Chapter 85: Tide Lottery
The fallout from Starlight and GreenFruit’s official apology was enormous. Compared to the past, this time the sincerity in the official account’s tone was so real it was unsettling.
An apology, the shutdown of pay-to-win channels, and even GreenFruit’s official account personally stepping in.
Having “won the battle,” the Tide fandom’s morale soared, and their Super Topic was buzzing with joy.
moonlight-wishing: [Open fandom lottery — the only requirement to enter is: “Never insulted Yue Zhaolin or used any derogatory nickname for him.”]
The prizes were decided by the fans themselves, so the variety was dazzling. moonlight-wishing took the lead, then compiled a list:
Category One — cash red envelopes.
Category Two — high-profile branded cosmetics, perfumes, bracelets, handbags, etc.
Category Three — electronics, including tablets, smartphones, Bluetooth earphones, and more.
Other — items they couldn’t send directly but could help pay for, such as game skins, annual scenic spot passes, and yearly memberships for Bilibili or other platforms.
The Tide fandom also held their own lotteries, with even more prizes — including various merch — but with more entry conditions, such as having donation records or a history of defending against hate campaigns.
Under the lottery posts, the atmosphere was boisterous, almost like a nationwide celebration.
[Wish Station made great contributions!]
[The second I saw GreenFruit post the statement first, I admit I screamed like a whistle come to life.]
[I was laughing like crazy at home. My mom came over to hit me; she was hitting me while I was still laughing, and she asked if I’d gone insane. Hahahaha.]
[The main thing is, the production team can’t force us to spend anymore (no idea if they’ll reopen it later, but for now, this feels great).]
[Here to be the denominator and lower everyone’s winning chances!]
In Yue Zhaolin’s Super Topic, the atmosphere was so festive they might as well have been setting off fireworks.
On Xiufen’s side, however, it was the complete opposite.
Xiufen was especially stunned—
So… you do know how to apologize.
In the past, Xiufens had fought for their idol’s rights countless times — controlling comments under the production team’s official Weibo, rushing to push hashtags onto the hot search — only to be met with the production team’s silence and perfunctory responses.
What was that supposed to mean?
Did they think we had nothing better to do?
Recalling the pain of those past struggles, Xiufen couldn’t help but wonder if the hot comments were right — did Yue Zhaolin’s fans really have compromising photos of GreenFruit’s CEO?
They were… emotionally broken.
—
[Goose Gossip Group | I’m Shattered]
[Main Post]
RT.
My former bias was once the center position of a certain season of a talent show. They were treated unfairly, and the fans worked tirelessly to defend their rights — but the production team didn’t even bother to acknowledge them. Ha ha ha.
[1st reply] …
[2F] I saw the apology, but I don’t get how it came to this.
[5F] Same here…
[6F] I think I’ve decoded who OP’s former bias was.
[7F] This is reaching the level where I’m suspecting a joint hype campaign.
[12F] If they’re really using this method for publicity, it’s playing with fire. It’s hard to imagine — does GreenFruit really need to promote Yue Zhaolin this much?
[16F] GreenFruit has always pushed people (especially those from its many affiliated entertainment companies), but they’ve never hyped up an “outsider” like this.
Did Yue Zhaolin change agencies?
[23F] Probably not.
Because Xingqiong also posted an apology. Judging by this, Yue Zhaolin is still their precious darling.
[27F] I’m guessing Xingqiong and GreenFruit have reached some sort of deal? Joint star-making project or something?
[32F] Tide must be thrilled — they got what they wanted, their idol won’t be suppressed by capital, the company is still backing him… basically a total victory.
[37F] They’re definitely happy. That open-fandom lottery prize pool must be in the hundreds of thousands by now, right?
[40F] More than that. I entered several myself, with the mindset of “what if I actually win?”
[47F] Do you guys think the fans will start paying again?
[52F] They will, but not much. I looked up past data — when an official blunder makes players stop spending, the chance of them resuming is only about 60%, and usually lower, not higher.
But for Yue Zhaolin, it probably doesn’t matter — even before the channel closed, his votes were already leagues ahead. Fans stopped spending for two days, and the ones behind him still couldn’t catch up at all.
[55F] I think another reason Tide is happy is that with the spending channel closed, they can fangirl with a clear conscience without being pressured into spending.
[58F] I’m going to enter a few more of Tide’s lotteries — wish me luck. Seeing them living it up is making me jealous.
[62F] Reply to 27th floor: There’s an industry rumor that GreenFruit will give Moon a lot of resources in the future, including roles in Zhe Xiao and the second season of The Palace Chronicles?
