Chapter 82: The Signing Event (1)
The fanbase was extremely complex. Broadly speaking, they could be divided into solo stans, multi-stans, and CP stans. As for whether shou-fujoshi-only and gong-fujoshi-only should be considered solo stans or a separate category altogether, that had always been a matter of debate.
Within the large solo-stan category, there were further subtypes: mom-fans, girlfriend-fans, career-fans, face-fans, life-fans, and so on.
Among them, there was a particular group called reverse-Su fans or clay-sculpt fans.
Reverse-Su corresponded to regular-Su. “Su” referred to the idol’s “Su points” (charming highlights). For example, with a male idol, reverse-Su fans wanted him to be their girlfriend or feminized version; for female idols, it was the opposite.
At first, reverse-Su and genderbend were two different concepts: reverse-Su didn’t necessarily mean genderbending, and genderbending didn’t necessarily involve “Su points.” But as the internet developed, the two gradually blurred together.
And since male idols’ reverse-Su fans often overlapped with shou-fujoshi-only, over time, the three groups became almost the same.
Every so often, some “heaven-defying” remarks would pop up—statements so outrageous that fellow fans might block the speaker or even expose them on anti-blacklist sites.
Of course, for some people it was just a pet-name thing, shouted casually for fun: “wife,” “mommy,” “princess,” “sweet girl,” “little sis,” and so on—an endless variety.
Including this excited cry of “Daughter!”
The venue instantly burst into cheerful laughter.
“The first one’s this bold?”
“Awesome! Danced right up to the idol’s face!”
“So offline king means this?”
“Wait, I’m gonna shout that to my bias too, hahahaha!”
…
Fans waiting in line below the stage, bored and watching the scene, laughed along, while on stage, Qu Xincheng, Yin Zizhen, and the others looked on with shock. Even the second fan stepping up to Su Junzhe couldn’t help but glance sideways.
This form of address wasn’t rare, but very few fans dared to risk total social death by calling it out face-to-face to their idol—and in such a clear, ringing voice at that.
The black-haired girl couldn’t help but flush; she wanted to dig a hole and hide.
She hadn’t been yelling it as a joke—she truly was a clay-sculpt “mom-fan.” In chats with friends or when gushing online she always called him “daughter,” and over time the habit had become natural.
Seeing her bias in person this time, she’d gotten so excited that “daughter” slipped out.
There was a big difference between shouting it behind someone’s back and calling it out to their face.
Oddly, the person being called “daughter” remained the calmest. He only offered a puzzled smile, then considerately reminded her that the staff were timing.
Time was precious; not a second could be wasted.
The black-haired girl hurriedly slid back into her seat. She fumbled into her bag for a floppy-eared rabbit headband and tried to ease the embarrassment caused by that one shout by talking:
“Yuzu, Yuzu, I’m your solo stan! I came here just to see you!”
“Is that so?” Lai Yudong smiled as he took the headband. “Meeting my first fan right away—looks like I’m lucky today.”
The headband pressed down on his pale-gold hair; the two long plush ears lined up with his chin. The cute accessory and her warm tone softened the sharpness his appearance gave off.
When the distance between them closed, the star was right in front of her. Yuzu-fan, warmed by the close gentleness, mustered the courage and asked, “Can I still call you ‘daughter’ in person from now on?”
Some idols disliked feminized nicknames—being called “daughter” or “wife” would make them grumble, and sometimes they didn’t even allow compliments about being cute or pretty—so she specifically checked.
“Sure.” Lai Yudong tilted his head; the white rabbit ears that drooped on either side swayed slightly. “As long as you like it, call me whatever you want.”
He didn’t really mind such small things.
Or rather, he didn’t think fans needed to ask for permission when using novel nicknames—it would make it seem like he was laying down rules.
Li Xu had explained to him: unless you were lucky, getting into this signing event would cost at least five figures.
If even a harmless form of address were forbidden, that really would feel discouraging.
But that was just for him—how other idols and their fans interacted was their own business.
“Great!” The Yuzu-fan quickly handed over the photobook, flipping to the page with the pale-golden-haired boy, and naturally switched to her usual way of addressing him. “Daughter, just follow what I wrote on the note.”
Lai Yudong glanced at the slip of paper tucked inside the photobook—it was a wish for her to pass the written exam for her teaching certificate. “There’s also an interview after the written test. Should I add that in too?”
