Chapter 25: Injured
Group A of Cold Lover officially entered the practice stage.
As for the center position on stage, everyone felt there was no need to compete—it naturally belonged to Yue Zhaolin.
Over the next three days, Yue Zhaolin’s group spent their time learning to sing, practicing rap, and adjusting choreography.
Wei Lai couldn’t help but think, “Boss really knows how to choose!”
Cen Chi’s choreography was genuinely amazing. No one knew how he came up with it, but the moves were memorable—especially during the song’s climax.
The choreography was simple. To sum it up in one line: “Neck pain, point both hands, then point to the floor and spin twice, with your toes spinning too.”
It had a touch of jazz—not too much—and really highlighted their physical advantages.
At first glance, six tall, well-proportioned teammates lined up in a row, moving in perfect unison—it was visually striking.
After the first round of practice, Wei Lai immediately understood why Yue Zhaolin had picked Cen Chi first—he was incredibly reliable!
Wei Lai exchanged a look with Mao Ding: “This is solid. I’ve got a feeling we’re about to be carried to victory.”
They also noticed that Yue Zhaolin was a true overachiever. Even after finishing practice for Cold Lover, he would stay behind to keep working on basic skills.
He practiced until the early hours without resting. His breaks were never more than six hours, yet he was always full of energy the next day, repeating the cycle.
That said, Yue Zhaolin had made it clear from the start that the others didn’t need to stay behind with him.
But on the very first night, Tan Shen and Wei Lai volunteered to stay. They didn’t want to hold the team back—after all, they were the only two rated F in the group.
Eventually, the entire team started staying behind.
Mao Ding commented, “My body’s exhausted, but my heart is so happy. Just being in the same frame as Yue Zhaolin makes it worth it!”
Being the red-haired outlier next to a bunch of good-looking guys was still better than being completely unnoticed.
Chen Fei would quietly prepare a towel and hot water for Yue Zhaolin to wipe off sweat, and buy rice balls and other food to replenish his energy.
— He had never forgotten how, on the day they filmed the theme song, when Fu Xunying stared at his fake nose, it was Yue Zhaolin who helped him out of the awkward situation.
Maybe Yue Zhaolin hadn’t thought much of it, but Chen Fei remembered it clearly.
Unconsciously, the six members of this group started to grow closer.
The other groups noticed—and felt a sense of crisis. They began working harder too, which led to most people finishing practice only in the early hours of the morning. Even the fan site admins couldn’t tell the groups apart anymore.
But on the flip side, the trainees could see what was outside: vague silhouettes, glowing fanboards, different slogans each day.
And Yue Zhaolin’s responses.
The mutual pursuit between idol and fan became tangible before everyone’s eyes.
People tend to admire strength and follow the crowd. Some other trainees began responding when fans called their names—just one or two site admins with small fanboards.
Having someone call your name at all was already pretty good. No need to act overly friendly—what if they didn’t call again next time?
On the “Starlight” Super Topic:
Hot Post:
[Emperor Yue sets a good example—are the other trainees now learning to “flirt” with fans too? Is this a different kind of ‘teaching by example’?]
“XiufenSatisfied.JPG”
“It’s nice to have someone take the lead. Now all the trainees are responding to the camera. You can really feel that they want to become idols.”
“This season’s not bad. At least the trainees seem to genuinely want fans.”
“Can the Xingji trolls get out of our Super Topic already? This isn’t your private fan club.”
“Every day it’s drama this and that. How many paid trolls did Xingqiong actually hire?”
“Opening the Starlight Super Topic feels like stumbling into Lao Xing’s personal feed. There’s no room to talk about any other trainee.”
“You up there—tuck your jealousy away before speaking. Tide just swept the plaza the other day. Their aim’s still spot on (grin)”
“Guess how that trending post in the Super Topic got there? Just admit it—no one’s interested in your fave. Go home, kid.”
“This is a public Super Topic. If you use nicknames to mock others, may you and your idol both get canceled.”
