Chapter 12
Ren Ping stood there, utterly frozen like a statue.
Outside the gymnasium, in the secluded corner, there were over a dozen contestants nearby.
And now, every single pair of eyes was locked on them.
Everyone had heard Ren Ping boast about how much Ye Yuyuan admired him. Some had been skeptical, while others had believed him wholeheartedly. But at this moment, faced with the reality before them, they all came to the same realization—
If Ren Ping was truly admired and favored by Ye Yuyuan… then why was this happening?!
And why—why was the very same boy that Ren Ping had belittled as an ‘ant’ and a ‘nobody’ now being held so carefully in that man’s arms, as if he were something infinitely precious?
Ren Ping’s lips trembled. It took him a long time before he finally turned around stiffly. “President Ye…”
“Oh? You’re not calling him ‘Brother Ye’ anymore?” A contestant in the distance chuckled quietly.
Ren Ping’s face turned even paler.
Ye Yuyuan’s dark eyes were as deep and still as a frozen lake, devoid of any visible emotion. The way he looked at Ren Ping was no different from how one might look at an inanimate object—something completely insignificant.
For a split second, panic seized Ren Ping’s heart.
He had told this lie for so long that even he had almost started believing it. He had talked as if Ye Yuyuan truly admired him, as if they often had meals together—when in reality, they had never even met.
What would Ye Yuyuan’s reaction be now? Considering the kind of person he was…
But then—beneath that overwhelming fear—another, even stronger emotion surged within Ren Ping: jealousy.
Why?
Why was it Fang Huai?!
That useless, clueless, penniless loser—someone inherently inferior—wasn’t even in the same league as him!
His body started shaking slightly.
“…Brother Ye.” Ren Ping forced himself to look at the powerful man in front of him. His mind worked rapidly, and soon, he regained his composure. With a quick calculation, he forced a smile and spoke in a casual tone, “It’s been a while. You’re still upset about last time?”
His voice was steady and natural.
It had to be said—his acting skills were excellent.
In Ren Ping’s life, the most important thing was saving face. Face came first—everything else had to take a backseat.
He had made up his mind: as long as he insisted that he and Ye Yuyuan did know each other and had simply had a minor disagreement… with Ye Yuyuan’s status, there was no way he would lose his composure over something so trivial. It was far more likely that he would just turn around and leave rather than argue about it.
Ye Yuyuan remained silent, his gaze growing even darker.
…Had he not made himself clear enough just now?
The secretary, watching from the sidelines, was in utter awe. So human skin could be this thick.
The dozen or so contestants also hesitated. Seeing how composed Ren Ping remained, they began second-guessing their assumptions. After all, most people wouldn’t have the guts to lie directly to Ye Yuyuan’s face—could it be that Ren Ping was actually telling the truth? That the two of them really had just fallen out?
“Wait, do they actually know each other?”
“I mean, it does seem that way. That limited edition smartwatch of Ren Ping’s isn’t fake.”
“Then… maybe he is legit? I mean, most people wouldn’t dare talk to President Ye like that. He probably does know him.”
Ren Ping took in their reactions, his smile widening.
Ye Yuyuan’s deep black eyes narrowed slightly.
In his arms, the sleeping boy furrowed his brow slightly, as if the noise was disturbing him. His lips pressed together unconsciously.
The stern, handsome man stood silent for a moment before turning away.
This kind of trivial matter was something his secretary could handle. Right now, the only thing that mattered was…
Ren Ping watched as things unfolded exactly as he had expected—Ye Yuyuan was leaving. He let out a breath of relief.
As soon as Ye Yuyuan had walked far enough that he likely wouldn’t hear, Ren Ping’s smugness returned. Feeling emboldened, he muttered under his breath, “Tch, what’s so special about Fang Huai anyway? Just a piece of trash from the bottom of society, a lowly construction worker, an insect. If it weren’t for—”
Ye Yuyuan’s steps faltered.
The secretary: “…”
Honestly, the secretary kind of wanted to applaud Ren Ping.
They say fools rush in where angels fear to tread—but this guy? He looked like the type to only bully the weak and fear the strong, yet somehow, he still had the guts to dig his own grave.
Daring to provoke him?
