Chapter 25.1: Fan Meeting
Almost the moment Xie Xizhao’s name was announced, a collective gasp rippled through the venue.
Xie Xizhao’s eyes flickered slightly as he rarely did, and he lifted his gaze.
He had anticipated the possibility of an unexpected turn, but he hadn’t thought that it would actually happen.
Qiu Xuerui simply stated the name and stepped off the stage.
That was the final agenda item for the day.
For a moment, no one moved. Then, Xie Xizhao stood up.
“Let’s go.”
Ai Qingyuan, still a little dazed, followed behind him.
They had barely taken a few steps when Ji Yan came rushing over. Too overwhelmed to form coherent words, he grabbed Xie Xizhao and shook him wildly. “Brother, brother, you’re insane! Holy sh*t! Top twenty in a week?! That’s rocket speed!”
Xie Xizhao was getting dizzy from the shaking, but fortunately, Ai Qingyuan, who had snapped out of his daze, pulled Ji Yan away in time. “…Can you calm down, little lackey?”
“It’s just a twenty-two rank jump,” Xie Xizhao said nonchalantly.
But the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes betrayed his supposedly calm demeanor.
Ji Yan gawked at him. “Do you even hear yourself?!”
Ai Qingyuan couldn’t be bothered to engage.
Right now, his emotions were too complicated to put into words.
On one hand, Ai Qingyuan did think it was a pity that Xie Xizhao had almost lost his fan meeting spot because of the production team’s manipulation.
On the other hand…
He twitched the corner of his mouth. That ranking surge was way too fast.
His expression shifted as he processed everything. Meanwhile, someone else’s face was outright unpleasant to look at.
Ni Xin rushed past them like a gust of wind, his figure moving swiftly and urgently. Ai Qingyuan, still deep in thought, was jolted when Ni Xin’s sleeve accidentally brushed against him. Annoyed, he looked up. “Who the hell walks without looking?”
Then he realized—it was his own teammate from the same company. He froze for a moment.
Ji Yan, ever the troublemaker, smirked and fanned the flames. “Hey, young master, don’t tell me you didn’t know your dear teammate ranked 21st this round? He was just one spot away from making it to the fan meeting.”
Ai Qingyuan paused.
Then he simply said, “Didn’t you just say it yourself? He got stuck at 21, so he didn’t make it.”
What’s he making a fuss about?
Ji Yan twitched his mouth. This guy’s emotional intelligence was truly something else.
Not that Ji Yan cared for Ni Xin, so he wasn’t about to defend him. Instead, Guan Heng, who had been quietly watching, spoke up.
“You guys go on ahead.”
Xie Xizhao nodded. “Alright.”
He knew Guan Heng was going to comfort Ni Xin.
After Guan Heng left, the remaining group returned to the practice room.
This time, before Xie Xizhao could even remind him, Ai Qingyuan silently started the backing track.
Xie Xizhao blinked in surprise, then shook his head with a helpless smile.
He stepped out to the restroom. When he came back, he splashed cold water on his face.
As he lifted his head, he caught sight of his own reflection in the mirror.
For a long while, he just stood there.
Then, suddenly, he smiled at himself.
—
Xie Xizhao’s ranking shift sent shockwaves through the trainees.
Everyone was buzzing about his meteoric rise. The production team, who had looked as if they had swallowed a fly that day, finally had their reaction explained.
Some people still carried a sour attitude, some were simply shocked, and others—some were genuinely moved.
Xie Xizhao’s family background wasn’t exactly poor, but his company was undeniably terrible. Before the show aired, he had been a complete nobody, someone no one expected to go far.
But Xie Xizhao made them realize something—
That if you had talent and worked hard, the audience and fans would see you.
For a while, the atmosphere among the trainees became noticeably more motivated. Over the next few days, the lights in the practice rooms stayed on late into the night.
Of course, Room 113 was no exception.
Getting into the fan meeting was a pleasant surprise, but Xie Xizhao was well aware that an idol’s true battlefield was the stage. Super Rookie had three performance rounds—three chances to be seen by fans.
Considering that the show’s editing and mechanics worked against him, he knew he had to seize every opportunity.
He still tried to maintain a somewhat regular schedule, but after consulting the show’s doctors, he extended his practice hours as much as possible.
