Chapter 81: The Past Like Smoke
The recording took place in the practice room. Aside from Ai Qingyuan’s voice, all the others had been altered. The main speakers were Ai Qingyuan and several young men whose voices were indistinguishable. They were discussing the candidates for Super Rookie.
One of the young men mentioned a name, and Ai Qingyuan let out a sneer.
“Him?”
“You call that dancing?” he said. “My suggestion? If someone can’t even keep to the beat, they shouldn’t be thinking about debuting. They should just go home and sell sweet potatoes instead.”
As soon as he finished speaking, laughter erupted around him.
Someone said, “Brother Yuan is right!”
Another added, “I’ve never liked him. He can’t even talk properly, and he wants to debut?”
Amidst the laughter, a timid voice hesitantly said, “Saying things like this isn’t very nice…”
They were immediately met with ridicule. Someone jeered sarcastically, “Oh? You feel bad for him? Then why don’t you go help him, so he won’t be such an eyesore in front of Brother Yuan? If you ask me, it’s not just his limbs that don’t work—his brain doesn’t either.”
“Hahahahahahaha!”
A burst of raucous laughter followed, sharp and grating to the ears.
The recording ended there. The anonymous poster attached a message:
[As someone who personally witnessed the incident back then, I have spent these past days feeling deeply unsettled for not standing my ground. After the b*llying incident involving a contestant on Super Rookie, I reached out to the person referred to as ‘Little Z.’ He expressed that he neither wanted to nor dared to talk about what had happened.
As for myself, I have been tormented by guilt ever since.
The incident recorded in this audio was neither the first nor the last. The recording happened by chance, but I believe it is enough to reveal a great deal.
A certain popular contestant from Super Rookie—you have wealth, power, the protection of your family, the favoritism of your company, and the indulgence of your fans. But none of these entitle you to trample on others’ dignity and place yourself above them.
I’m waiting for your response.]
As soon as the recording and text were released, they caused an uproar.
—
Xie Xizhao was initially unaware of the situation.
For the past two days, he had been holed up in the composition room. Not because he was writing a new song at such a crucial moment, but because he was selecting the right solo piece for the finals. Each contestant had a 90-second solo segment and could choose from three categories: dance, rap, or vocal.
He still hadn’t made up his mind.
Besides that, there were also the two stages for the live final performance.
The songs had already been chosen—both standard boy group-style tracks—but the final placements were still undecided. The center positions for these performances were clear: the top two contestants from the third public ranking. However, deciding which contestant would perform which song required additional material recordings.
Since nothing was finalized yet, Xie Xizhao simply practiced both songs, treating it as part of his routine training.
That night, as usual, he spent the evening in the practice room. When he left, he noticed people around him whispering to each other.
As he passed by, some cast him furtive glances.
Xie Xizhao paused slightly.
It seemed that this matter had something to do with him.
Sure enough, before he could return to the dormitory, someone grabbed him.
It was Zou Yi, who happened to be passing by.
“Have you checked the trending topics?” he asked.
Xie Xizhao shook his head.
Zou Yi looked unsurprised.
Zou Yi briefly explained the situation to Xie Xizhao before adding, “Xiao Ai has been in the dorm all night. That’s pretty much it—just so you know what’s going on.”
His expression remained calm, as if he had seen this kind of thing too many times to be surprised.
Xie Xizhao seemed thoughtful.
Zou Yi patted him on the shoulder. Just as he was about to leave, Xie Xizhao suddenly remembered something and called out, “Hey, Teacher Zou, have you decided which team you’ll join for the finals?”
“What a coincidence.” Zou Yi chuckled. “Xiao Ai asked me the same thing a couple of days ago. I told him I was still thinking about it.”
“How about you two fight it out first?”
Xie Xizhao laughed. “Impressive.”
At least they knew the key to battle was securing the lead vocalist spot first.
“We’ll talk later,” he said.
Zou Yi made an “OK” gesture and turned to leave.
Xie Xizhao turned and pushed open the dormitory door. The room was silent.
Fu Wenze sat with his head down, typing a message, while Ai Qingyuan sat on the other side, his brows furrowed tightly.
