Chapter 78: Stunningly Beautiful
Zou Yi was stunned for a long time until Xie Xizhao reminded him, “The soup is getting cold.”
He snapped out of his daze and picked up his spoon again.
After finishing the soup and tidying up, they both sat down again.
Zou Yi sat on his bed, while Xie Xizhao sat by the small table, curled up in his warm sweater, looking soft and cozy.
Zou Yi said, “I remember I almost argued with you back then.”
He was referring to the time when Xie Xizhao took their team to perform on stage at the theater as part of a psychological training exercise.
He had asked Xie Xizhao whether it was worth it to give away his own chance to be in the spotlight. Deep down, he already had his own answer. But Xie Xizhao had said it was worth it and had even asked him if he had ever considered his fans.
It had been a bit embarrassing.
For him, that was.
He had known that Xie Xizhao was right, but the truth was often hard to hear, and human nature favored pleasing words.
Xie Xizhao hadn’t been unaware that his words were harsh, but he had still chosen to say them because he genuinely thought it was a pity. Zou Yi hadn’t realized it at the time, but later, he had thought it over.
But what was the use of realizing it afterward?
“Our company…” He hesitated. “Actually, this time I came here…”
“…just to make an appearance.” Xie Xizhao finished his sentence for him. “After this, you’ll go back to leading a team. The company already told you that you had no chance of debuting this time because you’re too old, and the platform doesn’t favor you.”
Zou Yi was left speechless.
Xie Xizhao had repeated exactly what his manager had said.
In fact, ever since he had been in the company for years, gaining some exposure but never amassing many fans, the company had been telling him the same things:
He had no talent.
He was too old.
He lacked audience appeal—young people didn’t like someone like him.
When he was in his early twenties, he had still refused to accept it. But as time passed, watching his fan count grow at a painfully slow pace, grinding day after day in relentless practice, he occasionally asked himself: Am I really suited to be an idol?
That question lingered until the company appointed him as a team leader.
Looking at the young, beautiful newcomers, he suddenly realized—perhaps his idol career really would end like this.
Leading a small group. Never the core of the team, never the top in popularity. He would be praised for his gentle nature and good temper, with a small but loyal group of fans who loved him. And that would be it.
For a time, he thought—this wasn’t so bad.
At the very least, he could still continue walking this idol path.
So he followed the company’s instructions.
He did as they said, looking after the promising newcomers in the group, helping them with their troubles.
One of the company’s golden boys once confided in him, “Brother, I feel so exhausted. The pressure is overwhelming.” Zou Yi comforted him the entire night, yet deep down, an inexplicable bitterness welled up inside him.
In that moment, he realized—he was still unwilling to accept it.
Silence filled the air for a moment before Zou Yi finally spoke. “…It’s the truth.”
“You’ve been br*inwashed hard,” Xie Xizhao said.
He paused for a beat. “If all of that is true, then why was your stage performance just now ranked so high?”
The highest votes of the night had gone to Xie Xizhao, followed by Ai Qingyuan.
Zou Yi had even surpassed Fu Wenze, ranking third.
Their votes had been close, but it was undeniable—his performance tonight had stunned the audience.
Zou Yi was speechless.
Xie Xizhao let out a sigh.
Xie Xizhao said, “Sure, some of what the company says is true. Being 26 in this industry—especially in survival shows—isn’t exactly young. But I believe, more than anything, they’re just making excuses for their own incompetence and trying to keep you in line.”
He had seen this happen far too many times.
More precisely, he had encountered too many companies that trampled on their trainees’ youth.
Even in major entertainment agencies, only the chosen ones got to ride the wave of success.
Companies like Yaoxin, with its relaxed atmosphere and humane approach, weren’t just rare in the industry—they were almost nonexistent. That was the main reason he had chosen Yaoxin in the first place.
He didn’t want to be shackled, nor did he want to play mind games within a company.
But Zou Yi had clearly suffered deeply from it all.
His words had struck something in Zou Yi, hitting the most buried part of his heart. Zou Yi parted his lips slightly but said nothing.
