Superstar Ch.173

Chapter 173: TP Group Variety Show (2) (Extra 7)

The ones tidying up the room were Zou Yi and Yun Pan’s teammate from Group C, Fang Qingyi. Fang Qingyi was the youngest in their group, only nineteen years old this year. Naturally, his persona in Group C was also that of the little brother whom everyone looked after.

Of course, he really wasn’t good at tidying up. But at least he was self-aware—Zou Yi handled the more complicated tasks, while he did what was within his ability. Their division of labor was clear. Before long, they had cleaned both upstairs and downstairs.

When they were cleaning downstairs, they happened to run into Xie Xizhao just as he was heating oil in the pan.

The kitchen was filled with curling smoke, and the person’s figure was blurry in the haze.

It was quite a rare scene. Even among celebrities in the entertainment industry, Xie Xizhao was known as the epitome of cool elegance—noble, distant, and unattainable.

Yet now, this big shot was wearing a loose hoodie and jeans, standing there handling kitchen utensils. His profile looked completely harmless and gentle, and though undeniably good-looking, the domestic vibe he gave off felt strangely dissonant. Fang Qingyi was one of those caught off guard.

He quietly took a glance, and somehow a strange, sacrilegious feeling welled up inside him. Feeling guilty for a second, he was just about to step outside to cool off when he saw Zou Yi pulling out his phone.

Right in front of Fang Qingyi, Zou Yi naturally raised his phone and started taking photos of Xie Xizhao. Through the viewfinder, the young man had a slender waist and long legs, with the soft hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, giving him a gentle, boy-next-door look. After taking the first photo, as the shutter sound echoed through the quiet air, Zou Yi forgot to mute his phone—Xie Xizhao silently turned his head around.

Fang Qingyi: “……”

Secretly taking pictures definitely wasn’t a civilized thing to do, and for a brief moment, Fang Qingyi felt secondhand embarrassment on Zou Yi’s behalf.

But Zou Yi, completely unfazed, took a second shot—right as Xie Xizhao turned his head. The sunlight fell on Xie Xizhao’s profile, casting a beautiful glow over it.

Zou Yi looked quite pleased with his work. He admired the photos for a good while before finally putting his phone away and walking over for a look.

“Braised crucian carp?”

The question felt like an excuse to make small talk. As soon as he said it, Fang Qingyi’s earlier awkwardness vanished—only to be replaced by a flood of gossip he’d heard about TP. Things like the rivalry for the leader position, popularity gaps, and fake CPs used for clout.

He thought he’d found the right thread to follow, but it just made everything feel more awkward. His expression turned subtly complicated, but the two people a few feet away didn’t notice.

“Mm.” Xie Xizhao replied. “Aren’t you the one who can’t eat spicy food?”

Fang Qingyi was a little stunned. Xie Xizhao… was surprisingly cooperative.

Zou Yi chuckled. “I can handle a bit of spice now.”

“All right then. Teacher Zou’s gotten stronger,” Xie Xizhao responded easily, putting the fish into the pan to fry, calm as ever. “Pick the spiciest chili from the garden for me. I’m adding one right now.”

Zou Yi burst out laughing. “Teacher Xiao Zhao, such a vengeful spirit.”

The cold and composed “Teacher Xiao Zhao” coolly ordered the “ungrateful” team leader, “Peel some garlic for me. I can’t do everything myself.”

Zou Yi just laughed and walked over to the cutting board.

Even as he walked over, he didn’t forget Fang Qingyi. He turned back with a smile and called out, “Qingyi, why don’t you come help too?”

Fang Qingyi snapped out of his daze, replying a bit hastily, “Coming.”

He moved quickly and didn’t notice that behind him, Xie Xizhao glanced at him with a thoughtful look.

By around 12:30 noon, lunch was ready.

To everyone’s surprise, the supposedly decent cooking skills of Xie Xizhao and Fu Wenze turned out to be genuinely impressive. The production team watched with their own eyes as the braised crucian carp on the table went from perfectly intact to nothing but bones in a matter of ten or so minutes.

Yun Pan and Ai Qingyuan had been out the whole morning and ended up getting quite familiar with Yu Qingjun.

Yu Qingjun really liked Yun Pan. While they were sunbathing after lunch, she asked him if he had any interest in becoming an actor.