Xie Xizhao closed the door, and both of them looked up.
—
After a few seconds of silence, Ai Qingyuan spoke first. “If you’re going to ask me whether it’s true, we’re done.”
Xie Xizhao: “…”
Fu Wenze, clearly unimpressed by his childishness, frowned. “How old are you?”
Ai Qingyuan ignored him.
His face didn’t show much emotion—neither anger nor distress. Guan Heng’s departure had forced him to grow up a lot. At the very least, he no longer lashed out impulsively at the first sign of trouble.
But it was still obvious that he was upset.
Xie Xizhao asked, “What exactly happened?”
“Don’t bother asking,” Fu Wenze replied. “He doesn’t even remember it himself.”
“I just remembered, alright!” Ai Qingyuan retorted loudly. “My brain just glitched for a second.”
Then he pressed his lips together and admitted, “I did say those things.”
“That does sound like you,” Xie Xizhao commented. “Extremely obnoxious.”
Ai Qingyuan was at a loss for words.
After a moment, he muttered, “…I know I was wrong.”
Words could bring disaster.
Guan Heng’s situation had already taught him that once.
This was the second time.
He hesitated before adding, “But I didn’t lash out at him for no reason. If someone just dances poorly, I wouldn’t even bother. Back during the Super Rookie auditions, he secretly spiked his dormmate’s drink with a laxative just to secure a debut spot. That’s why I couldn’t stand him. And I think I only called him out once.”
Saying he couldn’t even keep to the beat had obviously been an exaggeration.
In truth, the guy had average skills—neither particularly strong nor weak. But that was precisely why he was more desperate for a spot in the competition.
He hadn’t even been on good terms with Ai Qingyuan’s friend.
Ai Qingyuan’s words had simply been his reaction to the guy’s character.
Of course, he also did tend to look down on people who lacked skill.
“What happened after that?” Xie Xizhao asked.
“The company found out about it,” Ai Qingyuan recalled with some effort. “I think they canceled his entry. Anyway, I never saw him again.”
A young master’s arrogance.
He rarely kept people or events in mind.
Xie Xizhao had a general understanding now. “Do you remember who said, ‘This isn’t very nice’ that day?”
Ai Qingyuan answered honestly, “I really don’t.”
To be honest, he had never cared for those people who flattered him with empty words. Anything they said went in one ear and out the other.
Back then, he had probably been playing on his phone, let alone paying attention to anyone talking.
Back then, the only person Ai Qingyuan truly respected was Guan Heng.
Thinking about this, he felt a little down again.
But he didn’t stay down for long—within two minutes, something felt off. “Wait a second.”
“Why aren’t you surprised at all?” he asked.
“You forgot,” Xie Xizhao replied. “Guan Heng mentioned this before.”
Since Fu Wenze was still present, Xie Xizhao didn’t want to say too much about Guan Heng. But that one sentence was enough for Ai Qingyuan to understand.
Guan Heng had once told him that Song Yong had approached him, hoping he would provide some dirt on himself. But Ai Qingyuan didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, didn’t gamble—his only flaw was his sharp tongue.
Out of old friendship, Guan Heng had let him off the hook.
But not everyone was Guan Heng.
—
That was all there was to it.
B*llying had always been a sensitive topic in the public eye, especially school violence. Trainees were all at school age—sixteen, seventeen, still just kids. Society had almost zero tolerance for these kinds of incidents.
And on top of that, there was the precedent of Xia Ruiyan.
The moment Xie Xizhao heard about this, he immediately realized that the person behind it was thinking the same way as Song Yong.
Who was Ai Qingyuan?
The young master of the Ai family. His surname alone symbolized power and privilege.
For some fans, this was part of his “noble young master” persona. But for the general public, it wasn’t exactly a plus. Not to mention, Ai Qingyuan had long been known for his bad temper and low emotional intelligence.
Now that evidence had surfaced, public opinion was even harsher. Even without solid proof back then, plenty of people already thought he looked like a b*lly.
And people had latched onto one key detail—Xia Ruiyan.
With Xia Ruiyan’s scandal still fresh in everyone’s minds, Super Rookie fans had become especially sensitive to anything related to b*llying. If two trainees so much as got too physical in a casual clip, people would start talking. Let alone when there was actual “evidence.”
