Chapter 69: Boasting to the Extreme
By the time the ranking episode aired, the song selection battle had already been in full swing.
Except for the rap group, the competition in Fu Wenze’s camp had been mostly stable, with a significant lead in votes—largely thanks to Qi Hang, who had inexplicably decided to jump in and stir things up, igniting a sense of rivalry. Meanwhile, the other groups had escalated from minor conflicts to full-scale battles.
Some analyzed the situation and concluded that, at its core, the way the groups had been divided this time had been too subtle and intricate.
The “Pause” Group.
Lu Xing and Yun Pan. The former had gone through a wave of emotional turmoil with fans during the first public performance but had solidified his core fanbase. By the second performance, he had climbed back to fourth place. Although his stage performance hadn’t attracted many new fans, his loyal supporters had stayed. Yun Pan, on the other hand, had skyrocketed in popularity after the second round.
Strictly speaking, based on rankings alone, Yun Pan had still been slightly behind Lu Xing.
However, Yun Pan had recently gained many new fans from his second performance, and they had been at the peak of their enthusiasm. Many of his supporters were “mom fans”—fans who treated him like their own child. The b*llying incident had shattered their hearts, and they had sworn never to let him return to Wenyao. Their determination had been almost fanatical.
As a result, the two had been locked in a fierce battle, with Yun Pan’s side even leading in votes for longer periods.
Vocal Group B – Emotional Song “A Fleeting Glance”
Among the three members, Guan Heng had held the highest ranking. However, his ranking had dropped sharply, reflecting a severe loss of fans. Shi Song had been different—his unique personal style had made him less appealing to the general public, but he had remained steadily in the top ten due to his strong, dedicated fanbase.
Shi Song’s supporters had chosen to compete against Guan Heng to boost their morale. Meanwhile, Guan Heng’s camp had believed that, even in decline, he had still been stronger than the competition. This move had been seen as a serious provocation, leading to an intense standoff.
Amidst the battle between the two camps, no one had noticed that Zou Yi’s vote count had not been far behind.
“Zou Yi’s popularity has been rising quite a bit recently,” Fu Wenze remarked.
He noticed that Xie Xizhao seemed quite interested in all the off-stage drama as well, which made him strongly suspect that the only reason he had willingly handed over his phone was simply because he was lazy and didn’t want to socialize. Though he found it amusing, he still explained everything—after all, Xie Xizhao had been practicing hard lately, and this was a rare moment for him to relax.
Xie Xizhao, unaware of his internal musings, was just surprised that the usually expressionless and cool-headed guy was actually into gossip. At the same time, he seemed to be deep in thought.
“His vocals are actually quite appealing,” he said. “With the years of training he’s put in, he’s a solid lead vocalist. His disadvantages are his age and personality, and the persona his company assigned him isn’t exactly likable.”
Zou Yi was 26, Guan Heng was 24—their age gap was only two years. Neither of them looked particularly old.
However, when comparing their personalities, even though both were known for being kind, Guan Heng had been labeled as “gentle” and “charming,” while Zou Yi had ended up with the tags of “caring like a mom” and “nice guy.”
Essentially, they meant the same thing.
It just showed that the company wasn’t putting much effort into him, and neither Zou Yi nor his fans were particularly proactive in fighting for his image.
“Their company must have a favored trainee, right?” Fu Wenze thought for a moment. “Though I can’t remember who.”
“The one from Group Fourteen, Yu Pei,” Xie Xizhao recalled. “His label is ‘ACE.’ He’s got decent all-around skills and is pretty young.”
He didn’t say the rest of what he was thinking, but the implication was clear—Yu Pei was too easily replaceable.
An ACE was supposed to be someone who could perform well in every category, ideally with a particular strength that stood out. If someone was only mediocre at everything, then at the very least, they needed to have an exceptionally good-looking face to attract fans.
If neither was the case, then a specialist with a memorable skillset was actually a better bet.
After all, in idol groups, everyone could sing and dance, and with multiple members, their strengths could complement each other.
Fu Wenze had been thinking along the same lines.
“So, who do you think will win this group?” he asked.
Xie Xizhao answered honestly, “Shi Song or Zou Yi.”
Fu Wenze was slightly surprised. “Guan Heng has never dropped out of the top five before.” In truth, he still predicted that Guan Heng would come out on top in the end.
Xie Xizhao remained silent.