With little confidence, Yuzu-fan said, “But if I fail the written test, that’ll make me look so awkward.”
“If you pass the written test, then the blessing is only half as good.” Lai Yudong wrote the first line following the note, then looked up with a smile. “Of course, it should be according to what you want. After all, the written exam is just the first step.”
Yuzu-fan thought for a moment. “Then let’s include both! Just shorten it to ‘teaching cert guaranteed pass.’ Even if I don’t make it this time, I’ll keep taking the test!”
“Alright.” Lai Yudong lowered his head and continued writing. “Good luck with the teaching cert, future Teacher Wang.”
The sudden “Teacher Wang” stunned Yuzu-fan on the spot. Only when the staff reminded her that time was almost up did she realize she had written her real name on the note.
“I will!” She nodded hard, taking back the photobook he handed over. “You have to take care too! No—don’t overdo it, health first! You’re not working while still feverish, are you?”
“The fever was gone yesterday, I’m fine now.”
“Good, that’s a relief. Love you, daughter, take care of yourself!”
One minute was up.
The Yuzu-fan reluctantly left, calling back one last sentence: “The floppy-eared bunny really suits you—super cute!”
Lai Yudong smiled and waved. “Thank you, you’re very cute too.”
Next in line was Mo Li.
The first Yuzu-fan sat down in front of Mo Li. She was still basking in the joy of just having spoken with her bias, but her emotions didn’t slow her down. Just like with Su Junzhe, she went through the motions with the remaining five idols at lightning speed, not once needing the staff to remind her about time.
Meanwhile, Lai Yudong began signing for the second “Starseeker.”
He hadn’t expected it to be another solo fan of his.
This Yuzu-fan carried a takeout bag from “Kaifeng cuisine” (KFC). Just as he was hesitating about reminding her that feeding wasn’t allowed, she pulled out a pair of spicy chicken wings and a bunch of ketchup-coated fries—
—to be precise, hair clips shaped like realistic food.
“Son! Even though Mom can’t treat you to Crazy Thursday, I still found a way to bring these to you!” Yuzu-fan tried to hold back the grin tugging at her lips, putting on all the acting skills she had to look like a deeply affectionate mother. “When you go back to Sky Bandit’s clutches and get cravings, just look at these—like quenching thirst by imagining plums!”
Lai Yudong accepted the three hair clips with both hands. They were surprisingly realistic. “I appreciate the thought.”
Yuzu-fan’s eyes sparkled. “Then could you say, ‘Thank you, Mommy’? You can even drop the first two words if you want!”
Lai Yudong: “…”
So that was her true goal.
From hearing it said to having him say it himself—was this the qualitative leap?
With no other choice, Lai Yudong fulfilled her wish: “Thank you, Mommy.”
“You’re welcome, Yuzu-baby! Kiss-kiss, son!”
It was obvious—compared to the last fan, this one was an even bigger heavyweight.
Lai Yudong took off the floppy-eared bunny headband, clipped the chicken wing mid-joint and wing root into his hair, and pinned the fries to his collar. The look was like a fast-food promotion event where the store manager forced employees to wear bizarre costumes.
He simply swapped every form of address in his sentences: “What would Mommy like me to write?”
“The thread in a mother’s hand, worn by Yuzu on his head.” Yuzu-fan exaggeratedly wiped away nonexistent tears. Then she propped her elbow on the signing table, cupped her face in happiness, and gazed at her obedient son. “Anything’s fine. Just write whatever you want—something lighthearted.”
“And your name?”
“XXX.” Yuzu-fan carefully explained how each character should be written. “Could you swap the ‘Yu’ in my name with the ‘Yu’ from Yuzu (柚)?”
“Alright.”
Although the show required them to use their stage names for autographs, secretly altering one character wasn’t a big deal.
Lai Yudong lifted his pen and wrote—
[To XXX:
Thank you, Mommy, for the chicken wings and fries.
Your child loves eating them—he’s already had ten boxes!
From: Miura Yuki]
“Pfft, perfect! Sensitive skin also loves eating them!” Yuzu-fan rose as the staff urged her along. “Baby, take good care of yourself, don’t put too much pressure on yourself! Leave the rest to your mommies!”
Lai Yudong put on a well-behaved look. “Okay, Mommy, goodbye.”