Xie Xizhao softened his tone and teased, “Back then, you were ready to argue with me. So why didn’t you fight for a better part this time? I bet Shi Song came to you about it.”
Zou Yi looked a little embarrassed. “You… know everything, huh?”
Xie Xizhao spared Shi Song some dignity by not mentioning the sharp words he had said in the past.
Zou Yi explained, “I wouldn’t call it a conflict between us. It just got exaggerated when people spread it around. He was just unhappy about not getting center, but when I told him I wasn’t willing to give it up, he didn’t push any further.”
That did align with Shi Song’s personality.
Xie Xizhao understood immediately.
Then he heard Zou Yi say, “Because this center position was a gift from my fans—it’s not mine to give away.”
His voice was soft.
He had taken Xie Xizhao’s words to heart.
Xie Xizhao felt a sudden warmth in his chest.
He said, “They would be so happy to hear that.”
Zou Yi smiled, his eyes filled with gentle warmth.
Xie Xizhao had only asked casually.
Zou Yi had always been someone who kept his thoughts deeply buried, and sometimes, even Xie Xizhao felt at a loss with him.
But people like him—once they figured things out, they truly figured them out. That night, Zou Yi talked to Xie Xizhao about many things.
He said that, at first, he never even considered that he would have the chance to stand at the center of the stage. When he first received the news, he had been completely stunned. But right after that came a wave of emotion.
In that moment, he realized—he had always said he loved his fans, but he had never truly acted on it.
What his fans wanted most was for him to stand in the center, shining bright. Yet he had given up without even trying, just because of what the company expected of him. That wasn’t just disrespecting his fans—it was disrespecting the stage itself.
Then, he brought up Guan Heng.
“I contacted Xiao Guan a couple of days ago,” he said.
Xie Xizhao hadn’t heard much about Guan Heng lately. “How’s he doing?” he asked.
“He’s doing well,” Zou Yi replied. “He told me that when he decided to withdraw from the competition, he was actually influenced by you. He didn’t want to keep drifting aimlessly anymore—he wanted to find a new path for himself.”
It was the fans who had moved Zou Yi, but what truly solidified his determination was that phone call.
Guan Heng had been in the same situation as him, yet he had the courage to make the choice he wanted.
So why couldn’t he?
“No matter whether I debut in the end, no matter if I get scolded by the company when I go back,” Zou Yi said, “I don’t care anymore. I want to fight for myself this time.”
Xie Xizhao said, “They won’t scold you.”
His tone was meaningful. “Even if they wanted to, they won’t anymore.”
Zou Yi froze for a moment.
—
Xie Xizhao’s words hadn’t been baseless.
About ten days later, Zou Yi received a message from his manager, saying she would be making a trip to the show. She didn’t specify why, but her tone was uncharacteristically gentle.
Zou Yi wasn’t naive enough to ask directly—he simply logged into his alternate Weibo account.
Sure enough, one of his performance clips had gone viral.
The song A Fleeting Glance had long been a staple for drama and CP edit videos. The original version had been sung by a male singer in his forties, but Zou Yi’s rendition carried the unique charm of a young voice. When the performance aired, the audience response was overwhelmingly positive.
Sensing an opportunity, marketing accounts dug up his past work, including an old compilation of his song covers.
Fans, still hungry for more after watching the performance, immediately clicked in.
And what they heard shocked them—Zou Yi’s vocal skills were suddenly known far and wide. Combined with his consistently positive public image, he quickly attracted a wave of new fans to the show.
His sudden rise caught the platform off guard.
But his old company had already started taking action.
His former agency, Haoyue, wasn’t a big company. Realistically, they knew they weren’t capable of securing a debut slot for anyone.
They had initially pinned their hopes on their main promoted trainee becoming the next big star, but the kid’s performance had remained mediocre.
Just as they were growing anxious, they realized that another trainee they had sent was starting to show real breakout potential.
Haoyue wasn’t exactly a company with high-level vision. They lacked a structured training system for their trainees, let alone any long-term career planning. Their approach to signing trainees was more like scattering seeds at random—whoever ended up growing into something valuable was purely by chance.