“While other trainees are still stuck in the cutesy phase, Emperor Yue already has both love and hate swirling around him. One foot into the entertainment industry and he’s already caught in a storm.”
“If the original poster doesn’t delete this soon, I’ll just wipe the floor with them. Easy enough.”
After typing that line, Xu Mingmei thought for a second, then added a soybean emoji at the end before hitting post.
A head slowly peeked out from behind her and stared: “Xu Mingmei, you’ve evolved. You’re actually using sarcastic snark now!”
Xu Mingmei jumped and smacked them reflexively: “Are you trying to get yourself killed?! You scared me to death!”
She clutched her chest and said, “You don’t get it. I’m a battle fan now.”
Someone who barely watches one drama a year and always claimed to have zero interest in the entertainment industry was now chasing idols with fiery passion.
“You really like him that much?” Her friend was only tagging along out of curiosity today.
Xu Mingmei nodded firmly. “Yep!”
Her best friend didn’t really understand, but respected her—because she knew Xu Mingmei had started teaching herself Photoshop and video editing just for him.
If fangirling helped her grow and learn, that was a good thing too.
Xu Mingmei let out a deep breath and glanced around. “So many people came today.”
Not far from her, there was even a man holding up a selfie stick doing a livestream.
Judging by his appearance, he didn’t look like a typical fan—he looked more like a street punk straight out of some underground scene.
Xu Mingmei silently apologized in her heart: Sorry for judging by appearance… but seriously, he really looks the part!
She didn’t think too much of it—livestreaming was all the rage these days. Wherever there was hype, a swarm of people would rush in to stream it. Just look at the crowds outside trendy restaurants.
It was Xu Mingmei’s first time picking up Yue Zhaolin after work. Even though it was already late, she was bursting with excitement.
Her best friend suddenly thought of something: “Isn’t the show airing soon?”
Xu Mingmei perked right up. “The 12th! Just four—no, three days left. It’s so close!”
Ever since falling for Yue Zhaolin, she had been living life counting the days on her fingers.
What used to feel like an eternity now felt like time flying. The initial rating episode had already aired over ten days ago, and now she felt like victory was right within reach.
“He’s coming—!”
Someone shouted from up ahead.
Xu Mingmei immediately widened her eyes and picked up the rented camera. As she held her breath, a few silhouettes appeared at the entrance.
“Is that Yue Zhaolin?!”
“It is!”
The sound of camera shutters and flashes erupted all at once—it was quite a spectacle.
Xu Mingmei quickly tried to recall the slogan. They changed it daily based on Weibo vote results, designed to “tease” Yue Zhaolin.
“Three, two, one—Yue Zhaolin, give us a wink, please—”
“Yue Zhaolin, did you know your fan site admin was taken in for questioning?!”
Amid the cheerful chanting, a man’s voice suddenly cut through, loud and jarring, echoing clearly for everyone to hear.
“Do you know a girl named ‘GodDescendsTonight’—”
The moment he spoke, the crowd froze for a beat. But they quickly snapped out of it, rushing to shut him down before he could say more.
“Are you crazy?!”
But of course, the man had no intention of shutting up. The rapidly refreshing comment feed? That was hot traffic!
He had only shouted the question because he saw it pop up in the livestream chat—and the reaction was exactly what he’d hoped for.
Soon, the scene broke into pushing and shoving from both sides.
…
At the front gate—
The moment someone mentioned “taken in for questioning,” the contestant coordinator knew something was wrong. Alarmed, they quickly instructed others to get the trainees back on the van and return to the dorm—they would handle the situation here.
Who the hell is that guy? Has he lost it?!
How could someone blurt out that kind of thing in public?! This was supposed to be a wholesome, positive-energy show!
Cen Chi grabbed Yue Zhaolin’s shoulder. “Ignore him. That’s a gwanjung.”
In Korean, gwanjung refers to someone with an “attention disorder”—a person so desperate to be noticed, they’ll do anything for attention.
