Superstar Ch.73

Chapter 73: Big Chicken Leg

Guan Heng left the dormitory that very night.

He didn’t tell a single person.

His luggage had been packed long ago. He didn’t have much to begin with.

When he left, he only pulled a suitcase behind him. Fans were waiting at the entrance. The weather was a bit chilly. The young girls, who had somehow gotten the news, stood there shivering, their lips turning pale from the cold. Yet, they stubbornly refused to leave, only staring at the empty iron gate.

He hadn’t planned to walk in that direction, but in the end, he took a detour.

He waved toward the iron gate and said, “Don’t worry.” Then, as his name was suddenly called out in a chorus of loud voices, he stepped into the car.

The heater was on inside.

His cousin had come to pick him up. He wasn’t in the entertainment industry—just happened to be passing by.

Soft music played in the car. His cousin said, “Brother, your parents are at my place. How about having dinner together tonight?”

He agreed, but for a brief moment, he was dazed by a certain name.

Ai Qingyuan never showed up in the end.

Guan Heng felt a bit of regret, yet also a bit of relief.

Regret for the years of feelings they had shared—his departure had been so sudden that, in the end, they hadn’t even had a proper conversation. Relief that he had met Xie Xizhao.

Xie Xizhao understood him.

So the words left unsaid—there was someone to say them for him.

That was enough.

The car started moving. He watched in the rearview mirror as the place that had once rekindled his last sliver of hope gradually faded from sight.

He knew he would never return.

He would run toward his own future.

He wasn’t sure what that future would look like, but at this moment, he felt lighter than ever before.

—

Meanwhile, on the other side, as soon as Xie Xizhao finished speaking, Ai Qingyuan’s eyes turned red.

The rooftop had neither air conditioning nor heating. With so few people around, the cold felt even more piercing. The young man stood there, staring at the refined and gentle-looking boy in front of him as if he had just said something utterly unforgivable.

Xie Xizhao said, “…Don’t glare at me.”

The way he was being stared at was unnerving.

After a moment’s thought, he asked, “Want some candy?”

He pulled out a handful of milk candies he had swiped from Fu Wenze’s stash.

Ai Qingyuan didn’t take any.

Xie Xizhao silently put them back into his pocket, peeled one open, and chewed on it himself.

After finishing it, he left the rooftop.

Ai Qingyuan didn’t follow. But as Xie Xizhao went downstairs, he caught a glimpse of Ai Qingyuan’s dejected figure reflected in the glass.

—

Ai Qingyuan was in a slump for days.

He had been in bad moods before. When he was in a bad mood, his face would turn stormy, and he would speak even less than usual. People rarely provoked him at times like that. But he had never been this completely silent.

Even Fu Wenze found it hard to watch.

He had some idea of what was going on, though he didn’t know the full story.

“It’s just withdrawing from a competition. It’s not like you’ll never talk to each other again. Is this really necessary?” he said, his tone full of disapproval.

He had always disliked Ai Qingyuan—found him unbearable in every possible way.

Ai Qingyuan didn’t respond.

At first, he said nothing at all. Then, after a long pause, he muttered, “…Maybe we won’t talk again.”

His voice was hoarse.

Fu Wenze nearly forgot to put down the dumbbell in his hand.

He looked at Ai Qingyuan, then at Xie Xizhao, who was pretending to just be passing by. For some reason, he felt like something about today was just off.

He had deliberately provoked Ai Qingyuan when he was in a bad mood, expecting him to explode. But not only did Ai Qingyuan not lash out, he actually explained himself.

Though the explanation was clumsy and awkwardly timed, it was still an explanation.

That was unexpected enough to make the sky rain fire.

After Ai Qingyuan left, Fu Wenze turned to Xie Xizhao and asked, “Has he lost his mind?”

Xie Xizhao: “…”

That was direct.

“Maybe,” he replied. “Or he’s had a personality change.”

Fu Wenze didn’t get it. “Just because Guan Heng withdrew from the competition?”

Xie Xizhao: “Mm.”

Fu Wenze: “…”

He didn’t understand, but he accepted it.

At least with Ai Qingyuan’s temper improving, he had fewer things to worry about.

Still, sometimes, he found himself missing the noisy atmosphere of their dorm back when Guan Heng was around.

—

On the fifth day of Ai Qingyuan’s slump, Xie Xizhao sat down in front of him with a tray of food.

He said, “Still mad at me?”

Ai Qingyuan: “…”

“When was I ever mad at you?” he retorted.

Ridiculous.

It really wasn’t anger. He just didn’t want to face him. The kid had a thin skin—being called out so directly made him feel both guilty and regretful, so his instinct was to avoid the source of those emotions altogether.

Xie Xizhao understood that perfectly.

He understood, but still teased, “You’ve been ignoring me for days.”

“You don’t even invite me to eat anymore,” he added, his voice carrying a hint of grievance.

Ai Qingyuan: “…”

Seriously?

How old was he?

Couldn’t he just eat by himself?

He started glaring at Xie Xizhao again, but halfway through, he suddenly remembered something.

Xie Xizhao watched as his expression twisted through a storm of emotions before finally settling into something indescribably aggrieved.

“…Fine, I’ll invite you next time,” Ai Qingyuan said.

Xie Xizhao nearly choked.

Turning away, he coughed a few times. Ai Qingyuan shot him a look full of disdain but still handed him a tissue.

Xie Xizhao calmed himself after choking and still said, “Just act normal.”

