Chapter 494: Album Sales Volume

Chapter 494 Album Sales

“Just like that, it’s all sold out!”

Having stayed up all night gaming, he’d planned to sleep until evening, but since today was Meng Fan’s new album release, Shi Shiwu caught a few hours of shut-eye and woke up around noon. By then, the 40,000 albums sold through online channels were already gone. Learning how they sold out, Shi Shiwu was dumbfounded.

Never heard of this!

Everyone in the industry knows about fan-driven economics, and Shi Shiwu was one of its beneficiaries. With enough fans, an artist’s work—or even products—could sell out. For instance, nowadays you’d hear about some singer’s album selling millions, yet passersby hadn’t even heard the song titles.

Of course, fan numbers are limited, especially those willing to spend money to “support” their idols. Thus, sales of works or products are also capped.

Given the current climate, fewer fans are willing to buy physical albums, opting instead for digital ones. So now, digital album sales are the standard, and physical album sales are rarely discussed.

Meng Fan’s 40,000 physical albums sold online were snapped up instantly. If it were just the numbers, insiders would be shocked, but passersby wouldn’t care—the figure seemed small compared to the thrill of millions in digital sales.

Yet the way Meng Fan’s 40,000 physical albums sold out was truly baffling and bewildering.

Was this fan-driven economics? Not quite.

Was it normal sales? Definitely not.

Defining this method was tough—it was unprecedented.

Upon further investigation, not only had all 40,000 copies of *Dreaming* sold out, but the original soundtrack for *Spirits Underground* was also gone quickly.

That soundtrack had only about 10,000 physical copies pressed, intended for comic fans, Meng Fan’s followers, or Kun Ye’s book enthusiasts to collect. But before the comic and book fans could act, some official accounts or celebrities, unable to snag Meng Fan’s personal album for giveaways, quickly turned to the soundtrack and cleared it out.

This sell-out method left most people amused and entertained, though some—mostly celebrities, including Shi Shiwu—felt envious.

Others, like hardcore fans and comic enthusiasts, found it infuriating.

What’s the point of this?

What does it have to do with you?

Why join the chaos?

You’re having fun, but we can’t buy it!

This is just disruptive!

Giveaways?

Don’t joke—we couldn’t even grab one online, let alone win a raffle. We don’t have that luck!

Reprint!

They had to make Meng Fan reprint another batch for collectors, or life was unbearable!

Until then, they could only buy the digital album to satisfy their ears.

Shi Shiwu was also curious about the digital sales of Meng Fan’s first solo album. After all, the title track *Dreaming* had been released early and performed well. With Meng Fan’s track record and widely recognized vocal skills, low sales were impossible.

It was just past noon, only two hours since the album went live at 10 a.m. Shi Shiwu opened the sales figures, looked, looked again, scrutinized them, then closed it!

Devastating!

The digital sales of *Dreaming* in just over two hours had already matched the total sales of his last album!

How could it be this exaggerated!

Shi Shiwu couldn’t help asking his assistant, “Is Meng Fan considered a fresh-faced idol?”

Such terrifying first-day sales had mostly been seen with fresh-faced idols in recent years. Fans would concentrate their efforts at a specific time to create record-breaking first-day numbers. As for follow-up sales? Well, if they were good, fans would boast endlessly, but no one had ever heard of sustained sales for such idols’ works.

The assistant paused, then said, “Age and looks-wise, probably.” After a moment, he added, “But fresh-faced idols burn out fast. He’s Iron God—he’ll last a long time.”

“Comparing people drives you crazy. Time to sleep.”

Shi Shiwu, who had just woken up, turned back to sleep. Not that he was truly upset—he’d forced himself awake just to check the album sales, and now he had.

He knew quite a bit about Meng Fan. Take the comics, for instance—Meng Fan never relied on a fleeting wave of popularity. Subsequent sales remained high, with constant news of breaking records. So he wasn’t worried about the album’s long-term sales. The quality was solid, and Meng Fan’s popularity was strong. As his assistant said, such sales would last a long time.