After a while, he let out a sigh.
When it came to people he was familiar with, he wasn’t too keen on making comments—especially when it involved anything negative.
Fu Wenze understood and naturally moved on to discussing the final group, which, coincidentally, was somewhat connected to the previous one. “It looks like Qitai and Shenghong are about to become enemies over this.”
Xie Xizhao raised his head in surprise.
—
The Last Group: Ai Qingyuan vs. Qiao Ye.
If the previous groups’ battles had been tense but still centered around vote counts, then this one had turned into an outright ugly feud.
The reason was simple—Qiao Ye’s agency, Qitai Media, had manipulated the votes.
During the day, Ai Qingyuan had been leading in votes, but by the time everyone woke up the next morning, Qiao Ye had suddenly overtaken him. When fans looked into the vote growth, they found that the surge had all happened in the middle of the night. Qiao Ye’s supporters adamantly claimed that it was simply because their fandom had more night owls.
Ai Qingyuan’s fans endured it for two days before finally snapping.
By the time Fu Wenze brought this up to Xie Xizhao, the situation had already escalated to the point where Ai Qingyuan’s fans were tagging Stardust Entertainment, demanding an official vote audit. The company eventually did clear out the suspicious votes, but the damage had already been done—many were left disgusted by the whole ordeal.
At this point, every group had been caught in some form of battle—except for rap group A and dance group B, which had miraculously remained unscathed.
No fandom had ever imagined they’d see a day like this.
And late at night, when everything settled down, many of them couldn’t help but think about Xie Xizhao.
Was Xie Xizhao talented?
Yes.
Not only was he skilled, but he also had outstanding looks and a compelling personality. Most importantly, he was famous for cherishing his fans.
If they had chosen to support Xie Xizhao instead of their current favorite, they could have been enjoying a peaceful, stress-free experience right now.
Some people merely entertained the thought, while others took action.
As a result, while every fandom was busy securing their existing fans, Xie Xizhao’s camp quietly gained a wave of new supporters.
Since the fans had nothing better to do, they happily welcomed the newcomers, celebrating with gongs and drums, basking in the joyous atmosphere. Just as the fandom was reveling in its harmony, the ranking episode was released.
—
On the day of the ranking release, Xie Xizhao’s fans made a small effort.
His competitor’s fans had been persistently closing the vote gap over the past few days, narrowing it from twenty times down to nineteen. Sensing a slight crisis, Xie Xizhao’s fans reluctantly tore themselves away from their collection of aesthetic edits and life appreciation videos.
Five minutes before the episode aired, they managed to push the multiplier back to twenty. With a sigh of relief, they settled in to enjoy the show.
Even though they had anticipated it, actually seeing Xie Xizhao standing in first place sent the live comment section into a brief frenzy. Various forums jumped on the hype, igniting another round of discussion.
This time, first place was no longer just a rumor circulating among gossip enthusiasts—it had become an undeniable fact.
The ranking board at the end of the episode had quietly shifted. Superfans flooded social media with screenshots, documenting this historic moment.
Ai Qingyuan’s fans, still exhausted from dealing with the relentless provocations outside, had little desire to check the rankings. But this wasn’t the kind of thing they could simply ignore—especially when Qiao Ye’s fans were openly mocking them: “Oh? Wasn’t he supposed to be the undisputed center?”
They couldn’t even fight back.
The other side had been gathering strength for who knows how long. If they engaged, not only would they suffer losses, but they also had a liability weighing them down.
The stark contrast between overwhelming satisfaction and utter frustration was almost comical. And so, once again, a visible shift occurred as fans quietly swapped sides in a sort of equilibrium of quality control.
Xie Xizhao’s fandom basked in the afterglow of their idol’s victory, celebrating as if it were the New Year.
And at that very moment, his official fan club tagged everyone with a new announcement:
[New content is here! 8 PM tonight—don’t forget to check out fresh, gorgeous Xiao Zhao~]
The entire fandom perked up instantly.
—
The topic of the Top 5 group photoshoot had already been discussed online for a while. However, the main focus of the discussion had been somewhat… off-track.
Most fans were worried about whether their rookies could survive the lens of the infamously questionable magazine photographer. A smaller portion of the discussion, however, revolved around something else:
[Wait, the production team isn’t suppressing Xie Xizhao anymore?]
Everyone still remembered how the show had changed the rules in the first public performance just to target Xie Xizhao.
