Chapter 52: Magazine Presale
Fans doing data runs and controlling comments for their fave, checking in on Super Topics — that’s fan economy.
Buying multiple copies of magazines and endorsed products — also fan economy.
The difference is, the former is free.
But the common point is: both help cultivate cohesion and a sense of belonging within the fanbase.
“You don’t have to worry. Someone’s monitoring the Super Topic. If anyone tries to incite fans to take out loans or make excessive purchases, the company will intervene.”
Last year, a rising idol from a survival show had a magazine pre-sale. A major fan account pressured others into spending:
[Students start with 10 copies, working adults with 50. If you don’t buy, you’re just freeloading.]
Ten copies cost 500, fifty cost over 2,000. Screenshots spread online and it became a laughingstock — then even state media called them out.
Yue Zhaolin hasn’t debuted yet, but there are plenty of people keeping an eye on him. If that kind of rhetoric appeared in his Super Topic, it wouldn’t take long to become cannon fodder for anti-fans.
Even if Yue Zhaolin were innocent, he’d still be implicated — maybe even publicly named.
Xingqiong has high hopes for Yue Zhaolin — they want him on the next Spring Festival Gala.
Even though the Gala has declined in popularity, it’s still mainstream — you can’t just waltz onto the stage without qualifications — so there’s no need to stir up a PR storm of blood and drama.
Compared to selling a few extra copies, Xingqiong would rather nip any risks in the bud.
“Oh right, Etienne heard about Duanmu Hongxue’s scandal and was furious.” He had only just returned to France and then flew back again — Liu Li couldn’t stop him.
Yue Zhaolin chuckled.
“Ah? Help me thank him for his concern — and let him know I’m actually doing just fine.”
Liu Li: “Also—”
After Duanmu Hongxue’s scandal exploded, his agency, Vision Entertainment, which was shady to begin with, immediately caved — and handed over part of his resources to Xingqiong.
They even said they’re open to continued cooperation.
“So the company’s planning to work with Light & Shadow, Illusonic, and Vision, and team up with the GreenFruit platform to create a reality show-style music program.”
For contestants after their debut.
Originally, the company didn’t plan to invest that heavily in idols — after all, the endgame for idols is usually acting.
But Yue Zhaolin was different. The value he showed on stage far surpassed expectations, and the company began mapping out a future for him as an idol.
He wouldn’t be short of stages after his debut.
As for his acting career?
Xingqiong was more cautious.
First, Yue Zhaolin’s face is natural — he can ride the “youth appeal” for a long time, so acting classes are a must; the return will be worth it.
Second, the first step he takes into the film and TV industry — the character setup must be strong, or the script must be excellent.
Both of these things require time and luck.
And—
“Zhaolin, compared to acting, do you prefer being an idol?”
Yue Zhaolin thought of the support banners, the cheering walls, the eyes full of anticipation from below the stage — and… every performance he’d given onstage.
He unconsciously curled his lips into a smile, his voice firm: “Yes. I want to be an idol.”
He loved the cheers, the applause, and the stage itself.
It was addictive.
…
Chu Li heard footsteps, looked up, and saw Yue Zhaolin: “Hm? You’re back?”
Yue Zhaolin: “Yeah.”
Chu Li: “Perfect timing. I’ve roughly worked out the choreography — want me to show everyone?”
“Since the music has a battle segment in the middle, let’s split into two teams — Zhaolin and Orleans in one group, the three of us in the other.”
The music started with the two groups entering one after the other, maneuvering around, and then igniting the fight.
The leaders of both groups — Yue Zhaolin and Chu Li — had a sword-dance duel. Chu Li had a burst of inspiration and added a highlight moment specifically for Yue Zhaolin.
Chu Li blinked at him expectantly: “……”
Clearly fishing for praise.
Yue Zhaolin watched as Chu Li demonstrated a sword move that included a sweeping leg technique — it was visually striking.
But clearly, it was also much more difficult than the other moves.
Chu Li suddenly realized this himself and cleared his throat: “Ahem.”
He’d gotten a little carried away — in hindsight, it might’ve been a bit too much. But recalling Yue Zhaolin’s physical flexibility, well… maybe it wasn’t impossible.
“Let’s try it first.”
Chu Li handed out a few tree branches of unclear origin to the group: “Let’s start by practicing some sword flourishes. There are inward and outward wrist motions — watch my hand.”
Yue Zhaolin studied intently.
