Chapter 84: Debut Night (1)
Before the finals, Stardust reached out to Yaoxin Entertainment for another discussion.
Things were different now.
After the third public performance, the situation had still been unclear, allowing Stardust to put on a tough front.
But now, the high-ranking contestants had faced eliminations one after another, while almost no one from the middle and lower ranks had been spared. Only Xie Xizhao had remained completely unscathed. His fanbase was united, and his public favorability had surged—securing the center position was practically a done deal.
Moreover, the entertainment industry had a tendency to believe in superstitions.
As the outside world kept calling him the “Purple Star,” even industry insiders started murmuring—was this smooth journey truly a matter of so-called “star of fortune”?
A small rise to fame could be orchestrated, but major stardom depended on destiny. Some people were simply born for it.
Seizing the opportunity would allow others to bask in the glow as well.
Thus, this time, the platform completely abandoned its previous restraint.
This matter had to be coordinated directly with Xie Xizhao. One day, Ming Li and Fang Qingqing made a special trip to the Super Rookie recording site, bringing along Qi Yin, who was eager to watch the drama unfold.
When Young Master Qi personally arrived, the production team was stunned.
Ma Hongping and Lu Yan hurried to the reception room, and sure enough, they saw the flamboyantly dressed young man.
Flamboyant—and expensive. His watch alone could serve as an investment for the entire show. While Ma Hongping felt secondhand embarrassment for the young master’s fashion sense, he couldn’t help but bow to the power of wealth.
No kidding.
Rich people were easy to find, but finding a rich person who was both naive and generous with their money? That was rare.
Ma Hongping and Stardust’s representative took their seats, with Xie Xizhao sitting off to the side, looking completely unbothered.
The scene strongly resembled the online rumor that the entire show was just a vehicle to promote a single person. But everyone present knew—Xie Xizhao had earned his place at the negotiating table through sheer talent.
Ma Hongping cleared his throat. “Shall we begin?”
He turned to the senior executive from Stardust. “President Ji?”
“Alright.” The man addressed as President Ji nodded before turning to Qi Yin. “The initial draft of the contract was sent to your legal team two days ago. I’d like to hear your thoughts on it.”
Since this was an internal discussion, there was no need for unnecessary formalities.
Everything was about tangible interests.
Though Qi Yin treated this as fun, this was actually his first time handling something serious. He had carefully reviewed the contract over the past two days, and now, as he switched to a professional demeanor, he looked surprisingly competent. He asked, “So this is one of the proposed plans?”
“Yes.” The other party nodded. “It’s a compensation plan.”
Qi Yin chuckled. “How thoughtful of you.”
The man gave a slight smile, though he didn’t seem particularly pleased.
Stardust had proposed two options.
The first: Yaoxin would manage the future debut group, but Xie Xizhao’s contract would be the same as the others, meaning he would no longer receive special privileges in terms of flexibility. In particular, his resources might become tied to the group.
The second option—the so-called compensation plan.
The group’s management would go to Shenghong, but Xie Xizhao’s contract would be separate from the others.
This meant that Yaoxin would retain near-total control over his individual career. Naturally, the platform’s investment in the group would decrease, but Xie Xizhao would gain much more freedom. If personal opportunities came his way, they would be handled entirely by his parent company.
The revenue split would be the same under both plans: the platform and the management team would each concede a 10% share to Xie Xizhao as compensation for leading the group.
Both plans had their pros and cons for each side.
Ultimately, it was a gamble.
Most survival show groups thrived together but crumbled when separated. In the first two seasons of Super Rookie, the groups had exploded in popularity, but once they disbanded, even the top-ranking members saw a steep decline in their careers.
But there were always exceptions.
Whether in survival shows or long-running idol groups, there were always those known as “natural idols.”
They were the heart of the group, and sometimes, their popularity alone could surpass the combined influence of their teammates.
In such cases, retaining an individual contract was far more profitable than signing a group contract.
These two plans were essentially a gamble: would Xie Xizhao be able to maintain his current level of fame in the coming years, or would others rise to prominence, making the final equation 1 > 5?
The day Stardust sent over the two proposals, Yaoxin held an internal discussion.
Ming Li asked, “Which option do you think Stardust wants us to choose?”
“Hard to say,” Fang Qingqing replied.
Even Qi Yin shared the same opinion.
“Although they call it a compensation plan,” Qi Yin said, “it sounds like they’re really pushing for us to pick the second option. On the surface, it looks great—Xie Xizhao’s career would still be managed by our company, and everything seems advantageous. But—”
He grinned. “Why do I smell a trap?”
He really was a second-generation heir.
As carefree as Qi Yin appeared, his elite upbringing had trained him to be especially wary of hidden pitfalls.
And he had noticed the issue here.
At first glance, the two options seemed to have their own pros and cons, but in reality, they were operating on entirely different dimensions.