Like Guan Heng had said, Ai Qingyuan’s mouth was practically a gift-wrapped weakness for his opponents.
Public outrage erupted instantly.
This time, the backlash was even bigger than what Xia Ruiyan had faced. The comment section under the show’s official account was flooded with demands: “Ai Qingyuan, withdraw from the competition!” “The 80-rank trainee was kicked out”
At first, Ai Qingyuan wasn’t too bothered.
But then, he started noticing fewer and fewer of his fans waiting outside the camp gates.
On top of that, Shenghong’s constant phone calls were getting on his nerves.
On the other end of the line, his manager’s voice was more serious than ever. “Xiao Yuan, I know this puts you in a tough spot. But we need a more precise timeline for when this recording was made. That’s the only way we can gather solid counterevidence. You know how it works—there’s only a short window for clarifications. If we miss it, you’re going to be completely nailed to the wall as a b*lly.”
Ai Qingyuan paced back and forth in frustration.
When was this recorded?
He didn’t even remember what that idiot’s name was—he only recalled the incident after hearing the audio.
How the hell was he supposed to remember the exact day it happened?
This was the worst part—his memory was vague.
Ai Qingyuan couldn’t remember, and the voices in the recording were all distorted, making it impossible to identify people.
That left only one option: tracking down those who were present.
But even that was useless.
Eyewitness accounts were the weakest form of evidence.
They were all Shenghong trainees. Whether it was protecting a teammate or fearing powerful connections, any testimony they gave would be seen as unreliable.
The calls for Ai Qingyuan to withdraw from the competition grew louder, eventually reaching the Ai family itself.
The next day, Ai Qingyuan’s older brother arrived at the show’s production team, accompanied by representatives from Shenghong Entertainment.
He bore a slight resemblance to Ai Qingyuan—about fifty percent—but his presence was much steadier and more composed. The group sat inside a glass-walled conference room, their expressions calm and measured.
Only Ai Qingyuan, sitting in the corner, looked thoroughly miserable.
This time, he didn’t look like people owed him 8 million. He looked like he owed a whole 100 million.
As Fu Wenze and Xie Xizhao passed by, Fu Wenze’s gaze lingered briefly on the scene—something rare for him.
Xie Xizhao noticed. “Worried?”
“Not exactly,” Fu Wenze replied. “I just think… this punishment doesn’t match the crime.”
His tone was honest.
Ai Qingyuan’s flaws were obvious.
But so were his strengths.
Having spent so much time together, they knew Ai Qingyuan better than anyone. He deserved to learn a lesson—but he didn’t deserve to be crushed under false accusations. The label of b*lly was far too heavy.
After speaking, Fu Wenze glanced at Xie Xizhao. “You’re not worried?”
Xie Xizhao paused for a moment.
“You think I’m cold-blooded?” he asked.
“No,” Fu Wenze denied. “Just… curious.”
Xie Xizhao chuckled.
“Do you guys have some kind of filter on me…?” He wasn’t sure how to phrase it.
He hadn’t really shown much concern these past few days. He hadn’t even offered much comfort—unlike Fu Wenze, who, despite his usual quietness, had at least forced out a few words of reassurance.
But Xie Xizhao knew Ai Qingyuan didn’t need comfort.
He needed a solution.
And—
“This won’t escalate any further,” Xie Xizhao said. “Shenghong already has a plan. It’ll be settled by tonight.”
Fu Wenze looked up, surprised.
—
The air was filled with the bitter aroma of coffee.
Xie Xizhao picked up a cup of Americano, the rising steam blurring his brows and eyes.
He asked, “Who do you think did this?”
Fu Wenze was momentarily stunned. “Wenyao?”
“Wenyao wouldn’t dare,” Xie Xizhao said.
He paused. “If Xia Ruiyan were still around, that might be another story. But now, there’s no need for it.”
Targeting someone required a reason.
Right now, Wenyao was pushing Yun Pan, who had no resemblance to Ai Qingyuan. Besides, Wenyao wasn’t particularly desperate to debut Yun Pan—at least, not desperate enough to risk offending the Ai family and Shenghong.
