The PR department of Xingyao was in chaos.
Wu Liao was swamped with work.
"SP" was Xingyao's biggest project recently—a variety show airing on Watermelon Video. Wu Liao had already put in significant effort promoting it, editing plenty of promotional materials. The show's biggest weakness was its cast of mostly unknown participants, but they had lucked out with the airing schedule, as no other variety shows were set to debut around the same time.
Then, Tianhui blindsided them.
"Let’s Eat" was a food-themed variety show, marketed as warm and comforting—completely different from the idol-training concept of "SP." Yet, "Let’s Eat" deliberately used "SP" as a stepping stone for its own promotion.
One day before "SP" was officially announced, countless posts flooded the internet, all eerily similar in tone.
[Main Post: So bored lately. Any good variety shows to watch?]
[There’s a new show premiering tomorrow! I’m planning to watch "Let’s Eat Today." "SP" sounds so dull—just a bunch of nobodies. Who’d want to watch that?]
[Do domestic idols even have any talent? Probably just a cringefest. I’d rather watch something cozy like a food show~ #Let’sEatToday]
[Rooting hard for "Let’s Eat"! It’s gonna be amazing! Betting it’ll blow up!]
Wu Liao didn’t need a genius to figure out these were paid shills.
If "Let’s Eat" had promoted itself properly, both shows could’ve coexisted peacefully—they catered to entirely different audiences. But Tianhui had to resort to dirty tactics, and Wu Liao wasn’t about to let that slide. She immediately hired her own army of shills to counterattack.
...
Yan Xi was also aware of "Let’s Eat"’s upcoming premiere.
In the original novel, this was another hit variety show following "Journey."
System: [Pei Yubai is really going all-in, huh?]
[With Tianhui’s stock prices plummeting and funding drying up, so many projects have stalled. "Let’s Eat" is the lowest-budget but most promising show in their lineup.]
To ensure "Let’s Eat" had the best chance, Pei Yubai stepped down as Tianhui’s CEO, hoping to lessen public resentment toward the company. Sun Qi took over the role, though in reality, Pei Yubai remained the chairman, pulling strings behind the scenes. His resignation was just for show.
Still, he got lucky—in the novel, "Let’s Eat" did become a massive success.
"But I remember, in the novel, Ye Luoyi, Qin Li, and Pei Yubai all participated in this show. Qin Li had just finished filming 'The Bottom Line,' which became a huge hit and boosted 'Let’s Eat’s' popularity."
"Meanwhile, Ye Luoyi and Pei Yubai’s on-screen chemistry had fans shipping them hard, which also drove up the show’s buzz. But now, none of them are involved..."
Yan Xi carefully scanned the announced guest list for "Let’s Eat." The lineup consisted of some recognizable names and a couple of mid-tier celebrities.
No Qin Li, no Pei Yubai, and no Ye Luoyi.
[Of course they wouldn’t join!] the system said. [And in the novel, the 'White Clothes CP' was super popular, and Qin Li was on the verge of becoming a top actor. Now? All three of them are practically canceled—who’d dare cast them?]
Yan Xi smirked. "Then whether this show can still be a hit is anyone’s guess!"
In the novel, they had protagonist halo. Now? Nothing. Besides, even if "Let’s Eat" did well, it was a completely different genre from "SP." Their target audiences didn’t even overlap. There was nothing to worry about.
.
Meanwhile—
A film studio in Haicheng
The hallway was packed, filled with actors both famous and obscure.
Today was the open casting call for "How to Win Over the Senior Brother," a low-budget adaptation of a minor IP. For most actors, any audition was an opportunity worth trying for.
Ye Luoyi was among them.
She was the most well-known figure in the crowd, though she kept her head down, her cap pulled low to avoid attention.
This was just one of many auditions she’d attended this month. From lead roles in major productions to supporting parts in small projects, even minor cameos—her options had dwindled drastically. Just getting this chance felt like a luxury now.
Ye Luoyi cherished it. An actor needed work and exposure to make a comeback, and she was desperate for one.
She’d hoped that after "Journey" aired without further issues, producers and investors might give her another shot. But reality was harsh. Audience favor mattered, and after Pei Yubai’s mess, hers was long gone. No one wanted her for positive roles anymore.