The implication in her words was obvious—Yu Qingjun wanted to take him under her wing. Yun Pan was a little surprised and didn’t quite register it right away. Off to the side, Fang Qingyi’s fingers paused slightly.

In the brief silence that followed, Ai Qingyuan naturally and quickly picked up the conversation. “He has acted before—with Xie Xizhao.”

“You know, that one,” he said. “The Player. He played the lead singer of a band. Did a pretty good job.”

As he spoke, Xie Xizhao, who had just sat up, slouched back into his chair again.

He always got sleepy after meals and now looked totally boneless and relaxed. Fu Wenze couldn’t stand the sight, handed him a bottle of water, but Xie Xizhao just shook his head.

Fu Wenze coolly commented, “You and your cat really are two peas in a pod—same nap schedule and everything.”

Xie Xizhao closed his eyes and lazily drawled, “Got a problem with that?”

While the two of them exchanged casual banter, Yu Qingjun finally snapped out of her surprise. Smiling, she turned to Ai Qingyuan and said, “You’re quite the attentive older brother.”

Yun Pan was also surprised, but not because Ai Qingyuan knew he’d acted with Xie Xizhao. What really surprised him was:

“Brother, didn’t you say back then that buying a ticket was a favor, but once you became an adult you’d stop watching these cringey, edgy movies? How did you even know what I acted in?”

“…Sorry,” Yun Pan said a second later, regaining his composure. He turned to the production crew and added calmly, “Please cut that part out.”

Ai Qingyuan: “…”

He gave a long-suffering sigh. “Yun Xiaopan, are you doing this on purpose, huh?”

On the other side, Xie Xizhao, still with his eyes closed, picked up the conversation and said, “Ai Qingyuan, don’t act all innocent now.”

That made everyone in the courtyard burst out laughing. It took a while before Ai Qingyuan himself joined in with a chuckle.

Fang Qingyi watched him laugh, feeling a bit dazed—until a voice suddenly spoke beside his ear, “What are you thinking about?”

Fang Qingyi turned his head and saw that the one asking wasn’t anyone else—it was exactly the person he’d just been thinking about: Xie Xizhao.

He snapped out of it quickly and replied somewhat hastily, “I was just thinking about… The Player.”

Xie Xizhao looked a little surprised.

“It was a really good movie,” Fang Qingyi finally gathered himself and said seriously, “Teacher Xie, I’m a fan of your work.”

He said it respectfully, with a genuinely sincere expression.

In fact, ever since finding out that this episode’s guests included TP, Fang Qingyi had been nervous—because of Xie Xizhao.

Xie Xizhao just smiled lightly and said, “Thank you.”

It was a simple response, nothing special, but to Fang Qingyi, it sounded incredibly gentle. The butterflies in his stomach suddenly started bubbling up, and all the nerves, confusion, and daze he’d felt during the day’s filming melted away with just that one “thank you.” He finally relaxed and softly replied, “You’re welcome.”

…

That afternoon, aside from sunbathing, everyone had a task to do.

Behind the village was a mountain, and on the mountain, a fruit orchard. Their task for the afternoon was to go up there and pick some fresh oranges. Because of the long journey, the production team covered dinner for them.

In past seasons, not having to cook made both the MCs and guests quite happy.

But this time, even Yu Qingjun looked a bit disappointed.

Zou Yi summed it up, “Obviously, our Xizhao and Wenze are the best at cooking among idols, and the best at singing and dancing among top chefs.”

Xie Xizhao said, “Well, that’s all because—”

—and was instantly silenced by Ai Qingyuan’s hand covering his mouth.

Literally silenced.

Xie Xizhao was walking up front, and Ai Qingyuan was trailing about two steps behind him. The moment Xie Xizhao uttered the first syllable, it was like Ai Qingyuan already knew what he was going to say. In one smooth, practiced motion, he slung an arm over Xie Xizhao’s shoulder, locked his neck, and covered his mouth.

Dou Fei, walking nearby, stared in shock.

Even after Ai Qingyuan let go of Xie Xizhao, he kept his arm draped over his shoulder, raised an eyebrow at Dou Fei, and asked, “Let me guess—on set, he b*llies you all the time, and you can’t even get a word in?”

