Chapter 80: Fixated on Money
This was simply too audacious.
Many of Xie Xizhao’s fans recognized Jing Jin, but there were also quite a few solo fans who didn’t know her well—let alone outsiders. For a moment, several people around them turned to look, and the cautious staff members assumed they had encountered an overly enthusiastic fan and were about to step in to stop her.
Xie Xizhao spoke up just in time, “It’s fine. She’s my cousin.”
The staff members looked slightly surprised.
The young girl beamed at him and pulled a head veil out of her pocket.
The staff: “……”
One of them cast Xie Xizhao a sympathetic glance before returning to his position.
Jing Jin wasn’t upset about being mistaken. On the contrary, she was quite satisfied. After all, the show’s production team had been suppressing Xie Xizhao all along, and his fans outside were always worried that he was being treated unfairly in other ways as well.
But now, it seemed that Stardust still recognized itself as a major platform and cared about its reputation.
She handed him the head veil, and Xie Xizhao resignedly accepted it. As he took pictures with her, he also chatted with her.
Calling it small talk wasn’t quite accurate. They were family, after all, so casual indifference wasn’t really an option.
Xie Xizhao asked, “What are you doing here?”
Time was limited—one asked quickly, and the other answered just as fast.
Jing Jin replied, “Didn’t the fan club get some slots? One of the big sisters had something come up, and the others felt awkward about coming and making all sorts of requests. I seemed like the best choice.”
Xie Xizhao: “…”
So they felt awkward making requests, but had no problem playing the family card.
His fans’ logic was flawless.
He tried on the head veil. The fabric was light and airy, and the design wasn’t too over-the-top. Down in the audience, a dedicated fan-site photographer was clearly working in sync with Jing Jin, snapping away furiously.
A few seconds later, Jing Jin handed him a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.
Xie Xizhao looked at her.
Jing Jin said, “If others have it, you should too.”
The “others” nearby, who had just been unexpectedly name-dropped, coughed lightly.
This family…
Yeah, they were all quite something.
Xie Xizhao chuckled and put on the glasses.
They were decorative, with no prescription, so wearing them didn’t feel uncomfortable. Jing Jin scrutinized him for a few seconds before commenting, “Brother, you look like a refined scoundrel.”
“Stop insulting me in a roundabout way.” Xie Xizhao laughed. “Hurry up—what else do you have? Don’t waste their time.”
In reality, only about thirty seconds had passed.
The fans behind them, having already caught on to what was happening, started joking that they wouldn’t mind giving up their own minute and a half for this. Of course, it was all in good fun. Jing Jin knew better than to push her luck, so she sped things up while rummaging through her bag.
“I’m keeping track of the time, I swear.”
Then, she pulled out a pair of fox ears.
This time, Xie Xizhao was genuinely curious. “So what exactly is my aesthetic?”
Why was there such a random assortment of accessories?
“There’s an ongoing battle,” Jing Jin sighed. “The cat faction and the bunny faction are at each other’s throats. Then there are a few saying you’re either a fox cub or a little wolfdog. They’re holding a vote right now, and a bunch of people are saying that whoever loses has to join the fundraising team.”
Xie Xizhao: “……”
“…Alright then.”
“What do you think?” Jing Jin blinked at him. “You can weigh in if you want.”
“I think I’m a person.” Xie Xizhao solemnly announced this groundbreaking fact. “But as long as you’re all having fun, that’s fine.”
The newly minted adult, Xie Xizhao, had certainly been photographed to his heart’s content this time. But since Jing Jin had grown up playing with him, every prop she chose suited him perfectly.
The most stunning one was a face chain.
It was a silver-and-black design, with just the right length and thickness—clearly a custom piece.
Beyond the decorative stars, moons, and diamonds, Xie Xizhao also noticed a tiny pendant in the shape of a die. The usual neon green had been replaced with an elegant black-and-white glow. Small as it was, it looked unexpectedly high-end.
Xie Xizhao loved it, and so did the fans in the audience.
He rarely wore formal attire—whether on stage or in casual settings, his outfits were always loose and relaxed. His magazine shoots had given fans a glimpse of his potential in a more refined style, and now, this face chain completed that image.
It was like adding a touch of ink to the heart of a refined gentleman.
