Chapter 03
The system asked, “Is that even plausible?”
Xing Shi replied, “What else could it be? You said it yourself—we don’t even know each other.”
The system flipped through its database. “But you’re both students at Z University. Maybe you did something shady that he happened to witness. He didn’t recognize you at first glance, but then, after a closer look—” It paused, finishing its search. “No, there’s nothing.”
So, it must have been as Xing Shi guessed; otherwise, there was no explanation for why Fu Xiuning’s favorability had risen before plummeting again.
The system grew excited.
Over the years, Fu Xiuning’s emotional fluctuations had become rarer, and changes in favorability were almost nonexistent. Yet here was a drastic shift in a short time. Even if it now stood at -10, it had still risen by one point earlier.
No host in all these years had ever managed to score points with Fu Xiuning based on looks alone. Not a single one!
What did that mean?
It meant that if Xing Shi could get Fu Xiuning to drop his initial prejudice, his face alone could potentially earn him massive favorability points. This was the jackpot!
The system eagerly encouraged him: “Go up to him and mention you’re a student at Z University. If he sees you as a junior, he might not dislike you as much.”
Xing Shi replied, “Really? I don’t buy it.”
The system, remembering who it was dealing with, asked, “So, what’s your plan?”
Xing Shi answered, “Nothing.”
The system was confused. “What do you mean by ‘nothing’?”
Xing Shi explained, “It means I’ve eaten too much and need time to process things.”
The system: “…”
While the two of them were talking, Feng Zifan and the others took the initiative to approach Fu Xiuning, politely asking his name.
Xing Shi overheard Fu Xiuning’s response.
His tone was calm, matching his composed and refined demeanor. “Fu Xiuning.”
Feng Zifan introduced their group, pointed out that Xing Shi was a recruit, and asked, “Brother, are you a recruit too?”
Fu Xiuning replied, “You could say that.”
Feng Zifan said, “I noticed you’re alone. If you don’t mind, why not join us?”
Fu Xiuning’s lips curved slightly, but his answer was indirect. “I heard there are three practice rooms open. The class assignments will probably split us into three groups.”
Feng Zifan’s expression flickered subtly. “Is that so?”
Fu Xiuning nodded and leisurely ascended to the third floor.
This time, both male and female trainees were involved. The men were assigned to the third floor, and the women to the fourth.
As Fu Xiuning mentioned, there were signs outside the three practice rooms indicating class assignments. After entering one room, Feng Zifan and Da Zhuang lingered for only a few seconds before heading off to the restroom, leaving the four-person group halved.
Xing Shi, who had been observing, grew curious.
He turned to Fu Xiuning. “I heard the second evaluations were held in several rooms. Trainees lined up and entered whichever room became available. Are the class assignments just as random this afternoon, with us forming our own groups, or will the company assign them?”
Fu Xiuning smiled faintly. “How would I know?”
Xing Shi asked the system and got an answer: the assignments had just been finalized and were done randomly.
He smirked internally.
In the entertainment industry, connections were crucial.
Feng Zifan and Da Zhuang befriended him and tried to include Fu Xiuning only because they thought the two of them were likely to debut. It was an attempt to forge good relations early on.
Fu Xiuning, seeing through their intentions, casually dropped the information about the class assignment rules.
Three practice rooms meant simultaneous assignments. Success depended on two factors: the teachers and the teammates.
If the company had created three groups, the teachers’ grading standards would likely be similar, leaving only the teammates as variables. A group of average-performing members would make anyone with standout abilities appear even more exceptional.
Even though Feng Zifan and Da Zhuang knew they wouldn’t make it into the top class, they couldn’t resist trying their luck. They quickly left, likely gathering intel and rallying others to pick a favorable practice room for their group assignment. Unfortunately for them, this wasn’t as flexible as the second evaluations—the assignments were predetermined.
Xing Shi glanced at Fu Xiuning.