He tried to pull Yue Zhaolin away.
But Yue Zhaolin was strong—so strong that Cen Chi couldn’t budge him.
Yue Zhaolin asked sharply, “Where’s security?!”
Several coordinators stepped in to hold him back, quickly urging him, “Zhaolin, don’t panic. Security is on the way—”
At worst, it was just a bit of shoving—nothing too serious. Stuff like this had happened before. Once security arrived, it would all be over.
Bang!
A loud thud.
Yue Zhaolin turned toward the sound—someone had hit the railing and let out a cry of pain.
The man was still trying to force his way forward.
Yue Zhaolin suddenly yanked his shoulder free from Cen Chi’s grip—he was so strong, he actually hurt Cen Chi’s fingers.
“Zhaolin!” one of the coordinators cried.
In the chaos of the crowd, someone’s arm caught on a coordinator’s staff badge, flinging it into the air. The sharp edge of the badge struck Yue Zhaolin’s eye.
Someone gasped—“…Ah!”
Everything went blank for a moment.
One of the coordinators rushed forward, panicked: “Zhaolin, are you okay?!”
Please, please let him be okay! His heart was practically in his throat. As he spoke, he tried to check Yue Zhaolin’s eye.
Several people crowded around, including Cen Chi and Tan Shen.
Yue Zhaolin frowned, covering his left eye, inhaling sharply. Reflexive tears blurred his vision—everything looked foggy.
Tan Shen called out loudly, “The person who hit the railing—are they okay?!”
Cen Chi saw that as soon as security arrived, that attention-seeker turned and bolted like the wind. His face darkened.
The fan site admins saw Yue Zhaolin being completely surrounded by staff, seemingly to check whether his eye was okay—and instantly knew something had gone wrong.
For a moment, the crowd was stunned. Then someone shouted back, “…I’m fine! How’s Zhaolin? What happened?!”
Yue Zhaolin let out a slow breath.
“Zhaolin, security’s here. Don’t worry,” Cen Chi said quickly. “Let’s go—you need to get your eye checked! It’s really important.”
Eyes were extremely sensitive—even minor irritation could cause them to tear uncontrollably, let alone being scratched by a hard plastic badge.
Wei Lai urged, “Let’s get to the hospital, quick!” Thankfully, it was just tears—not blood—or they’d really be freaking out.
The worry on everyone’s faces was unmistakable.
Yue Zhaolin didn’t try to tough it out. As they moved through the crowd, he instinctively glanced back toward the railing. He couldn’t see clearly and blinked—his vision cleared a little.
Outside, the fans were in a panic. Their cameras kept recording, but the Yue Zhaolin they were seeing now looked very different from usual.
He was still covering his left eye. His right eye was red-rimmed and full of tears.
Tears had soaked his lashes, dark and wet like black feathers. The tip of his nose was flushed, and a visible tear streak glistened under the corner of his eye.
A fragile kind of beauty.
And still, he kept saying, “I’m fine.”
But no one at the scene could appreciate it in that moment. They watched helplessly as Yue Zhaolin got into the car and disappeared from view, their hearts filled with dread.
“Why is Zhaolin covering his eye? Was it injured?”
“He’s tearing up from the pain for sure. But he still smiled at us…”
It was clear he was trying to reassure them—telling them not to worry.
But how could they not worry?
Xu Mingmei was already falling apart, stumbling over her words: “…We… he…”
Tears streamed down her face. She didn’t even understand why she was crying—just that Yue Zhaolin shouldn’t have… cared so much about them.
In a situation like that, he should’ve only been thinking about himself, right?
Her friend handed her a tissue. Honestly, she now thought—yeah, that celebrity seemed like a pretty good guy. Xu Mingmei had good taste!
And maybe it wasn’t just yawns that were contagious—crying was too. The girl beside them started sobbing softly. Her friend passed over another tissue.
“…Thank you.”
Then to another girl.
“…Thanks.”
