Chapter 101: On Purpose
Xie Xizhao’s fingers paused.
He inexplicably wanted to laugh at the overly dramatic tone of the marketing account.
Everyone in the industry knew that marketing accounts with a certain level of influence thrived on traffic. The only difference was whether they profited independently or collaborated with a company behind the scenes.
Either way, the exaggerated “new discovery” tone felt somewhat amusing.
He opened the comment section and sorted the comments in reverse order.
“Apparently, a member slipped up during a live stream, but they didn’t say when—just that it’s happening soon. Newstar is really hardworking… This is their third comeback this year, right? The last one was in October. I thought they’d at least wait until spring next year.”
“Uh, does no one think the timing is kind of suspicious? Feels really rushed… Could it be—”
“? What’s rushed about it?”
“Well, I mean, it just feels rushed. Newstar’s comeback cycles are long, and their promotion period lasts at least a month, which means they’re working non-stop. Honestly, fans should really call out the company for this—it’s way too exploitative.”
“There’s no confirmed date yet. Let’s wait and see.”
Scrolling further, most of the comments were similar.
Fans were thrilled, though some worried about their idols’ packed schedules. Bystanders were just watching the drama unfold. Newstar had already been criticized for poor song selection and bad planning, with their company focused only on quick profits. This was just another entry on their record.
Of course, there were also those who seemed hesitant to speak. Since the news wasn’t confirmed yet, most of them just hinted at things without stating them outright.
No one named names.
Xie Xizhao pondered.
It wasn’t an officially announced piece of news after all, so Xie Xizhao didn’t continue scrolling. He turned off the screen and tried to drift off to sleep. Before long, he had fallen into slumber.
—
The next day, after confirming that all the filming work was finally wrapped up, the TP members set off for A City.
The MV shoot had taken far longer than anyone had expected. Because of that, by the time they were heading back, both Xie Xizhao and the others felt like they were returning from a vacation.
That afternoon, they had a group meal together.
Later, all five of them got into the nanny van, drew the curtains, and prepared for a two-hour nap during the ride.
Xie Xizhao had slept in until nearly noon, so he wasn’t tired. Leaning against the back corner seat, he kept scrolling through Weibo. The news of Newstar’s upcoming comeback had already spread, and it looked more and more credible.
As he was reading, a notification suddenly popped up.
“Are you back yet?”
He tapped on it. The sender was Guan Heng.
Xie Xizhao hadn’t talked much with Guan Heng lately.
Mostly because he had been too busy.
An idol’s life was unpredictable—when things got hectic, it was almost like being cut off from the rest of the world.
Fortunately, Guan Heng was also busy.
The last time they had chatted, Guan Heng had joked that his boss was so indecisive about their debut date that he almost wanted to borrow Xie Xizhao’s dice to decide. In the end, he had refrained—out of pride, presumably.
That was the difference between a small company and a large one. It was also the difference between a survival show group and a long-established group.
A company like Shenghong had to maintain consistently high standards for debuts. But even if they messed up, they could always make a comeback—buy a good song next time, pair it with solid marketing and planning, and turn things around.
Meanwhile, survival show groups came with built-in hype from the moment they debuted. As long as there were fans, there was always a chance to rise again.
But for small companies, it was different.
Unless a group was destined for overnight success, their debut was usually the peak of their attention. If they missed that one golden opportunity to gain fans, any future success would depend entirely on luck.
Seeing Guan Heng’s message, Xie Xizhao immediately knew he had something to say.
He replied, [On the way. Want to grab dinner when I’m back?]
Then, while waiting for a response, he opened a pinned, muted group chat.
This was a private chat for the five of them. It was similar to those secret student group chats made behind the teacher’s back—purely for fun.
Since they all lived together, the chat tended to swing between two extremes: either it was completely silent for long stretches, or it was buzzing non-stop.
Whenever the latter happened, Xie Xizhao would selectively mute the chat.
And time had proven that this was a very wise decision.
He had no idea why, when they had all agreed to take a nap, the group chat had still managed to rack up over 99+ messages.
By the time he clicked in, they were deep in a debate about tomorrow’s dinner plans. Ai Qingyuan was arguing fiercely with Fu Wenze over whether they should have hot pot or barbecue, and the discussion had escalated to the point of attacking each other’s taste in food.
Xie Xizhao watched for a while before lazily sending a message.
Zhaobao: We have a recording session tomorrow.
The chat instantly fell silent.
Zhaobao: I’ll pick a few dishes and have them delivered home later. I’ll make fish soup for dinner.
Zhaobao: Just learned it from Brother Fu O.o
Panpan Little Bun: Yay!
And just like that, the matter was settled.
Then, the conversation immediately shifted back to the previous topic.
Zou1: So what time are we heading to the company for recording tomorrow? Brother Cheng told me it starts at nine. Should we set our alarms for 7:30?
Zou1: ? Who changed my group nickname…
Student Xiao Ai: It was me, just changed it. Isn’t it super simple and cool?
Student Xiao Ai: ??? Who changed my group nickname?!
Zhaobao: That was me. Changed it a while ago. Just noticing now?