Under the first plan, Yaoxin would gain control over the group’s management, but Xie Xizhao would be completely tied to the team. If his popularity continued to soar, the group’s earnings would also increase—but it wouldn’t benefit his personal career much.
The second plan, however…
Management companies take a cut.
And upon closer examination, that cut wasn’t a small one.
Even if Xie Xizhao became famous, as long as he was tied to the group, the group would continue to attract traffic. He would still earn his full share—possibly even more due to his solo opportunities—but the company would take a hit.
After all, while the group’s overall budget would be reduced, it wouldn’t be eliminated entirely. The money that was originally split among five members would now go to just one, making that additional revenue seem far less significant.
Of course, there was an exception.
If Xie Xizhao exploded in popularity—to the point where he broke into a higher level of fame and the group could no longer contain his influence—then the second plan would become a win-win for both Yaoxin and Xie Xizhao. At that stage, his individual earnings would far surpass anything he could have brought to the group.
But no one seriously considered this possibility.
As an idol, Xie Xizhao was already at a disadvantage due to the inherent limitations of his audience. His fame in the survival show scene remained confined within the industry bubble.
In China’s entertainment industry, idols still sat at the bottom of the hierarchy.
True top-tier celebrities—those who dominated the scene—mostly came from the film and television industry.
And Xie Xizhao was not only a newcomer in the idol circuit, but he had never received systematic training as an actor.
So, on the surface, Stardust had offered two choices.
But in reality, they were asking Yaoxin:
Do you want your company to make money, or do you want your artist to make money?
Now that was a real low blow.
The legal team was cautious, but Qi Yin was surprisingly relaxed about it. “Everyone looks out for themselves—it’s just human nature. Of course, everyone wants the best deal for themselves. Stardust is just a business. Why are you guys still expecting anything different from them?”
The legal counsel: “…”
‘Boss, have you ever considered that you, too, are a businessman who owns a company?’
They had thoroughly analyzed the situation, yet Stardust’s true intentions remained elusive—until Xie Xizhao casually pointed out:
“Shenghong is also involved in this.”
And suddenly, everything became clear.
The platform likely wasn’t entirely opposed to Xie Xizhao staying with the group, but Shenghong certainly wouldn’t give up control over the group’s operations.
No matter how famous Xie Xizhao became, he wasn’t their artist.
And in the future, he wouldn’t be making money for their company. This was just another layer of negotiation between the platform and the management companies.
But that was Stardust’s battle to fight. Yaoxin had no interest in meddling in that.
As for Xie Xizhao himself, they had made their final decision.
“We believe,” Ming Li said decisively, “that the compensation plan is the more suitable choice.”
Her tone was firm and straightforward.
The man who had expected a drawn-out negotiation showed a hint of surprise in his eyes.
Of course, even if they had dragged this out, the result would have been the same—Stardust had already made its biggest concession.
“Are you sure?” the man asked.
This time, his question was directed at Qi Yin.
Qi Yin turned to Xie Xizhao. “Sure. Right, Xizhao?”
Xie Xizhao grinned, looking every bit like an artist gleefully squeezing every last drop of benefit from his company. He was refreshingly direct. “Yes.”
The man seemed thoughtful.
Then he stood up. “In that case, we’ll coordinate with your company to finalize the contract details.”
They all shook hands, sealing a pleasant agreement between the parties.
—
Now, sitting in the tour bus, Xie Xizhao found himself recalling the look on that man’s face.
It was almost unbelievable that a management company would truly prioritize an artist’s preferences over corporate interests.
But that was exactly what Yaoxin did.
Just as he had chosen not to leave Yaoxin and sign directly with the platform back then.
Xie Xizhao had a habit of making choices that went against the mainstream.
And more often than not—those choices turned out to be the right ones.
Stardust might have assumed there had been some under-the-table deal behind their decision.
But in truth—there was none at all.
When the two proposals were presented, Ming Li had a heartfelt conversation with Xie Xizhao, speaking openly: “The company will prioritize your wishes above all else, so you don’t need to worry about anything.”
Xie Xizhao smiled. “Even if it means the company takes a loss?”
“That wasn’t my call,” Ming Li replied, amused. They were both smart enough to understand what he really meant. “Young Master Qi always says that without you, his company wouldn’t survive. Losing a bit of money is nothing—money is the least of his worries. He even said that if you want to act in the future, he could help you find the right scripts. With your face, even if you’re just a ‘pretty face’ in a show, you’ll still attract fans.”
Xie Xizhao didn’t respond directly. He simply said, “I choose the second option.”
Ming Li was just as straightforward. “Alright.”
And just like that, the decision was made.
From the moment the proposals were presented to the moment they discussed them, Xie Xizhao never once mentioned that he could act.
It wasn’t until after the contract was officially signed—after he capped the pen and put it down—that he casually told Ming Li:
“I don’t need to just be a ‘pretty face.’ I can do other roles too.”
Then, with a confident smile, sharp and mischievous like a little fox, he added, “Don’t worry, Sister Li. I’ll make sure no one in the company—including the boss—loses out.”
