Chapter 15
Meanwhile, on Weibo.
The hottest discussion topic right now was, of course, Stellar Light, which had been heavily promoted these past few days.
Whether it was the already popular contestants who had debuted before or the recently viral “street performer brother,” Stellar Light had the perfect timing and circumstances. Out of the top ten trending topics, four were about the show.
[Wuwuwu, I’m crying 360 degrees on the spot for my little deer! My baby must get famous this time!!]
[Crying for my little deer +1. He’s so cute and hardworking, but still not popular… I just hope this time is fair, without any shady backdoor deals.]
[Looking forward to the street performer brother!]
[Hhhhhh, looking forward to what? Watching him embarrass himself live? I’m dying of laughter.]
[Honestly, I’m more excited about the mystery head judge! We know everything else, but this is still a secret—can I hope for my Yangyang?!]
[Sis, you’re thinking too much. Duan Yang is overseas doing a concert.]
One person sighed and logged out of Weibo.
He was the head judge for the Stellar Light auditions, but not the main judge for the official show—he wasn’t quite influential enough for that. The reason the head judge remained a “mystery” wasn’t some marketing gimmick; it was because… they still hadn’t found one.
There was someone originally, but they had a scheduling conflict at the last minute. Now, the situation was awkward. They could just find someone else, but without enough prestige, both the audience and contestants would complain.
After some thought, he called a friend overseas.
*
Across the Pacific, in another country, the sun was just rising over the ocean.
Inside a certain room, a phone vibrated from where it had been casually tossed into a jacket pocket.
The room looked like it had been hit by a hurricane or ransacked by a thief. Various items were scattered everywhere—Beethoven music scores mixed with volumes of One Piece manga, and a crushed beer can lay nearby.
A person was completely buried under books and sheet music—literally buried, not a single inch of skin visible. It was a wonder whether they could even breathe.
The phone vibrated persistently for half a minute.
Finally, the pile of books shifted, and a hand emerged. It was pale—almost unnaturally so—slender and bony, with long fingers and well-defined knuckles. The pads of the index and middle fingers had slight indentations from years of holding cigarettes.
The hand fumbled around, first retrieving a hearing aid. Once it was in place, the sudden noise made the person frown in irritation. Clicking his tongue, he ran a hand through his messy hair and grabbed the phone.
“What is it?”
The person finally sat up. He was a tall and slender young man, not looking too old. His hair was a rare, almost unmanageable shade of milky blonde. His skin was so fair it was nearly translucent, and his striking features carried an air of arrogance.
“Duan Yang, do you know someone named Fang Huai?” The head judge had intended to get straight to the point, but remembering the song he’d heard that kid sing a few days ago, he added out of curiosity.
The young man yawned, sounding impatient.
“Never heard of him. Who?”
“…Oh.” The head judge was a little surprised—he had assumed they would know each other.
Duan Yang had once mentioned an old friend, someone for whom he had written a song called Breath. Breath and the song Fang Huai had sung were completely different in lyrics and melody, yet there was a subtle connection between them.
“Anyway, after your concert, do you have any plans? If you’re free, come back and be a judge for Stellar Light—we’re short on people. Also, you should meet this kid; he’s incredibly talented.”
Duan Yang scoffed, curling his lips into a smirk. “Talented? More talented than me?”
Head judge: “…” Do you have any shame?!
Then again, Duan Yang did have the right to be this arrogant.
“So, are you coming or not?”
“We’ll see. Probably not.” The young man lazily shuffled to the window in his slippers, lighting a cigarette. “Once I finish this round of work, I want to take a break. Go home for a bit.”
“What for?”
Duan Yang mumbled vaguely, “Looking for someone.”
The head judge didn’t catch it. “Huh? Going back home for what?”
“Tsk,” Duan Yang frowned impatiently. “Farming.”
“……”
*
The day before the Stellar Light preliminary recording, a gossip blogger on Weibo quietly posted a photo. The image showed a young boy napping on the training room floor—he was sleeping soundly, the tip of his nose slightly red, his lips naturally curved into a faint smile, making him look adorable and innocent.
However, the reaction under the post wasn’t exactly positive.
[I just got hit by his looks.]
[Heh, so this certain “migrant worker” already knows he has no chance of passing the prelims and has just given up? Sleeping in the training room? What a joke. Everyone else is working hard, and he’s just lying there? If you’re not going to practice, then leave.]