Stand By was a bright, refreshing boy group song.
Like many hit idol songs, its lyrics revolved around love—but it wasn’t an intense, passionate love song. Instead, it captured the energy of a youthful, blossoming crush in spring and summer.
The two people in the song liked each other, yet remained in a playful stage of testing the waters. There was no melodramatic sorrow—just a mischievous, spirited push-and-pull between teenagers.
Strictly speaking, this style was difficult to pull off.
Unlike the purely cute concept, which relied heavily on youthful looks and age, the essence of boyish charm was much more elusive.
Balancing that fresh, light energy while standing out against naturally intense and charismatic performances was a real challenge.
Fortunately, they had a blueprint to follow.
—
After receiving the song and completing the basic vocal and dance lessons, Xie Xizhao borrowed the shared equipment and gathered the team to analyze performance videos frame by frame.
“Are we trying to recreate the seniors’ stage exactly?” someone asked nervously.
“No,” Xie Xizhao replied. “We’re looking for the feeling.”
He paused for a moment, then added jokingly, “If we copy their choreography down to every detail, by the time we finish performing, comparison videos will be all over the internet dragging us for it.”
The trainee who asked suddenly understood.
It was a concern they all shared—compared to the original performance, polished by professional idols who had been carefully selected, they would never match up.
But Xie Xizhao simply said, “It’s fine.”
Two days later, everyone finally understood what he meant by fine.
Within that time, Xie Xizhao made subtle adjustments to the choreography and vocal arrangement based on their assigned parts. He preserved most of the original’s core while introducing fresh elements. Most importantly—
They realized their practice sessions no longer felt as grueling as before.
Most of the trainees in Ai Qingyuan’s group were top-ranking.
They carried a natural pride, and at first, they regarded Xie Xizhao with wariness and skepticism.
But after everything, all those subtle doubts and hesitations faded away—leaving only admiration and gratitude.
Except for Ai Qingyuan.
Catching Xie Xizhao in the practice room once again, he scoffed, clearly annoyed. “Do you have a death wish or something?”
Xie Xizhao lifted his gaze from the floor-to-ceiling mirror. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his forehead, and a faint flush colored his cheeks. His lips were bright and vivid, reminding Ai Qingyuan of a white-clad youth he had once seen on an old street in Jiangnan, holding an umbrella—rosy lips, white teeth, an elegant presence.
But at the same time, Ai Qingyuan knew—beneath Xie Xizhao’s delicate appearance lay an unyielding resilience.
For a moment, he was at a loss for words, but Xie Xizhao didn’t seem to mind.
Once he had caught his breath, he took a sip of water. “I’m fine.”
“I know my limits,” he added.
And he meant it.
Ai Qingyuan rolled his eyes internally.
Xie Xizhao seemed thoughtful for a moment before saying, “If you’re that concerned, you can do me a favor.”
Ai Qingyuan: ?
The next day, Ai Qingyuan stood with a deadpan expression, locking eyes with his nervous teammates, who were anxiously awaiting his guidance.
Half a minute passed before he finally spoke, voice cold and sparing as ever:
“Dance.”
—
The trainees had been practicing intensely for the performance, and at the same time, Super Rookie had sparked heated discussions online.
This time, the reason was clear—it was all about the fan meeting slots.
Once all the initial stage performances had been released, Super Rookie experienced its first major popularity reshuffle.
Trainees who had existing fans but failed to stand out gradually fell behind, while those with strong stage presence or interesting personalities gained traction as more content featuring them surfaced. Among them, the most obvious standout was Xie Xizhao.
From the moment the theme song was revealed and his center position was exposed, he had already been destined to be the biggest miracle of this season’s competition.
At first, Super Rookie barely pushed his name onto trending topics, limiting his popularity to fan circles.
But soon enough, someone took action. That “someone” was none other than the company behind Xie Xizhao—Yaoxin.
Yaoxin’s boss, Qi Yin, only remembered he had an employee in the competition when he happened to come across the theme song.
His employee had performed a rather nice song for his debut stage, and his skills seemed decent too. Then Qi Yin took another look…
Whoa!
His stunning employee was standing right at the center.
This needed promotion.
This absolutely needed promotion.
Qi Yin climbed out of his gaming chair and immediately called the company’s PR department.
