Song Chan hadn’t slept well all night, replaying every detail of her interactions with Wen Ying. Things she’d overlooked before now came to mind.
Wen Ying had always been lukewarm toward Song Chan, unlike the enthusiastic admirers who flocked to her at school.
Either she was clueless or she had her own confidence.
Song Chan used to think it was the former, but now she realized it was the latter.
This was awkward. Song Chan had always carried herself with a sense of superiority around Wen Ying. Although Wen Ying had also won first prize in the New Concept Composition Contest, she was a junior, with no other writing achievements. Song Chan, only a year older, had been publishing in magazines since childhood and had a novel out before the contest. Compared to her, Wen Ying seemed obscure in her writing career.
Who could’ve guessed Wen Ying would rise so spectacularly? Youth Idol wasn’t a fluke—it had already gained reader recognition during its serialization in Aige. Yet Wen Ying remained unaffected, quietly continuing her life as a student.
Song Chan had a theory: if not for the lawsuit with the magazine, Wen Ying’s pen name might have stayed hidden for much longer.
All night, Song Chan pondered how to face Wen Ying.
Pretend she hadn’t seen the Chengdu Evening News or that Wen Ying wasn’t Reverse Fish?
She couldn’t do that.
She asked herself: if the paper had revealed Xie Qian as Reverse Fish, what would she do?
The answer was clear—she’d openly congratulate Xie Qian. That’s why she was now waiting at the school gate for Wen Ying, saying those words.
Song Chan had spent a sleepless night reflecting, but Wen Ying, without clairvoyance, couldn’t see that. Still, she sensed the sincerity in Song Chan’s tone.
“Thank you, Senior!”
Unsure why Song Chan came to say this, “thank you” was a safe response, something she’d learned from Xie Qian—short answers work for most situations.
Song Chan had more questions but only smiled at Wen Ying before turning to leave.
Wen Ying didn’t dwell on Song Chan’s actions. Once she entered the school, she was too busy to think about it. Her entire class was waiting to confirm the news, and as she entered the classroom, she fielded questions from everyone.
Class 16 was surprised that Wen Ying was Reverse Fish but could accept it.
They were more concerned about the lawsuit’s aftermath.
Someone bullying a Class 16 student was like bullying the whole class!
“My uncle knows a great lawyer. Want me to introduce you?”
“The court already issued the verdict. Why need a lawyer?”
“You don’t get it. Some people won’t give up until they’re nailed shut in their coffin. A first trial verdict can still be appealed…”
Amid the chatter offering advice, Wen Ying felt warmed and didn’t forget to credit her senior: “My current lawyer is great. If he can’t handle it, I’ll ask for your uncle’s friend’s help.”
Li Mengjiao rescued Wen Ying from the crowd, asking how she felt.
“About what?”
“Fame! Starting today, you’re a big star at school!”
Coming from Li Mengjiao, Wen Ying didn’t know how to respond.
In terms of school fame, who could top Li Mengjiao?
“…It’s alright, I guess?”
Wen Ying severely underestimated the popularity of being a “bestselling author” at school. All day, students from other classes came to see her, a treatment previously reserved for Li Mengjiao and Xie Qian.
Even in her most successful moments in her past life, Wen Ying hadn’t experienced this.
Everywhere she went, eyes followed.
In class, teachers called on her to answer questions, smiling kindly, but the pressure was immense.
Failing to answer would be so embarrassing!
Before, flopping as a mediocre student was normal. Now, it felt like failing would betray her “bestselling author” title.
Fame was indeed burdensome!
Wen Ying didn’t dare lose focus for a second in class.
At lunch in the cafeteria, people pointed and whispered. Some approached to chat, and Wen Ying handled it with polite composure.
Even in the girls’ bathroom, students greeted her. The school’s bathrooms had half-height walls and no doors—being greeted while pulling up her pants was mortifying!
Wen Ying forced a smile, washed her hands, and bolted back to the classroom.
She was overwhelmed by her peers’ intense curiosity and deeply admired celebrities who lived under the spotlight.
Humbly, she asked Li Mengjiao and Xie Qian how they coped with being watched. Li Mengjiao puffed out her chest: “They look because they like me. I can’t deny them that freedom.”
This girl, thinking attention was her due, had the thick skin of a born star.
Xie Qian, who’d stayed silent all morning, finally spoke when Wen Ying sought help, giving a typically infuriating reply: “You’ll get used to it.”
…!
Someone used to attention since childhood would naturally be accustomed to it.
Before befriending Xie Qian, Wen Ying thought him aloof. He had to be—responding to every gesture of goodwill would leave him no time for anything else.
Li Mengjiao’s confidence was bold; Xie Qian’s was calm habit.
As for Wen Ying, she’d need time to adjust.
To keep her grounded amid fame, Xie Qian prepared a start-of-term test for her—Chinese, math, English, and a science comprehensive, all arranged neatly, coming even before the first monthly exam of sophomore year.
As Wen Ying toiled over the test, tears in her eyes, Xie Qian suddenly said, “Tonight, Princess’s New Clothes airs.”
“What?!”
Why bring that up out of nowhere, disrupting her focus?
Wen Ying looked confused. Xie Qian, feeling like he was teasing her, suppressed a laugh and reminded her: “Didn’t Teacher Yuan secure you a screenwriter credit? If the school finds out you’re a screenwriter for Princess’s New Clothes, today’s enthusiasm will double tomorrow!”
Wen Ying’s tears nearly fell.
Double the enthusiasm?
Would she have to skip water, food, and bathroom breaks tomorrow to avoid being mobbed by overly enthusiastic classmates?
Clinging to hope, she said, “I don’t think many students here watch idol dramas…”
Xie Qian gave her a sidelong glance.
—Did she believe that herself?
Of course not.
Students at the provincial key school had diverse interests and talents, but they were still teenagers. Boys loved sports and idols; girls squealed over handsome drama leads.
Last year, during Li Mengjiao’s competition, many in Class 16 spent money voting for her.
Even aloof Xie Qian had a Baidu fan page!
Female top students chased dramas too, balancing it with studies, unlike slackers who dove in headfirst. So Wen Ying’s screenwriter identity was bound to be exposed.
Xie Qian asked if she was ready. Wen Ying shuddered.
