were to handle it ourselves, it would take too much time and effort, and we might miss this opportunity.”

She is particularly concerned about the ticket sales for the Winter Camp concert, so she asks Lin Jie about it. Lin Jie, anticipating the question, had already checked the data beforehand.

“The current ratio is 1:6, which isn’t great, but our concert has the highest number of foreign attendees among similar events,” Lin Jie explains, adding cautiously, “At least in Asia, that’s the case.”

She continues, “Although the majority of ticket buyers are still domestic fans, our concert merchandise has become a huge hit. I don’t think there’s anyone in the fandom who hasn’t heard about our Winter Camp merch.”

Lin Jie mentions this because the designs for the merchandise have been finalized, and both domestic and international official accounts have posted promotional images showcasing the details of each item.

Initially, only fans attending the Winter Camp concert knew about the merchandise. However, it gained widespread attention after a Korean forum post went viral, introducing the innovative photo cards Random Entertainment has released over the years.

**Title:** “These photo cards are insane! How did I only find out about them now?”

**Content:**

“Seriously, how did someone else surpass us in something we invented? Are these photo cards even real?!”

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The post features over a dozen images of Ye Xing, Pei Luming, Pei Zhiping, and Han Lemi. These four are part of the “premium card” family, with the cheapest card costing over 200 yuan and the most expensive reaching hundreds of thousands.

The cards shown in the post are all high-value ones, starting at 100,000 yuan.

“How much? 50 million won???”

“…Mainland scale.”

“Why are they so expensive? Are they one-of-a-kind?”

“I’ve been collecting photo cards for a long time, and I remember seeing Ye Xing’s card when it was only 20 million won. Now it’s worth 50 million won. It’s crazy.”

“It’s worth more than my landlord’s house.”

“Every single one of these is out of my budget.”

“Are Chinese photo cards always this expensive?”

**Reply:** “The original price of their photo cards is actually quite affordable, around 8,000 won each. But some cards are extremely rare, so their value skyrockets.”

“It’s like magic. How can a photo card be soft?”

“Their company has so many unique photo cards. Some only reveal their design when placed in hot water, while others require cold water. When I was studying in China, all the girls at my school knew about them.”

“Chinese fans say Timetrain’s photo cards only appreciate in value; they never drop.”

**Reply:** “Why is that?”

**Reply:** “Because their fanbase keeps growing. New fans can only get these cards by buying them from older fans. Random Entertainment never re-releases their products, not even albums. Many fans initially buy them as investments but end up becoming fans themselves.”

“If that’s the case, I’m joining the fandom too.”

“While physical album sales are declining globally, Random Entertainment’s sales keep increasing. There’s a reason for that.”

“What’s the secret? It’s so fascinating.”

“I saw on Weibo that the photo cards for this concert are ‘snow cards,’ a completely new type of tech card. Fans are already preparing to snatch them up.”

“Oh my god, I can’t even imagine how expensive my bias’s card will be.”

**Reply:** “Concert? Where can I buy tickets? Is it for the Winter Camp? Do you get the photo cards with the tickets?”

“The Chinese really know how to make money.”

This discussion about photo cards has over a thousand replies and remained on the trending list for a long time. Others also shared posts about their favorite idols’ photo cards, and Random Entertainment’s unique merchandise over the years was thoroughly explored.

Due to information barriers, international fans are only now discovering how advanced Chinese photo cards have become, with physical albums that are far more intricate than those of other countries.

The majority of those who learned about the Winter Camp concert did so through these photo cards, and it was from this point that the proportion of foreign attendees began to rise.

Random Entertainment also announced a global talent search to form groups targeting various markets.

At the peak of their popularity, Random Entertainment received an overwhelming number of audition videos after the announcement, and the talent development team has been busy reviewing them.

Those familiar with Random Entertainment’s strategies couldn’t help but admire their marketing prowess.

**Title:** “Gossip Discussion / They’re too good at marketing…”

**Content:**

“I didn’t expect them to use the same tactics abroad. Some posts are clearly written by Chinese users.”

“You know who I’m talking about.”

**Comments:**

“What are you saying? Other companies don’t market because they don’t want to?”

“It’s the era of self-promotion. What’s wrong with a little marketing? Every trending topic on social media is paid for. If you hate it so much, maybe you should stay offline.”

“Here come the Random Entertainment shills.”

“Sure, everyone who disagrees with you is a shill. We’re all blind, and only you see the truth.”