But Ye Luoyi refused to give up. If the audience hated her, she’d play villains. Infamy was still fame—Zhou Qingyu had managed a comeback despite her terrible acting. Why couldn’t she?
Murmurs spread as people recognized her.
"That’s Ye Luoyi!"
"Ye Luoyi is here for this?"
"After all the backlash online, would the producers even cast her?"
"Who knows? If I were her, I’d be too ashamed to show my face!"
"Right? Didn’t she make enough money the past two years? Some people have no shame."
Ye Luoyi’s face paled, her fingers tightening around her script.
She’d heard these comments too many times this past month. At first, she’d leave, heartbroken. Now, no matter how much it stung, she stayed, quietly rehearsing her lines while waiting her turn.
Would storming off change anything? No.
Securing the role was all that mattered.
The assistant director called her number.
Ye Luoyi was auditioning for the role of the senior brother’s junior sister—the fifth female lead. The character was the sect’s darling, childhood friends with the male lead, expecting to marry him someday. But then the transmigrated female lead appeared, stealing his heart. The once-innocent junior sister turned into a scheming antagonist.
Her arc was short, spanning only the first five episodes before her downfall, but the role had depth and a complete character arc—perfect for Ye Luoyi.
The moment Director Qian called "action," Ye Luoyi was in character.
Some actors went all out with costumes and makeup for auditions, especially for darker roles. But Ye Luoyi showed up barefaced.
In her view, a truly skilled actor could convey corruption through expression, movement, and presence alone. Relying on makeup was shallow.
She proved herself right.
Director Qian was thoroughly impressed and offered her the role on the spot.
For a moment, Ye Luoyi was stunned. After so many rejections, success felt surreal.
Hesitantly, she asked, "Director Qian, you know about... my situation online, right?"
"Of course," he said. "But 'Journey' aired just fine, didn’t it?"
If it could be aired, it meant it wasn’t a confirmed scandal, and the broadcasting authority hadn’t banned her. In Director Qian’s eyes, even negative publicity was still publicity. If the junior sister’s character ended up miserable, wouldn’t that give the audience a satisfying catharsis? Director Qian considered it a win-win!
Director Qian patted Ye Luoyi on the shoulder reassuringly. "Don’t worry, it’s not a big deal!"
Just like that, the role was confirmed. Ye Luoyi was overjoyed. Three days later, the actors were scheduled to gather in Hengdian for a two-week script reading session, and Ye Luoyi needed to prepare in advance.
She went home to pack her luggage and shared the news with Su Lingling.
But the moment she sent the message to Su Lingling, she received a WeChat from Director Qian: [Sorry, we’ve found a more suitable actress for this role. We can’t give it to you anymore.]
Ye Luoyi froze, her heart aching as if stabbed by a knife.
How could he go back on his word after confirming her for the role? She had been the best among all the actresses who auditioned!
Frantic, Ye Luoyi tried calling Director Qian, only to find herself blocked. Unable to comprehend the situation and unwilling to accept it, she drove straight to the film company’s building.
In the underground parking lot, she spotted Director Qian—and Pei Yubai.
"Second Young Master, rest assured. Since you don’t want me to cast Ye Luoyi, I definitely won’t."
"Thank you, Director Qian. If you ever need anything from the Pei Group, don’t hesitate to reach out."
Ye Luoyi’s ears rang, her mind buzzing.
Then Pei Yubai turned around and saw her standing there, stunned.
"Yiyi?" His expression tensed. "What are you doing here?"
Ye Luoyi lifted her gaze to meet his, her bangs slightly obscuring her eyes.
"I’ve done well in the past, but… were the failed auditions also because of you?"
Pei Yubai hesitated, then quickly tried to console her. "Yiyi, I’m sorry. I just thought… those roles you were going for were insignificant anyway! Come join my variety show instead. It’s an S-tier production, highly anticipated in the industry—it’s guaranteed to be a hit! Only I can bring you back to the spotlight. Come back to me…"
Ye Luoyi thought he must be insane.
"So, you deliberately ruined me, just to say you’re the only one who can save me? Pei Yubai, is this how you love someone?"
Pei Yubai didn’t see anything wrong with it. "Why waste time on meaningless roles when I can help you?"
