Li Mengjiao’s fans roared in the arena, but the host’s quick wit smoothed the atmosphere.
The 2004 Super Girl competition drew to a close. Armed with passes, Wen Ying and her group squeezed into the backstage area.
Li Mengjiao was changing.
After sub-district finals, there were always celebratory events, and the annual finals were no exception.
Plenty of reporters awaited interviews with the top three.
“So tiring!” Li Mengjiao exclaimed, though her face beamed with a smile.
Wen Ying teased, “Tonight’s over, but more tiring stuff’s coming. Forgot? The organizers promised personal albums for the top three.”
Li Mengjiao had indeed forgotten.
Unsigned, would they still produce her album?
Li’s parents exchanged a glance. Her father, Li Zhentao, pulled Wen Ying aside. “You reminded her about the album. Are you in favor of her signing?”
Li Zhentao had hosted Wen Ying for dinner once and found her thoughtful and mature beyond her high school peers. She’d correctly predicted the “revival round,” so on the matter of signing, he wanted her perspective.
He might not follow her advice, but hearing it wouldn’t hurt.
Wen Ying shook her head. “I agree with you and Auntie—not in favor of her signing now. She’s so young; a few more years of school would be best.”
“Then why mention the album?”
Wen Ying lowered her voice. “Do you and Auntie support her entering the entertainment industry? Not now, but when she’s older, maybe in college, more mature.”
Li Zhentao was firmly against it.
But watching his daughter perform, he wavered.
She was born for the stage.
If she pursued another career, it’d be safer, less worry for him and his wife.
Yet, honestly assessing her abilities, she was average academically, not cunning, not exceptionally gifted. Outside her talent for performing, reaching the top in other fields would be tough.
A safe but mediocre path, or a brilliant but treacherous one?
Li Zhentao leaned toward the former.
He sensed his daughter would choose the latter.
As parents, they could force the safer route, ensuring a sheltered, ordinary life. But years later, seeing friends shine, would she resent them?
Most people were ordinary.
To transcend that, to embrace an extraordinary life, required talent, opportunity, and choice—all three.
Li Zhentao knew his daughter already had the first two.
Facing Wen Ying’s question, he shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t have an answer. I’m afraid what I choose isn’t what she wants. Wen Ying, I hope you understand. We only have Jiaojiao. I’m a first-time dad with no manual to follow. I’m fumbling through. Life’s not like your schoolwork—mistakes can’t just be erased and redone.”
Wen Ying felt his anxious hesitation.
To outsiders, Li Zhentao, a successful businessman, seemed decisive. But with family, with Jiaojiao, he was just another nervous father.
She wished she could drag her own father to hear this.
Both first-time dads, both inexperienced—why couldn’t hers be half as thoughtful as Li Zhentao? She didn’t need a perfect father, just one who tried like this, and she’d strive to make him proud.
Sigh.
Good boyfriends and good dads always seemed to belong to others.
Pushing aside her thoughts, Wen Ying focused. “So you want to leave the choice to Jiaojiao, right? You’re against signing now because she’s young. If she later chooses entertainment, you and Auntie would respect that. If so, you should talk to the organizers about securing the album deal for the top three.”
Wen Ying suggested signing only for the album, not a full contract.
Without commercial performances, an album’s promotional activities were limited. If negotiated to schedule them on weekends, it wouldn’t disrupt Jiaojiao’s studies much.
The album could sustain her popularity, preventing her fanbase from fading post-competition.
With fans intact, the choice remained hers.
If the album produced a hit, re-entering the industry after college would be far easier than starting as a nobody.
Li Zhentao was intrigued. “Would the organizers agree?”
Wen Ying grinned. “Uncle Li, you’re a pro at corporate negotiations. Securing just an album deal? I’m not worried you’ll fail.”
Shared interests made deals possible—no contract was unachievable if concessions were sufficient.
With Jiaojiao’s popularity, the organizers were loath to miss out on profits. Before the finals, they’d have rejected an album-only deal outright.
Now, with the competition over, faced with a full contract or an album deal, the Lis would choose the latter. It’d recoup some losses, though the organizers feared a flop. Without a long-term contract, a failed album and no performances meant no fallback revenue.
But these were negotiable.
The Lis didn’t care about Jiaojiao’s earnings from the album, only about preserving her options, so they could concede on profit splits.
Those details weren’t Wen Ying’s concern.
Li Zhentao, flattered, chuckled. “Where’d you learn all this, kid? If every child were as sharp as you, us old folks would have no place left!”
After their talk, Li Mengjiao noticed her dad’s high spirits.
“What’d Wen Ying say?” she asked.
Li Zhentao waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. Celebrate with your friends tonight.”
Qin Jiao, Wang Shuang, and the others pressed Wen Ying for details, but she just smiled.
Only Xie Qian stayed unfazed.
What else could it be? The album deal for the top three, obviously.
He’d figured out Wen Ying’s hamster-like nature.
She’d never take advantage of others, but she’d fight tooth and nail for what was rightfully hers.