Ye Yuyuan turned around, his pitch-black eyes steeped in an impenetrable frost. Shadows churned beneath their depths.
He didn’t look angry. His expression remained eerily neutral.
And yet, in that moment, the entire atmosphere shifted.
Before, he had simply exuded an air of cold detachment, a powerful presence that commanded attention.
Now, however, it was something else entirely—something suffocating, something that made the very air feel frozen solid.
The mood in the area plummeted.
Even the contestants who had been whispering among themselves abruptly fell silent.
It was early summer, yet Ren Ping suddenly felt like he had been plunged into an icy abyss.
The sun had been shining just moments ago, but now, dark clouds swallowed the light, as if a storm was about to break.
Ye Yuyuan’s dark, abyssal gaze bore into him.
“Say that again.”
His voice was impossibly low, like ice that had never thawed, like the slow, creeping death of winter itself—seeping in, inch by inch, ready to freeze the very blood in one’s veins.
A chill ran down Ren Ping’s spine.
His legs buckled.
He nearly fell to his knees.
A wave of uncontrollable panic surged through Ren Ping. The fear—an instinctive terror of impending doom—pressed down on him inch by inch, smothering even the jealousy that had consumed him before.
And yet, Ye Yuyuan hadn’t even done anything.
“W-what Fang Huai…” His lips trembled. He didn’t want to say it, but somehow, the words slipped out on their own. “Just a piece of gar—”
He barely managed to stop himself.
But it was already too late.
Ye Yuyuan’s eyes had completely darkened. For a brief moment, a storm of fury churned within those abyss-like irises, threatening to spill over—but in the next second, it was swallowed up, buried beneath a sea of cold indifference.
His gaze swept over Ren Ping. After a long pause, a faint trace of derision flickered across his eyes.
Then, Ye Yuyuan parted his thin lips and spoke, his voice low and cold, “You are unworthy.”
With that, he tightened his hold on the sleeping boy in his arms, turned, and stepped into his Maybach.
And the moment those words fell—Ren Ping’s legs buckled.
Completely beyond his control, he dropped to his knees!
His body refused to obey him. In full view of the crowd, he knelt there, raising his own hand—and slapped himself. Twice.
His mouth, no longer under his command, spilled the truth in an unstoppable torrent:
“I—I’ve never met President Ye before! The limited-edition watch—I stole it while working for a rich businessman! I’m an incredibly vain person—I kept lying to everyone, bragging that I knew President Ye! I was jealous of Fang Huai’s talent… I’m trash, an insect—”
The same insults he had once used to mock Fang Huai now came spilling out of his own mouth—directed at himself.
Ren Ping desperately wanted to stop.
But he couldn’t.
His own body wasn’t listening. It was as if he had been cursed.
He could only watch, wide-eyed, as the surrounding contestants stared at him—some with shock, others with awkward embarrassment, and many with outright ridicule.
His pride—his precious, most treasured pride—was being ripped away and trampled in front of everyone, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.
The humiliation was driving him insane.
Jealousy. Terror. And now… regret.
Why had he been so stupid? Why had he felt the need to brag about Ye Yuyuan? Why had he insisted on insulting Fang Huai?
The dozen or so contestants who had been watching were stunned at first. But after listening to Ren Ping’s confession, their expressions shifted.
There was no sympathy left in their eyes.
“I always thought Fang Huai seemed like a good kid. What’s wrong with being from the countryside? Did he steal your food or something?”
“You lied and bragged about knowing President Ye every damn day. Doesn’t that make you disgusting?”
“Holy crap, I knew some people had thick skin, but this… this is next level.”
“Wait a second—stealing something that expensive… isn’t that a felony? That’s a limited-edition smartwatch!”
“He’s probably already been blacklisted by the Ptah system—look, his watch isn’t working anymore. That’s brutal. Ptah’s smart tech is integrated into everything internationally, and it’s only going to keep expanding. Once you’re blacklisted… good luck ever using high-tech services again.”
“Serves him right. Hah.”
“……”
Not long after, the truth about Ren Ping’s theft was fully exposed.
Everyone who had once envied or admired him now knew the reality. They sighed, gossiped for a bit—then moved on and forgot about him.
But Ren Ping wasn’t so lucky.
Given the value of the stolen watch—and the sensitive information tied to it—he wasn’t getting away with just a slap on the wrist.