[68F] Huh? That’s a bold claim.
[70F] Zhe Xiao is the only male-lead drama in recent years to become a massive hit. I don’t like it myself, but everyone around me is waiting for the big final showdown in season two.
[72F] The Palace Chronicles was huge too. The first season aired ten years ago, and “palace study” fans are still discussing it today — it’s the most popular palace intrigue drama in the female-oriented market.
GreenFruit said they’re filming season two, and there are already dozens of actresses auditioning for the palace maid female lead.
[77F] Replying to 72nd: The Palace Chronicles 2 is still auditioning? Feels like they’ve been testing for four or five months already.
[81F] Zhe Xiao 2 will have several major villains appearing. The protagonist nearly loses his martial arts before finally defeating them. The villains’ moves are spectacular, and their character settings are exciting — in the novel, this arc is a highlight, so a lot of people have their eyes on those roles.
[88F] These two are undeniably mega-hit dramas with huge attention. Hand Emperor Yue any one of those roles, and it’s enough for him to feast on for a long time.
[91F] Don’t be fooled by Douyin people yelling that Yue Zhaolin should play everything. A “pseudo-serious drama” like Zhe Xiao, famous for its acting performances, is tricky — if he can’t pull it off, there’s a real risk of backlash.
And Douyin folks can turn on you in a heartbeat.
[106F] Why are people hyping this up when nothing’s confirmed? My industry contacts say Yue Zhaolin might become a regular guest on one of GreenFruit’s slow-paced variety shows.
[111F] Breeding the strongest by pitting them against each other?
[128F] Emperor Yue is GreenFruit’s favored son now — of course the best resources will be tilted toward him.
[130F] …Can’t argue with that.
[132F] Before, people used to joke about Emperor Yue “ascending the throne.” This time, I have a feeling it’s the real, grand coronation…
—
The “ascended” Yue Zhaolin was in the RV on the way back to Starlight’s camp, waiting for makeup.
A schedule that had been moderately paced suddenly became tight and packed.
In addition to the planned show recordings and crash courses for performances, many new engagements were added. For example, after filming the third elimination today, he would immediately head to a shoot — commercial voice-overs, promotional material as GreenFruit’s brand ambassador, sponsor advertisements, and VCRs for advance promotion of a music awards ceremony appearance, and so on.
There were also variety show and film/TV offers, as well as Yue Zhaolin’s debut song as part of the talent show’s debut group — with choreography and promotional stages already prepared.
Capitalists are profit-driven by nature; if they believe Yue Zhaolin is worth investing in, they won’t hesitate to spend. Various variety shows and exposure opportunities were already lined up for him.
They were waiting to see the return on investment.
The makeup artist gestured. “Zhaolin, look up — let’s start with your base makeup.”
“Okay.” Yue Zhaolin set down his phone and tilted his face for the base foundation.
He had been scrolling through the Super Topic.
From past debut groups, it was clear GreenFruit would squeeze every possible profit: debut songs, albums, nationwide tours, and even a disbandment concert.
In the mid-to-late stage, each member’s management company would arrange solo activities for them, rotating absences from group schedules — meaning no one would stay fully focused on “the idol path.”
Going solo was inevitable.
That’s why, in the two years after debut, exposure was especially important.
He brought up the idea of a performance-based contract precisely because once they debuted, GreenFruit would hold the primary power in managing the group. Since he was already “living under someone else’s roof,” he might as well go with the flow.
The contract term was three years.
As a major entertainment platform, GreenFruit would provide Yue Zhaolin with resources in hopes of large returns — that was the “pressure” on him.
But he could turn those pressure-inducing resources into his own nourishment.
Exposure is the nourishment for a star’s growth.
Ever since Yue Zhaolin earned himself a seat at the table, he knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy. He treated it as a challenge that demanded his full effort.
So when his driven self saw the Super Topic, he could truly share in Tide’s joy.
Fu Xunying, who couldn’t stand the sight of Yue Zhaolin, gave a cold snort. “What are you laughing at?”
Objectively speaking, Fu Xunying did think Yue Zhaolin could win — but the entertainment industry was a strange, almost superstitious place where objective analysis meant nothing.
When luck was on your side, no one could stop you; when luck was gone, no one could save you.
Just look at Zhe Xiao — a drama adapted from a very typical local web novel, packed with all the usual elements: sect politics, martial arts rivalries, fantasy power progression.
Nothing remotely original at first glance.
And yet, it blew up.
