Young as Wen Ying is, she remains unfazed by praise or criticism.
Yet an older man, with emotions like a rollercoaster, lands himself in hospital. Quite comical.
Originally, netizens saw Old Fu as clearly superior to certain others. Now, that someone seems outright ridiculous, outdone even by Wen Ying, a minor!
It’s Wen Ying’s maturity beyond her years that gives contestants great confidence.
In any competition, no one wants an overly emotional judge. When a judge is in a good mood, fine, but if they’re not, can they fairly assess entries?
Emotional stability is a basic requirement for a judge. Wen Ying’s composure changed the minds of some doubting contestants.
With Old Fu’s endorsement and Wen Ying’s own performance, external and internal factors combined to fully quell the anti-Fish wave.
Those around Wen Ying were thrilled. Wen Dongrong found everything pleasing, and Chen Ru quietly called Wu Chunqin to thank her.
“Honestly, I didn’t do much. Your girl’s the real star. I checked, and Old Fu is a man of principle. If he didn’t like Wen Ying’s work, no amount of money from publishers or film companies could sway him. So, I didn’t need to do much. Old Fu spoke, and Wen Ying’s troubles naturally resolved!”
Wu Chunqin was being modest. Her two critics weren’t standout compared to Old Fu’s powerful allies. Old Fu was the one who truly helped Wen Ying in her time of need; Wu Chunqin’s efforts were merely icing on the cake, making it hard for her to accept Chen Ru’s gratitude.
Wu Chunqin was humble, but Chen Ru wouldn’t downplay her friend’s help.
Old Fu was great, but Wu Chunqin had no obligation to aid Wen Ying. Not thanking her would be truly arrogant!
“Chunqin, don’t be so modest. I’ll never forget your help. Next time your family visits Rongcheng, I’ll host you properly!”
Chen Ru now had the confidence to entertain old friends.
Though not as wealthy as Wu Chunqin, her family of three had their own “careers,” making them respectable hosts for any guest.
Wu Chunqin agreed, saying if they couldn’t visit during the winter holidays, they’d come for May Day, bringing her husband and kids. Chen Ru was satisfied.
Before hanging up, Chen Ru stressed that Wu Chunqin keep her help secret. Wu Chunqin laughed, “You care for Wen Ying but don’t want her to know. How will you two ever grow closer?”
Chen Ru was stubborn. “Why get so close? Too close, and she’ll be out of control!”
The Wen household relied on her to hold it together.
Wu Chunqin couldn’t argue and agreed with a smile.
Every family has its dynamic. If Chen Ru wanted to be a strict mother, Wu Chunqin couldn’t impose her views. Chen Ru was her old friend, not a puppet!
…
“The public opinion has completely turned. Only a few stubborn netizens refuse to admit fault, but they’re negligible—either trolls or hired shills.”
Yuan Fenghui summed it up.
Some opposing voices lingered online, but they were harmless.
Trolls are always around; not everyone can be convinced. As long as the main wave was subdued, minor dissent was no issue.
Those dissenting voices even kept the competition in the public eye, maintaining its buzz!
So, whether trolls or shills, Yuan Fenghui wasn’t annoyed—she wanted to send them a red envelope as thanks.
Wen Ying had endured immense pressure. Another girl might have crumbled, but Wen Ying carried on studying, living, and judging.
She and Zhang Guangzhen had reviewed over half the submissions, a testament to their hard work.
Yuan Fenghui repeatedly praised Wen Ying’s efforts, making her a bit shy. “I’ve benefited too. Auntie Zou said *Teen Idol*’s sales have spiked again.”
By October 31, 2005, the first sales quarter, *Teen Idol* sold 568,329 copies in three months.
After the competition’s buzz, it was reprinted a third time. Real-time sales data wasn’t fully tallied, but Zou Weijun estimated the competition would boost sales by at least 200,000 copies.
What’s 200,000 more sales? Nearly 900,000 yuan in pre-tax royalties!
That’s serious money. In Rongcheng, it could buy almost any home except a villa. In top-tier cities like Beijing or Shanghai, it could secure a decent place if you weren’t picky about location or size.
Thinking of this, sympathy for Wen Ying turned to envy.
Sure, she took a beating from criticism, but she pocketed real money. A loss for a gain. If Song Foxiang or Editor Wan could choose, they’d gladly trade places for such a “loss and gain”!
Xie Qian’s throat had long healed. That weekend’s whereabouts were an unspoken “secret” between him and Wen Ying. Old Fu’s article set the tone for Wen Ying and the competition. Media, ever adept at shifting with the wind, now called Wen Ying the “future of literature” and the competition a literary event—disappointing those secretly hoping for a flop.
Like Han Qin, now a freelance writer.
The veteran writer fell ill from anger, Old Fu backed Wen Ying and the competition, and Han Qin wanted to keep criticising, but her articles slamming Wen Ying or the competition suddenly couldn’t pass editorial desks.
The public tide had turned. How could she keep criticising?
Han Qin was furious enough to spit blood.
What, now she had to write sycophantic praise?
No way!
She’d rather lose the fees!
Skipping a few fees wouldn’t starve her, but Han Qin couldn’t swallow her frustration.
How much did Zou Weijun pay to get Old Fu on board?
Rongcheng Publishing Group was too willing to spend, holding back the bombshell that Old Fu was a judge until the last moment—so infuriating!
Han Qin was deeply frustrated.
Lucky she was younger than the veteran writer, or she’d be hospitalised too.
In the countryside, Wen Hongyan and Shu Lu got news slower. They didn’t see Old Fu’s article right away, and even if they had, they wouldn’t grasp its significance. They only noticed that, days later, newspapers stopped criticising Wen Ying and the competition.
Papers now called Wen Ying the future of literature… Shu Lu cried in frustration: Wen Ying had everything since childhood. Was heaven so biased toward her? Why did the critics suddenly go silent?!
