Britney's smile instantly froze. Clearly, she was still living in the fantasy of being a teen idol and found it hard to digest this kind of teasing about her age.
Stringer stood up and applauded her.
Britney belonged to RCA Records under Sony. Although there was internal competition with Columbia Records, the parent company was Sony Music. In the end, they were one big family.
To help the fourth best-selling female artist in US history return to the peak of her career, Sony Music had made careful arrangements.
For makeup and styling, they invited Madonna's exclusive stylist, striving to make Britney look as much like her 20-year-old self as possible.
Even the award presentation segment was different from the previous winners.
Only the beginning of the Till the World Ends MV played on the big screen, followed by various flashbacks of highlights from her singing career.
In 1999, Britney released her debut album ...Baby One More Time, nominated for "Best New Artist" and "Best Female Pop Vocal Performance" at the 42nd Grammy Awards.
In 2000, she followed up with her second album Oops!... I Did It Again, which quickly sold over 8 million copies.
At just 20 years old, Britney took the stage at the Super Bowl Halftime Show. Her performance stunned everyone, establishing her status as a diva in one fell swoop.
Senior music professionals gazed at the main stage. Even Phil was no exception; his eyes didn't leave the big screen for a moment.
Britney's highlight moments coincided with the peak of his life, back when he was the manager for Canadian pop-punk princess Avril Lavigne.
Two blonde beauties popular after the millennium had both encountered low points in life and were in their darkest hours.
Compared to the makeup and stage design, the speech that followed was the real highlight.
In the past five years, she had experienced betrayals from her ex-boyfriend, ex-husband, and ex-manager...
She almost severed ties with her parents, making them her "ex-parents."
She was like a long-suppressed volcano. Wiping away tears while shaking the trophy, she poured out years of bitterness: "I'm back."
"Yeah!"
"We love you, Britney!"
One sentence ignited the audience's emotions, and everyone stood up to applaud Britney.
Only Leon seemed absent-minded, sighing while clapping. "What a pity..."
He didn't dislike Britney. Even though he wasn't fond of personas built on "selling misery," he had to admit that Britney's comeback was excellent hype.
RCA Records poured a massive amount of resources into helping Britney win this award, taking care of everything from authoritative music magazines to the jury and voting guests.
But Leon had a better candidate in mind. It would have been more in his interest if Bruno Mars's Grenade won; he still held the copyright to that work.
"What's a pity?" Taylor tilted her head and looked over, confused.
"Nothing... I mean Miss Britney's career is such a pity. She could have reached another level..." Leon casually brushed it off.
"It's all because of those scumbags." Taylor rolled her eyes. "For a female singer, making mistakes in choosing a producer is one thing, but you must keep your eyes peeled when choosing a boyfriend. It's a matter of your career."
Faced with this intentional or unintentional jab, Leon could only spread his hands helplessly. "It's the same for men~"
"A man's destruction begins with meeting the wrong woman"—this sentence carried a lot of weight in his heart.
Seeing him at a loss, Taylor revealed a playful smile, pouted her red lips, and lightly pecked him:
"I will be your 'Right Girl,' and you will never do anything to hurt me, right?"
"Of course!" Leon replied instantly. Even a fool could give the correct answer to this question.
Britney talked on and on for over ten minutes, but no one felt annoyed. Her past performance represented the last glory of the physical record era.
Now, any singer, even Adele and Katy Perry who shone at this award ceremony, would find it hard to reach Britney's former dominance in physical record sales.
"Nominees for Best Rock Video are..." The host opened the envelope and announced the next award.
Leon adjusted his lapel and sat up straight. Radioactive was nominated in this category and was even the biggest favorite to win, as proven by the betting odds.
In America, you can bet on anything, even the color of the tie the President wears for the State of the Union address, or how many puppies the dog living in the White House gave birth to.
"Congratulations, Bro. You deserve it!" Mars walked over from not far away, blowing smoke up his ass. "Foo Fighters? Those damn Brits call their music grunge. They're right about one thing—their music is trash! Foster the People?! What do those good boys know about rock and roll? They probably don't even know how to sleep with a woman!"
Since receiving the $15 million interest-free loan, Leon's status in his heart had risen to another level.
Before, he was a generous poker buddy; now, the word "Big Brother" wasn't enough to describe him.
In grand terms, in Western culture, he was the Savior; in Eastern culture, he was the Bodhisattva saving the suffering.