Later, they filmed Han Ya Yu, another drama by the same author in the same genre. It had so many sponsors that the actual episodes could barely fit them all — but it flopped quietly without making a ripple.
Looking at it that way, Yue Zhaolin’s momentum was indeed strong. But what if in the future… No, can’t jinx him.
Fu Xunying quickly shook his head, as if physically tossing the unlucky words out of his mind.
Yue Zhaolin: “?”
Fu Xunying, meeting his eyes: “…”
He then casually said to the makeup artist, “His bangs are too long, poking into his eyes. Trim them a bit later.”
Fu Xunying turned back with more instructions: “And you — don’t smile while getting your makeup done. Smiling gives you smile lines and makes extra work for others. Oh, and do you want to switch to a stud earring?”
Yue Zhaolin’s ear piercings were healing nicely; they should be almost fully recovered.
Fu Xunying gave him a meaningful look.
‘Come on, I’ve teed it up for you. Give me some face in front of others, brother.’
Yue Zhaolin raised an eyebrow.
When the two of them returned to the Starlight building, they ran into Wei Lai in the hallway, just as he was heading toward the lobby.
Wei Lai’s eyes lit up. Remembering his role as “Left Protector,” he was about to go greet them — but another trainee, Zhu Zhu, bumped him aside.
Zhu Zhu smiled warmly. “Zhaolin, you’re back. Perfect timing — we’re about to record the elimination. Let’s go together.”
Zhu Zhu was also of royal blood.
During the earlier drone-support incident, he and Rong Ruize had mocked Yue Zhaolin’s “touched” reaction, saying it was fake — deliberately practiced in front of a mirror just to get good screenshots.
In the third public performance, Rong Ruize and Yue Zhaolin were in the same group. They kept up appearances well, and Zhu Zhu had even laughed about it.
But the moment GreenFruit released its statement, the lofty Zhu Zhu also “voluntarily descended to the mortal world.”
— Zhu Zhu was a royal with a background, but compared to GreenFruit, his company didn’t amount to much.
It was obvious Yue Zhaolin had latched onto GreenFruit’s thigh; befriending him was a strategic move.
To get a word in with Yue Zhaolin, he strode forward quickly. As he passed the backgroundless “monkey” trainee, he deliberately shoved and bumped him.
The rumors about Zhu Zhu b*llying staff were true; his history of b*llying went all the way back to his school days, so moves like this came naturally to him.
Wei Lai was momentarily stunned from the hit — if he hadn’t been practicing dance lately and firming his stance, Zhu Zhu’s hip-check could have sent him flying.
Even so, Wei Lai still staggered a little. With that kind of force, there was no doubt it was intentional.
If it wasn’t intentional, he’d eat shit!
The more Wei Lai thought about it, the angrier he got, and he blurted out, “Never seen anyone attack with their butt before!”
His voice was loud, and for those two seconds, the entire hallway seemed to echo with the word “butt.”
Fu Xunying: “…”
Yue Zhaolin: “…”
Pfft.
One of the perks of being royalty: even with cameras filming, laughing was still allowed.
Zhu Zhu’s face changed, but before he could speak, another person came around the corner.
It was Rong Ruize, heavily backed by Hong Kong–Taiwan capital. Ever since he “caught a chill” on stage during the third performance, the company had him rest outside under the pretext of “stage fright.”
Today was the recording of the third elimination round, and Rong Ruize returned wearing makeup that made him look haggard.
He was a little stunned when he saw Yue Zhaolin—he hadn’t expected to run into him in the hallway.
Originally, he’d planned to wait until he entered the studio before crying, but crying in front of Yue Zhaolin would work too—after all, there were two cameramen standing right behind Yue Zhaolin.
That meant he could get a close-up.
“Zhaolin, I’m sorry… wuu wuu…”
According to the script, this was the moment he should shed tears. But Rong Ruize had overestimated himself—his acting skills weren’t that good, and he couldn’t cry on cue.
In fact, he had a small bottle of eyedrops in his pocket—a prop to help with crying scenes. If he couldn’t cry before entering the studio, he could just put a few drops in his eyes.
But for the sake of his manly pride, Rong Ruize didn’t want to take it out and use it in front of Yue Zhaolin, so he could only force it—squeezing and squeezing, but no tears came.
The result was…
A facial expression with artistic flair.
Yeah.
Wei Lai rubbed at the goosebumps on his arms and muttered in confusion, “Seriously, what kind of luck is this today? First a crouching dragon, then a phoenix chick.”
Remembering his duty as a guardian, he said, “Zhaolin, let’s move farther away.”
Yue Zhaolin couldn’t help but laugh again.