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All the Cubs I Raised Became Big Shots – CH93

Chapter 93

[???]
[This feels weird, but I can’t quite explain why.]
[I’m guessing President Ye just helped Huaihuai retie his tie. Signal of the Heart does this all the time—every time these two interact, the lights go out. LOL.]
[What brand is that lollipop? I’m kind of…]

When Fang Huai sat back down, the awards ceremony hall was still dim. The stage lights had turned on, and the orchestra was ready to perform. The violins began playing the Silver Birch Awards’ theme song.

He was sucking on a new lollipop, clearly in a daze. All his previous nervousness had vanished without a trace.

Unlocking his phone, he noticed that Ye Yuyuan had replied to his message at some point. Right below the text where Fang Huai had written, I’m a little nervous. I miss you, there were four simple words:

“I’ll come find you.”

Teacher Ye had always been a man of action.

Fang Huai glanced through the crowd at Ye Yuyuan, who was seated in the guest section. He was silently listening to the person next to him, his well-defined fingers absentmindedly rubbing his cufflinks.

Fang Huai realized that no matter where Ye Yuyuan was, he always had an extraordinary presence—one that made it impossible to look away. Even in a crowd of millions, Fang Huai believed he could spot Ye Yuyuan at a glance.

The person he liked always shined brightly.

*

Meanwhile, in the guest section—

“Mr. Ye, so as I was saying, regarding our legislation—Mr. Ye?”

The man, whether from the bureau or some committee, seemed a bit awkward. Ye Yuyuan had been listening in complete silence, offering no response, which made the speaker increasingly anxious. Had he said something wrong?

Ye Yuyuan: “…”

He had simply been zoning out.

Two minutes later, the young man who had been watching him from afar finally looked down at his phone, breaking eye contact.

…Was his phone really that interesting?

Ye Yuyuan pressed his lips together slightly, suppressing a trace of displeasure, and finally spoke to the man in front of him.

“Apologies. Please continue.”

*

Twenty minutes later—

With the theme song performance finished, the main lights in the venue turned on, and the host took the stage.

The 74th Silver Birch Awards Ceremony had officially begun.

The awards were usually presented from least to most significant. The first category was relatively minor. But after about a quarter of the event had passed, the first heavyweight award was finally announced—

Best Composer.

Both Abyss Moonlight and Sin had something in common: Fang Huai and Jason were both one-man production teams, handling their own lyrics and composition. This year, both had been nominated for Best Composer. Since none of the industry’s heavyweight composers had submitted a work that overshadowed the rest, the winner was still anyone’s guess.

[Oh my god, I’m so nervous…]

[Don’t panic, sisters! This is just a minor award—the real highlight is coming later.]

[I don’t care, I’m wishing my baby a victorious night in advance!]

Last year’s Best Composer winner walked up to the stage, holding the results card, and deliberately lowered his voice in a mysterious tone:

“I know what everyone is waiting for, and I won’t waste your time with unnecessary talk.”

The lights dimmed. The director intentionally switched the camera back and forth between Fang Huai and Jason, building up tension. Jason, with his flamboyant red mohawk, looked dismissive, while Fang Huai simply watched the screen intently. When the camera zoomed in on him, he smiled and waved.

Immediately, someone noticed that Fang Huai’s long legs were stretched out—looking as if he was ready to stand up and accept the award at any moment.

[That smile is too handsome… his eyes look like they’re filled with stars. 555 (crying emoji)]
[Ready to stand up at any moment?! Hahaha, the confidence is unreal.]
[I’m dying from nerves! QAQ]

“And now, I will announce the winner of this year’s Silver Birch Award for Best Composer—”

The lights went out completely.

A second later, a wave of piano notes flooded the venue.

The arrangement between the high and low notes was exquisite. With nothing but the black and white keys, the melody painted a vivid picture of a vast, deep ocean under the evening breeze—salt-laced air carrying the chill of an approaching sunrise.

The big screen played an MV: an endless descent into the sea, bubbles of oxygen rising toward the surface.