As a kid, aside from watching TV, he didn’t have much else for entertainment, and not many friends either. He used to love draping a blanket around himself like a fairy and pretending a stick was a sword.
Now he was living out two childhood dreams at once.
Very happy.
Whenever Yue Zhaolin trained in something he was actually interested in, it felt like he was full of endless energy.
The second public performance was coming up — he had to nail it.
And then, on stage, he could even show off this new skill to Tide.
While Yue Zhaolin was focused and making rapid progress, Tide was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan — two hours ago, the official account of R.E magazine had posted a Weibo update.
@R.E:
“#R.E April Issue ##Yue Zhaolin’s R.E Debut ##Yue Zhaolin Cover Preview#
In the space where light and darkness intersect, what shines through the chaos is the arrogant moonlight.
He is imperfect, and that imperfection is its own kind of perfection — just like the ever-changing styles of his stage, inviting exploration.
Editor-in-chief / Creative Director: @eth.d. (Etienne Delorme)
Styling: @eth.d.
Photography: @eth.d.
Copywriting: @eth.d.
…
[Image] [Image]”
[…]
[…………How is it him]
[?]
[The photos… actually look pretty good…]
[Isn’t Yue Zhaolin still in a survival show? How did he end up on R.E…? And didn’t the gossip accounts say that the April cover was going to be Shao Meng?]
[This whole string of ‘eth.d.’ looks really familiar… wait a minute, is that the luxury brand founder who clashed with ‘Zhuang Zhou’ and trended on Weibo before?!]
[He really adores him… How old is this Eth guy anyway? Has he seriously made Yue Zhaolin his muse? It’s way too intense. Kind of weird.]
[Landing the April issue out of nowhere — didn’t he basically take Shao Meng’s spot? Aren’t Shao Meng’s fans going to raise hell?]
[…No wonder they call him Xingqiong’s darling. He hasn’t even debuted, and he’s already on the cover of R.E — one of the Big Four. Compared to him, it’s like Xingqiong doesn’t even care about Actual.]
— Thread reply: [How else was Xingqiong going to help Yue Zhaolin rise by stepping over Actual?]
[That gossip account basically ‘raised a Gu worm’ using Shao Meng — spreading rumors that she’d get a major endorsement, then pulling it away last minute so her fanbase would collapse from disappointment. Her fans didn’t fall for it, so why are these so-called ‘passersby’ now crying foul? Take Shao Meng and go. If there’s no official announcement, don’t get your hopes up.]
The ones trying to stir up drama thought a fight was inevitable — but just two minutes later, the top comments were overrun by Tide’s fanbase:
Pointless wailing and screaming;
Unhinged gibberish from fans losing all sanity over the close-up of Priest Yue tilting his head toward the camera — one cold, one smiling;
And plenty of desperate cries like “Is it on sale yet?” and “Where can I buy it?” — people ready to throw money.
The post hit over ten thousand reposts in no time.
“Moonrise Stirs the Swans” reposted it with a caption:
[Don’t panic, everyone — magazines usually do multiple warm-up posts before sales begin.
This is just the first one.
The images probably aren’t even the final covers yet, so stay tuned.]
With that bit of guidance, the fanbase calmed down slightly — and, with tacit understanding, all quietly hit the save image button.
As “Moonrise Stirs the Swans” predicted, over the next two hours, R.E posted two more cover teasers and two image-text posts.
All of the outfits were from R.D., with the other looks considered “everyday” styling — but the two cover images were even more over-the-top.
Version A featured Priest Yue in a side profile, standing tall. The lighting was dim and golden, emphasizing his long frame and upright posture.
His expression was one of compassion, but within the shadows behind him, enormous wings unfurled — black and mist-like.
Version B showed Angel Yue dressed in a pure white robe, lit with bright, clean lighting. He cradled a lamb in his arms, curled up in a hay-lined box.
Both his and the lamb’s eyes had horizontal slit-like pupils, staring straight into the camera.
The robe was tattered and battle-worn. The lamb blocked his chin and mouth, but it was still clear he was smiling — a soft, strange kind of smile.
Though A and B had slightly different atmospheres, both covers were intensely striking.
Tide responded with monkey screeches.
“Moonrise Stirs the Swans” — aka He Jie — was also so overwhelmed by the visuals that her brain overheated. After running around like a madwoman, she finally remembered the important part: magazine sales.
She quickly opened the group chat.
Last time, for the support wall during the first public performance, the fansite had requested permission from the station rep to use the images.