The next few Starseekers weren’t solo fans of Lai Yudong. Some were solo fans of other idols, some were multi-fans balancing different biases, and some were wall-climbers (casual fans who jumped around).
One such wall-climber stared at Lai Yudong for a long time. Her expression was so earnest that he almost mistook her for a nervous Yuzu-fan who couldn’t bring herself to speak—until she opened her mouth and exposed her true nature of “loving whoever she just saw.”
“Oh my… what do I do? I feel like I’m switching biases on the spot.”
Lai Yudong joked, “Don’t tell me you just said the exact same thing to Su Junzhe?”
“No, no, no—I mainly stan Qu Xincheng. You, Jiang Yangfan, Bai Xuanhe, and Zhao Yifeng are my second picks. Honestly, I love everyone who looks good.” The wall-climber rattled off names that just so happened to be the top five in the visuals ranking. “Sigh, too bad Jiang Yangfan and Bai Xuanhe didn’t come today. I’m really heartbroken.”
Then she suddenly switched tones, speaking with surprising seriousness: “But I really do feel like switching. You’re even better-looking in person than on the show! And with the dog ears on, you’re even cuter!”
Lai Yudong feigned distress. “What about Qu Xincheng, then?”
“It’s fine, I’ll switch in secret. He won’t know.”
“Then I’ll have to brag to him about it.”
“You can’t be that cruel.” The wall-climber pretended to wipe away tears. “So bad. I like you even more now.”
Lai Yudong: “…”
Clearly, his rank was too low.
After signing her photobook, there was still a bit of time left. The wall-climber pulled Lai Yudong into making a heart pose together. Under the witness of her friend’s phone camera from below the stage, each of them extended their left hand, their half-hearts coming together face-to-face to form a complete heart.
Whether this fast-talking wall-climber actually switched biases remained unknown.
Once she left, the next person was a Yuzu-fan.
This was the third true solo fan. Compared to the first two lively Yuzu-fans, her personality was quiet and introverted; if her voice had been just a little softer, it would have been drowned out completely by the surrounding noise.
In reality, even within the Yuzu fanbase, every person was an individual.
They just happened to like the same person.
The frenzied, mass-produced, battle-ready side of fandom was only one corner of the fan world—also the worst, and the most visible.
“Um…” This Yuzu-fan set her fingertips lightly on the signing table, shyly lowering her head. “I—I did my nails in your support color, but on my hands, I don’t think they look very good…”
Lai Yudong paused the hand that was writing the to-signature and looked at the primrose-colored manicure Yuzu-fan had specially done.
“Really? The fresh and simple style suits you very well. The colors feel so spring-like, really eye-catching. And the hand-painted citrus slices are super cute—was that your idea?”
Yuzu-fan quietly lifted her gaze. Noticing that he leaned forward slightly to see the details more clearly, she carefully stretched her hand out a little.
“Mm, I suggested it to the manicurist.”
“That’s amazing.” Lai Yudong praised her sincerely. “It’s a really creative design. If you’d be willing to take a photo and share it with other fans, I’m sure a lot of people would bring it to their nail artists to get the same style. Even people who aren’t my fans would definitely like it.”
“It’s not that big of a deal…” Yuzu-fan grew even more embarrassed at his words, but inside her heart bloomed like a whole field of primroses.
She quickly pulled her hand back under the table, and before he could say anything else, she hurried to change the subject.
“Um, I run a dessert shop.”
“No wonder you can come up with such an original design.” Lai Yudong understood at once.
“Not really…” Yuzu-fan’s heart pounded wildly. She couldn’t tell if it was her social anxiety flaring up, or if she was just flushed and burning from his praise. “Before, to win a signing event slot, I did a vote-and-get-a-free-cupcake promotion…”
So to actually see him now—it felt like she’d helped make it happen.
Lai Yudong finished the last stroke of his autograph, then raised his little crown-topped head and smiled sincerely.
“Your desserts must be delicious.”
Half-jokingly, he added, “Thanks to those cupcakes, I got the chance to sit here today. It’s really a shame I don’t get to try them.”
A string of heartfelt, warming words—Yuzu-fan nearly couldn’t hold back her tears. She received the photobook that Lai Yudong handed over with both hands, and with all the courage she could muster, she spoke from the bottom of her heart:
“Meeting you is really the best thing ever.”
I love Yuzu fans 🥹