Chapter 81: Halftime Break (2)
Lai Yudong’s first choice was definitely Xu An.
It wasn’t simply because of how close they were—if it came down to familiarity, he was actually closer with Li Xu. Rather, it was because he had already witnessed the terrifying scene of Li Hongpo sharpening his knife with murderous intent toward him.
Just thinking about how Li Xu had repeatedly suspected him of being sick, and how he had always firmly denied it, made his heart sink.
Unfortunately, reality didn’t give him the chance to choose.
Su Junzhe volunteered to go to Dorm 707 to call someone over. Within minutes, the red-haired boy kicked open the infirmary door, radiating a murderous aura, looking every bit like a demon god returning from hell.
His stage makeup had already been removed, performance clothes swapped for casual ones, and his blow-dried red hair lay neatly against his temples—obviously fresh out of the shower.
[Feels like Li Hong is carrying a kitchen knife]
[Help, he’s gonna chop Yuzu up—]
[Pomelo’s about to be peeled into pulp 233]
[Su Su, why did you call Li Hong! You should’ve gone for Xu Anmu!]
[Yuzu: I hate you]
On the sickbed, Lai Yudong silently buried his head under the covers, his back to the door, not daring to breathe too loudly.
Rather than face death head-on, he would rather wait for the grim reaper to take him away.
Li Xu glanced at the small white lump huddled under the blanket, then turned to the medical staff to explain the situation: “Hello, I came to find Miura. I heard he needs someone to accompany him to the hospital.”
“Right, he’s lying over there.” The medical worker turned and called out, “Yuki, your friend’s here to pick you up.”
“Okay—”
Dragging out the word weakly, Lai Yudong rolled over, trembling as he stretched one hand out from under the blanket, his face breaking into an innocent smile.
“Hi.”
“Hi, my ass!”
Li Xu’s previously warm and friendly tone vanished. He glared fiercely at the innocent-looking blond boy. “What did I say? Sleeping only four or five hours a day, practicing when you’re awake, practicing even with your eyes closed—you were bound to collapse sooner or later! And now look, you’ve finally dropped! Yet before this you kept denying it, insisting with a straight face that you were just low-IQ!”
Lai Yudong: “…”
Low intelligence and getting sick with a fever are two completely different things.
He sniffled, making one last attempt at resistance. “I didn’t collapse from exhaustion. I caught a chill.”
“Yeah, right, like hell I believe that.”
Li Xu strode over to the sickbed. If the other weren’t so weak, he would’ve happily yanked him out of bed like plucking a bird’s egg from a nest. “Up. We’re going to the hospital. Want me to support you, old man?”
“No need, I’m not at that stage yet.”
Just as Lai Yudong sat up, his vision suddenly went dark—a thick winter coat was tossed onto his head, covering him like a heavy turban.
Lai Yudong: “…”
For a second, he thought he’d actually blacked out.
“Put it on,” Li Xu ordered firmly.
Lai Yudong tugged the coat off his head, slowly lifting an arm. Li Xu pulled up the sleeve for him, making it easier for him to slip his hand through. “So thoughtful of you.”
Expressionless, Li Xu replied, “It was Su Junzhe who reminded me.”
“I meant—you lifting my sleeve for me. That was thoughtful.” Lai Yudong patched it up immediately, his reaction so quick it was as if the dizziness had been faked.
He shifted the subject. “By the way, does Xu An know?”
Li Xu gave a short snort. “No. Su Junzhe was going to call Xu An, but he was already asleep. So here I am, gracing you with my presence.”
“Much obliged, Your Grace.”
“…You’re still pretty energetic, huh?”
[dbq, Su Su was wronged]
[Su Su’s goal was clear—was it because he didn’t trust Li Hong? hhh]
[Of course you’d prioritize the older, steadier one]
[Xiao Hong doesn’t seem like the type who’s good at taking care of people]
Lai Yudong thought, ‘That’s not necessarily true.’
Even though his roommate’s EQ swung up and down, whether it was repeatedly reminding him of fan-circle dos and don’ts, noticing first when he wasn’t feeling well, or the whole fruit-salad incident last time—everything proved Li Xu was actually a very attentive person.
No wonder he was a reserve member for the “mascot streamer who hides in the bathroom to cry.”
In addition to Li Xu, the staff had also assigned someone to handle payments. Even at this point, the production team stuck firmly to their no-cellphone rule, preferring to drag along another extra hand.
Really, I could cry to death.
A few minutes later, a staff member said the car was almost there, and that they could wait outside.
Li Xu nodded. “Alright.”
Lai Yudong added apologetically, “Sorry for troubling you tonight, sister.”
The staffer waved it off. “It’s fine.”
[Yuzu is polite literally all the time]
[Hope Yuzu gets better soon, mom’s heart aches]
[What about the Sunday signing event? Not saying he has to show up sick, but if he doesn’t go, wasn’t all the prep for nothing?]