"Thanks..." Leon had no mind to deal with him, focusing all his energy on the host's microphone.
According to tabloid reports, Mars lived up to expectations. The night he got the huge loan, he gambled heavily in Las Vegas for two days.
The chips fluctuated several times. Finally, after losing $3 million, he hit the brakes. His remaining rationality took a piss on the dopamine secretion area of his brain.
Under the debt pressure from Las Vegas Sands Corp., he stopped in time.
Next to Mars's seat, Atlantic Records CEO Julie was staring fixedly in this direction, unable to hide the look in her eyes that wanted to kill someone.
Her hottest singer mortgaged his songwriting copyrights to a competitor. This was intolerable for any record company.
Phil hummed twice. "See that woman's eyes? She looks like she wants to swallow you alive in bed... This woman has slept with about half the record industry."
Leon didn't make a sound, but Mars looked excited, leaning over to listen like an elementary school student. "Sht! No way! Julie isn't that kind of woman... She looks like she could slit a competitor's throat with her high heels at any moment."
"What do you know, you Hawaiian punk?" Phil crossed his arms, acting like an expert. "When I was young, this bitch tried to seduce me into her bed several times, but I refused. I didn't want to catch some weird virus... By the way, why are you so afraid of her? Listen to me, conquer her once like a man, and everything will be solved..."
"Holy sht, I think I get it..." Mars's eyes sparkled, his eyebrows dancing as he nodded non-stop.
"The winner is..." The host smirked, keeping everyone in suspense. "Foo Fighters, Walk~"
"Fck..." Leon didn't know how many times he had experienced the same plot. He leaned back and tilted his head.
"What a surprising result..." Taylor comforted him. "Those voting guys know who to choose as long as their ears work. I think they just simply don't like you."
In the past, Leon wasn't so hungry for awards.
Having them was best; not having them didn't matter.
A trophy was just a small commodity; how many dollars was it worth?
Now he wasn't so short of money, but to raise his status in the entertainment industry, having money or works alone wasn't enough.
The thorny road to becoming a legend is paved with trophies. Achieving historical status is the only way to gain enough respect.
"I have to go backstage to prepare." Leon hugged Taylor cheek-to-cheek and got up. Originally, he had no plans to perform at the MTV Video Music Awards.
After We Don't Talk Anymore was released, Columbia Records reached an agreement through communication with MTV.
For Columbia Records, this was an excellent promotional opportunity.
For MTV, it was even more profitable. The breakup of Leon and Robbie was the focus of the entertainment industry recently.
The performance on Saturday Night Live was the show's highest rating point in six years.
Plus, with his current girlfriend Taylor present, the event's momentum was even greater, and the exposure of this performance would only be more.
"Good luck, honey~" Taylor wanted to say a few more proud and bickering words, but swallowed them back when they reached her lips.
After the host finished the announcement, the stage lights dimmed quickly.
Thirty seconds later, two spotlights focused on the center of the stage. Robbie and Leon leaned back-to-back.
The combination of white gauze dress and white suit was particularly comical. In America, this is the color of marriage, but they were singing the funeral song of this relationship.
Due to the rushed schedule, this performance didn't have any backup dancers. The effect depended entirely on the two singers.
But their tacit understanding had reached a level where no rehearsal was needed; they had polished it countless times in bed.
Last year at the American Music Awards (AMA), the scene of Leon wearing a black hoodie DJing personally while Robbie sang Faded became a classic.
Robbie adjusted her in-ear monitor. Her elf ears, covered with platinum diamond earrings, shone brightly under the spotlight.
Leon's vocals and the accompaniment proceeded synchronously.
His singing maintained his consistent level. As a rock singer, he mastered falsetto extremely delicately, switching between chest and head voice smoothly.
Instead, Robbie gave a bigger surprise. She didn't miss a beat or go off-key throughout the whole process.
Although there was a Mississippi River-sized gap between her and powerhouse vocalists like Adele and Beyoncé, for an actress who switched careers halfway and couldn't sing a year ago without autotune, she was outstanding enough.
What was even more amazing was her singing state, completely without the awkward mourning of the last performance on Saturday Night Live.
She could even turn around and interact by running her fingers across Leon's chest.
"She's as beautiful as an angel..." The guests in the front row were intoxicated by the singing and praised.
Regarding Leon, most people put on another face. "White suit? This kid looks as evil as Vergil..."
In the final chorus stage, their hands held together seemed close yet distant, and finally separated.
They turned around simultaneously, back-to-back.