"No!"
Ye Luoyi couldn’t understand. What kind of twisted, obsessive love was this? Destroy her first, then play the savior? Just like before—claiming to love her while exploiting another woman?
The more she thought about it, the more horrified she became.
She realized Pei Yubai didn’t love her. He just wanted to control her, to keep her caged.
"I won’t join your show," Ye Luoyi said firmly. "If you really care about me, I’m begging you—stay out of my life! Please, Pei Yubai!"
Pei Yubai’s heart ached unbearably. He had poured everything into creating the variety show Let’s Eat, staking his entire future on its success. He was certain it would work, and he wanted Ye Luoyi to rise with him.
What was the point of playing some minor villain in a low-budget production?
Wasn’t his S-tier variety show a far better opportunity?
Why couldn’t she see that?
But it didn’t matter. Even if she didn’t understand now, he wouldn’t let her go.
"Yiyi, I will succeed. When you see it, you’ll regret this. No matter how much you lash out at me now, I’ll always take you back if you come to me."
.
On Friday, SP aired as scheduled.
At 6 p.m., inside Star Glory’s private screening room, Yan Xi, Zhou Qingyu, Zhou Yanci, and department heads gathered to watch the first episode on the big screen, with live comments enabled to gauge audience reactions.
Though most of the trainees in the show were unknowns, the mentors were well-known, so the moment the program started, the comments section was flooded with praise for them. A few viewers who enjoyed idol performances also tuned in to check it out.
[The first idol survival show in China!]
[The stage setup looks amazing—Star Glory really put effort into this! The quality seems promising.]
[That pink-haired guy is kinda cute!]
[The blond one in the back is so ugly. How is he an idol?]
[Their makeup is so thick, it could plaster a wall!]
[A few of them are really handsome though. I’ll keep watching.]
Overall, the comments were mixed—some trainees were praised, others roasted.
Then, after all the trainees made their entrance, the mentors appeared.
The moment Ji Xingzhou stepped on stage, the comments exploded—
[Zhou Zhou is so handsome! Cheering for him!]
[Been waiting forever for Zhou Zhou to appear! His visuals are unreal~]
[Director Chu knows how to shoot him! His styling today is killing me!]
[AHHHHH! Zhou Zhou’s abs! That moment when he lifted his shirt on stage—SO HOT!]
Even Zhou Qingyu and Yan Xi were starstruck.
Zhou Qingyu shook Yan Xi’s arm excitedly. "Xi Xi! Sign him! If we sign him, we can see his abs up close!"
Yan Xi’s eyes sparkled. "I’ve already seen them! Six-pack!"
Zhou Qingyu: !
She whipped her head toward Yan Xi. "When did you see them?"
Yan Xi grinned mischievously. "This is a recording. I was there live! Perfectly defined six-pack!"
Many scenes in the show, Yan Xi and Chu Tingbai had already watched on set, but that didn’t stop her from enjoying them again.
Suddenly, Yan Xi felt a chilling gaze from her right.
The screening room had individual seats—Zhou Qingyu was on her left, Zhou Yanci on her right.
The icy stare was coming from the right.
She turned and met Zhou Yanci’s dark, unreadable eyes. "Were Ji Xingzhou’s abs that impressive?"
Yan Xi blinked slowly. "Well… they were okay, I guess…"
It wasn’t her fault Ji Xingzhou accidentally lifted his shirt while dancing!
Zhou Yanci scoffed, then abruptly grabbed her hand and pressed it against his own abdomen.
He was wearing a black silk shirt, tucked neatly into his tailored pants, but the firm contours beneath the fabric were unmistakable.
His voice was low. "I have abs too. You can look anytime. Touch anytime."
Yan Xi: !!!
How embarrassing!
After that, Yan Xi couldn’t focus on the show.
But the overall reception was enthusiastic.
Some trainees performed poorly in their debut stages, while others shone. That was the nature of idol survival shows—if everyone was perfect, where was the growth?
US, Star Glory’s own trainees, stood out. Si Ye and the US leader received S-rank evaluations, while most of the others got A-ranks.
The episode unfolded mostly as Yan Xi had predicted. The only surprise was one independent trainee.
When he appeared, even Zhou Qingyu was stunned.