“I didn’t expect their tactics to work abroad too. Actually, many Chinese artists invest in marketing on international forums, and some distributors do the same to boost their projects’ performance, but most of it goes unnoticed.”

“Random Entertainment’s marketing works because they have something to boast about. Some artists’ marketed beauty, though, I really can’t…”

“Even though I can tell some posts are self-published by Random Entertainment, they’re still effective. They generate thousands of discussions and maintain high popularity.”

“Could some of the posts about Random Entertainment in our group also be posted by themselves?”

“This thread has already reached a thousand replies. Are you secretly promoting Random Entertainment?”

These blatantly self-promotional posts sparked discussions on domestic forums. Regardless, Random Entertainment, now making waves internationally, has become a favorite among fans. While there are many critics, there are even more supporters.

With Random Entertainment’s soaring popularity, the debut announcement of Fluoxetine instantly trended on social media, reviving a sense of nationwide idol chasing.

The logos released by Fluoxetine became trendy fashion elements, with many college students rushing to create their own versions. The letters “FLXT” became high-frequency keywords across domestic platforms.

The group’s management team never anticipated such overwhelming attention.

“Who would’ve thought? I was prepared for a quiet debut.”

“The boss made the right call. If we debuted in the summer, we wouldn’t have been able to ride the company’s hype.”

“The boss is truly wise, always thinking ahead.”

“You were complaining about the boss back then, I remember!”

“You’re lying! I’ve always been loyal to the boss.”

The first week’s teaser featured the group’s logo to reinforce their concept and atmosphere. This week, they started releasing individual member photos.

Fans and casual followers alike knew this, so they camped on Fluoxetine’s official Weibo account, waiting for updates.

And they weren’t disappointed.

“@FluoxetineOfficial: -Ke Youming-#Ke Youming##K##Fluoxetine##FLXT#”

Sticking to a minimalist style, they didn’t post much text on Weibo, but they dropped nine photos at once, each showcasing a completely different concept, with some even featuring different hair colors.

The center photo was a simple portrait of him, bare-faced, with such clarity that even the fine hairs on his face were visible. Light shone from the right, casting a shadow over half his face, revealing the natural color of his irises.

There were concept photos of him in a hospital gown sitting on a bench, lying on green grass covered with white gauze, and sitting on a sofa in a dark room in an unusual pose.

The cold, melancholic vibe pierced through the screen, striking a chord with viewers.

The reactions were divided between the comments and reposts. The comments were filled with fan praise, while the reposts featured diverse opinions.

“As someone who’s a little messed up, I’m destined to love you guys who are also a little messed up… This concept is perfect for my mental state.”

“Are you the main vocal, main dancer, and visual all in one?”

“What an incredible face…”

“Random Entertainment, you really know what young girls like!”

“Into my favorites list you go!”

What set Fluoxetine apart from other Random Entertainment groups was their unique vibe. They didn’t rely on catchy slogans or clear-cut concepts but instead offered an indescribable allure that kept people coming back for more.

With the company’s backing, Fluoxetine also gained attention overseas.

Fans in Malaysia were the first to establish an overseas fan site, translating and sharing his Weibo updates for fans on Twitter.

“Hello, my new husband.”

“Is his name K?”

“So excited! I never thought I’d be into C-pop.”

“Is he the leader?”

“Can’t wait for more updates about him!”

Foreign companies also caught wind of the hype. Among all of Random Entertainment’s artists, only Timetrain and Fluoxetine received overseas contract offers.

However, since Fluoxetine hasn’t debuted yet and lacks any released works, it’s hard to gauge the impact of overseas deals. Meanwhile, Timetrain has already capitalized on this opportunity.

After signing a U.S. management contract, Timetrain released an English version of “Neon Light,” which was originally recorded by all the trainees on the show. This new version featured only the five members.

With the company’s support, the promotion of “Neon Light (English Ver.)” skyrocketed overseas. The song appeared frequently on TikTok, and there were even ground advertisements in high-traffic areas, featuring posters and promotional videos of the five members.

A month after the song’s release, it finally entered the Billboard Hot 100 at number 97.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

This news even overshadowed the current hype around Fluoxetine domestically.

“Title: Gossip Discussion/ I’m shocked, really. These five androids are quietly making big moves!”

“This is a historic moment, worthy of being recorded in the annals of C-pop history. Who would’ve thought the group that’s been mocked so much would make it onto the Billboard chart?”

“Hahahahaha, Random Entertainment should bow down!”

Comments:

“This song has been really popular overseas lately…”

“We’re witnessing history.”

“C-pop is finally rising!”