[Can Sky refund us the money? QWQ]
[Some people better stop pretending to be Yuzu stans—show your fave some real kindness for once]
[Are they upset because their live tickets got crushed in sales?]
[The rich Yuzu fans haven’t even spoken yet, so don’t worry on our behalf. We only care about Yuzu ^ ^]
[If he’s sick, he won’t go. If he gets better, then he will. What else is there to say?]
[I believe in a brilliant career ahead—there will be plenty more signings after this one. Of course his health comes first.]
[Relax, even if Yuzu doesn’t go, there’s no way you’re the one filling in.]
Bundled up in his padded coat, hands stuffed in his pockets, face tucked behind the collar zipped all the way up, Lai Yudong trailed behind Li Xu like a little in-game pet on auto-follow.
The moment they stepped out of the dorm building, the barrage of comments vanished along with the lost camera feed.
He himself felt there was no need for all that arguing.
From what he knew about Sky Video, unless he was lying in the ICU hooked up to a ventilator, they’d still drag him on a stretcher to the signing event.
That’s just how heartless capitalists were. Regular corporate workers couldn’t even guarantee a day off, let alone him—a mere trainee on a program.
Besides, there was still one more day.
A shot or an IV drip, and the fever would most likely be gone by Sunday. Young bodies were strong; no way he’d be stuck in bed for three days straight.
What he didn’t expect was to unlock a new map before the signing event even came.
When they arrived at a nearby hospital, Li Xu transformed into the perfect assistant to a superstar, pulling out a hat and a mask to wrap Lai Yudong up tightly so no one would recognize him.
If he weren’t worried Yudong was too dizzy to see clearly, he probably would’ve slapped a pair of sunglasses on him too.
Lai Yudong thought Li Xu was overestimating his popularity. “It’s late at night, there aren’t that many people in the ER… Even if there are, they might not recognize me…”
“You never know with these things. What if someone snaps a photo and posts it online, and then a whole crowd of—who knows if they’re fans or just some strange creatures—comes rushing to the hospital to gawk at you? Then what? Miura, you have to pay attention to your words and actions. The finals aren’t far off. You need to start adapting to the role of an idol early. Got it?”
Lai Yudong: “…Got it.”
Although he wanted to argue that it wasn’t that exaggerated, Lai Yudong was afraid Li Xu would immediately give him a crash course in “Idol 101.”
The diagnosis was a wind-cold type flu, caused by overexertion or catching a chill: one antipyretic shot, followed by three days of IV drips.
The debate circled back to the beginning. Li Xu insisted it was from overwork, while Lai Yudong firmly maintained it was from being out in the cold. Neither would yield, both stubbornly clinging to their version.
Some unnecessary obstinacy.
In the infusion room, Lai Yudong reclined in his seat with the IV drip attached. The cold fluid seeped through the tubing into his vein, making his entire arm feel as though it had been plunged into an ice bucket.
It had been years since he last had an IV.
“It’s two a.m. now. You’ll probably finish around four,” Li Xu said, picking up a bottle of mineral water he’d asked a staffer to buy. “The next infusion has to be twelve hours later, so come back this afternoon or evening. I might not be able to get out.”
He twisted the cap open and handed it over. “But since you’re already on injections and IV drips, once you get back, take your meds and sleep it off—you’ll probably be almost fine when you wake up. You’ll definitely be lively enough to attend Sunday’s signing.”
Lai Yudong took the bottle with his free hand. “Thanks for sitting here with me in the middle of the night.”
He knew perfectly well Li Xu must be exhausted too.
To conquer this high-difficulty stage, their group had barely slept all week. Li Xu’s practice hours were second only to his own, yet he hadn’t chosen to wake Xu An or call anyone else.
“…Can’t just leech off your popularity for no reason,” Li Xu muttered awkwardly, reframing kindness as pragmatism. “Don’t get too touched. I’m just paying back a favor. If everyone had known earlier that your ranking would rise this fast, forget a hundred—even fifty people would’ve been willing to accompany you to the hospital, and let you ride on their backs all the way if it came to that.”
Lai Yudong couldn’t help laughing and crying. “It’s not that exaggerated.”
He knew plenty of people would go to any lengths for fame, but from what he’d seen, less than half of the trainees were like that.
Of course, someone like Su Junzhe—who had a bit of scheming but nothing malicious—didn’t belong in that category either.
“By the way, you seem pretty experienced at taking care of sick people,” Lai Yudong casually started a new topic.
“Oh, I’ve got a younger sister. She’s often sick, not in great health.” Li Xu propped his chin on his hand. “Our parents are too busy, so I’m usually the one who takes her to the hospital.”
It was the first time Lai Yudong had ever heard Li Xu mention his family. Sensible enough not to dig deeper or criticize his parents, he simply said, “You must be really close with your sister.”
“Yeah, we are.”
“And since you joined this talent show, she must really miss you.”
