Chapter 24
[Bu Tu (Verified)]: Retweet giveaway. Vote for Stellar Light @FangHuai(Verified). Ten lucky winners will receive a limited-edition Ptah tablet (5th generation). [Image]
[WTF, am I seeing this right?!]
[Ten units of the 5th-gen Ptah tablet? OP, are you secretly a billionaire? ?]
[I don’t think this is just about being rich—are you sure your last name isn’t Ye, and that you don’t have a certain relative named Ye Yuyuan?!]
[Retweeted! LET’S GOOO, BABY! The happiest moment in life is realizing that my favorite artist loves my favorite idol!!]
“……”
But beyond the shock, some fans noticed something else.
[@XiaoZhuaZi]: Pfft… the Jing Ze True Fragrance Law never fails to deliver, huh? @BuTu(Verified): I don’t accept commissions, I don’t chase idols, I don’t draw strawberry cream cakes. I only draw the people I choose to. Stop asking.”
[HAHAHAHAHAHAHA]
[You “don’t chase idols”? Say that again with a straight face! ]
[Honestly, I always felt like the people this artist drew looked a lot like Fang Huai. Maybe I was imagining things?]
[Same here. +1]
With “Bu Tu (Verified)” already boasting a significant fanbase, combined with the unbelievably generous giveaway, the post’s retweets skyrocketed. Meanwhile, the voting gap between Fang Huai and Lu Yu continued to shrink.
Fang Huai’s talent was already astonishing.
A GIF capturing his moment as a dan (female opera role) was clipped and shared widely, surpassing 10,000 retweets on Weibo. A full four-minute recording of his performance was uploaded by fans to Bilibili, where it also went viral. And with both the giveaway and Professor Dong’s endorsement, many traditional opera enthusiasts—who hadn’t even watched Stellar Light—cast their votes for Fang Huai solely out of respect for Professor Dong.
After voting, some even took the time to listen to his rendition of The Peach Blossom Fan, and to their surprise—he was actually really good!
“No wonder Professor Dong favors this kid.”
Meanwhile, older opera enthusiasts stared at the surname Fang for a long time after listening. The internet wasn’t as developed back in their days, and many things had been buried in the forgotten corners of time. Digging up the past was difficult, but sometimes, a shadow of the truth would emerge.
Everything was brewing quietly beneath the surface.
The voting deadline was set for noon the next day.
By 11:00 AM, Lu Yu had 700,000 votes, while Fang Huai was close behind with 695,000.
A gap of 5,000 votes—a delicate, precarious number.
Fang Huai’s votes continued to surge, while Lu Yu’s had nearly stagnated. His aggressive early-stage promotions had reached their limit, and now, it was like a burst bubble—empty and deflating.
*
Inside an Office
Lu Yu’s manager paced anxiously back and forth, while Lu Yu sat on the sofa, his expression unreadable.
“5,000 votes. 5,000 votes!” The manager muttered. “Do you have any idea how humiliating this would be? We’ve already made big claims, bought marketing, stirred up the fanbase. If we don’t win—”
Lu Yu remained silent.
“You have to win. If you lose, you’re done!” The manager gritted his teeth.
Lu Yu had already fallen into obscurity once before. If he failed to win Stellar Light and let Fang Huai—some country bumpkin—steal all the spotlight, then his career would truly be over. They had invested too much into this. Failure was not an option.
“What are you so afraid of?” Lu Yu’s eyes flickered with impatience as he spoke coolly.
Unlike last night—when he had been furious upon learning of Dong Rulan’s support—Lu Yu was now composed.
“I still have my trump card.”
He smiled and casually drew a card from the tarot deck lying on the table.
“That migrant worker’s trump card is already played out. What’s there to panic about?”
Even if he didn’t know how Fang Huai managed to get Dong Rulan’s backing, so what? That was as far as his influence would go.
The manager slowly came to a halt, looking at him hesitantly. “Trump card?”
Lu Yu gazed at the tarot card in his hand.
A moment later—
On the Stellar Light voting page, Lu Yu’s previously stagnant vote count suddenly began skyrocketing again!
“……”
Fang Huai’s fans immediately sensed that something was wrong.
What’s going on?! They had been so close to winning—did Lu Yu just start botting votes?!
But that shouldn’t be possible. The voting system had strict anti-bot measures, and every vote required real-name verification. How was this happening?
[Damn it! Go, go, little cub!! What kind of monster is Lu Yu?!]
[2333 Your little cub can’t run anymore. This is just our Lu Lu’s real strength. We were holding back our votes earlier.]
[Impossible. Did he find a bug in the system?]