The fact that the breakout star wasn’t the one they had expected didn’t matter—as long as someone could make money for the company, they were a good investment.
So, the company stepped in. Zou Yi’s momentum kept building, and before anyone realized it, he had become the dark horse among the remaining trainees.
Of course, this was just one of the many topics buzzing among show fans recently.
The real headline after the third public performance—
Or rather, the meteor-sized crater that crashed into the industry—was Xie Xizhao’s group and their traditional Chinese-style stage.
—
For the past few days, Xie Xizhao had been caught up in endless schedules.
His popularity had recently skyrocketed. His breakout moment had started with the second public performance, and his magazine sales had hit new highs. However, his choice for the third performance left some casual viewers puzzled, giving anti-fans an opportunity to stir up controversy.
Some claimed that performance reviews were exaggerated, while others accused him of being a media-hyped artist.
Of course, no one said this to his face.
It was an awkward situation, one that undoubtedly involved multiple companies. Those competing for the center position wanted to drag him down, while even those who weren’t vying for it hoped his popularity would drop—otherwise, if he debuted, it would be a one-versus-four scenario, which would make things look bad.
Xie Xizhao was well aware of all this, but he didn’t care much.
Negative press and smear campaigns only worked when someone was already down; otherwise, they simply fueled the hype.
And sure enough, the moment their traditional Chinese-style performance aired, all those voices disappeared.
The sheer professionalism of the performance left the trolls speechless.
Most fans weren’t experts, but they could tell when a stage was breathtaking or not.
And this stage was stunning beyond words.
And on that stage, Xie Xizhao was even more stunning—so stunning it was almost unreal.
His fans, thrilled and overjoyed, eagerly consumed this feast for the senses. In their excitement, they pushed him into an overwhelming first place—
Of course, this was internal backstage data.
The show’s production team finally gave up on trying to suppress him.
They had no choice but to promote him properly and arrange for him to appear in spin-off variety shows.
The gap continued to widen, and by the third elimination round, Xie Xizhao had left the second-place contestant, Ai Qingyuan, far behind.
With this elimination, the show’s popularity saw yet another subtle shift.
—
On the day of the third elimination, Xie Xizhao sat with his dormmates.
Last elimination, Ji Yan had been beside him, guessing rankings like it was just yesterday. Now, with that memory still fresh in his mind, his mood wasn’t great. The usual faint smile was gone from his face as he half-listened to the rankings while lost in thought.
Only fifteen trainees would remain after this round.
Naturally, Xia Xize was eliminated, but Yang Yinping managed to cling to fifteenth place—an unexpected but pleasant surprise.
The biggest drop belonged to Qi Hang, who plummeted from fifth to ninth place.
Next was Lu Xing, who fell from the debut lineup to seventh place.
Meanwhile, Zou Yi climbed from eleventh to eighth. Given how tight the votes were in the top ten, this was an astonishing rise.
Aside from that, most rankings fluctuated only slightly.
Shi Song remained steady in tenth place. Ye Yiyang moved up slightly to sixth, while Fu Wenze and Yun Pan both entered the top five, ranking fourth and fifth, respectively.
As for the top three, their rankings hadn’t budged at all.
Xie Xizhao only snapped out of his daze when the top three were called onto the stage.
Ai Qingyuan had already accepted the reality of the situation, while Qiao Ye scratched his nose with a slightly disgruntled expression.
It felt like the top rankings were an impenetrable fortress.
As usual, the three of them gave their speeches.
But on the way back to the dorms, Fu Wenze commented, “The real battle is about to begin.”
Xie Xizhao simply smiled.
He knew Fu Wenze was right.
After the third public performance, there were no more eliminations. The remaining trainees all had a real chance of making it into the debut lineup. Compared to this, the previous smear campaigns and manipulative marketing tactics were nothing more than minor skirmishes.
Before the real battle began, however, there was still one customary event to go through.
“Have you decided which headband you’re going to wear for the fan meeting?” Fu Wenze asked.
Xie Xizhao’s mouth twitched slightly. He pretended not to hear and silently looked up at the sky.