A group of girls squatted together, letting their emotions out for a bit. Once they’d calmed down, still sniffling, they started talking seriously.
“Do you think Zhaolin went to the hospital? Will the show post any updates?”
“Probably not, unless it’s serious. If something’s wrong, Xingqiong will announce a withdrawal.”
Withdrawal meant the worst-case scenario.
“If he’s fine, we should still be able to catch him coming or going in the next day or two. Let’s not panic. Even if he does withdraw… Zhaolin’s health comes first.”
“Yeah, totally.”
“That guy’s insane. Why bring up that ‘God Descends Tonight’ person who’s practically already in police custody—and even had the nerve to push someone?!”
“Can we report him to the police?”
“Definitely.”
“I’m not afraid to take him to court. I can even help fund the lawsuit—I won’t back down.”
“Me too.”
“Thanks, everyone. But let me handle it. Don’t worry, my family runs a small business—we’re not afraid of a little fight.”
—
[Goose Gossip Group | With the premiere just around the corner, Xingqiong’s team really knows what they’re doing—squeezing tears out of fans before the show even airs.]
—
[Original Post]
RT.
That scene two days ago? Total emotional hit. Die-hard fans? Hooked. When the show airs, isn’t he just gonna crush the competition?
Looks like they’re going for the “establish the foundation in episode one” route?
[1F] OP, you using dial-up? It’s already established.
[3F] Still, that hit right in the feels.
[5F] But this isn’t your typical sob-story strategy—no company suppression, no teammate b*llying, no “he’s got no resources” pity card. It’s fresh. Really fresh.
[7F] Every delulu fan just kissed their screen.
[8F] Is he sure he’s not a secret actor trained by Xingqiong just to shake up the industry?
[9F] It’s the expression that gets me—so sincere, so real when he saw a fan get hurt.
If he was acting… honestly, I’d feel a bit better about it.
[11F] For the first time, I actually felt a star love their fans. Not in a fanservice kind of way. You get me?
Before this, it always felt like fans were the only ones giving.
[13F] All these years, only Yue Zhaolin’s given me that feeling.
He’s strange—like, indescribably strange… Not normal.
[15F] You took the words right out of my mouth. I do think Yue Zhaolin is “fake”—not that he’s acting, just that… everything about him feels unreal.
He has flaws, sure, but I still think he’s perfect. Anyone get what I mean?
[16F] …That’s kinda hard to understand ngl.
[17F] Wait—why is no one talking about his eye? I saw him wearing an eye patch… Is he okay??
[19F] I heard it was a corneal epithelial abrasion—not that serious, but to reduce friction with the eyelid, they wrapped it with gauze and put on an eye patch.
[25F] He’s trending on Douyin again—just that picture of him going to work with the eye patch. The hashtag is #WhatTrueBrokennessLooksLike.
Some people even recreated the shot. Like—how do you even recreate that?
[27F] Douyin’s great for many things, but this is its one flaw—turning everything into entertainment, even serious topics. Everything becomes a meme.
[38F] Emperor Yue really is a magnet for drama. I thought his fan circle was already chaotic enough—didn’t expect more to happen.
But this incident blew everything up again.
[39F] I checked the Super Topic, seemed pretty calm?
[42F] That’s because they already went through one meltdown. Plus, Yue Zhaolin came back.
[45F] Lao Sheng’s fans have been acting like grief-stricken widowers—look calm on the outside, but mentally? Totally unstable.
Yesterday, some no-name idol made a jab at Yue Zhaolin during a livestream. Lao Sheng fans didn’t say much—just went ahead and got his only brand deal canceled.
[46F] Don’t use slurs, or this thread’s gonna be gone.
[47F]?! Wait, how did they even do that?!
[49F] Controlled the narrative, did “wheel-posting” (kept reposting his controversial clip).
The brand felt the heat from all the negative buzz and chose to cut ties (terminated the contract).
—This post contained prohibited content and has been removed—
**TN
Lao Sheng – Old Monkey