“Hello? Uh… Manager Li? Oh, sorry, wrong number.”
He had accidentally called his own team’s coach.
Silently, he dialed again.
“Hello? This is Qi Yin.”
Ah, this time, he got it right.
Young Master Qi looked at the young man on the screen and spoke cheerfully, “Yeah, buy trending spots.”
“How many?”
“Of course, buy as many as possible, and get marketing accounts involved too. Within a day, I want to see our employee’s theme song performance all over the internet. Money is not an issue. That’s it.”
“Money is not an issue”—one of the sweetest sentences in the world.
And so, within a single day, Super Rookie’s theme song performance flooded every corner of the internet.
Along with it, Xie Xizhao’s name was everywhere.
Logically speaking, such an overwhelming marketing push should have triggered backlash from casual viewers.
But the moment any slightly rebellious onlooker clicked on the video, most of them instantly forgot their initial annoyance.
Because it was breathtaking.
Not the kind of breathtaking caused by tacky, blinding disco lights or unbearably outdated uniforms, but because of the person standing on the highest platform.
The young man had delicate, refined features, with bright yet unwavering eyes. The moment he lifted his gaze, the remaining 99 trainees on stage seemed to fade into the background.
This was Super Rookie’s first-ever, truly unexpected center.
And the only center who could completely dominate the stage.
Just as Xie Xizhao’s popularity continued to soar, news broke that the number of available meet-and-greet slots had been cut.
*
At first, netizens didn’t notice anything unusual. Forums were still buzzing with discussions about the upcoming fan event.
But soon, someone picked up on the anomaly, and a single post exploded into a massive thread.
[By the way, the show suddenly cut the slots—this feels suspicious.]
[Who’s getting blocked here?]
[Didn’t they say it was due to venue limitations? That’s why they reduced it to twenty. What’s suspicious about that?]
—1L
[So naive. The Super Rookie production team is notoriously stingy. There’s definitely more to this.]
—2L
[I mean, aren’t all these survival shows just games for the investors? Super Rookie just happens to have slightly better taste and a bit more integrity compared to others. At least the ones they’re favoring are actually decent.]
[But cutting slots like this feels excessive. I’ve seen them increase slots to protect their favorites, but this level of sabotage feels way too deliberate. What’s so wrong about letting a little idol meet his fans?]
—3L
[Speaking of sabotage, isn’t XXZ the real target of the production team? He was the initial center, yet by episode two, it was like he vanished. Did he even get five seconds of screen time in the dorm segment?]
—4L
[XXZ is insane—his singing, dancing, visuals, height, and personality are all top-tier with no weak points. If his company wasn’t so awful and if the production team wasn’t obviously suppressing him, I’d have already invested in him. Such a waste.]
—5L
[Replying to 4L, including background shots, he had exactly 6.8 seconds of screen time.]
—6L
[Help…]
—7L
[But he really does attract fans the moment he appears. He gained tens of thousands of followers after his debut stage, and after the theme song performance aired, his numbers shot up even more. You guys know that blogger, Lingdang? I think she straight-up joined XXZ’s fan club.]
—8L
[Lingdang? Yeah, I know her. This is exactly her type. She has sharp instincts when it comes to idols. Now that you mention it, I’m kind of tempted to stan him too.]
[But would the production team really try to suppress XXZ? No way, he was only ranked 42nd last week. Even without cutting slots, it wouldn’t be his turn to attend the event anyway.]
—9L
[That was because only casual fans were voting in the first two weeks. Now that Lingdang is involved, he finally has a dedicated voting team. The production team definitely has access to real-time data. I can’t shake the feeling that this is because of him.]
—10L
[Yep, fits my impression of Super Rookie’s production team perfectly—cowardly yet shady.]
—11L
[If they have internal data, then this slot is probably out of reach no matter what… Poor guy.]
[Screw it, I’m casting two votes for him. His self-composed song from the debut stage was actually amazing.]
—12L
[+1. I was actually annoyed by his company’s over-the-top marketing at first, but this is just straight-up b*llying.]
—13L
[Ugh, I hate how capitalists treat survival show fans like clueless cash cows. Ahhh, Sister Lingdang, can you step up and lead the casual fans to push back against the production team?]
—14L
…