The resonance of the notes against the special acoustics of the venue sent a shiver through everyone present.

Finally, the presenter revealed the result:

“—Abyss Moonlight, composed by Fang Huai!”

Fang Huai immediately stood up.

[AAAAAHHHH!!! BABY IS AMAZING!!!]
[Guys, don’t get too excited yet! The big awards are still ahead—stay calm, stay calm…]
[Look, hahaha! Jason’s face is literally green with rage. The red hair and green face—it’s a whole Christmas color palette.]

Jason’s face was green. His hands trembled with anger. He had thought victory was in the bag, so much so that he hadn’t even bothered to listen to other nominees’ albums. He never expected to lose the first major award of the night.

How could this be possible? There had to be something shady going on.

The broadcast camera zoomed in for a dramatic close-up of Jason’s dark expression.

Meanwhile, amidst the cheers and applause, Fang Huai walked up the stage, following the guiding spotlight. He wasn’t surprised to receive the award, but he was still genuinely happy. He took his time glancing at Jason before finally starting his prepared speech:

“Thank you to the Silver Birch Award jury, thank you to…”

Like every first-time award winner, he gave a long, proper list of acknowledgments, his voice steady and even. Standing under the bright lights, in front of such a massive audience, he showed not even a trace of stage fright.

“Thank you to the arranger for your support and collaboration, thank you to Jason Morick—”

Everyone: “……”

Hmm?! Did something just sneak in there?

“—for composing his song, and thank you…”

[So he’s thanking Jason Morick for writing a (complete mess of a) song, which gave him the opportunity to win? Is that what he means?]
[Hahahahaha xswl (laughing to death)]
[Is this a direct roast aimed at turkey-head?]
[That’s way too rude!??? Oh my god, he represents our country’s image! Shouldn’t he show some restraint?]
[Please get it straight—being polite doesn’t mean being a pushover, okay? And Jason was the one who publicly mocked the entire Chinese music industry first. This is just returning the favor.]

When Jason heard the translated line, his already dark expression turned completely black. He almost couldn’t stop himself from standing up and cursing on the spot.

The entire venue fell into silence.

Everyone was trying their best to hold in their laughter. The host clutched the microphone, keeping a straight face, but his shoulders were trembling slightly.

On stage, Fang Huai’s gaze was fixed only in Ye Yuyuan’s direction. He hadn’t thought much of it at first, but when he saw his boyfriend subtly lift the corners of his lips and cough lightly to suppress his amusement, the words on Fang Huai’s tongue suddenly stuck.

He gripped the microphone, paused for a moment, then smiled before continuing:

“…for giving me this honor—”

Jason: “……Shit.”

After briefly wrapping up his acceptance speech and standard interactions, Fang Huai left the stage to make way for the next award. The camera cut away from him, no longer following his movements.

As he walked back to his seat through the aisle, he turned a corner and, unsurprisingly, spotted the furious “turkey-head.”

Jason looked like he was about to explode. He was stomping furiously on a Abyss Moonlight album, muttering a stream of profanities under his breath.

At that moment, their eyes met midair.

Fang Huai didn’t avoid him. He simply stood there, quietly watching.

Jason’s assistant panicked immediately, as if afraid the two were about to start a fight, and hurriedly stepped in to block Jason. But Jason, with a face as dark as a thunderstorm, spat out:

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck yourself,” Fang Huai replied sincerely.

Jason fumed for a moment but shockingly calmed down at an unnatural speed. He stared at Fang Huai and, in English, sneered:

“It’s just a small award. Don’t get cocky. Chinese people are nothing but inferior trash. That includes you—you’re not even fit to shine my shoes.”

His assistant turned pale with fright. Jason had one fatal flaw—despite being ethnically Chinese himself, he had no filter. Normally, he at least made an effort to rein in his words, but this time, Fang Huai had completely set him off. If anyone overheard this, it would be a huge problem.

Fang Huai blinked in confusion.

The assistant let out a sigh of relief—judging by his expression, he didn’t seem to understand.

Fang Huai said nothing more and walked past the corner.