And since Xie Xizhao was more at ease and unguarded around Jing Jin, for once, he let slip a bit of roguish charm.
Or, as Jing Jin put it, a true “refined scoundrel.”
A minute and a half passed, and Jing Jin left right on time, her mission accomplished. Before going, she left behind the face chain that Xie Xizhao had grown so fond of.
She had intended to give it to him from the start—she even brought a box for it.
During the last thirty seconds, she packed up while quickly running through everything she wanted to say. “Brother, make sure you eat well, rest well, and prepare for your performance properly in there. I’ll take care of things at home, and the voting is in the fans’ hands. By the way, I showed Auntie and the others your stage performance recently. Auntie said it actually looked pretty legit. I think they don’t really have any objections anymore. Uh, what else… let me think… oh, oh, oh! That!”
She said, “Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. We’re just here to have fun—just treat it like a game.”
She still remembered the time Xie Xizhao had left once before.
Compared to the fans, his family didn’t care as much about how great his achievements would be or whether he would end up in the center position. Of course, if Xie Xizhao wanted something, they were always willing to do what they could to help.
But more than anything, what they truly wished for was for their loved one to be safe, to get through everything smoothly.
And, most importantly, to be happy.
Xie Xizhao’s hands paused slightly. He looked at the girl in front of him, realizing that, in the time he had been away, she had already grown up.
After a brief moment, he said softly, “Alright.”
“Study well,” he added. “When I get back, I’ll take you out to have some fun.”
“It’s a promise!” Jing Jin’s eyes lit up as she stood up, making way for the next fan.
—
This time, although the fan meeting had fewer attendees, the buzz around it was noticeably higher than the previous one.
For one, the top contestants’ popularity was snowballing. Super Rookie was becoming more and more popular, drawing in a larger and larger casual audience. People would check for updates on the show even when they had nothing else to do—it had basically become the hottest variety show at the moment.
On the other hand, the meeting itself had gone exceptionally well.
Especially in the first half.
It was clear at a glance that the contestants were all very familiar with each other. Whether playing games or teasing each other with little interactions, it was evident that despite the competitive environment, the remaining contestants had built strong friendships.
Several funny clips from the show started trending.
But the one that really went viral was Xie Xizhao, Ai Qingyuan, and Fu Wenze’s mashup stage performance.
These three were already popular. People knew they were roommates, but since they hadn’t been in the same group recently, no one really talked about their friendship—it just wasn’t on anyone’s radar.
Lately, the fact that their schedules were perfectly in sync had caused a small stir, and this stage performance came at just the right moment.
The audience was surprised to find that their performance had an unexpectedly stunning effect. And among them, Xie Xizhao’s versatility once again shattered people’s previous perceptions of him.
“How can someone be this strong?”
That was the title of a trending forum thread.
Some were calling him the most deserving ACE in the history of idol survival shows, while many others—who had resisted up until now—finally fell into the fandom trap after the third public performance.
After all, this was someone who could be both cool and sweet, someone who could do it all. No matter what you were looking for in a star, you could probably find it in him.
He was, quite literally, the ideal choice for anyone looking to start stanning an idol.
Aside from performance clips, another thing that blew up was the fan-taken photos from Xie Xizhao’s meet-and-greet.
If people still weren’t sure of his impact from the trio’s stage, the sheer, almost absurd number of fan-taken images from the event left no doubt—he was completely outpacing the entire show in popularity.
The most obvious indicators were the number of fan-site photographers and the volume of pictures being released.
Xie Xizhao’s fan-site photographers had been steadily increasing, and he had already surpassed Ai Qingyuan, who had years of accumulated fans.
And this time, the number of photos being posted didn’t even match the number of photographers.
There were simply too many images of him. So many, in fact, that photographers from other fandoms were secretly using their alt accounts to post pictures of him. Some even went as far as abandoning their main accounts to switch over entirely.
And he more than lived up to the attention.
Fan-site photographers varied in skill—some had good cameras, some didn’t; some were pros at filters and color grading, while others weren’t. Yet, even the raw, unedited photos from newbie photographers still made him look impossibly good.
And that was before the official event photos even dropped.
The most stunning photo among them all was one taken by a particular fan-site photographer—a shot of Xie Xizhao wearing the face chain.