[+1. I can’t stand people who are both lazy and opportunistic. Stellar Light provides such good conditions, and he’s just taking up a spot to go sleep? I’m pissed.]
[Come on, cut him some slack. He’s not going to pass anyway, so giving up is pretty normal. 233333]
[This is how the gap between people is created, shrugs. Look at my hardworking, talented little Lu Yu instead. [Picture]]
[Honestly, I get it, but he’s just too lazy. There are only 20 spots out of 40 contestants—he’s never going to make it. But a lot of contestants know they’re going to be eliminated and still give it their all. What he’s doing just ruins his image.]
“……”
Shi Feiran nearly passed out from anger when he saw the post. How was Fang Huai slacking off in the training room?! It was literally break time. Fang Huai had finished his meal, trained extra on his own, and just dozed off for ten minutes—who knew who had taken this out of context like this.
Criticizing someone for being lazy was one thing, but saying Fang Huai was lazy…? Shi Feiran was shaking with fury.
Other people might not know, but he and Fang Huai’s dance and vocal coaches did. Just this past week alone, Fang Huai had been pushing himself to his absolute limit. He was probably sleeping only four hours a day.
To the point where it was heartbreaking to watch.
And if someone said Fang Huai was only working this hard because he didn’t realize he had little chance of passing? Shi Feiran had a gut feeling Fang Huai did know. And yet, even knowing that, he hadn’t held back his effort for even a second.
Fang Huai had always been a perceptive kid.
Shi Feiran’s hands trembled as he contacted the PR team to control the narrative—at the very least, he couldn’t let this negativity spread right before the competition. If it did, as one of the comments said, it would ruin his reputation with neutral audiences.
But before he could even get the call through, he suddenly noticed Weibo’s latest trending video.
“Feng Lang’s Sticky Rice Group (Verified):
Brother Feng hasn’t had any new announcements lately, probably just staying home again… So here’s an old photo stash for everyone to enjoy~ [Picture]”
“Feng Lang’s Sticky Rice Group” was a fan club account for Feng Lang, occasionally organizing fan visits, and even had connections with Feng Lang’s management team.
The man in the photo was tall and long-legged, half-reclining on a chair. A script covered his elegantly shaped light golden eyes, but the curve of his nose to his jawline was flawless. His thin lips naturally lifted slightly at the corners, making him look as if he was smiling—or maybe not.
A soft layer of afternoon sunlight fell on him, casting a mix of warm shadows and highlights that made the scene feel like a story waiting to be told.
[2333 Is he taking a nap? Slacking off?]
[He’s so breathtakingly handsome—how does even a nap look like a magazine photoshoot?!]
[Sleeping on set? Seriously? How unprofessional can he be?]
[Haters, shut up, okay? You call this slacking? This was during the filming of The Wind Shall Break, where he only got four hours of sleep a day. He had just 30 minutes to eat and rest at noon, and he literally fell asleep reading the script.]
[…]
Shi Feiran stared at the photo for a moment—then, suddenly, a light bulb went off in his head!
His fingers flew across the keyboard as he quickly contacted his team. Within an hour, they pushed the hashtag #Who Looks the Best Taking a Power Nap?# onto Weibo’s trending list, stacking up various ‘napping’ photos alongside some inspirational marketing content—
Things like: “People only see their glamorous appearances but never the hard work behind the scenes. Running on just four hours of sleep a day, their midday naps barely last ten minutes.”
Then, they strategically posted a picture of Fang Huai practicing alone at 11 PM the night before—the entire building dark, except for a single light still shining.
The overwhelming flood of mockery and slander against Fang Huai finally came to a halt. Of course, some people still didn’t buy it, convinced it was just PR spin, but a significant number began to feel sympathy for him.
However, there was one thing that everyone seemed to agree on: Fang Huai probably wasn’t going to make it past the prelims.
They all believed that this boy—who had spent so many years living in the countryside—was about to crash headfirst into the harsh realities of the big city. Some ridiculed him, some pitied him, but all of these discussions only served to boost Stellar Light‘s popularity even further.
And now, the Stellar Light preliminaries were just around the corner.
*
Nan City, High-Rise Apartment
A tall, long-legged man lounged lazily on the sofa, his light golden eyes glimmering like liquid gold. A lollipop rested between his lips.
His tablet hovered mid-air without any support, automatically refreshing Weibo.
Half-lidded eyes skimmed over the latest ‘napping’ hashtag. After a long pause, a casual smirk curled at his lips.
“Hmph… not completely stupid.”
Thanks for translating!