"Shen Yi?"
Yan Xi asked, "You know him?"
"We collaborated once," Zhou Qingyu said. "His acting is even worse than mine. He gets a lot of hate online."
For actors, poor acting is an unforgivable sin.
Zhou Qingyu had taken this into account and recently stopped accepting scripts. Roles like Madness's Li Hua, which perfectly suited her, were rare, and she saw no reason to play poorly written characters just to annoy audiences.
Shen Yi's acting skills were on par with Zhou Qingyu's—equally terrible.
Moreover, he was socially awkward, freezing up in crowds and often scowling during interviews, which gave gossip outlets plenty of material to criticize him.
The only reason he hadn't been driven out of the industry yet was his ridiculously handsome face.
Zhou Qingyu asked Yan Xi curiously, "Did he fail to land acting gigs and switch to being an idol? Didn’t you say this show screened trainees? Did you pick him just for his looks?"
Yan Xi hesitated to answer. The truth was, during the initial selection, that was exactly the reason.
As harsh as it sounded, the entertainment industry prioritized appearances. So when filtering candidates, Chu Tingbai had insisted on making "visual appeal" a key criterion, despite objections.
Zhou Qingyu had zero expectations for Shen Yi. Actors weren’t trained in singing and dancing, after all.
The audience shared her skepticism. The moment Shen Yi appeared on screen, the barrage of mocking comments flooded in—
[So Shen Yi quit acting to become an idol?]
[Give me a break. He can’t even play a stoic character without overacting—how’s he gonna dance without his face going wild?]
[Just stick to magazine covers and red carpets, pretty boy.]
But when Shen Yi performed, everyone was stunned.
Zhou Qingyu’s jaw dropped so wide she could’ve fit an egg in her mouth.
[Holy shit! Is this the same guy?!]
[OMG! Shen Yi’s dancing is incredible! His singing and rapping too!]
[That wink just now—I’m bewitched!]
[With skills like this, why did he waste time acting?!]
[Those arm muscles… drools]
Yan Xi had anticipated this dramatic contrast.
Shen Yi was one of the show’s key talking points.
Years ago, he had trained as an idol in Korea and was set to debut in a group. But the day before their launch, the leader was exposed for plagiarism, and the entire group was blacklisted. Labeled as "that plagiarist group’s member," Shen Yi couldn’t debut in Korea, so he returned to China. Unfortunately, China’s idol market was underdeveloped, forcing him into acting.
With a backstory like that and talent to match, he was the epitome of a tragic yet dazzling underdog.
Many had dismissed SP, wondering, What’s interesting about a hundred unknown trainees?
But over three months, watching a hundred trainees train together and compete until only seven remained—that premise alone was gripping.
Plus, a hundred trainees meant a hundred personalities, providing endless material for editing.
There were dark horses like Si Ye, who excelled in both singing and dancing; veterans who flopped despite their fame; and outliers like Shen Yi—mediocre actors but phenomenal idols.
In terms of buzz, SP had no shortage of talking points. Yan Xi believed Chu Tingbai’s vision, though initially underestimated, would inevitably succeed.
With a hundred trainees, there was bound to be someone worth rooting for, right?
…
After the first episode aired, the reception within Xingyao was overwhelmingly positive. Even Qiao Yan, who had initially been skeptical, was pleased after seeing the audience’s reactions.
Yan Xi felt the premiere had achieved her desired impact. Now, it was up to the viewers.
Wu Liao reported the show’s performance: SP met Xigua Video’s viewership expectations but lagged behind Let’s Eat in online discussions. On Maoyan’s popularity rankings, Let’s Eat topped the chart, while SP placed second.
Wu Liao explained, "Let’s Eat booked Feng Yinyin and Duan Heng. They recently starred together, and fans are shipping them hard. Their chemistry is driving massive hype—they’ve trended multiple times."
Zhou Qingyu was shocked. "Didn’t Feng Yinyin and Duan Heng break up?"
Back when Feng Yinyin and Duan Heng had gotten together on set, their relationship ended quickly after Duan Heng was caught flirting with another girl. Zhou Qingyu, who was filming with Duan Heng at the time, had witnessed Feng Yinyin slapping him during their breakup.
