Gu Ran pulled herself out of those memories and turned her attention back to the event list in her hands.
The Idol Sports Festival didn’t include long-distance running—probably because the organizers knew it was too exhausting, and most participants were idols with image-conscious personas who wouldn’t want to ruin their looks by panting too hard.
Ding Ze: [So, have you picked your event yet?]
Gu Ran snapped out of her thoughts, quickly searched up the most popular events from past Idol Sports Festivals, and ruled out rhythmic gymnastics since she wouldn’t have much time to prepare while streaming. She replied: [How about archery or sprinting?]
Ding Ze: [Damn, those are the most competitive events! Tons of people sign up—are you really that ambitious?!]
[Wait—] He suddenly realized something. [You’re not just signing up for crowded events so you can blend in, half-ass it, and get eliminated early, are you?]
Gu Ran didn’t expect to be seen through so easily: [How did you know?]
Ding Ze: [Because you picked the exact same events as King Prawn.]
[If I can’t read you, I can definitely read him. Pfft.]
Gu Ran: […]
…
The Idol Sports Festival was held annually at the city’s stadium, spanning two days. This year, it was jointly livestreamed by a video platform and Cat’s Paw, and with two of Cat’s Paw’s top streamers participating, many of the platform’s users tuned in to watch.
Though Gu Ran’s motto was “participation over victory,” she still spent two days practicing at an archery range before the event. King Prawn, on the other hand, fully embraced his laid-back, couch-potato lifestyle.
During the opening ceremony’s athlete parade, the two sat in a quiet corner of the waiting area as Cat’s Paw’s representatives, barely noticeable.
The stadium was packed today, the stands filled with cheering fans waving light sticks and banners for their favorite idols.
Gu Ran and King Prawn were streamers, and their fanbase differed from idol fans—less likely to chase them around in person since they saw them daily on streams. Some of Gu Ran’s “Fish Pond” fan group had initially planned to come cheer for her, but she told them to just watch the livestream since the stands were too far to see much anyway.
As the host announced each participant or group, they stood and waved to their fans. When certain names were called, the crowd erupted—clearly the most popular idols of the day.
Then the host announced: “Next up—Starlight Girls!”
The screams that followed drowned out even the loudest cheers for the male idols.
Gu Ran covered one ear, overwhelmed by the deafening noise, and glanced at the stands where fans—occupying nearly half the stadium—were going wild. She was about to ask King Prawn if he knew who Starlight Girls were when she heard an ear-splitting shout:
“STARLIGHT! STARLIGHT! STARLIGHT FOREVER, AHHHHHH!!!”
Gu Ran nearly jumped out of her seat. She turned to see King Prawn, now a ball of frenzied energy, fists clenched, eyes blazing, screaming along with the crowd like a man possessed.
“STARLIGHT! STARLIGHT! STARLIGHT FOREVER, AHHHHHH!!!”
Gu Ran: “…”
She shielded her ear on his side and quietly looked up Starlight Girls on her phone.
—China’s top girl group, known for their bright, cheerful style, beloved by the masses.
Ah. That explained it.
Given Starlight Girls’ insane popularity, the host paused extra long after their introduction to let the cheers roll. The stadium had two giant screens—one focused on the nine members waving sweetly at the camera, while the other panned across the audience and waiting area.
Gu Ran watched as the second screen’s camera swept over the roaring crowd, then the athlete seating, passing male idols who clapped politely (lest their fans get jealous), before suddenly landing on one person.
This guy wore the same blue-and-white uniform as the male idols, but his reaction was anything but subdued.
Fists raised, veins bulging, he was the picture of unrestrained fangirl frenzy, his lips clearly forming the words: “Starlight, Starlight, I love you, like mice love rice!”
The screen helpfully highlighted his nametag: Cat’s Paw Streamer—King Prawn.
For a split second, the entire stadium went quiet.
In the waiting area, King Prawn, still riding the high of seeing his idols, finally noticed the silence and stopped shouting.
He glanced around and whispered to Gu Ran, “Why do I feel like everyone’s low-key staring at me?”
“What’s going on?”
Gu Ran subtly scooted away, hiding her own Cat’s Paw nametag, and sighed. “Nothing.”
King Prawn relaxed.
Gu Ran: “You’ve just achieved social death. Again.”
King Prawn: ?
…
No one expected the Idol Sports Festival’s first viral moment to star a Cat’s Paw streamer.
Clips of King Prawn’s unhinged, earth-shaking scream at the mention of Starlight Girls spread like wildfire online, captioned: “Watching this, I’m laughing myself to death.”
Netizens quickly ID’d the rabid fan as Cat’s Paw’s King Prawn.
[LMAO he’s not here for the sports—he’s here to stan!]
[RIP King Prawn’s dignity hahahaha]
[Literally me seeing my faves I can’t—]
[Wait, Cat’s Paw streamers are in this too?]
