The Shu family was still scrambling to bail out Shu Guobing when Wen Ying and Xie Qian arrived at the TV station.
The last time they’d come here together was for Li Mengjiao’s Super Girl 50-to-20 match. Time flew—now it was the Chengdu division’s finals night. Xie Qian had missed the 20-to-10 match but made it for the finals, keeping his promise.
The station was packed with fans of the top five contestants, those unable to enter waiting outside. Vendors seized the opportunity, hawking glow sticks.
Amid the crowd, Wen Ying made several calls to locate Qin Jiao and the others. Pulling Xie Qian through the throng, she found the entry channel.
“Wen… Xie Qian?” Qin Jiao, spotting Xie Qian’s height, was surprised. “You’re back in Chengdu to support Mengjiao? She’ll be thrilled. She’s in the back getting ready, and the staff asked us not to disturb the contestants.”
Wang Shuang, rubbing his hands, grinned. “Well, look who’s here! Thought you weren’t coming back!”
Tang Yifeng and Geng Xiao greeted Xie Qian too. With the match yet to start, the group was buzzing with excitement.
Everyone had plenty to say, especially about the “Shrimp King” business.
“I got held up with family matters. Thanks for holding the fort this past month. Now that I’m back, just tell me what needs doing—I won’t slack,” Xie Qian said earnestly.
Wang Shuang muttered, “You’re not rushing back to school? What can we ask you to do? If you’d come a few days earlier, we could’ve hung out.”
Wen Ying, bursting with joy she’d held in, exclaimed, “Are you daft? Xie Qian’s back to see friends—why pick today of all days? He’s transferred to Chengdu, to our provincial key school. We’re classmates now!”
Wang Shuang gasped, jumping up and playfully punching Xie Qian’s shoulder. “Nice one! I misjudged you. You’re a real bro!”
The punch wasn’t hard, and Xie Qian, clutching his shoulder, felt a warmth inside.
He found Wang Shuang and the others genuinely interesting. Without Wen Ying, he’d never have met them. Glancing at her, he saw her whispering to Qin Jiao, sweat on her nose, eyes sparkling, cheeks round—always so vibrant.
Casually shifting his gaze back to Wang Shuang, Xie Qian said, “I brought each of you a gaming console. I’ll give them out at school.”
For boys their age, talk revolved around games and sports. Top students and slackers differed little here—slackers just spent more time gaming, often trouncing studious types, briefly boosting their confidence.
Wang Shuang, brimming with confidence, challenged Xie Qian to a match. Xie Qian accepted fearlessly.
Could Xie Qian still game? Wen Ying inwardly scolded herself. In her past life, she hadn’t cared enough about her idol. As the deputy admin of his Baidu fan forum, she’d been a failure!
Unbeknownst to her, Xie Qian only seemed calm.
Gaming? He’d learn tonight—should be enough time, right?
…
Qin Jiao stood at the entry channel, waiting not just for Wen Ying but also for her mother.
For the finals, Xu Mei had invited Qin’s parents. Qin’s father, tied up with business, sent Qin’s mother as their representative. Unwilling to squeeze with kids, she arrived just before the channel closed.
Once Qin Jiao met her, she called Qin Yi, who quickly emerged from backstage to escort their mother to front-row seats.
“These seats have a great view. Xu Mei reserved them for you and Dad,” Qin Yi said.
Xu Mei was a strong contender but lacked a local support group in Chengdu.
Though praised by professional judges, her educated, refined persona was less popular than Li Mengjiao’s. In onstage judging, Xu Mei outshone Li Mengjiao, but in offstage fan votes, Li Mengjiao led by a wide margin. Tonight, Li Mengjiao was the crowd favorite to win.
Super Girl’s rise as China’s hottest talent show owed much to its format. From the first season, auditions to qualifiers to finals, offstage audience votes increasingly decided contestants’ fates. To keep a favorite, fans texted votes—some sent a few, others dozens, even hundreds. If a contestant lagged, fans rallied friends and family to vote. This viral promotion fueled the show’s success.
Audiences loved the high engagement, the station thrived on ratings, but contestants were often bewildered.
Some, veterans of events like the Youth Song Competition or international contests, were used to being judged on voice and skill. Super Girl judged popularity, leaving many unaccustomed.
Qin Yi, having studied the format, knew Xu Mei would trail in fan support.
First, Xu Mei wasn’t from Chengdu or even Sichuan, making her an outsider. Local audiences favored hometown contestants.
Second, Xu Mei was less charismatic onstage than Li Mengjiao, whose look and style appealed to all ages—elders wanted to protect her, peers found her adorable.
Qin Yi was brainstorming ways to boost Xu Mei’s votes. Li Mengjiao’s fans were mostly teen students; Xu Mei’s potential supporters were college students or working adults.
He made posters for Xu Mei, distributing them at Chengdu’s universities and commercial areas during spare time, tirelessly promoting her. As a boyfriend, Qin Yi was exemplary, doing all he could. Whether she won tonight depended on strength, luck, and other factors. He’d done his part—now it was up to fate.
Paying to boost Xu Mei’s votes wasn’t an option. Though he could afford it without family help, it would insult her talent.
A bought championship would taint her record.
Qin’s mother knew of Qin Yi’s efforts. As he led her to her seat, she scanned the crowd. “Xu Mei invited me and your father, but her own parents aren’t here?”
Qin Yi hesitated, whispering, “Her parents don’t support her doing talent shows. She wants to prove herself first to win their approval. If you hadn’t come, her support group would be even smaller tonight.”
Qin’s mother frowned.
She wasn’t sure if Xu Mei and Qin Yi would last.
But as an elder, she bore no ill will toward Xu Mei. Reaching the finals from a massive pool of contestants showed talent. Though Qin’s mother didn’t value singing, if Xu Mei were her daughter, she’d never let her compete alone in another city. Xu Mei’s parents’ indifference was surprising.
So be it.
Young love might not last, but Xu Mei was Qin Yi’s girlfriend now. Watching her match was only right.
A kind woman, Qin’s mother adjusted her mindset, shedding any impatience for the competition. She even asked Qin Yi for a lightbox to hold, dutifully joining Xu Mei’s support group.
She came as an invited guest and embraced her role but didn’t call Qin Jiao to sit with her.
Qin Jiao was Qin Jiao, Qin Yi was Qin Yi.
Qin Yi supported his girlfriend, Qin Jiao her friend. The Qin family didn’t favor sons over daughters—why force Qin Jiao to abandon her friend for her brother?
Such actions could strain Qin Yi and Qin Jiao’s sibling bond over time.
Qin’s mother understood this, as did Wen Ying. Some college sophomores might not.
Backstage, Xu Mei’s classmate, seeing only Qin’s mother seated, asked Qin Yi, “Why’s only Auntie here? We thought Uncle would come too. Xu Mei must be disappointed.”