You’re the one who’s unworthy, he thought to himself.

Looking at how Jason had just acted, a dark feeling settled in Fang Huai’s chest—Jason’s attitude felt… off. Almost like he already knew something in advance.

That bad premonition was soon confirmed.

After two more minor awards were announced, the second major highlight of the Silver Birch Awards arrived.

—Best Singer.

Among all the awards at the Silver Birch Awards, the most prestigious and frequently mentioned is, of course, the Golden Tree Award, which is given for Best Album of the Year.

Many award shows tend to split Best Singer and Best Album between different winners, but the Silver Birch Awards do not. Known for their strict fairness, there have been multiple years where both Best Singer and the Golden Tree Award were awarded to the same artist.

Because of this, winning Best Singer was often seen as a strong indicator—almost a preview—of who would take home the Golden Tree Award.

Everyone, including Fang Huai, was on edge—if anything, even more nervous than they had been for the Best Composition award.

This time, when the presenter opened the envelope, their expression subtly shifted—not in a joyful way, but in surprise. Their brows furrowed slightly, as if this was unexpected… and not in a good way.

Before anyone had time to fully process that expression, the entire venue went dark.

Then, against all expectations, a roar of deep, metallic bass exploded from the central speakers.

—“The Best Singer of this year’s Silver Birch Awards is Jason Morick, for Sin.”

[Shit.]
[Well, that’s it. I told you guys not to get too cocky. Fang Huai even went up there and openly mocked him, and now look what happened.]
[Jason is disgusting. He looks down on Chinese artists—why did he even enter the competition in the first place? Can they just rig the results and take his award away?]
[Stay calm. Best Singer and Golden Tree don’t have to go to the same person. It’s happened before.]
[I’m logging off. Just thinking about how Jason is going to strut up there and act all smug is making me sick.]

The cameras focused on Jason, and sure enough, the “turkey-head” looked triumphant, gloating in every way possible. To be fair, Jason wasn’t ugly, but there was always this inexplicable arrogance about him, an air of self-importance that made him hard to like.

One glance at his expression, and it was clear—he was already brewing up something particularly nauseating to say.

Sure enough, before even standing up, the moment he heard the result, he turned to his manager and sneered:

“Chinese musicians really are worthless—well, except for their taste, I suppose.”

His manager went pale, silently praying that Jason wouldn’t be stupid enough to say anything onstage that could spark an international controversy.

Then, just as the spotlight illuminated the winner, something unexpected happened—

Fang Huai stood up first.

The entire venue—along with the live stream audience—froze in shock. Was Fang Huai about to cause a scene? But he didn’t. He simply gave a slight nod to the people around him and walked into the small hallway, appearing to head toward the restroom.

[Maybe he’s breaking down and going to cry.]
[Honestly, I would too—getting overtaken by the very guy you mocked half an hour ago? Brutal.]

[Does he really have to be this fragile?]

Fang Huai walked along the small hallway. Outside, there was a tiny open-air observatory.

The awards venue was originally a renovated historic building, and the observatory still bore traces of the past. It was early summer again, and the gardenias in Nan City were in bloom. Tiny stars were scattered across the night sky.

For the first time, Fang Huai truly realized how deeply he cared about something that was, in name, just an award. He wanted to win the Silver Birch Award.

Or rather—he didn’t care who won it. As long as it wasn’t Jason.

The thought made him too anxious to stay seated, so he had to step away and process it on his own. He unwrapped another lollipop—mint vanilla flavor.

Fang Huai rarely despised someone this much.

He loved his country.

In the years he spent wandering abroad, he had never felt particularly tethered to anything. That changed when he returned last July, stepping once again onto this land.

Every inch of soil beneath his feet had been nurtured by the sacrifices of Lin Shuheng’s generation. His closest loved ones had grown up here. The person he loved was here. The strangers he passed by, the city lights, the stars above—all of it intertwined, forming an invisible web that connected to his life thread by thread.

But all the awards had likely already been decided. Fang Huai was too nervous, pacing in circles around the observatory with his lollipop between his teeth.