Remembering how Ming Li, who was usually composed, had been caught off guard with genuine shock, Xie Xizhao still found it funny. But beyond that, he felt deeply touched.
After sitting for a long time, he adjusted his posture slightly. Beside him, Ai Qingyuan rubbed his eyes groggily as he woke up. “…Are we there yet?”
Xie Xizhao glanced out the window at the city streets rushing past. “Almost.”
Their debut night was being held at the same venue where they had filmed their very first recording.
As Xie Xizhao stepped off the bus and onto the empty plaza, he could still remember the moment he had first signed his name on the entrance board here.
It was as if Ai Qingyuan knew exactly what Xie Xizhao was thinking.
“Time flies, huh?” he said.
There was still some lingering drowsiness on his face, but a fleeting trace of sadness flashed through his eyes.
Back when he first joined the show with his teammates, they had been young, reckless, and full of ambition. But now, he was the only one left.
He quickly swallowed his disappointment and changed the subject. “Are your parents coming today?”
“Yeah,” Xie Xizhao replied.
“What about your sister?” Ai Qingyuan asked.
He had met Jing Jin once at a fan event. The little girl had seemed adorable—completely different from Xie Xizhao. The contrast between the two was unexpectedly amusing.
“Mhm,” Xie Xizhao said with a helpless smile. “She has her CET-6 exam today, so I told her to take it first before coming.”
“Such a good big brother,” Ai Qingyuan chuckled.
As soon as the words left his mouth, his expression darkened again for a brief moment.
Xie Xizhao glanced at him but chose not to mention that Guan Heng was coming back today.
He had promised to keep it a secret.
—
The group entered the venue. The production team had already set up a designated entrance and waiting area for the artists. The 15 contestants were divided into three dressing rooms, and the backstage quickly became a whirlwind of activity.
Meanwhile, outside in the main plaza, the fan support teams were making their final preparations.
Since it was a weekend, the square was packed with people—mostly stylish young women, with a few young men mixed in. It was the last fan support event, so everyone was giving it their all.
A quick scan of the area revealed that two groups had put up banners announcing their contestant as the debut center.
For high-ranking debut spots, there were five or six groups showing strong support.
The rest of the banners carried an almost idealistic sentiment, with colorful flags fluttering in the wind, creating a lively and festive atmosphere.
Among all the fan support displays, Ai Qingyuan’s was the largest and most extravagant, while Xie Xizhao’s was the most artistic and refined.
The two fan groups had always been competing for the C-position, and their flower walls were set up directly facing each other. While decorating, they would glance at each other’s progress from time to time, as if silently competing.
Ai Qingyuan’s support color was gold, so his flower wall was decorated in a mix of silver and gold, with metallic materials used for an added touch of grandeur.
Xie Xizhao’s, however, was different.
Green had always been a fresh and vibrant color. His flower wall was covered with mint-green and white flowers, accented with touches of pink. Lush greenery filled the space, and in front of the wall, an array of adorable succulents was carefully arranged, each adorned with a chibi-style standee of Xie Xizhao. These were handed out to passersby as small gifts.
It was as if a dividing line had been drawn between the two groups, with each minding their own territory.
Only the large C-position debut banners billowed in the wind, as if they were taunting each other from the sky.
By evening, the setting sun cast a warm glow over the flower walls. All the succulents had been distributed, and fans had begun queuing up to enter the venue. Inside, the final rehearsal had already concluded.
The entire venue was bathed in dazzling lights, brighter than ever before. The edges of the stage were adorned with fresh flowers, and as soon as the last fan entered, the thousands of seats inside became completely filled.
Tonight was the graduation night for the trainees.
And it was also another graduation night for all the show’s fans.
Just before the ticket check closed, at the highest level of the venue, two young figures—both wearing face masks and baseball caps—quietly entered through the back door.
Some nearby fans noticed them and were about to exclaim in surprise when one of the two made a quiet “shh” gesture and playfully winked. The dazed girl, still half-confused, quickly gestured an “OK” and turned her head away, unexpectedly deciding to keep their secret.
Guan Heng glanced at the person beside him and asked, “I get why I can’t sit in the audience, but why aren’t you there? Aren’t you letting down the JiZhao CP fans?”
JiZhao was the ship name for Ji Yan and Xie Xizhao.
After Ji Yan was eliminated, this pairing had become a cherished “white moonlight” for many fans of the show.
Ji Yan replied matter-of-factly, “A white moonlight is best when it stays in the past. It’s about quality, not quantity.”
Guan Heng: “…”
If you want to hide from the crowd, just say so—why are you cursing yourself?
The two quietly took their seats. Meanwhile, the audience had finished entering, and everything was set.
At exactly 7:00 PM, the grand curtain slowly rose.
Amidst the cheers, the stage lights shifted.
The show had begun.
Opening performance—Mentors’ Showcase.