He wouldn’t be rotting in prison for the rest of his life…
But he would be staying there for a very long time.
*
Fang Huai had fallen asleep.
His sleep quality hadn’t been great these past few days—he kept having dreams, the same recurring ones.
In the dream, he found himself in a vast, pure white space. Floating in mid-air were a pile of stuffed toys, a suit, and a scroll… This scene felt oddly familiar. Suddenly, he remembered—he had a similar dream just the night before, with the same objects. He just couldn’t recall the details clearly.
The scroll drifted toward him, slowly unfurling.
However, just like every other time, the moment the scroll was about to fully open, the dream abruptly ended.
Fang Huai’s eyes fluttered open. The first thing he saw was the ceiling of the guesthouse.
The last thing he remembered was stepping outside after the auditions, only to fall asleep right at the entrance—he must have been exhausted. As for what happened afterward…
Never mind.
Maybe some kind soul had carried him back?
Fang Huai didn’t dwell on it too much. Checking the time, he saw it was only 2 p.m. If he headed to the construction site now, he could still move bricks for three more hours.
Wiping his face, he got up and left.
*
Two days later.
The production team of Stellar Light worked fast.
It hadn’t been long since the auditions, yet the final list of contestants was already confirmed. Fang Huai received the news while walking back to the guesthouse after finishing his shift at the construction site.
“Hello, Mr. Fang. Congratulations on passing the auditions for Stellar Light,” said a staff member over the phone. “We understand that you haven’t debuted yet, so—”
So?
Suddenly, the line went silent.
Puzzled, Fang Huai glanced at his phone. His old brick-style phone had run out of battery and blue-screened.
With no other choice, he continued walking back to the guesthouse, a little dazed.
The guesthouse was deep in a narrow alley, surrounded by breakfast stalls, auto repair shops, and curtain vendors. The alley was quite cramped, filled with illegal structures stacked upon one another. Usually, no cars parked here, but today, a small vehicle was sitting by the entrance.
It was a Volkswagen Beetle—not that Fang Huai recognized the brand. He just thought it looked tiny.
But it had nothing to do with him.
Just as he was about to head upstairs, the car door opened, and a chubby man in his thirties stepped out, wiping sweat from his forehead.
“You’re Fang Huai, right?” the man called out.
Fang Huai: “…?”
“…Yeah.” He nodded.
“Great!” The man grinned, his face exuding an honest, down-to-earth vibe. “I’m Shi Feiran, your temporary manager—assigned by the Stellar Light production team.”
The final list of contestants had been released that morning—forty in total. The majority had already debuted.
Unlike past talent shows that focused on complete newcomers, Stellar Light allowed both debuted and non-debuted contestants to participate. That said, top-tier celebrities wouldn’t bother lowering themselves to join, so most of the contestants fell into two categories: those who had debuted but remained obscure, and those who were once popular but had since faded into obscurity.
Contestants like Fang Huai—who hadn’t debuted yet but still managed to pass the auditions—were rare.
Besides, those who had already debuted or signed contracts with entertainment companies had a major advantage. It wasn’t just about skill; they also had better promotional opportunities and crisis management teams to handle scandals. More fundamentally, professional artists had access to training rooms and vocal/dance coaches—while rookies had to pay for all of that out of pocket.
As for why Fang Huai had been assigned a “temporary manager,” Shi Feiran had no idea if there was any special intention behind it. There had never been a precedent for such an arrangement. However, he was just an employee doing his job—he wouldn’t dare to ask too many questions.
Moreover, the conditions of this “temporary manager” role were so generous that they were almost unbelievable. Fang Huai didn’t need to contribute anything in return—it was entirely a one-sided investment from Starlight Entertainment. They provided him with everything: a training room, vocal and dance instructors, a PR team, an assistant, and even housing. Since he was about to be on the show, he obviously couldn’t continue staying in a guesthouse.
“That’s basically the situation,” Shi Feiran said, wiping his sweat.
Fang Huai listened, his expression unreadable. He nodded.
Shi Feiran thought he was hesitating—probably because he came from a rural background and was used to his freedom. Just as he was about to explain further, he heard the young man hesitantly ask, “A manager… what is that?”
Shi Feiran: “………………”