He wanted to kiss Ye Yuyuan.

Suddenly, his phone rang.

Fang Huai had set a unique ringtone just for Ye Yuyuan—a short melody he had composed himself. It wasn’t heavy or melancholic; it was light and sweet, like a dream dipped in romance.

“Huaiai.”

“Teacher Ye.” Fang Huai gazed up at the stars. “I’m nervous. What if I don’t win the Golden Tree Award?”

It sounded like Ye Yuyuan had stepped away from the crowd. The distant cheering and applause were muffled, replaced by the soft whisper of the wind.

He was silent for a moment before he spoke in a low, steady voice.

“Do you trust me?”

Fang Huai answered without hesitation. “I do.”

Of everyone in the world, he trusted Ye Yuyuan the most—far more than he trusted any other truth.

Ye Yuyuan’s voice softened further, carrying a warmth that was impossible to describe. His unique timbre was like a cello’s nocturne, rich and magnetic, flowing through the night like a quiet lullaby.

“Huaiai, listen to me.”

“The person I love is exceptional—he deserves all the finest praise and adoration in the world.”

“I am proud of him.”

Those few sentences felt almost enchanted. As Fang Huai breathed in, the stardust and night breeze mixed with his heartbeat, creating an inexplicable alchemy in his chest.

His nerves vanished in an instant.

For the first time, he felt absolutely certain—he would win the award.

“Are you free right now, Uncle Ye?” Fang Huai glanced at the schedule. The awards were on a break, with performances filling the intermission. The Golden Tree Award ceremony wouldn’t begin for another half an hour. “I’d like to book you for five minutes. I’m at the observatory.”

“Five minutes?” Ye Yuyuan seemed momentarily stunned. “For what?”

“To kiss you.”

“…”

Ye Yuyuan didn’t respond.

…Five minutes?

Wasn’t that way too short?

All the Cubs I Raised Became Big Shots

All the Cubs I Raised Became Big Shots

Score 8.4
Status: Ongoing Type: Author: Released: 2019 Native Language: Chinese

Small-time celebrity Fang Huai, a struggling actor in the big city, has a packed schedule—working construction in the morning, delivering food in the afternoon, and counting coins over an empty rice bowl at night. Until one day…

When his movie role gets stolen by a connected insider—
A certain CEO: "Which company is investing in that movie? Buy it."

When his song gets plagiarized—
A certain superstar (on Weibo): "Fake. The original songwriter is @FangHuai."

When rumors spread that he’s riding on a Best Actor’s fame—
A certain Best Actor (on stage at an awards ceremony): "Without Fang Huai, I wouldn’t be here today."

Fang Huai: ???

Who are these people?

He’s certain he’s never met any strikingly handsome men before. Instead, he had a few pets—
A fish he planned to cook in soy sauce, a chicken for steaming, spicy rabbit meat, snake soup… Everything was well arranged. But then, they all disappeared.

Fang Huai: "Uh, have we met before?"

Big Shot: "You saved me. You raised me. Have you forgotten?"

Fang Huai: …

He suddenly had a bad feeling.

The Big Shot chuckled softly: "When you were raising me, I hadn't yet taken human form. You visited me every day, touched me, talked to me… Did you like me? Hmm?"

Fang Huai: ………

His calloused hands trembled slightly.

Reading Guide:

  1. 1v1. The Big Shots’ feelings for the protagonist range from familial to romantic.
  2. Not a harem (NP). The main love interest is Ye Yuyuan!! What started as a chaotic battle for affection turned into a proper romance—80% of the story is about the main CP, 20% on the other Big Shots. Proceed with caution.
  3. The Top’s true form is a dragon. Cool. Very cool.
------ DISCLAIMER This will be the general disclaimer for the entire lifespan of this novel. Panda Translations does not own any IPs (intellectual properties) depicted in this novel. Panda Translations supports the authors efforts by translating the novel for more readers. The novel is the sole property of the original author. Please support the author on the link below Original translation novel: https://www.jjwxc.net/onebook.php?novelid=3695447

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