In the picture, the young man had his head slightly lowered as he signed his name on a poster, his eyes downcast. The curve of his profile was smooth and striking.
When he was focused, the usual smile disappeared from his face.
The silver chain draped across his face, giving him an air of aloof elegance and nobility.
The photographer behind this shot was the same friend who had come to the meet-and-greet with Jing Jin—also a dedicated solo fan of Xie Xizhao.
As soon as the photos were released, the reposts, likes, and comments exploded.
[I hereby declare this the god-tier aesthetic vibe. This is insanely gorgeous!!!]
[He really has that cold, untouchable white moonlight aura. Jing Jin, you’re a hero!!! And sister took such amazing photos!]
[His bone structure is just too perfect… The raw photos already looked stunning, and with just a slight filter, every shot is a masterpiece. Tell me this face wasn’t born for the big screen—even if he were just a silent eye-candy character!]
[Aaaah, stop talking, or people are gonna screenshot this and mock us again!]
[But come on, his features are naturally this sculpted. Looking at this, I’m seriously hallucinating that he’s signing a billion-dollar contract like a young CEO.]
[Wait, wasn’t he signing Jing Jin’s poster at that moment? I’m dying because the signature she posted later was like, ‘Study hard, make progress every day, and stop chasing idols’ aaaaah!]
[LMAO, I’m laughing so hard I might pass out.]
As the pictures continued to circulate, more and more casual viewers flooded the comments—some admiring his visuals, while others questioned the seemingly close relationship between the idol and his fan.
Misunderstandings arose, and of course, his fans rushed to clarify.
Before long, the trending topic had shifted to: #CanSomeoneGiveMeABigBrotherLikeThis
A well-known fan account, feeling deeply emotional, posted:
[Guys, who can relate? I read the meet-and-greet reports, and now I’m actually jealous. Someone please give me a superstar older brother so I can stan him too. [lemon emoji]]
The top comments were all in strong agreement.
[Not just a superstar—he has to be handsome and talented too. [lemon emoji]]
[And he has to have a good personality, a good temper, take you along to play since childhood, and not be boring or dull. [lemon emoji]]
[He even tells you to study hard and not chase idols, but then his poster autograph says otherwise. [lemon emoji]]
[Aaaah, just say you all want our dear Xiao Zhao! Jing Jin, draw your sword!!!]
That night, Jing Jin was completely overwhelmed by the flood of comments. While reading them, she grinned from ear to ear, then arrogantly and mischievously went through and liked every single lemon-filled comment.
—
After this incident, Xie Xizhao’s popularity surged even higher.
Meanwhile, for the trainees ranked below him, it was absolute chaos. Especially in the 4th to 10th place range, where backstage rankings fluctuated daily.
With both the public performance and the meet-and-greet over, there were no new fans left to attract. Other than preparing for the finals, all the trainees could do was leave things to fate—though in reality, this “fate” was not entirely left to chance. It was a battle between companies, as well as between the companies and the platform itself.
As the undisputed C-position, Xie Xizhao was naturally the platform’s main focus.
He was actually quite curious about how he was perceived within Stardust Entertainment. Their attitude toward him had always been a bit strange. It was obvious they valued him—they had tried to sign him early on, even throwing away the usual pride of a major company.
But since he had butted heads with the production team multiple times, he had a lingering suspicion that, among Stardust’s executives, he was already considered a troublemaker.
This was something Yaoxin was handling.
One day, Fang Qingqing brought it up in conversation, and he finally learned the truth.
“The platform itself is probably divided on this,” she said. “There might be someone inside who’s actually your fan.”
Although Stardust was just a corporate entity, it was ultimately made up of all kinds of people. From upper management to various department staff, every number in the system represented a real, living person with their own thoughts and opinions.
For Fang Qingqing to say this, it meant that Xie Xizhao’s fan within the company was at least a department head—possibly even part of the decision-making team.
Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been able to exert such an influence.
This was the power of connections.
In the entertainment industry, connections were everything—whether it was capital-backed relationships or ties to industry veterans. Having the right connections made it easier to take shortcuts, or to recover from mistakes.
That was why people like Ai Qingyuan, a second-generation rich kid, had such an easy time.
And why some second-generation stars also enjoyed significant advantages.
Xie Xizhao, however, had no connections.