“More or less.” Li Xu glanced at the accompanying staff member, who was nodding off, head bobbing like they might fall asleep any second.
Seeing that, he lowered his voice. “I’ve got a phone.”
Lai Yudong suddenly understood. “So that’s why you…”
“Pretty much.”
Turns out he really was a good brother.
The long IV session passed in bits of idle chatter.
…
By Saturday night, the Galaxy ranking closed, and the signing-event slots were finalized.
Lai Yudong was told privately by the staff after leaving the hospital that he was one of the seven selected.
The other six were Su Junzhe, Mo Li, Zhao Yifeng, Qu Xincheng, Xu An, and Yin Zizhen.
After two rounds of IV drips, Lai Yudong’s condition was far better than the half-dead state he’d been in at two in the morning. His fever had broken, though he was still a little weak.
After tomorrow’s signing event, he planned to go back to the hospital for one more day of IV drips. By then, he figured, he’d pretty much be recovered.
The only regret was that dorm 707 couldn’t all go together—only he and Xu An had made the list.
“Go on then, I’ll just sleep in the dorm,” Li Xu put on a nonchalant act, trying hard to show he didn’t mind being left out. “Oh, and when you get up in the morning, keep it down. Don’t wake me.”
Lai Yudong teased to lighten the mood: “If any of your fans show up, I can sign for you.”
Li Xu choked. “…As if I’d have fans!”
“Double bias?”
“Wow, thanks so much. Now hurry up, take your medicine, and go to sleep.”
*
The next day, the signing event was scheduled to begin at one in the afternoon, so Lai Yudong and the others got up early for hair and makeup.
Before departure, staff laid out the rules for the event.
“You can’t accept expensive gifts. Only cards, handwritten letters, and small toys or accessories are allowed. Absolutely no food, no matter what fans say—don’t take a single bite.”
“Handshakes, pinky-promises, head-pats, even interlaced fingers—these types of physical contact are fine. But no hugging, no finger-kissing. Unless absolutely necessary, don’t leave your seat.”
“During the signing, no filming is allowed. Only third-person shots from the audience side are permitted. So if fans ask for selfies or group photos, you must refuse.”
“Signatures can only go in the official photobook. Nothing else fans bring is allowed.”
“Each person is limited to one minute. Staff will remind you when time is almost up. Make sure you finish signing within the time limit—don’t get carried away chatting and forget.”
Lai Yudong quietly committed everything to memory.
The one-on-one time turned out to be shorter than he’d imagined.
When they arrived at the signing venue, they saw it wasn’t very large—just fifty seats. At the very front stood a long table, with seven chairs lined up in a row. On the table were nameplates marking each of their seats.
The nameplates were arranged according to the Galaxy rankings, from left to right in ascending order.
Sitting in the first seat was Su Junzhe.
Since Lai Yudong had only been notified separately, he wasn’t sure of the rankings among the seven. He thought he would have to walk forward a few seats before finding his own nameplate, but after taking just one step, he froze in surprise.
The second seat bore the nameplate “Miura Yuki.”
Which meant he was ranked second on the Galaxy chart.
Lai Yudong was stunned.
Even during the ranking announcements, he had never placed that high—his best had been fourth place in the second round.
Yet again, his Yuzu-fans had blown away his expectations.
After confirming the venue and seating, Lai Yudong and the others returned backstage to wait.
With half an hour still to go, the Starseekers began to file in.
It was obvious that most of them were trying to make their fan identity instantly recognizable—some wore clothes in their idol’s support color, others accessorized with items tied to their bias’s representative symbol.
At a glance, though the crowd wasn’t large, the fresh and bright primrose yellow stood out, not even counting the solo fans and multi-fans who weren’t wearing support colors.
The Yuzu-fans once again proved themselves the kings of offline support.
At 1 p.m., the fan signing officially began.
Led by Su Junzhe, the seven walked in a line to the stage. They took their places in front of their seats and, one by one from left to right, raised their microphones for self-introductions. The cheers in the venue rose and fell accordingly.
The loudest of all came when Lai Yudong raised his microphone.
After a brief round of introductions, Q&A, and simple interactions, the event finally entered the most exciting part—the face-to-face signing.
The first fan to come up was a black-haired girl wearing a primrose-yellow trench coat.
The first to come up was a black-haired girl in a primrose-yellow trench coat.
She sat down in front of Su Junzhe, smiling as she chatted with him. Before the staff even needed to remind her of the time, she took the signed photobook, waved goodbye, and moved aside to the next seat.
The entire process was very friendly and calm.
The next in line was Lai Yudong.
He curved his lips into a smile and greeted her: “You—”
But he was cut off.
The black-haired girl suddenly dropped her composed demeanor from just moments before. Standing by his seat, she couldn’t contain her excitement and shouted at the top of her lungs:
“Daughter—!!!”
Lai Yudong: “…Huh?”
LOL???? GIRL