At the time, it hadn’t seemed like much, but looking back, it was full of deliberate manipulation. Then, during the second round, he had been given an unfairly edited cut to make him look bad. Now that the show was suddenly showing him leniency, it actually felt strange.
The comments under the discussion were brutally honest:
[Dude, he’s almost more popular than the show itself. If they keep suppressing him, he’ll just leave. The platform isn’t stupid.]
[Correction: he already is.]
And just like that, everyone understood the situation and moved on.
After all, it didn’t affect the whole cast, and with everything else happening lately, people had almost forgotten about it.
That was, until the magazine started teasing the photoshoot.
When they finally remembered, though, no one took it too seriously.
It was just a magazine shoot.
They’d all stand in a row, and the photographer would snap a picture.
The only real concern was—what if it turned out ugly?
So, the fans of all Top 5 contestants—including Xie Xizhao’s—were fully prepared. They had comment control strategies and damage control phrases ready to go.
Xie Xizhao’s fandom wasn’t worried about his looks. Their main concern was the photographer’s skills (or lack thereof).
And so, as everyone waited with bated breath, at exactly 8 PM, the magazine finally released its first teaser image.
It was a solo teaser.
The moment fans saw the image, every social media group and forum fell into a brief silence—and then exploded all at once.
—
The image was nothing short of a masterpiece.
At the center of the composition, a figure sat casually at the edge of a black cube. His face was partially veiled by a soft, white mist, obscuring his features and leaving only the delicate curve of his side profile visible. The viewer could just make out his slightly downcast eyes through the haze.
His gaze was unhurried and composed—at the very least, it was neither startled nor uneasy. His posture was relaxed and natural, exuding an effortless grace.
In this unaffected ease, beauty was quietly outlined. Everywhere the eye landed, it met the purity of white.
The white fabric of his clothing stood out against the black cube. His collar was slightly open, revealing a hint of soft, fair skin. The delicate lobe of his ear peeked through. And then, there was his hand—so exquisite that it was hard to tell whether the simple ring on his finger was more captivating, or if it was the slender elegance of his fingers and wrist that truly stole the attention.
This was an image of subtle yet stunning beauty—an image that could be called a work of art.
What made the entire picture truly ethereal was that faint wisp of mist. It stripped away excess sensuality, replacing it with a sense of refinement and restraint. The smooth fabric of his clothing flowed in just the right way—everything that should be covered was covered, and everything that shouldn’t be was left openly, effortlessly displayed.
Including the one feature instantly recognizable to all—that stunningly elegant waist and those long, beautifully toned legs.
Among the Top 5, there was only one person with a physique like that.
The same person who was about to take the stage in an elaborate, technically demanding Chinese dance performance. And at that moment, just from one photograph, everyone could already imagine how breathtaking that performance would be.
Almost instantly, a flood of comments poured in below the post:
[Holy—! This is divine!]
[I knew he was handsome, but I never imagined he’d look this good in a magazine shoot—this is unreal!]
[I’m at a loss for words… This is too seductive. Does anyone else see it? This is such an obvious tease—baby, I forbid you from leaving your collar that open!]
[Aaaaaahhh why is Zhaozhao so good at taking my new life-defining picture?!]
[He didn’t even show his face—this is insane!]
Yes, this was a perfect shot.
The composition, the color palette, the angle—every element was flawless, a clear testament to the meticulous effort the photographer put into capturing the moment.
But the most astonishing thing wasn’t the photography itself—it was the sheer expressiveness of the person in the frame.
His face wasn’t even visible.
And yet, because there was no face to rely on, the demand for body language and posture was even greater. There’s a saying: Even a single strand of hair should tell a story. In this case, it was his fingertips that were so exquisitely perfect they conveyed an entire narrative on their own.
Everyone already knew Xie Xizhao was good-looking.
But good-looking people were everywhere. The entertainment industry wasn’t lacking in people with perfect bone structure.
What was rare was this.
For someone to be this effortlessly composed in their very first magazine shoot, without a single misplaced moment that disrupted the artistic vision—that was almost unheard of.
Any lingering doubts his fans had evaporated the moment they saw the image.
Screw hesitation.
They were going to hype him up to the heavens!
And this…
This was only the beginning.
Over the next twenty-four hours, everyone would come to witness what true, unconditional favoritism from a magazine looked like.