The stage lights dimmed suddenly, and the last note stopped here.
The guests below the stage stood up one after another to applaud the wonderful performance. "Awesome! Unparalleled!"
JAY-Z sat in his seat with a complicated expression, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.
In the performance just now, he saw the shadow of a superstar and faintly felt that his status was under huge threat.
Whether it was power, fame, or wealth...
The sense of crisis brought by this shameless poor ghost who just entered the industry a year ago was unprecedented.
"You were amazing, honey. This was the most perfect performance tonight!" As soon as Leon returned to his seat, Taylor immediately hooked his neck.
"Thanks to you being by my side, I was in great form today."
"What does it have to do with me?" Taylor curled her lips. "You were cooperating with Robbie~ By the way, when exactly do you plan to finish our work?"
Just as Leon was worrying about how to respond, Mars, Kendrick, Cardi B, Stringer, and other friends in the circle gathered around.
"Although you lost in the Best Rock Video selection, you won another more important award."
"What?"
"The People's Choice Award."
Everyone clutched their stomachs and laughed, only Ariana remained silent.
Wrapped in a happy atmosphere, Leon inadvertently noticed a scene.
Scooter Braun, the founder of SB Projects, the Jewish businessman who tried to poach people from Apocalypse Music repeatedly.
He was sitting in an inconspicuous position in the first row, covering his mouth and chatting with a white-haired black old man.
"Who is that old ngga?" Leon subconsciously asked Phil. Having mixed in the circle for a long time, Phil knew very well about those old artists who were not often mentioned.
"Joe Jackson."
"Jackson?" Hearing this name, Leon instinctively thought of Michael Jackson.
"Yes, just as you think, he is Michael Jackson's father." Phil started with his signature sneer, then sprayed: "That old ngga doesn't deserve to be a father at all. His only contribution was contributing two sprms to the world, one for Janet, one for Michael."
Although Phil was an outspoken scumbag and a failed father.
But he wasn't bad to his children. He never used violence against his family after drinking heavily, and after the divorce, he did his best to pay for his "daughter's" college tuition.
In contrast, the King of Pop MJ's father was a thorough scumbag father.
As a singer who failed for half his life, he treated his children as tools for making money from the start.
Not only was he extremely harsh on them, but he also often beat them for playing a wrong note on the piano.
"If you play a wrong note again, I'll chop off your fingers. Your stupid hands are worse than a thief's!" Such curses almost ran through MJ's childhood.
The drama of the entire Jackson family is more exciting than the Kardashian family today, and it is 100% real, without any acting components.
Joe's actions led to him getting no benefits after MJ's death.
In his will, Michael declared that all his property, including real estate, securities investments, and music copyrights, would be delivered to the "Michael Jackson Family Trust."
And designated his mother Katherine Jackson and three children as beneficiaries of the estate. Joe was not on the list of beneficiaries.
Among them, the massive music copyrights held by MJ alone were worth an astronomical figure.
"Braun looks very close to Joe..."
Leon was confused. Joe was four years older than Quincy Jones; it was hard to have any topics with a young man like Braun.
Before, Braun hit it off with Jones by relying on a flexible tongue and insight into hypocritical human nature.
Now, the other party wished he could strangle this "friend despite the age gap."
"One is a Jew, one is a Jew in black skin. It's normal for them to have a common language." Phil said, "Joe's greed is carved into his bones. Even with one foot in the coffin, he hasn't forgotten to fight for assets with his children."
"Fck, can he take this money into the coffin?"
Leon's brain instantly connected to the internet and immediately understood Braun's purpose in approaching Joe.
In 2009, Jackson died, designating his legal advisor John Branca and friend John McClain as executors of his will.
Before his son's body had completely rotted in the coffin, Joe sued Branca and McClain on the grounds of disputes over the estate distribution process.
Demanding the management rights of the estate left by Jackson.
This lawsuit lasted for two years. Finally, a panel of three judges from the California Second District Court of Appeal unanimously ruled last year to uphold the original verdict.
Joe Jackson had no right to interfere with Jackson's estate.
This result did not make him completely give up the idea of getting a piece of the pie. Early this year, he publicly attacked MJ's ex-wife, Elvis Presley's daughter Lisa Marie Presley.
Claiming she had absolutely no right to inherit MJ's estate and stating he would fight for the sky-high priced copyrights left behind.
It seemed now that Braun had eyed this fat piece of meat with a vulture-like sense of smell.