[Oh wow, another rabid fan of that ‘migrant worker’ is here biting people and throwing baseless accusations again?]
The gap between their votes started widening again.
Lu Yu’s fans were practically floating with arrogance, launching wave after wave of taunts at Fang Huai’s supporters.
But their smugness didn’t last long—not even ten minutes—before something drastic happened.
Lu Yu’s sudden surge in votes came to an abrupt halt.
Not only did it stop, but his vote count actually started dropping!
The voting system for Stellar Light had a specific rule: once a vote was cast for a contestant, it could not be switched to another contestant. However, votes could be discarded. If someone chose to withdraw their vote, that contestant’s count would decrease.
Normally, almost no one bothered with abandoning votes.
But in just ten minutes, a staggering 3,000 people withdrew their votes from Lu Yu!
*
Xiao Li, a high school student, had been watching Stellar Light and was struggling to decide whether to vote for Fang Huai or Xu Lufeng—she liked them both. She had been staring at the voting page on her computer for a long time.
But at exactly 11:00 AM, her screen suddenly glitched for a moment. Almost as if possessed, her hand moved the mouse and clicked to vote for Lu Yu.
“……”
The moment she pressed the button, a chill ran down her spine. She snapped back to her senses, frowned at the screen, and immediately withdrew her vote.
And she wasn’t the only one.
Similar incidents were happening all over the place.
*
Inside the Office
Lu Yu’s face turned pale.
The composed, smug attitude he had just moments ago completely vanished. He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms.
This… How is this possible?!
This trick had always worked before. It had never failed him.
So why—why did everything keep going wrong whenever he was up against Fang Huai?!
And before he even had time to get truly angry—something even worse happened.
On Weibo, a gossip blogger exposed everything.
The post revealed how Lu Yu’s fans had been deliberately spreading false rumors that Fang Huai was lip-syncing, and how they had been pretending to be Fang Huai’s fans to troll others and ruin his reputation.
The evidence was solid. Not just chat logs—but hard-to-obtain technical data that cross-verified IP addresses and browsing history.
@Guayi at Home:
“Why haven’t Lu Yu’s fans gone into acting? Their impersonation of Fang Huai’s fans was so convincing—going around cursing people, dragging others down, and then playing the victim. Y’all are something else! Here’s proof of Lu Yu’s fans impersonating Fang Huai’s fans to smear him. [Screenshots]
And here’s the IP comparison and browsing history check. [More screenshots]”
[Holy shit. This is disgusting. It’s bad enough to slander him, but pretending to be his fans just to ruin his reputation?!]
[The audacity… And Lu Yu still has the nerve to act like an innocent, clean-cut idol? Get lost.]
[I actually feel bad for Fang Huai’s fans. They’ve been getting attacked for no reason, taking all the blame.]
[No need to feel bad for us 23333. Our cub spoils us a lot. We’re not upset at all.]
And then, someone stumbled upon Fang Huai’s Weibo post from yesterday.
At the height of all the controversy—when everything was at its worst—
Fang Huai had personally stepped forward to speak up for his fans.
At that time, Fang Huai’s fans were being ridiculed and attacked across the entire internet, labeled as rabid dogs. From the way things looked, a comeback seemed nearly impossible.
[Holy crap, what kind of god-tier idol is this?! I’m so jealous—did Fang Huai’s fans save the galaxy in their past lives?!]
[I’m so envious.]
[I want my idol to trust me unconditionally too, sob sob.]
Before long, not only did those who had mistakenly voted for Lu Yu withdraw their votes, but many of his disillusioned fans—those who had turned from supporters to neutral observers—also began to abandon their votes.
At exactly 12:00 PM, voting closed.
Fang Huai: 710,000 votes
Lu Yu: 690,000 votes
The situation had completely reversed.
Fang Huai won!
*
Fang Huai had no idea.
The night before, he had done everything he could. After scrolling through some Weibo comments, he clumsily turned off his phone and went back to practicing. He didn’t have much time.
He was aware of the talent competition, but he didn’t realize how significant it was—somehow, the people around him had all kept that information from him, at least to some extent.
Because the outcome was still uncertain.
*
12:00 PM.
The voting results were finalized.
Shi Feiran let out a deep breath and stepped out of his office. Just across the hallway was Fang Huai’s training room.
Standing outside the floor-to-ceiling window, Shi Feiran quietly watched.
Inside the bright and spacious room, the young man was diligently practicing his basic movements.
The next round would be a singing and dancing performance—he wouldn’t just have to sing, but also dance. His song had already been chosen for him since he wasn’t very experienced in this area. After discussions, his instructors had made the decision on his behalf.