To make communication easier, the fansite and the fan station leader created a group chat.
And the chat was already buzzing with discussion.
[The gossip group is already collecting numbers in a spreadsheet — I’m speechless. What does Zhaolin’s magazine sales have to do with other celebrities?]
[It’s like, if Zhaolin doesn’t sell more than the people on that list, they get to feel smug about it.]
[I took a look — other fandoms pre-fund their purchases to push for peak-time sales.]
[We didn’t even know this was coming, so we weren’t prepared at all.]
[Wait — isn’t pre-funding not allowed?]
[Technically yes, but fansites can sell merch to raise money. Station admins can also sell PBs (photo books), so it’s just… disguised fundraising.]
[I looked it up. The record is: 5 million in 3 minutes, 10 million in an hour, and 15 million within 24 hours.]
[Looking at those records, it’s clear that the bulk of sales comes from the initial sales spike…]
[Even though we’ve been spending money voting this whole time, it’s always been hard to track exact numbers — this time it’s literal cash, it feels way more real. I’m nervous.]
[We’ve got the numbers — we could break that 15-million record, but not necessarily in terms of that initial spike.]
[Yeah, I think so too.]
[Most of our fans are probably casuals buying individually. We can only do our best to spread the word. And a lot of fans don’t even use Weibo — they’re on Douyin.]
[@Moonlight-wishing @YueZhaolin-Resources @… — everyone with a Douyin account, please help promote it!]
The group chat felt like a war room, everyone in formation, splitting into teams to promote the R.E magazine presale across multiple platforms.
The promo image? They’d go with both versions of the cover — those two images were stunning enough that even luring in a passerby would count as one more sale.
—
The Next Day.
Bzzz—
Her phone vibrated.
Xu Mingmei quickly shut off her 11:14 alarm, found the presale link on Weibo, and tapped in.
Since it wasn’t time yet, the purchase button was still grayed out — unclickable.
The details page said the first 30,000 orders would come with a poster + photocard, and everything after that would only include the poster.
Should be able to grab one… right?
Xu Mingmei sat at her office desk, heartbeat pounding in her ears.
The moment those covers dropped yesterday, she’d made up her mind — buy both Version A and B.
And buy multiple copies!
The gossip accounts were already collecting data — no way she was going to let their side lose face.
She had to fight.
“Xiao Xu, are you free? Come help me get a company seal — I’ve finished my request form.”
Xu Mingmei: “……”
‘AAHHH, WHY NOW?!’
‘Don’t you have legs?! It’s two steps, can’t you walk yourself?!’
Cursing her boss a thousand times over in her head, Xu Mingmei still miserably grabbed the stack of blueprints and went.
By the time she had stamped all dozen or so pages, several minutes had passed. Xu Mingmei was on the verge of tears. She whipped out her phone for one final sprint:
“…Huh?”
The screen had turned completely gray.
Xu Mingmei’s eyes widened.
She hadn’t even bought it yet?!
No way — was there something wrong with the link? Could the universe please stop messing with her now?
Furious, she exited the page and tapped back in — still gray. A loading animation spun in the center of the screen.
Below it, a yellow chick icon appeared with the message:
[Our little shop is overwhelmed~ Please try again later to place your order—]
No matter how long she waited or how many times she refreshed, it wouldn’t change.
“…?”
Could it be…?
A terrifying thought struck her. She held her breath and refreshed the Super Topic. Someone had already posted about it.
Moonrise Stirs the Swans:
[Screenshot of shop data before the crash:
11:15 AM — Version A: 80,000+, Version B: 80,000+
Still 11:15 — Version A: 110,000+, Version B: 120,000+
11:16 — Version A: 150,000+, Version B: 160,000+
11:16 — Shop crashes.]
[Data Summary: 11.5 million RMB in 1 minute, 15.5 million in under 2 minutes — and it’s not over yet (lol)]
[Once the shop is back online, don’t forget to complete your purchase — there’s still nearly 24 hours of presale left (lol)]
In under two minutes, they had matched what top-tier idols sold in 24 hours.
And there was still a whole day left.
How many copies would they end up selling…?
Xu Mingmei: “…”
Gulp.
She swallowed hard.
Suddenly, she felt like… the gossip accounts didn’t even need to keep tracking the numbers anymore.
The site crashing didn’t even matter.
Because from this moment on, every passing second would be a new record.
A record that belonged to Yue Zhaolin and Tide.