[Yeah, they partner up every year and send two big streamers. No one usually notices though.]
[King Prawn saw his chance and took it.]
[Who’s the other Cat’s Paw rep?]
[Their #1 beauty! The one they call ‘Human Bait’!]
[NO WAY! What’s she competing in?!]
…
After the opening ceremony, events kicked off, and athletes dispersed to their venues.
Gu Ran, aware of King Prawn’s viral infamy, gave him a parting word before he collected his number bib: “Good luck.”
“All eyes are on you now.”
“Including Starlight Girls’.”
At the mention of Starlight Girls, King Prawn recalled his screen-dominating scream and suddenly walked like he carried the weight of the world.
Gu Ran smirked at his retreating back.
Thanks to the hot search, everyone was now watching King Prawn’s performance. His plan to quietly flop in a crowded event? Thoroughly ruined.
With so many people, including the members of Starlight Girls, now watching this die-hard fan of the star, slacking off was clearly out of the question.
Gu Ran went to the women's archery section to collect her number tag.
The venue was packed with participants—almost everyone who came to the "Idol Sports Festival" had signed up for this event.
First, archery was simple and didn’t require much effort. Second, shooting in the "Idol Sports Festival" had always been dubbed the "Battle of the Visuals." The cameras would zoom in for close-ups during the competition, making it an unmissable opportunity to showcase one’s beauty.
After getting her number tag, Gu Ran found a spot in the waiting area and sat down, waiting for her turn to be called.
She looked down and saw a WeChat message from Ding Ze: ["I see you."]
Gu Ran immediately glanced around.
Ding Ze: ["Stop looking. I’m watching the livestream. I spotted you right away—you’re sitting in the corner, aren’t you?"]
Gu Ran exhaled in relief: ["Yeah, so what?"]
Ding Ze: ["Since Wang Daxia can’t slack off, don’t even think about it either. Show some competitive spirit—we didn’t spend all that money for nothing."]
Gu Ran frowned: ["What money?"]
Ding Ze: ["You’re trending."]
["The deputy CEO saw Wang Daxia’s hashtag and decided to get you one too. He just splurged on buying you a spot right under Wang Daxia’s."]
Gu Ran’s hand trembled as she quickly checked the trending list. Under the hashtag #WangDaxiaStarlightGirls, she saw another one: #CatPaw’sTopBeautyAtIdolSportsFestival.
A viral post read: "Cat Paw’s Top Beauty to compete in today’s 'Idol Sports Festival' women’s archery! After months of rigorous training, she’s aiming for gold!"
Below was a lengthy description of how Cat Paw’s top beauty had trained tirelessly for the competition, accompanied by a photo of Gu Ran practicing at the archery range.
Gu Ran recognized the photo—it was one she had posted on her Moments two days ago after a practice session.
The comments were flooded with fans cheering, "Ahhh, so excited!" and "Ran Ran is amazing!"
Staring at the line about "months of rigorous training aiming for gold," Gu Ran first looked baffled, then nearly passed out.
She immediately screenshotted it and sent it to Ding Ze: ["Did the deputy CEO buy this too? Did you give him the photo?"]
Ding Ze’s response was just as stunned: ["Holy shit!"]
["The deputy CEO said he paid a premium—50% above market rate—and specifically told the marketing account to hype you up properly…"]
But it seemed the extra money had backfired, making the promotion way too exaggerated.
Gu Ran took a sharp breath.
She and this deputy CEO were clearly cursed.
Gu Ran: ["Months of training?! I only practiced for two days! What am I supposed to do now?"]
She checked her fan group and saw her followers sharing the trending topic, amazed by how hardworking she was. Even those who hadn’t planned to watch the "Idol Sports Festival" tuned into the livestream, eagerly waiting to see her shine.
Ding Ze: ["Well, to be fair, most people aren’t that skilled either. The majority only practiced for two or three days, a week at most."]
Gu Ran: ["So, do you think I can win gold?"]
Ding Ze went silent.
Gu Ran: ["Hello???"]
Suddenly, Ding Ze was MIA.
Gu Ran checked her trending topic again. The competition hadn’t even started, but thanks to that over-the-top post, she was already placed on an impossibly high pedestal—no longer someone just there to slack off, but a dedicated contender who had trained hard to win a medal.
Gu Ran suddenly realized she’d laughed at Wang Daxia too soon.
With the marketing account’s wild exaggerations and fans eagerly waiting, if she got eliminated right away, the embarrassment would rival her previous red-carpet mishap.
The competition officially began, with female contestants taking their turns. Today was the preliminaries; the finals would be tomorrow.
Gu Ran mentally cursed the deputy CEO a hundred times, then desperately tried to recall the archery coach’s instructions.
As she was racking her brain, the host announced her name.
It was her turn to step up.