“Fang Huai has incredible focus,” his dance teacher had once told him. “He pushes himself hard at the start, and even halfway through, he’s still pushing just as hard. He’s a kid with great character.”
Even after the initial audition, Fang Huai continued practicing late into the night. After the talent showcase, he still maintained the same routine.
Fame, praise, admiration.
Shi Feiran noticed something about Fang Huai—when most people receive love and recognition, they tend to become a little arrogant, a little vain. That pride often leads to complacency.
But Fang Huai was different.
Instead of letting the admiration get to his head, it only fueled him to work even harder, to push himself further—to become someone truly worthy of that love.
Fang Huai had a humility and strength of character that set him apart.
Through the glass, Fang Huai waved at him.
His skin was porcelain white, glowing softly in the light. His light amber eyes were as clear as water, carrying a trace of concern—Shi Feiran looked exhausted, his face visibly drained.
Shi Feiran rubbed his face, shook his head, and forced a small smile in response.
As he turned around, he suddenly froze.
Standing behind him was someone he never expected to see.
The man was dressed in a perfectly tailored high-end suit, his brows faintly furrowed with an air of quiet solemnity. Handsome, serious, and impeccably composed.
He stood straight and still, silently watching through the glass into the training room.
— It was Ye Yuyuan.
Shi Feiran’s mouth fell open in shock.
Ye Yuyuan glanced at him briefly, then gave him a slight nod. “Hello.”
Shi Feiran immediately broke into a cold sweat. He stammered, “M-Mr. Ye, hello.”
Ye Yuyuan was the boss of his boss—an undeniably powerful and ridiculously wealthy man. How could he not be nervous?
But… why was Ye always here?
Following Ye Yuyuan’s gaze, Shi Feiran turned to see Fang Huai practicing with his instructor. Though still a bit unsteady, he was making visible progress. His movements had improved after days of training, but there was still a hint of endearing awkwardness in them.
He wasn’t chubby, yet somehow, he resembled a wobbly little penguin. A thin layer of sweat had formed on his nose, and his delicate features made him all the more charming and likable.
Then, Shi Feiran saw it.
He watched, stunned, as Ye Yuyuan’s lips curved ever so slightly—a fleeting expression, a hint of softness flashing through his eyes.
Almost immediately, the man coughed lightly and resumed his usual serious demeanor.
Shi Feiran: “…”
He pinched his own face. He must have imagined it.
“Mr. Ye,” Shi Feiran finally walked forward and asked, “Are you here to see Fang Huai for something?”
Ye Yuyuan remained silent for a moment.
His thin lips pressed together, emotions flickering in his dark eyes.
Nothing urgent.
He had just happened to pass by.
He had just really wanted to see him.
Every day, Ye Yuyuan found himself wanting to see Fang Huai—to talk to him, about anything.
Yet even now, they still remained strangers.
That realization dimmed the light in Ye Yuyuan’s deep, obsidian-like gaze.
After a brief pause, he took out a business card from his holder and handed it to Shi Feiran. In a low voice, he said, “Give this to him. Thank you.”
Shi Feiran hesitantly accepted it.
… Ye Yuyuan personally came all this way just to give Fang Huai a business card? What was going on?
His eyes darted to Ye Yuyuan, suddenly feeling wary.
Could this be… some kind of shady proposition?
Shi Feiran immediately decided that if this was some kind of “hidden rule” situation, he would make sure to block it, no matter what.
But Ye Yuyuan didn’t say anything else. After taking one last look inside, he retracted his gaze and stepped into the elevator.
His assistant followed closely behind. Before leaving, he glanced at Shi Feiran and casually reassured him, “Don’t worry. It’s not what you think.”
Shi Feiran hesitated, then gave a small nod.
*
At lunchtime, Shi Feiran passed the business card to Fang Huai. Worried that he wouldn’t understand, he explained, “This guy’s name is Ye Yuyuan. Here’s his number, and—”
Fang Huai’s hand, mid-bite, froze.
His eating habits were polite, but his speed was surprisingly fast. His light amber eyes flickered slightly as he looked at Shi Feiran.
“Ye Yuyuan?” He swallowed his bite and asked.
Shi Feiran nodded.
Fang Huai suddenly felt a bit happy.
He carefully saved Ye Yuyuan’s number in his contacts. He still used a basic blue-screen phone for calls, as he wasn’t used to the smartphone Shi Feiran had bought him. He only used it for browsing Weibo.
In the following days, Fang Huai continued his rigorous routine, leaving early and returning late, diligently practicing every day.
In his blue-screen phone, Ye Yuyuan’s contact was saved as “Ye Yuyuan (Friend).”