“Of course,” he chuckled. “With things blowing up this much, it definitely played a role in stirring the pot.”
Not just Wenyao—probably all the major companies had contributed to the smear campaign in some way.
But they weren’t the main force behind it.
Fu Wenze seemed deep in thought.
Xie Xizhao took a sip of coffee. “The bigger the company, the more cautious it tends to be. The entertainment industry is a circle—capital interests are intertwined. Small skirmishes are fine, but a large-scale smear campaign that could shake the foundations would require careful consideration.”
Fu Wenze understood. “You’re saying this was actually a personal act.”
“That’s my guess,” Xie Xizhao said. “That so-called poster is probably the person involved.”
Someone capable of pulling off something like slipping laxatives, as Ai Qingyuan described, was likely an unremarkable and introverted person. People like that had sensitive and meticulous minds, keeping all their thoughts locked in their heads, making them prone to acting on misguided ideas.
For example, he thought he could take advantage of the power struggles between major companies to successfully take Ai Qingyuan down.
But in the end, he didn’t truly understand the real rules of the game in this industry.
Sure enough, that very night, Shenghong issued a stern statement.
The statement directly revealed the disciplinary records of the trainee in question, highlighting his personal moral issues and laying out a clear timeline of events. The most attention-grabbing piece of evidence was another surveillance video.
In the footage, the trainee’s act of dr*gging the drink was captured with undeniable clarity.
After writing a lengthy statement, Shenghong casually added at the end that while the artist’s words had been inappropriate due to his straightforward nature, he ultimately meant no harm. Therefore, on a personal level, he extended an apology to the public.
Attached was a personal apology video recorded by Ai Qingyuan.
When people clicked on it, they were shocked to see the usually arrogant and unruly teenager sitting in front of the camera, sincerely reflecting on his actions in a calm and respectful manner.
Onlookers clicked their tongues in surprise.
But for most people, the focus had already shifted to the more serious incident of dr*gging.
[Oh my god… a roommate he lived with every day? This is terrifying—what if it hadn’t been just a laxative?]
[This guy is seriously twisted. Honestly, I feel like cursing him out.]
[I think it’s totally normal for AQY not to like him. Who could still be nice after discovering something like this? And come on, he was just chatting privately with friends—of course, he’d speak freely.]
[I’ve seen this guy’s practice videos. Honestly? His dancing is awful.]
[To be honest, I’m not even an Ai Qingyuan fan—if anything, I’m half an anti—but don’t just slap random labels on people.]
It was unclear how many of these comments came from real bystanders, but the tide of public opinion had already begun to shift.
Ai Qingyuan’s fans collectively breathed a sigh of relief and began countering the smear campaign with clarifications. This grand spectacle, which had started with such intensity, ended in just two days—turning out to be more bark than bite.
Ai Qingyuan let out a breath of relief.
Fu Wenze found his clueless expression rather endearing, but his mind was still preoccupied with something Xie Xizhao had said that day.
Xie Xizhao had remarked, “If I were truly determined to take revenge on someone with that kind of background and connections, I wouldn’t have done it this way.”
That was all he had said, but it had stuck in Fu Wenze’s mind like a tiny hook.
After mulling over it for days, he finally couldn’t resist bringing it up again.
“You that day…”
Xie Xizhao was in the middle of eating egg pancakes, fully engrossed in his meal.
Hearing Fu Wenze’s words, he looked up in confusion. “Huh?”
Fu Wenze had to remind him of the conversation.
“Oh.” Xie Xizhao swallowed his bite. “That.”
“It’s actually nothing,” he said.
Then, after a brief moment of thought, he asked, “Do you know what the key point in this whole situation is?”
Fu Wenze considered it. “Whether there was b*llying?”
“No,” Xie Xizhao replied. “It’s the fact that Ai Qingyuan really did say those things.”
Fu Wenze froze.
After a brief pause, Fu Wenze finally asked, “Why?”
“Do you think he normally says things like this?” Xie Xizhao smiled. “Different contexts lead to different consequences.”
He really did say “trash.”
His tone was mocking.
He said it while rallying his “followers” to join in the ridicule.
