Zhou Jielun stood in Huaxing's top-floor studio with only an acoustic guitar between him and the CEO. At Heifeng's nod, he launched straight into an a cappella medley:
"One step, two steps, three steps, four steps—eyes on the sky, hands entwined.
One star, two stars, three stars, four stars—draw the lines, trace the shine…"
The melody was unmistakably Starry Mood; the other two drafts shared the tune but carried raw, half-finished lyrics. When the last note faded, Heifeng smiled and tapped a fountain pen against his palm. "Good bones," he said. "Let's give them proper flesh." He pulled the scores closer and, line by line, rewrote the verses—tightening meter, sharpening imagery, folding in the faint bittersweetness fans remembered from the original hit.
Zhou watched with folded arms, pride flickering to doubt, curiosity, and finally awe. Three minutes later, the revised sheets slid back across the desk. "Try them," Heifeng said. Zhou hummed, stopped, started again, then broke into a grin that pushed the brim of his cap clear of his eyes. The new words fit like threads he'd been groping for in the dark. "President Heifeng… do you approve?" The question carried equal parts eagerness and fear.
"I do. And I'll get back that approval with the budget. Studio A, full band, professional producer—record these three first. If the masters pass my headphones, the album rolls."
Shock melted into thanks; Zhou bowed so many times his cap nearly fell. A month ago, he'd been a talent-show castoff practicing chords in a rented room. Now he had the resources of China's most aggressive tech firm and a CEO who could rewrite hit lyrics between phone launches. Heifeng squeezed the young man's shoulder. "Work hard," he said. "Time always tells the truth about talent."
Three days flashed by, and the industry scoreboard lit up like neon. Huawei had unleashed its dual attack:
• Honor 7: 400,000 units in the first hour, 1.5 million by midnight.
• Honor 7 Plus: another 400,000 in sixty minutes, racing past 2 million by day's end.
• Nova series: price-pinched but glossy; 300,000 in the opening hour and just over 1 million before the day closed.
The metrics scrolled across Heifeng's monitor while spring sunlight spilled over his desk. "They seized the timing," he conceded, "and buyers are voting with wallets." But there was no panic in his tone—merely calculus.
At dawn the next morning, Huaxing fired a single thirteen-character tweet across Weibo's bow:
高性能,高配置,高性价比,4月5日为你而来.
High performance, high specs, high value—coming for you on April 5.
No teaser images, no hashtags, no product name. The brevity detonated harder than a billboard. Forums erupted with speculation: Was Huaxing about to drop the long-rumored Hongmeng S3? Or would the mysterious Star series finally surface? Nothing stokes desire like silence from a company known for surprises.
Consumers who had hovered over Nova's checkout button now froze mid-click. Bloggers dissected the wording—"performance" suggested the S line, "cost performance" hinted at the Star budget range. By noon, Huawei's search-trend curve flattened; by evening, it bent downward. Brand loyalty breaks down quickly when the market leader hints at something better.
Inside Honor Mobile's offices, division chief Zhao Liangyun refreshed his feed and exhaled a resigned laugh. "Huaxing again." He'd grown used to the pattern: launch hard, celebrate for half a day, then brace for the counterstrike. Still, sales targets were on track, so a full-scale response could wait; it was better to see the opponent's hand first.
Netizens, meanwhile, lit the comment sections:
"It must be Hongmeng S—last year's X already dropped."
"S? No way. They said cost performance—that screams Star series."
"I've got ¥3 000 saved; if the new phone slips past that I'm still buying Nova."
Retailers reported a sudden slump in Huawei walk-ins. People preferred to wait a fortnight rather than risk buyer's remorse. For Huaxing, delays were as good as conversions; every stalled purchase widened the window for its April reveal.
Back at headquarters, Heifeng reviewed final build reports. Hardware yields on the lavender and mint shells had broken 94 percent; Dove beautification algorithm v2.1 clipped perfectly onto the Kunpeng A2 Lite ISP; supply-chain had shaved another 120 yuan off the bill of materials. With the emergency cushion in place, the S 3 could launch at ¥2 699—or drop to ¥2 599 and still clear double-digit margin.
Heifeng's final directive fit in one sentence: "Polish, don't squeeze toothpaste." The team understood: no incremental trickle of features, no half-measures—deliver the complete package on day one or don't step on stage.
The same night Jay Chou walked into Studio A, headphones trailing, eyes bright despite the hour. He adjusted the mic, counted himself in, and laid down the first clean take of Starry Mood 2025. Producer Chen threw Heifeng a thumbs-up outside the glass as the chords swelled. The remastered lyrics drifted over a bed of strings and subtle synth bass; nostalgia met modern gloss. Perfect influencer fuel—one clip of Jay singing under blue neon with an S3 balanced on the piano would out-trend a thousand banner ads.
When the final chord faded, Jay pulled off the cans. "President Heifeng," he said, voice still shaky from adrenaline, "this song feels alive again."
"It was waiting for the right singer," Heifeng replied. "And the right phone to carry it."
He stepped into the night as recording resumed, city lights mirrored in the studio glass. In two weeks, the curtains would rise; Huawei would push discounts, Samsung would cling to dwindling billboards, and newly independent Honor would scream battery stats into every ad slot. None of it mattered. Demand would follow if Huaxing's April 5 keynote married Jay's anthem, Dove's camera sorcery, and Kunpeng's muscle into one elegant rectangle.
Tall buildings glowed along Jiangcheng's riverfront, and each LED panel was a potential stage for that rectangle. Among them, a million undecided customers waited, thumbing Nova preorder pages but not yet clicking. Heifeng pocketed his prototype, feeling its weight—moderate, confident, ready. Time to let silence keep talking until it was loud enough to drown every rival hype train in China.