Being approached with ulterior motives, seeing through them, and responding with a calculated move that sent the schemers scrambling—it seemed this mission target had a bit of a mean streak.
Fu Xiuning, noticing Xing Shi’s gaze, initiated a conversation. “What are you good at?”
Xing Shi replied, “Eating.”
Fu Xiuning’s expression didn’t change. “I meant singing or dancing.”
“Oh,” Xing Shi said. “Neither.”
Fu Xiuning gave a soft hum of acknowledgment, waiting for the system to step in as he had anticipated.
As expected, the system chimed in. “Why would you tell the boss you’re bad at everything? Don’t you know how to make conversation?”
Xing Shi replied, “I was just being honest.”
“But you’ve got me,” the system said. “We have a lottery feature. New hosts get one free spin. If you’re lucky, you might win a skill point relevant to your current situation. It’ll only be Level One, though. If you want to upgrade, you’ll need to use points in the future.”
Fu Xiuning found this development satisfying.
He had established his media company precisely because he noticed the system’s lottery pool adapted to the host’s environment.
In fields requiring high levels of expertise, a Level One skill point was nearly useless. But in the entertainment industry, as long as an artist’s abilities were passable, they could generate profit. Outsiders sometimes praised June Cultural Media’s stars for their “natural talent” in singing or acting—when, in reality, this “talent” came from Level One skill points.
Fu Xiuning had personally selected agents who treated hosts like workhorses, driving them to their limits to maximize revenue. Only when a host quit or plotted against him did he intervene.
Since this host was a trainee, the skill point would likely pertain to artistic talent.
Fu Xiuning maintained a serene expression, ready to determine the host’s future career path.
Xing Shi, eager to probe the system’s mechanics, agreed readily. “Sure, let’s spin it.”
“Alright,” the system said.
[Beginner’s Lottery: Good luck!]
[Beep Beep]
[Congratulations, host, you’ve won: Better luck next time!]
Xing Shi: “…”
System: “?”
Fu Xiuning: “?”
Both Xing Shi and the system fell silent.
The system eventually realized the implications and panicked: “This program must be malfunctioning! No wonder Level One Punishment doesn’t work!”
Meanwhile, Fu Xiuning, losing a potential “workhorse,” was quietly astonished: The beginner’s lottery pool actually includes a ‘Better Luck Next Time’ outcome? He had assumed that such a result would only appear once the host began earning favorability points and had to use those points for additional spins.
Xing Shi, on the other hand, had been fully prepared to receive some miraculous skill—yet all he got was a consolation prize.
Surprised, he asked, “So… your lottery isn’t guaranteed to award something?”
The system replied begrudgingly, “…No.”
After running a thorough scan for bugs, the system submitted an error report. The response confirmed that the lottery pool had no items with a zero probability, only those infinitesimally close to zero—hence, “Better Luck Next Time” could indeed be drawn. As for why Level One Punishment didn’t work, it was attributed to individual differences. The system diagnostics showed no issues.
In summary: bad luck for the system.
The system fell silent for a long while until a few people approached to chat. Xing Shi casually redirected them to Fu Xiuning, who in turn dismissed them with a couple of curt sentences. Seeing this, the system tried to rally itself: “Don’t just stand there. Talk to Fu Xiuning, maybe add him as a friend.”
Watching the departing trainees, Xing Shi remarked, “These trainees are hopeless. They hear the name Fu Xiuning and show no reaction. Don’t they know he’s the boss?”
The system replied, “Can’t blame them. June Cultural Media is a joint-stock company. Fu Xiuning holds the largest share, but the next biggest shareholder is Best Actor Qi Changyi.”
The system gave a brief introduction to Qi Changyi.
Qi Changyi started as an idol, became a top-tier celebrity, and later transitioned to acting, where he won major awards and cemented his status. When his contract with his old company expired, he co-founded June Cultural Media with a friend, which had trended on social media at the time. The flood of fan promotion made the public believe he was the actual owner.