Dou Fei: “…”

…That was true, actually.

Xie Xizhao had a great temperament, but sometimes he just couldn’t help being a little bit sharp-tongued. The gentle kind of sharp. Dou Fei had a love-hate relationship with it, mostly because Xie Xizhao in those moments always reminded him of a little fox. Dou Fei wouldn’t admit it, but he totally had a weakness for good-looking people—his tolerance skyrocketed when someone was attractive.

Then he heard Ai Qingyuan declare with full confidence, “Exactly. That’s why physical discipline is necessary.”

He looked extremely pleased with himself. Xie Xizhao didn’t argue—he just gave him a glance that looked… vaguely guilty. Dou Fei suddenly felt a flicker of shame for being so shamelessly indulgent.

Then Yun Pan chimed in from the side, looking all innocent and wide-eyed: “Brother, how do you even know Teacher Dou gets b*llied by Xizhao on set? Wait… do you watch their behind-the-scenes clips?!”

Fu Wenze, mid-sip of water, choked and turned away, coughing into his sleeve.

Ai Qingyuan’s expression went through an entire weather cycle. Before he could explode, Xie Xizhao quickly tried to smooth things over: “I told him. Well, I’m terrible. Not only do I b*lly Teacher Dou, I broadcast it to the whole world.”

Ai Qingyuan: “…”

Dou Fei: “…”

Ai Qingyuan, in his head: Xie Xizhao’s sarcasm has really leveled up these days. Is he doing this on purpose, or is it just… on purpose?

Dou Fei thought about how Xie Xizhao had told him a long time ago that managing a boy group was a technical skill.

Today, he truly saw it for himself. This was… just way too natural.

And this boy group naturally spent the entire afternoon working. By the time they made their way back, everyone was tired—but also feeling quite accomplished.

Everyone was pretty surprised.

Artists at TP’s level had long since left behind the “commodity” label of the entertainment world. In the public’s mind, they should be draped in high fashion, living in mansions, wearing luxury watches. And to be fair, they were. No one expected that in private, they could also cook their own meals, clean the house, and do physical labor without complaining—just regular people.

On the way down the mountain, Xie Xizhao paused to take a photo of the sunset. He handed his basket of fruit to Dou Fei for a moment. Dou Fei stood by and watched as he seriously adjusted his angles, a bit moved.

“You’ve really stuck with this hobby for years,” he said.

Back in the day, Xie Xizhao was already like this on set—always wandering around taking photos.

If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was a full-time photographer.

Xie Xizhao replied, “Shooting scenery is really soothing.”

Dou Fei, already half-brainwashed by their energy, muttered, “Then does your teammate feel soothed when he’s taking pictures of you?”

Zou Yi had just been taking photos of Xie Xizhao earlier—he’d been fighting with a carrot at the time, but still caught it in his peripheral vision and was shook.

Xie Xizhao couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I’m good-looking.”

Ai Qingyuan’s mouth twitched.

Right on cue, Zou Yi raised his phone again, snapped another picture, and immediately posted it on Weibo. The comment section exploded instantly. He took a moment to appreciate the chaos of the fans wailing in his mentions, then finally looked up to answer Dou Fei’s earlier question:

“I only photograph attractive people.”

The next second, he turned his phone toward Dou Fei and grinned, “Teacher Dou, how about a shot?”

Dou Fei: “…”

Dou Fei had the unsettling realization that he was really easy to charm.

Wait. No, hold on a minute.

“Are all you boy group idols this scheming?”

The scheming wasn’t over yet.

That night, after dinner and some idle chatter, everyone started turning in for the night. Originally, Dou Fei was supposed to share a room with Xie Xizhao. Just before bed, Xie Xizhao told him he had something to do and said, “Leave the door open for me.”

Dou Fei replied, “…Didn’t you just finish what you were going to say?”

They’d spent the entire evening playing party games—everything from cards to Truth or Dare. Dou Fei was exhausted.

Mostly, he felt like Xie Xizhao sneaking off like this was suspicious. What kind of conversation was there that he, the honored roommate, couldn’t hear?

Turned out—there really was something.

In the kitchen, Xie Xizhao pulled a carton of yogurt from the fridge.