“It feels so sudden. I’m online every day, but how did this song blow up so much abroad?”

“We’ve exported memes and songs before, but they were mostly cringy. This time, it’s legit C-pop.”

“I’ve seen street interviews on TikTok. Random people can sing along when prompted.”

“Sending love to my five treasures!”

“Dreaming big—let’s get a number one hit!”

“I think Random Entertainment is the real standout. Everyone thought they’d peaked and would only decline, but with their overseas expansion, they’re building new heights.”

“For those unaware, Random Entertainment isn’t just focusing on idols. Their actor division is also making big moves, signing collaborations with foreign talent agencies. That’s why so many top stars are aligning with Random Entertainment lately.”

“As much as I criticize Random Entertainment, I’m genuinely proud right now.”

After the summer, Random Entertainment went full throttle. All the groundwork they laid became the foundation for their meteoric rise.

They invested heavily in their idol groups, building domestic promotional platforms, expanding fan communities, creating long-form video platforms, and ensuring smooth content delivery.

The continuous upgrades to Galaxy were all for this moment.

In just three months, Random Entertainment stepped onto the international stage. For domestic companies, this pace is astonishing, but for established foreign companies, Random Entertainment has merely reached the starting line.

If they can’t sustain this momentum, it’ll be a fleeting success. The efforts of these three months could go to waste, and whether they’ll get another opportunity like this depends entirely on luck.

Jiang Juyou even put her study abroad plans on hold, following Timetrain’s promotional schedule as they prepared to head to the U.S.

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Early November in Beijing saw continuous rain, dropping temperatures significantly, but nothing could dampen the fans’ enthusiasm.

The number of fans seeing off Timetrain at the airport was unprecedented, with some arriving the night before to secure their spots.

Previously overshadowed by AIcho and then Equals3, Timetrain had just started to gain momentum during the summer when Fluoxetine emerged, stealing the spotlight. While their sales remained strong, their song performance on various platforms wasn’t as impressive as before.

Fans stubbornly claimed Timetrain was the top group in C-pop, but deep down, they knew Random Entertainment’s other groups, especially AIcho and Fluoxetine, were formidable competitors.

After Fluoxetine’s debut teaser dropped, Timetrain’s fanbase quieted down significantly, with many creating alternate accounts to follow the new group—something everyone was aware of.

The fans who steadfastly stood by Timetrain’s side refused to leave, and they couldn’t be swayed by the new groups either. Their frustration could only be vented on the operations team, and they would curse Lin Jie ten times a day.

This trip held a special meaning for Timetrain, and even more so for their fans.

The operations team seemed to be aware of this, as they publicly announced the departure date and location this time. Even though it was a chartered flight, they gave fans the opportunity to see them off at the airport.

The chartered flight operated from a separate terminal, which was usually empty, but today it was packed to the brim.

There were already many fans waiting at the airport three hours before Timetrain’s scheduled arrival.

The scene outside Random Entertainment’s headquarters was no different—the entire area below was swarmed with fans. The last time such a spectacular sight was seen was a few days ago when the music show opened its pre-recording fan meet.

All the security personnel who usually stayed inside the building were now out in force, with even the security teams from the film and variety departments coming to help maintain order.

The five members were in the makeup room getting ready, while upstairs, Jiang Juyou and Lin Jie were reviewing the video materials needed for the trip. Besides accompanying Timetrain to the U.S., they had an even more important mission this time.

“The only song we’ve really gone viral with overseas is this one. Having all our company’s groups perform there… it’s still too challenging,” Jiang Juyou said, holding her iPad, which played stage videos of several groups under the company performing at music festivals.

Lin Jie had a more optimistic view of the situation than Jiang Juyou. “There are a lot of Chinese people. What if we can bring them more audience members?”

Jiang Juyou laughed at her remark. “Are you saying the foreign groups don’t have enough fans?”

“The Chinese population is just on a different scale.”

Jiang Juyou chuckled and gave her a playful push.

Since Timetrain’s debut, Random Entertainment had been on an upward trajectory. The last time Jiang Juyou felt this nervous and anxious was when *Youthful Heartbeats 21* was released. Back then, she wasn’t sure if the public would accept these kids, nor did she know what the future held for them—or for herself.

That feeling seemed to have returned.

If they succeeded, Random Entertainment would reach new heights. If they failed, they’d be ridiculed mercilessly upon their return.

She could already imagine what the media, who had always doubted Random Entertainment, would say.

Guess what Jiang Juyou is about to do!

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