Of course, Shi Shiwu’s keen interest in Meng Fan’s sales wasn’t just because the album was tied to him or their close friendship. There was another minor reason: Meng Fan’s album, including the digital version, was released under his studio. Good sales meant higher profits for the studio.

Shi Shiwu might not care much about the album sales cut, but other studio members needed to eat. His studio wasn’t just his—others held shares too.

The digital sales of Meng Fan’s *Dreaming* on Penguin Music were indeed staggering. Interestingly, in the first hour after release, sales nearly broke a record set by a fresh-faced idol a year ago for first-hour digital album sales. But in the second hour, sales were even higher—more than triple the first hour!

This created an unprecedented sales pattern: *Dreaming* ranked third historically for first-hour sales—though that history was only a few years—but its single-hour sales ranked first, nearly three times the second-place figure.

The first hour almost matched the super idol’s sales, hinting at fan-driven economics. But the second hour being even higher and many times greater was irrational. If it were fan-driven, the first hour would have exploded—why wait until the second to go all out?

Meng Fan was clearly different from fresh-faced idols. Typically, even record-breaking songs by such idols only circulated within fan circles, maybe trending briefly with curious listeners. If free, they’d listen; if paid, they’d skip. In short, they had some reach but not much. Meng Fan’s album, however, had significant reach—and very high.

This was easy to tell. Forget whether you’d hear Meng Fan’s songs in malls later—just look at the fan list below the digital album.

For fresh-faced idols, the contribution values on the fan list—meaning album purchases—were huge. A single account buying thousands of copies was standard. For one idol’s latest album, with nearly a million digital sales, the top 50 fans each bought over a thousand copies, ten accounts over five thousand, and three over ten thousand.

Of course, these accounts were often labeled as fan clubs or fan bases. On Penguin Music, purchased digital albums could be gifted, but whether they were actually given away was uncertain. In any case, there was definitely some inflation.

On Meng Fan’s *Dreaming* fan list, there were also large purchases, but relatively few. The top three were [Hardware Store’s Madams], [Meng Pang Comic Fan Support], and [Iron God’s 8th Station Water Army]. The first had 1,001 copies, the second and third exactly 1,000—likely afraid to surpass the first, given the name suggested all female fans!

After the top three, sales dropped sharply. The fourth had fewer than 500 copies, then mostly 200–300, and beyond 50th place, under 100.

This showed how many accounts actually bought. Compared to sales volume, it wasn’t just three times that of fresh-faced idols—the multiplier grew larger, possibly hundreds or even thousands of times.

As for the album rating, it was also high.

On Penguin Music, ratings updated instantly. Purchasing the digital album gave one rating opportunity. From launch, it never dropped below 9.9.

Penguin Music’s rating system worked by upvotes for positive and downvotes for negative, then calculating a composite score. Since the rating displayed only to the tenths place, even one downvote against ten thousand upvotes showed 9.9. With so many buyers, zero downvotes was impossible.

Other rating sites generally opened ratings six hours after release.

Compared to those, Weibo was already full of praise—for the songwriting, production quality, and Meng Fan’s vocals.

There were also negative reviews, mainly two types.

One complained about the lack of music videos. A whole album, including the earlier title track, had 12 songs but not a single MV. Even if they couldn’t film proper ones, some studio footage would do—but there was nothing. For such a big star and big production, it felt shabby.

The other complained about having to pay. These were mostly people from the wild early internet days who hadn’t moved on, or those still used to free listening in the age of copyright. Paying for a song? Terrible—even harder to accept than paying for novels!

As for the album’s subsequent sales, Meng Fan stopped paying attention after noon. His focus was entirely on the man suddenly visiting with his fourth sister, Meng Caihe.

Meng Caihe introduced him: tall, handsome, with a charming smile and particularly white teeth—her boyfriend, the kind she planned to marry. She was bringing him to meet the family one by one, then they’d get their marriage certificate and have a travel wedding.

(End of chapter)