Even if some trainees had looked up the company’s information, they likely wouldn’t have remembered an unfamiliar name like Fu Xiuning. And even if they did, seeing someone as striking as Fu Xiuning wouldn’t naturally lead them to assume he was the boss.
After hearing this explanation, Xing Shi simply said, “Oh,” and headed to the restroom.
When he returned, the entrances to all three practice rooms were surrounded by people. Staff members had posted the group assignments, and trainees were eagerly checking the lists.
By coincidence—or fate—Xing Shi had been assigned to the same room as before, and Feng Zifan was in his group.
Seeing him, Xing Shi walked over, and they entered the room together.
Fu Xiuning remained where he was. Seeing the two approach, he smiled and asked, “Did you run into each other in the restroom?”
Xing Shi thought to himself, Wow, how petty. These are your company’s trainees, do you really have to mess with them like this?
Feng Zifan felt like he was completely seen through. He forced an awkward laugh, muttering something about chatting outside earlier, then tried to deflect: “I didn’t see your name on the list at the door. You must be assigned to another room.”
Fu Xiuning replied, “No rush.”
Feng Zifan said no more and looked down at his phone.
Moments later, staff members and two teachers entered, and the room fell silent.
The two teachers were in charge of vocals and dance. One of them began to speak: “Alright, everyone. Now we’ll—” She paused, catching sight of Fu Xiuning. Her tone hesitated, unsure whether to acknowledge him.
Fu Xiuning met her gaze and nodded slightly. “Don’t mind me. I’m just observing.”
A staff member noticed Fu Xiuning as well. Seeing that he hadn’t hidden his presence, they quickly moved to fetch a chair for him. Fu Xiuning stopped them just in time, chose a seat on his own, and said calmly, “Carry on.”
The trainees were bewildered. Then they heard the staff address him as “President Fu.” Some began discreetly searching June Cultural Media’s leadership on their phones—and discovered the truth.
Feng Zifan was among those who looked him up. Staring at Fu Xiuning’s name in the company records, he was shocked and filled with regret. Leaning toward Xing Shi, he whispered, “Did you know—”
Xing Shi cut him off preemptively: “He never mentioned it.”
Seeing the teacher glance in their direction, Feng Zifan shut his mouth and tried to compose himself.
The teacher resumed, “This is just a preliminary grouping. In a month, there will be a unified assessment with all the teachers grading together, and the groups will be reassigned based on the results. So, don’t be discouraged if you don’t perform well this time. As long as you work hard, there will be opportunities.”
After explaining the rules, the teacher began calling names.
There were 16 trainees in Xing Shi’s group, and he was number 5.
When his name was called, all eyes turned to him.
First, because of his outstanding appearance; second, because he had been standing with Fu Xiuning earlier. Now that Fu Xiuning’s identity was public, Xing Shi drew even more attention, with everyone speculating about their connection.
The two teachers had already noticed Xing Shi and lit up when they realized he was number 5.
Xing Shi stepped into the center of the room and said calmly, “I’ll sing.”
The teacher’s face softened with an encouraging smile. “Alright.”
With poise and ease, Xing Shi sang a song from the magical world.
During his years there, he had focused on survival and hadn’t had time to develop artistic skills. But after hearing the song many times, he had picked it up. Whenever he sang it, the reactions were always extreme—chaotic, even.
As he finished, the teachers and staff were on the verge of tears. The system was repeatedly crashing, urging him to stop. Feng Zifan was dumbfounded, and the rest of the trainees were left in utter confusion.
Fu Xiuning remained outwardly composed, his refined demeanor flawless. He sat like an elegant work of art, exuding an air of sophistication that left those secretly observing him awestruck.
No wonder he’s the boss, they thought. He’s clearly experienced everything and remains unshaken. Truly impressive!
Only Xing Shi and the system knew the truth—inside, Fu Xiuning wasn’t calm at all.
[Beep Beep]
[Current Favorability: -15]