Ai Qingyuan was filled with sorrow. “How am I not normal?”

Xie Xizhao replied, “Even if you want to change your temper, take it slow. And don’t overdo it.”

It was scary.

Ai Qingyuan: “…”

He wanted to say something but swallowed the words back.

In the end, he muttered, “I don’t know how.”

His voice was muffled, weighed down by all the frustration, self-reproach, and grievances he had built up over the past few days.

He truly didn’t know how.

From childhood to now, he had never cared about anyone else’s feelings. Even at home, if he wanted to slam a door, he slammed it. His family members weren’t the type to be “hurt” by words.

His parents—especially his father—had said plenty of cutting remarks when they were in a bad mood, but he just let them pass like the wind.

He never learned how to be considerate of others.

All he knew was that being with people like Guan Heng and Xie Xizhao felt comfortable, but he never thought about why. Or why people often kept their distance from him.

Xie Xizhao read his expression and sighed quietly in his heart.

Then he said, “If your brother knew how hard you were trying, he’d be really pleased.”

Ai Qingyuan suddenly fell silent.

A moment later, he said, “Actually, that thing you said that day—it wasn’t just because of my temper, was it?”

Not suitable to be friends.

Why wouldn’t they be suitable?

His lack of empathy was one reason, but the real reason was the huge gap between his and Guan Heng’s backgrounds.

If his emotional intelligence had been just a little higher, maybe he could have avoided some of the conflicts that difference created.

 But the gap still existed.

“You’ve really improved,” Xie Xizhao praised, his tone like he was complimenting a child.

Ai Qingyuan snorted and lowered his head, poking at the rice grains with his chopsticks.

Then, he said, “These past few days, I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I kept saying I wanted to compete with you fairly… but honestly, it was never really fair, was it?”

There was a hint of self-mockery in his voice.

—

He had been thinking about a lot these days.

He couldn’t fully understand Guan Heng’s feelings, because he had never been in such a difficult situation.

Likewise, his so-called “fair competition” with Xie Xizhao was actually something nurtured in a controlled environment by the company and the show. He prided himself on stepping out of his family’s shadow, but in reality, he was still benefiting from the privileges of the Ai surname.

And he hadn’t really rejected them, either.

In comparison, Xie Xizhao had reached the top spot despite facing so much suppression—not just because of his talent, but also because of his intelligence and emotional awareness.

The gap between them was more than just a little.

“I lost,” Ai Qingyuan admitted. “But… I don’t know what to do next.”

He looked up at Xie Xizhao, pressing his lips together before finally asking, “Can you… can you teach me?”

Saying those words almost cost him all of his pride.

He had truly grown up overnight.

And it took a lesson he would never forget.

Xie Xizhao studied his face for a moment before saying, “What you just said—it’s true. But there’s one thing I never told you.”

Ai Qingyuan blinked.

Xie Xizhao smiled slightly. “Guan Heng is a good person, but he isn’t the type to be friends with just anyone. Being friends with you is exhausting, and after everything, he still looked after you. Even when the company asked him to dig up dirt on you, he refused.”

“You know why?”

Ai Qingyuan froze.

Xie Xizhao took a leisurely sip of water and said, “Your brother said not to contact him for now.”

Ai Qingyuan: !

The dark cloud over his heart instantly lifted, and he finally saw the light at the end of the tunnel.

Right!

Guan Heng said for now!

That meant he wasn’t completely hopeless—he still had redeeming qualities. Guan Heng was just temporarily disappointed in him, which meant… there was still a chance to make amends.

That thought filled him with renewed determination.

Xie Xizhao saw the shift in his expression and knew his fighting spirit had been reignited. He simply smiled and finished his sentence, “As for everything else, that’s a balance you’ll have to figure out for yourself.”

“I’m still figuring it out too,” he said. “All of us are.”

“For me, when it comes to this kind of thing, one of my guiding principles in life is—having no regrets.”

“If I can do that,” he continued, “I think that’s enough.”

Wealth and status were objective realities.

Xie Xizhao understood this well.

As someone at the peak of the entertainment industry, doors opened for him everywhere, whether intentionally or not. That was just how the world worked. Back when he had to play the villain, he constantly reminded himself—

Reminded himself that if one day he reached the top, he must not forget his original intent.

Not to be too harsh on himself, but also not to indulge himself. To live without regrets.

Ai Qingyuan suddenly understood.

Looking back now, everything that had happened felt like a fleeting dream.

After a long moment, he solemnly said, “Thank you.”

“…Saying thanks doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you for letting the chicken leg go cold,” Xie Xizhao reminded him. “Are you eating it or not?”

That was the last chicken leg—juicy, tender, and full of flavor.

In the end, the dazed Ai Qingyuan, who had been sitting in front of him, picked up the drumstick.

He had been eyeing it for a long time.

Ai Qingyuan: “…”

All his earlier gratitude instantly vanished. Gritting his teeth, he snapped, “Eat, eat, eat! All you know is eating!”

“Take it!”

Xie Xizhao blinked. “Really?”

Ai Qingyuan: “Take your chicken leg and get out of my grasslands, thank you.”

Xie Xizhao quietly took the chicken leg and, in return, placed a cup of yogurt in front of Ai Qingyuan. Then, he happily ate.

At that very moment, the forums and fan discussions related to Super Rookie were once again in an uproar.

At exactly noon, the song selection for the third public performance had closed.

And in the last five minutes before the deadline, the battle for votes had been nothing short of dramatic.

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