Each morning, Fang Huai would check his missed calls—it was always empty. Ye Yuyuan had never called him.
Maybe he was just really busy.
Fang Huai thought about calling him but felt it might be too abrupt. In the end, he just washed his face and went back to training.
Meanwhile—
Ye Yuyuan was checking his phone five times an hour on average.
He had never been one to rely on his phone, delegating most of his tasks to a personal AI assistant. This was the first time he had ever checked it so frequently.
As soon as each meeting ended, his subordinates noticed that Ye Yuyuan would immediately take out his phone, his thin lips pressed together, silently checking the screen.
Two minutes later, his dark eyes dimmed slightly. Disappointed, he pressed the lock button.
No missed calls.
Subordinates: “…”
What is happening?!
*
A week flew by.
After the talent selection round, #Lu Yu’s Persona Collapses# trended again. Even though his company spent a fortune on PR damage control, his popularity still plummeted. Another selection round followed.
This time, Fang Huai was at a disadvantage.
… His strength lay in singing, while dancing was his biggest weakness. It was unavoidable—no one can excel at everything. Being great at both was simply unrealistic.
In this singing-and-dancing challenge, Fang Huai’s dancing was noticeably weaker. The judges’ scores reflected that, and he was ranked lower than another contestant.
[It’s okay! Keep going, baby!]
[Honestly, it’s kinda cute, lol.]
[Compared to last time, he’s already improved a lot.]
[LMAO, his delusional fans are defending him again? Bad is bad.]
[Baby, don’t be too hard on yourself. Just take care of yourself and stay healthy. That’s all that atters.]
A GIF of Fang Huai dancing was even clipped and shared separately… He had actually improved significantly, but his movements were still a bit stiff—somehow, it made him oddly adorable and even gained him some new fans.
His supporters were trying to comfort him, but Fang Huai knew the truth.
His skills were still far from enough.
Everyone could see it. The finals would also involve singing and dancing, and many people regretted that his lack of dancing ability might cost him the championship.
He simply didn’t have enough preparation time.
With the finals fast approaching—and with dancing being unavoidable—Fang Huai clenched his teeth and extended his daily training from eight hours to twelve.
His dance instructor even joked that he was practically living in the training room.
Hard work could make up for shortcomings.
Fang Huai and his instructor carefully selected a routine that didn’t require extensive foundational skills but still had a strong impact. He might lack natural talent, but he was willing to put in the work, meticulously studying and replicating each movement from video recordings.
The day before the finals—
Alone in the training room, Fang Huai went through his entire routine from start to finish.
He had always held himself to high standards—he needed to at least be satisfied with his performance.
Until now, he had never been satisfied.
In truth, his progress had already amazed his instructors. The improvement he made between the last selection and now was nothing short of remarkable.
For an ordinary person, he had already done exceptionally well.
He had the talent.
Or rather, he was diligent enough, willing to put in the effort.
He broke down every single detail of each movement, practicing again and again. If ten times wasn’t enough, he did it a hundred times. Most people would struggle to endure such repetitive, monotonous training, but Fang Huai could.
For this final practice, as the music gradually faded, Fang Huai opened his eyes and saw his own reflection in the mirror.
The boy in the mirror was also quietly looking at him.
The twilight spread silently at his feet. Fang Huai smiled faintly at himself, slung his bag over his shoulder, and closed the door to the training room.
He had done everything he could.
There would be no regrets.
*
That night, 11 PM.
Fang Huai went home early that day, hoping to get a good night’s sleep and conserve energy for tomorrow.
But he couldn’t sleep.
His head… was hurting more and more.
He had overtrained these past few days. Shi Feiran had tried to persuade him to take it easy, but it was useless. Lack of sleep and excessive practice—he wasn’t made of steel. Getting sick was inevitable.
Fang Huai got out of bed to pour himself a glass of water.
Halfway through, dizziness suddenly washed over him, and his nose felt congested.
He looked at his reflection in the glass of the cupboard and saw that his cheeks were flushed red.
He also felt cold.
Even though it was August.
Slowly, he crouched down, curling up on the floor, his eyelashes drooping lower and lower.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
At first, the ringing was steady, but then it grew more urgent—like the person outside was getting anxious.
Fang Huai shook his head, barely managing to get up. He sniffled, not thinking too much about it, and with unsteady steps, opened the door.
The next second, his legs gave out.
“You—”
Ye Yuyuan started to speak but abruptly stopped.
His thin lips pressed into a tight line as he caught the boy in his arms, reaching out to feel his forehead.
…Burning hot.
For a split second, Ye Yuyuan’s heart clenched.
