Wen Dongrong was half-dead with anger from his little sister, but it wasn’t something he’d broadcast. Even Chen Ru didn’t know, let alone Wen Ying. He quietly swallowed the frustration.
Wen Ying wasn’t overly fixated on the Shu family either. Once she confirmed Shu Guobing’s sudden rise had nothing to do with Yu Wenhao, most of her worries eased.
The Rongcheng division of *Super Girl* had kicked off its 50-to-20 round. Xie Qian had promised to accompany Wen Ying to the TV station for the live recording, and she was thrilled about it.
Li Mengjiao claimed the contestants lacked skill, but she’d locked herself away at home, diligently practising her singing. Her parents, seeing her dedication, hired a vocal coach for a crash course. When she emerged, Li Mengjiao brimmed with confidence.
Petite in stature, she leaned into a cute persona.
Qin Yi’s girlfriend, Xu Mei, had somehow gotten advice from a sage. Known for classic love ballads and being a student at a top university in Modu, she aimed for a poised, intellectual image.
Both were putting in effort behind the scenes, and the other contestants weren’t slacking either—everyone was gearing up for today.
Wen Ying and Xie Qian’s tickets, courtesy of Producer Yan, landed them in the second row of the audience. Qin Jiao and the others were there too, but seated mid-section, meaning Wen Ying and Xie Qian sat apart from them. Wen Ying sneaked glances at Xie Qian beside her, waving her glow stick until his face shimmered with rainbow hues. Even under the garish stage lighting, Xie Qian’s looks held up—Wen Ying wasn’t the only one staring; nearby audience members were too, finding him more captivating than the performers.
Li Mengjiao’s mom had splurged on a lightbox for her daughter, and the crew handed out heaps of glow sticks. The atmosphere buzzed with energy, packed with the 50 contestants’ friends and family.
Li Mengjiao’s cheering squad was loud and proud. Xu Mei’s support was thinner—just Qin Yi and a few female classmates, her other university friends having long left Rongcheng.
Backstage, Xu Mei prepped, disappointed Qin Yi’s parents hadn’t come.
No matter—she’d make it through.
If Qin Yi’s parents skipped today’s 50-to-20 round, fine. They might miss the 20-to-10 too. But surely the Rongcheng finals would sway them.
“Xu Mei, you’ve got this!”
After days in Rongcheng, Xu Mei had figured it out: the Qin family ran a business, and Qin Yi’s parents favoured girls like Wen Ying, with a “business mind.”
Wen Ying was impressive—leading Qin Jiao and others to set up a stall, raking in tens of thousands in a week. Xu Mei couldn’t compete in earning power.
Even if Wen Ying taught her step-by-step, Xu Mei couldn’t stoop to street vending. That path was a no-go, so she doubled down on her strengths. If she shone bright enough, Qin Yi’s parents would have to acknowledge her!
Li Mengjiao’s mind was simpler. With so many friends watching, losing would be humiliating.
“I have to win.”
Backstage, she stood tall, her resolve unshaken.
Producer Yan wandered backstage, chuckling to the three judges, “The contestants are full of spirit. I’ve got a hunch—Rongcheng’s division will be the most thrilling. We’ve got great talent and top-notch judges.”
Professor Fang’s gaze drifted to the audience.
After the auditions, Mango TV had asked if she’d sign on for the full season.
The gig ran mostly through summer, wrapping up by September at the latest, with hefty pay. The Fang household wasn’t above money yet… so it was a solid side hustle.
Her eyes landed on Wen Ying and Xie Qian in the second row, then flicked away.
She’d earned this role through her credentials, not anyone’s persuasion.
So far, Professor Fang didn’t feel indebted to Wen Ying.
From other students, though, she’d heard about Pan Li: expelled from school, then a miscarriage—rumour had it the man’s wife had orchestrated it. Oddly, Pan Li didn’t report it and still clung to the guy, lost in delusion.
Sigh. A young girl, swayed by temptation, took a wrong turn. Society rarely forgave that.
Pan Li was a pity. Without this mess, she could’ve joined a show like this. With her youthful charm, she’d have placed decently.
Young women had so many paths—why pick the worst one?
Of course, Professor Fang wouldn’t publicly defend Pan Li now. Wen Ying and Xie Qian’s sharp tongues would leave her speechless.
…
TV made these shows dazzling, thanks to editing. Contestant rivalries and showdowns popped with tension on screen.
But live, the event dragged. Not every performance stirred the soul—it was tedious, testing the audience’s patience. Most were family and friends, indifferent to others’ acts, perking up only when their chosen contestant took the stage.
Maybe the budget was tight—the stage backdrop lacked flair. Wen Ying stuck it out from start to finish for one reason: sitting next to Xie Qian.
Her crush right beside her, shoulder-to-shoulder watching the show—what fangirl got this privilege?
Wen Ying was so happy she could scream. Every contestant got her enthusiastic applause—she had to vent her excitement somehow, or her hands might wander to Xie Qian!
Weird.
She’d sat with Xie Qian before—tutoring, riding home after closing the stall, cramped spaces—yet she’d never felt this jittery.
The venue was packed with people, after all.
Wen Ying couldn’t figure it out.
From Xie Qian’s view, Wen Ying was hyped from the moment she sat down, clapping for every contestant, good or bad.
Producer Yan’s tickets weren’t wasted—Wen Ying’s energy kept the nearby crowd engaged.
She really loved these performances.
Made sense—cramming to score 120 on that test took passion. How else could she justify those gruelling study days?
The host kept tossing out sentimental questions; contestants onstage waxed poetic about dreams.
Xie Qian turned to Wen Ying, “What’s your dream?”
Sweat matted her hair to her forehead. She wiped it off, and for a split second, it looked like tears, not sweat.
That strange feeling hit Xie Qian again—the same look Wen Ying had given him the first time they met outside Jiang’s villa… The contestant onstage said her dream was to sing for an audience, now fulfilled. Applause erupted, and in its lulls, Xie Qian caught Wen Ying’s answer:
“My dream is for you to live to a hundred.”
Xie Qian blinked, stunned.
He’d expected her dream to be some grand achievement, not his longevity.
For a teenager like him, someone wishing him a hundred years felt bizarre!
But Wen Ying said it with such gravity.
So serious he couldn’t brush it off lightly.
Amid the studio’s applause, Xie Qian felt a pang of unease. Wen-the-Hamster seemed to care about him a bit too much.