No one around him worked in the entertainment industry. He had drawn in industry fans purely through his own talent and personal charm. Out of admiration and appreciation for him, these fans took the initiative to build bridges and open doors for him.
This couldn’t really be called networking. A more fitting term would be serendipity.
Understanding the situation, Xie Xizhao asked, “So what’s the platform’s stance now?”
“Their tone has softened,” Fang Qingqing replied. “Sister Li has been on the phone with them constantly these past two days. Basically, they just want us to cooperate so you can debut smoothly—then we can sign the contract.”
There was no scenario in which Xie Xizhao wouldn’t debut. His C-position was already set in stone.
The platform was well aware of this, so they had stopped making demands and simply wanted a smooth collaboration.
At this point, the initiative had shifted to Yaoxin’s hands.
Logically speaking, for a small company that had only ever successfully promoted one artist, securing a collaboration with a major platform was already an unthinkable opportunity.
If not outright grateful, they should at least…
Stardust thought the same way.
But Yaoxin had been an unconventional company from the very beginning.
And now, it even had someone fanning the flames.
That person was none other than Xie Xizhao—an absolute newcomer, yet already brazen enough to walk through the entertainment industry as if it belonged to him.
Thanks to their previous conversation, Ming Li had already gained a solid understanding of Xie Xizhao’s attitude and personality. So when Stardust reached out to her this time, she immediately responded, “We need to discuss this matter with the artist himself.”
The person on the other end remained patient. “Miss Ming, we’re reaching out precisely to discuss your artist’s C-position debut. The platform is willing to provide support and promotion for his C-position debut.”
Ming Li gave a light, indifferent smile and casually retorted, “But isn’t our artist already in the C-position?”
The other party was momentarily speechless.
How were they supposed to respond?
Should they say that even if he was in C-position now, he could still lose it?
But whether Xie Xizhao would actually fall from C-position was another question entirely—unless he ran straight into the iron gates and physically assaulted fans, his 99% hold on the position was practically guaranteed. Besides, Yaoxin’s response made it clear that they were angling for even better terms.
And that wasn’t something this representative had the authority to negotiate.
Thus, the call ended on a “pleasant” note.
By the time Fang Qingqing approached Xie Xizhao that day, the two sides still hadn’t come to an agreement on post-debut management plans.
“No rush,” Xie Xizhao said.
“Sister Li thinks the same,” Fang Qingqing replied. “She just wanted to ask if you had any thoughts on the matter.”
She paused for a moment before continuing, “Her point is that even though you’re debuting as part of a group, your popularity has already surpassed the show itself. That gives us leverage to negotiate better terms.”
She was hinting at profit distribution.
Xie Xizhao simply chuckled. “Shenghong is handling operations?”
“Not necessarily,” Fang Qingqing said. “Shenghong has been having some conflicts with Stardust lately.”
Everyone knew the reason.
Xie Xizhao looked completely innocent. “No matter who takes over, they probably won’t like me very much either.”
He had attracted far too much hostility. If the operations team wasn’t Yaoxin, then every company would do everything in their power to suppress him for the sake of their own prized artists. After all, if the most popular member in the group wasn’t one of their own—and on top of that, this top member would return to his original company in a few years—it was a blatantly bad investment.
Fang Qingqing caught onto the subtext. “So?”
“We can negotiate the revenue split, I’m flexible on the details,” Xie Xizhao said. “But aside from that, Sister, I think we can discuss something more.”
Their eyes met, and in each other’s gaze, they saw the same understanding.
A new era had arrived.
People couldn’t just be fixated on money anymore.
At least, they couldn’t only focus on money.
Fang Qingqing smiled knowingly. “Negotiate. No matter what it is, we can talk about it.”
After all, the tides were shifting. Neither she nor Xie Xizhao were the ones in a hurry.
While negotiations were in full swing on one side, the battle among entertainment companies was already raging on the other.
The first target had emerged.
And once again, it was Ai Qingyuan.
An anonymous post appeared on a social media platform, claiming that Ai Qingyuan was arrogant and domineering in private—essentially another Xia Ruiyan—but had strong enough backing that no one dared to touch him.
Perhaps the poster had drawn inspiration from the Yun Pan scandal.
Because this time, they also released an audio recording.
**TN
Face chain. So pretty~ <3 (this is Beomgyu)