Zhaobao: If I may ask, is my group nickname inspired by a certain AI voice assistant?
Fu Wenze: “…”
A minute later, Fu Wenze’s group nickname was changed to “World’s #1 Annoying Brat.”
Another minute later, “World’s #1 Annoying Brat” kicked “Student Xiao Ai” out of the group chat.
The world fell silent.
Xie Xizhao figured that if he stayed in the chat any longer, his already-depleted intelligence would take an even bigger hit. So, he exited the group chat and saw a message from Guan Heng, sent just a minute ago.
[Xizhao, I’m debuting.]
—
The moment he got back to the villa, Xie Xizhao called Guan Heng.
The other end picked up quickly, and Guan Heng’s voice carried a smile. “Hey, Xizhao.”
“I heard you guys got a free company-funded trip while filming your MV. How was it? Have fun?”
“It was alright,” Xie Xizhao replied.
He paused for a moment, then said seriously, “Congratulations on your debut.”
All this time, he had been worried about Guan Heng—worried that he would go through the same ordeal he had faced at Shenghong, worried about his legal battles with his former company, worried that new challenges might arise.
But that worry was something he couldn’t show. Because he wasn’t the one living through it.
And worry from an outsider would only make the person in the middle of it more anxious.
But now, he had debuted.
And as long as he had taken that first step, it meant he was moving forward.
Xie Xizhao’s congratulations were sincere.
“You’re congratulating me without even asking what date I’m debuting?” Guan Heng paused, holding back a laugh. It was clear he was in a good mood. “What if it’s February 14th?”
Xie Xizhao thought for a moment. “That’d be nice.”
“Then we might end up having celebration dinners for a whole month.” He said honestly, “I think Ai Qingyuan would be very happy.”
He paused before adding, “Fu Wenze probably would be too.”
Guan Heng: “…”
He commented, “Sounds like my former teammate has made your lives miserable.”
“It’s not that bad.” Xie Xizhao stifled a laugh. “So what’s the actual date?”
“March 2nd,” Guan Heng replied.
Xie Xizhao nodded in understanding.
This was about what he had expected.
Back when Guan Heng had been scouted, it was clear that the company saw his potential commercial value. The decision to have him withdraw from Super Rookie and use that to expose Shenghong’s issues had been a bold move. Though some still felt it was a pity, Xie Xizhao believed it had ultimately been the right play.
He had always thought Guan Heng was a smart person.
And smart people always aim to maximize their gains. Guan Heng was the core of this new group, meaning all the buzz around them would revolve around him. The two biggest angles they could use for publicity were his history with Shenghong and his past on Super Rookie.
It was no surprise to Xie Xizhao that their company would capitalize on both.
TP was at its peak in popularity, so no new group would dare to debut head-to-head against them. That meant their only options were to time it either right before or right after TP’s activity cycle.
“We’re still riding your wave of attention in the end,” Guan Heng sighed.
There was a trace of guilt in his voice.
That was part of why he had messaged Xie Xizhao specifically.
He didn’t care what happened to Shenghong, but outside of that, even with Ai Qingyuan, he had never wanted to use anyone for clout. Back then, the things he had said were just words spoken in the heat of the moment. At the end of the day, no matter what, Ai Qingyuan was still like a younger brother to him.
But this was the company’s decision—one that benefited them—so it wasn’t his place to object.
Xie Xizhao, however, chuckled. “How do you define ‘riding the wave of attention’?”
Guan Heng was briefly taken aback.
Xie Xizhao continued bluntly, “You were a contestant on Super Rookie. That’s part of your experience, and it’s something that adds value to you. Instead of calling it ‘riding the wave,’ why not say you’re leveraging your own past? That experience belongs to you.”
He paused for a moment. “Don’t go to a new company just to start acting like our captain—constantly fighting with yourself. Even our captain has moved on. There’s no reason for you to still be hung up on this.”
Silence lingered on the other end of the call.
After a moment, Guan Heng finally spoke.
“You’re right,” he admitted. “I’m overthinking again.”
There was a wry smile in his voice. “Didn’t expect that even after leaving the show, I’d still need you to talk sense into me. Feels like I’m going backward in life.”
Xie Xizhao laughed. “It’s fine.”
He reassured him, “Everyone has moments where they can’t see things clearly.”
With that, the conversation naturally shifted to another topic, and the slightly tense atmosphere dissolved.
But just as they were about to hang up, Guan Heng suddenly remembered something.
“Wait,” he said.
“You mean Newstar?” Xie Xizhao asked.
That was exactly what Guan Heng had been about to bring up. He hesitated for a second. “You’ve seen it?”
Xie Xizhao chuckled. “The marketing push is all over my alt account’s homepage. How could I not see it?”
Guan Heng hesitated again. “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure. Maybe it’s just…”
“On purpose,” Xie Xizhao said.
Guan Heng froze.
Xie Xizhao shifted his position and spoke in a relaxed, almost indifferent tone. “Stop overthinking it. It’s not a misunderstanding. It’s not a coincidence. There’s no other explanation. They did it on purpose.”