Those details were critical.
“Minor b*llying is difficult to define,” Xie Xizhao said. “You know, verbal abuse is still abuse. Emotional neglect is still abuse. I don’t think whether Ai Qingyuan truly b*llied him matters in the final outcome—his words alone were wrong. At the very least, as an idol, he shouldn’t have said that to a teammate.”
“Of course,” he added, “we understand that he had his reasons.”
“But it’s still unacceptable.”
As a public figure, an idol’s responsibility is to be cautious with their words and actions.
What the other person did was undoubtedly wrong. An ordinary person could curse them out without issue. But a public figure carries influence—every word and action can shape their fans’ perceptions and behavior.
Someone with that level of influence should focus on criticizing the issue itself, rather than launching personal attacks.
That is the social responsibility of a public figure.
“Of course, that’s not the main point,” Xie Xizhao said slowly. “The real issue is that he made a mistake, and someone seized on that mistake. In situations like this, you either do nothing—like many others do—or you go all in. Hesitation and half-measures only give the opponent an opportunity to fight back. And no matter what, the other side will always have the upper hand.”
So why expose it at all?
The goal was simple—to tarnish Ai Qingyuan’s reputation, prevent his debut, and take revenge out of personal resentment.
Smearing his image was inevitable. Offending Shenghong and the Ai family was inevitable. Reaching this point meant being prepared for total destruction.
“The moment you decide to do this, you should understand,” Xie Xizhao said. “You’re not just fighting a person—you’re fighting the capital behind them.”
What would he do if it were him?
Xie Xizhao knew the answer well.
Because he hadn’t just thought about it—he had done it before.
In one of his mission worlds, his task was to assist the “Child of Destiny” in going up against his rival and the rival’s powerful talent agency. It wasn’t a family dynasty, but the situation was similar.
His assigned role? An extreme, obsessive, mentally unstable D-list celebrity, driven to madness by persecution and dedicated to a singular purpose.
He could have won.
Using himself as bait, he laid out his strategy step by step.
He started by exposing a two-faced “royal” contestant on a reality show, then kept digging—uncovering corruption at the executive level and eventually revealing the money-and-power transactions behind the entire company. Public opinion was entirely in his hands. He manipulated narratives, leveraged pressure, and even used interrogation techniques in negotiations.
He had no personal power, but he was a master at using others’ strength against them.
By the end, he had nearly sent the company’s entire upper management straight to prison.
But due to the needs of the storyline, he had left a deliberate flaw, leading to his own brutal demise—torn apart with no chance of survival.
Even now, thinking back on it, Xie Xizhao felt a tinge of regret.
Lost in thought, he didn’t notice how Fu Wenze, sitting beside him, had nearly lost his appetite from the implications hidden in those casually spoken words.
When Ai Qingyuan returned from the restroom, he immediately picked up on the strange atmosphere. “What are you guys talking about?” he asked, curious.
“Nothing,” Fu Wenze replied.
Fu Wenze swept his gaze over Ai Qingyuan, his expression filled with something akin to pity.
After a brief pause, he said, “You should be grateful that you’re a good person. And that your family members are all law-abiding citizens.”
Ai Qingyuan looked completely baffled. “Of course, I’m a good person. And of course, my family follows the law. Fu Wenze, did you take the wrong medicine again? Or are you just looking for trouble?”
Fu Wenze remained silent.
On the other hand, Xie Xizhao acted as if he hadn’t heard a word. He simply finished the last bite of his egg pancake, his past exploits buried deep with him. Then, he stood up and said, “Let’s go. Time for practice.”
The past was like smoke—drifting away, untouchable.
What was done was done.
Now, he was just an ordinary contestant. And that was fine.
A completely ordinary C-position trainee, diligently returning to practice.
Meanwhile, in the fan circles of Super Rookie, a new scandal was stirring up fresh chaos.
And unfortunately, this time, the exposé was real.
Qiao Ye, the trainee who ranked third in the third elimination round, was revealed to have an undisclosed girlfriend within the industry.
As of now, they were still together.
Even more damning—on the very night after the third public performance ended, his girlfriend had disguised herself as a staff member just to sneak into the show and meet him.