Wu Liao shrugged. "It’s all an act. Their drama just wrapped, and Duan Heng’s been publicly cozying up to Feng Yinyin again. On-screen and off-screen romance? Of course it’s blowing up."
Zhou Qingyu scoffed. "Pei Yubai’s pulling out all the stops to beat us!"
In the original novel, Let’s Eat’s success had also hinged on a popular CP—just a different pairing.
"Should we buy promotions?" Zhou Yanci asked Yan Xi. He had stakes in multiple social platforms and could easily flood them with SP marketing.
Yan Xi, who had been casually observing the drama, waved him off. "No need."
If Zhou Qingyu said Feng Yinyin and Duan Heng’s relationship was fake, then it was.
Fabricated hype wouldn’t last.
Besides, SP’s reception had already met their expectations. All they had to do now was let word-of-mouth spread.
…
While Yan Xi remained unbothered, Pei Yubai was ecstatic.
Let’s Eat had surpassed SP! Just as he’d predicted, Tianhui’s shows would always outshine Xingyao’s.
What did Yan Xi know about the entertainment industry? Her past successes were only due to Zhou Qingyu’s connections.
To ensure Let’s Eat’s smooth release, Pei Yubai had gambled everything. Strawberry Video had initially hesitated to acquire the project, so Pei Yubai signed a bet—guaranteeing the show would dominate its time slot, or he’d owe the platform compensation.
That was why he’d aggressively marketed Let’s Eat at SP’s expense.
Luckily, SP was full of nobodies—no threat at all.
The next day, Pei Yubai visited Haicheng TV to discuss a drama project.
Let’s Eat’s success was just the beginning. He planned to reinvest its profits into White Marsh, a fantasy epic he hoped to air on television.
At Haicheng TV’s entrance, he spotted Yan Xi.
She was there with Jiang Tao to pitch The Bottom Line, a low-budget urban thriller that had wrapped post-production. In the original novel, it had only been streamed online before a TV network picked it up later. Yan Xi wanted to try simulcasting it on both platforms from the start.
Running into Pei Yubai was… unfortunate.
Inside the meeting room, Pei Yubai barely glanced at Yan Xi, dismissing her entirely.
White Marsh was a platform-certified S-tier blockbuster, while The Bottom Line was a measly B-tier project. In his eyes, Haicheng TV had no reason to hesitate.
After winning big on variety shows, who would have thought they'd soon score another victory in the film and television arena!
He would rise again eventually—he would prove to Ye Luoyi that choosing him was the right decision.
Before long, the head of Haicheng TV arrived.
Both Xingyao and Tianhui had submitted their drama pilots to Haicheng TV, and now it was up to them to decide which series would air during the Q4 slot.
Liao Tai first turned to Pei Yubai. "Young Master Pei, the production team for White Marsh is solid, but the special effects in the pilot you sent us seem unfinished?"
Pei Yubai stiffened.
Tianhui’s funding had dried up, so of course the special effects for White Marsh weren’t complete. But once the revenue from Dining Together came in, combined with the deposit from Haicheng TV, he’d definitely be able to finish them.
"Don’t worry, Liao Tai—we’ll have everything polished before the broadcast!"
Liao Tai hesitated. "Does Tianhui have the budget for that?"
Pei Yubai quickly reassured him, "With Dining Together trending on Strawberry Video right now, funding isn’t an issue!"
He then shot Yan Xi a sidelong glance. "Liao Tai, White Marsh is a platform-rated S-tier production. Whether it’s the script or the crew, it’s clearly superior to some B-tier low-budget projects. Shouldn’t quality be the priority here…?"
Liao Tai tactfully cut him off. "Young Master Pei, what I mean is, since White Marsh’s effects aren’t done yet, perhaps you could take more time to refine them. There’s no rush."
Pei Yubai forced a smile. "Liao Tai, you must be joking. The Q4 slot is just around the corner—how could we not be in a hurry…?"
Suddenly, the implication of Liao Tai’s words hit him, and his voice trembled. "Are you saying… Haicheng TV has chosen The Bottom Line for the Q4 primetime slot?"
Liao Tai nodded. "White Marsh is excellent, but after internal evaluations, we found The Bottom Line more compelling!"