Just as he was about to drink it, Yun Pan shot him a disapproving look. So Xie Xizhao silently set the cold yogurt aside to let it warm up a little. Then he asked, “How are things now?”

Yun Pan paused for a moment before replying, “Not bad.”

Sensing that was a bit of a brush-off, he added, “It’s really just a resource issue. No one’s truly a bad person. As for resources… well, the company can’t realistically favor one person forever. We’ll just take it step by step.”

Xie Xizhao looked at the calm side of his face, silent for a moment.

Then he said, “You’ve grown up.”

Yun Pan smiled a little, a bit embarrassed. “Yeah. It’s been a long time. I had to, eventually.”

“Whether it was back then or now, thank you, brother.”

Xie Xizhao didn’t say anything to that. He rarely had moments where he felt the passage of time like this.

About half a year ago, Yun Pan had messaged Xie Xizhao on WeChat.

He came over with his backpack, and even remembered to bring a toy for Candy Corn, the cat. Xie Xizhao invited him to stay for dinner. After the meal, the two of them sat on the second-floor terrace, where Yun Pan told him everything he’d been going through.

Five years ago, he said he was going to leave Wenyang.

But the first to leave was actually Xia Ruiyan.

Once Xia Ruiyan was gone, Yun Pan’s decision to leave wasn’t so firm anymore.

He had a long talk with the company. They arranged for him to join a new group—as both the leader and the conceptual core. It was a very favorable arrangement. The team’s manager appreciated him a lot too. But even after debuting, issues arose.

Though—calling them issues might not be quite accurate. After all, the group was currently soaring in popularity.

After TP disbanded, the entertainment industry had never again seen a group so dominant that it overshadowed all others.

These days, the idol scene was basically split among a few top groups. Yun Pan’s group was one of them.

But precisely because they had a bright future and large gaps in popularity among members, the internal relationships were always lukewarm.

Even though they were a long-term group and had trained together for a long time as teammates.

Time passed. Yun Pan was no longer the beloved maknae.

He had finally shifted into the role of an “older brother,” putting in all his effort to maintain team harmony. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t change people’s hearts.

The one he was closest to, Fang Qingyi, once said to him: “Brother, just let it go. Honestly, this is how most groups are.”

Fang Qingyi had the image of a cheerful, lovable maknae on the surface, but deep down, he was mature beyond his years and thought deeply about things.

Yun Pan knew the truth too.

Most idol groups really were just coworkers.

But he couldn’t wrap his head around it.

TP had been a project group. There were still conflicts of interest—but even so, no one had been desperate for it to end. Even back then…

No one knew that every member of TP had once fought to renew their contracts—including Xie Xizhao.

The renewal would have just been nominal—an agreement to reunite occasionally, maybe one or two comebacks a year. For them, it would’ve been just a matter of carving out a little time and focus. For Xie Xizhao, it was barely a blip on the radar.

The resistance he faced came from fans and people on the outside who had high hopes for him.

All the jokes like “love-struck,” or “he’s so in love”—behind those memes was an undercurrent of criticism.

Outside of CP fans, no one actually believed he was romantically involved with anyone.

They just felt Xie Xizhao was doing things that didn’t help his career.

Zou Yi once said to Yun Pan, “Your Brother Xizhao is a true idealist.”

“Aware of the world’s ways, but not worldly himself.”

Xie Xizhao was smart—so smart that of course he knew exactly what path would be best for his career.

But humans don’t just pursue achievement. They crave connection—romance, art, friendship, and every form of sincere emotion.

He was trying his best to find that point of balance, and he worked hard for it.

That’s why things could coexist in such harmony.

Of course, in the end, for various reasons, the contract renewal didn’t happen.

But Yun Pan thought: If someone like Xie Xizhao, with such a brilliant and radiant path ahead of him, could afford to slow down—

Why couldn’t his current teammates do the same?

But Xie Xizhao told him seriously:

“Yun Pan, just because you don’t care about something doesn’t mean you can expect the rest of the world not to care. Be strict with yourself, but generous with others.

That way of thinking—it’s not about letting others off the hook. It’s about freeing yourself.”

Resources, benefits, popularity, status gaps—all those things only seem insignificant because they were in TP.

There’s no second TP in the entertainment industry.

But there are plenty of people who want a slice of this pie.

And that—is the difference.

<< _ >>