Wen Ying and Fu Jing had a spat!
Wen Ying wasn’t a saint, and neither was Fu Jing.
A spark ignited in Pan Li’s mind: could she pit these two against each other?
Once the idea took hold, it wouldn’t let go.
She considered goading Fu Jing into targeting Wen Ying. Their quarrel meant Fu Jing already disliked her, but would Fu Jing take the bait?
Fu Jing trailed Xu Mei for a reason, and until her goal was met, she might avoid side conflicts—unless Wen Ying directly blocked her path.
Was that likely?
Fu Jing, though less striking than Xu Mei, outshone Wen Ying. Average height, fair-skinned, slim, she wouldn’t see a round-faced, tanned high schooler like Wen Ying as a threat.
Pan Li sighed inwardly, frustrated.
She didn’t dare be too overt, fearing Fang’s notice.
By the time the finals broadcast began, Pan Li still hadn’t devised a plan. Sabotaging Li Mengjiao was impossible—Wen Ying, skeptical of her promises to Fang, had Li Mengjiao under tight guard. Pan Li couldn’t even touch her belongings, let alone act.
Tampering with broadcast equipment to cause a performance mishap was out of the question. Mango TV valued the night’s event, with stage setup, lighting, sound, and camera angles rehearsed repeatedly to minimize risks. If Pan Li meddled, the station would investigate thoroughly, and with cameras everywhere, she couldn’t risk it. She watched the entire competition through gritted teeth.
Her only consolation was the result.
Wen Ying’s friend, Li Mengjiao, whom she’d come to support, took second place!
The outcome was predetermined—Li Mengjiao’s refusal to sign sealed her fate.
Before the broadcast, the organizers’ executives met with Li Mengjiao’s parents about a contract, reportedly more lenient than those offered to others. From performance obligations to profit splits, every term showed sincerity.
Given Li Mengjiao’s popularity, the company had conceded significantly. If Pan Li had such an offer, she’d have signed instantly. Yet Li’s parents stalled.
Li’s father said they’d discuss post-competition.
The organizers weren’t fools. Making Li Mengjiao champion before signing would weaken their leverage—securing her later would demand even better terms.
They suspected rival companies were secretly approaching the Li family, giving them options to delay.
Having invested heavily in the show, the organizers wouldn’t let another company reap the rewards of their star-making. Li’s parents missed their final chance, so before the match began, Li Mengjiao’s runner-up finish was set.
Many knew this, including Li Mengjiao, who was mentally prepared.
As Wen Ying put it, Li Mengjiao couldn’t have it all.
At the end, the championship title mattered, yet didn’t. Li Mengjiao had already captured the most popularity—winning or not wouldn’t change her fans’ devotion.
“Dear viewers, the 2004 Super Girl annual champion is… congratulations, Xu Mei!” the announcer declared.
Xu Mei’s fans erupted in celebration.
Li Mengjiao’s fans were stunned.
Tonight felt eerily like the Chengdu finals—everyone thought Li Mengjiao would win, yet Xu Mei took the crown.
Was Xu Mei the organizers’ golden child?
But Li Mengjiao didn’t seem crushed. Her diehard fans noticed her radiant stage presence came with a carefree streak. Often, it wasn’t that fans wanted to be prickly, but if they didn’t fight, Li Mengjiao might overlook unfair treatment without realizing it.
What a headache.
Someone bellowed, “Li Mengjiao, you’re the best! You’re the champion in my heart!”
That sparked a wave of cheers—“Jiaojiao’s the best!” “Jiaojiao’s the champion!”—drowning out Xu Mei’s fans’ jubilation.
Xu Mei’s supporters glared.
How shameless—Xu Mei was the official champion!
Backstage, Li’s mother clutched her husband’s arm, murmuring, “Did we mess up? If we’d signed, Jiaojiao could’ve… she’s so popular, she deserved to win.”
Li’s father patted her. “We didn’t. Even if Jiaojiao doesn’t get it now, she will later. She’s too young to make these calls.”
The entertainment world wasn’t clean.
In Chengdu, he could shield her. Beyond, his influence waned. As parents, they’d rather their daughter live modestly than dive into the adult world’s fame game too soon, only to get battered.
In the audience, Wen Ying’s group sat in silence.
Even the lively Wang Shuang didn’t join the fans chanting Li Mengjiao as champion.
The truth was clear: Li Mengjiao was runner-up, Xu Mei the winner.
Qin Jiao pressed a hand to her chest, heart racing amid the roaring crowd. She felt joy for Li Mengjiao.
“Wen Ying, they all genuinely love her, right?” she asked.
Wen Ying nodded fiercely. “Not a hint of fakeness!”
Fans were pure—liking or disliking with raw honesty. They might switch idols or drop them for odd reasons, but being loved by them felt like pure bliss.
“Then this competition was so worth it for her!” Qin Jiao shouted.
Wen Ying grinned. “Absolutely. Best part? She enjoyed every second, playing around without a shred of stress.”
That was something Wen Ying envied—doing what you love with pure joy.
For her, it’d be like acing the New Concept Essay Contest, every manuscript accepted by magazines, publishers clamoring to publish her book, hitting bestseller lists, and getting love letters from readers nationwide. Writing was her dream, and fame along the way? She wouldn’t say no.
Imagining that future, she laughed aloud.
A hand extended a handkerchief. One glance—she knew it was Xie Qian.
“Here, wipe your drool,” he said.
“…!”
Wen Ying touched her mouth—no drool. Had Xie Qian tricked her?
How did he know she was daydreaming?
Caught acting so goofy, Wang Shuang was laughing so hard he nearly collapsed.
Their earlier disappointment for Li Mengjiao melted into mirth.
