When Peng Guoguo left the internet café, he felt utterly deflated, his hands and feet weak.
Something was off, but he couldn’t pinpoint what. He just felt drained.
Huh?!
All he did was browse the web for an hour.
Was it just that Wen Ying’s achievements were too impressive?
Peng Guoguo thought he was used to exceptional peers—after all, Xie Qian was one of them… so why did he still feel so listless?
His logic didn’t add up. After much thought, he inexplicably went to a bookstore and bought a copy of *Teen Idol*.
Maybe there weren’t that many exceptional peers. Perhaps the so-called bestselling author was just a product of capital’s packaging?
With Xie Qian’s boldness to “borrow” two hundred million from his dad to buy land, turning his crush into a bestselling author wouldn’t be too hard.
Peng Guoguo returned to the internet café, this time booking a quiet private booth.
With this mindset, he opened *Teen Idol*.
He swore he only meant to skim it.
Books had never interested Peng Guoguo—neither textbooks nor extracurricular ones.
The first few chapters of *Teen Idol* didn’t grab him. What was this? No romance, no allure, just this supposed vibrant youth? It wasn’t half as exciting as the parties he threw with his friends!
—Next time he saw Wen Ying, he’d have to school her on what real youth was like.
Grumbling, Peng Guoguo ended up reading *Teen Idol* to the end.
At first, it didn’t hit him hard. *Teen Idol* wasn’t one of those melodramatic, high-drama youth novels.
But slowly, it got under his skin.
The main characters in *Teen Idol* somehow reminded him of the dinner at Wu Chunqin’s house… The story felt like it could fit Xie Tang, Xie Qian, Wen Ying, and Wang Shuang without much stretch.
Yet, despite living on the same planet, in the same country, it was like they inhabited entirely different worlds.
It was a different vibe from hanging with Tai Xiaowu and his crew.
These were smart, driven people who didn’t just coast through life!
A strange emotion surged in Peng Guoguo’s chest. He couldn’t make sense of it, and it frustrated him. He tossed *Teen Idol* onto the sofa and ruffled his green hair into a mess.
Pulling out a cigarette he used for show, he lit it, took a few drags, then stubbed it out halfway.
Throwing parties, dyeing his hair, switching girlfriends, getting tattoos, smoking, and splashing cash on friends didn’t prove he was impressive.
Being impressive was Xie Qian’s style.
Or the girl Xie Qian liked.
Or Xie Tang.
Even Wang Shuang, with his carefree attitude.
Wang Shuang said only someone incompetent constantly brags about their family’s greatness!
Peng Guoguo tossed the half-smoked cigarette, bending over in a coughing fit.
After catching his breath, he pulled out his phone to call his dad.
The call rang for ages with no answer.
He dialed his dad’s secretary instead.
This time, it was answered instantly.
The secretary’s voice was soft, as if muffling the receiver, polite and gentle.
“Young Master Peng, Mr. Peng is in a meeting. Any message for him?”
“I want to talk to him.”
“Young Master Peng—”
Impatient, Peng Guoguo snapped, “Keep yapping, and I’ll tell my mom you’re sleeping with my dad!”
Secretary: …I’m not, okay!
She wanted to curse him out.
But recalling the fate of her predecessors, she switched tones, “I’ll transfer you to Mr. Peng. One moment.”
Peng Guoguo whistled.
No wonder the secretary was scared.
His mom was a paranoid nutcase.
Half the month, she was off praying at temples nationwide, donating heaps of money for blessings to keep his dad faithful. The other half, she camped at his dad’s company, her eyes like X-rays scanning for “vixens.” No scheming woman escaped her gaze. Over the years, she’d gotten a dozen secretaries fired.
That was his mom’s proud record!
Peng Guoguo knew some in their circle mocked his mom, but others envied her shameless tenacity.
Was elegance worth anything?
Not a penny!
Xie Qian’s mom was the epitome of elegance, yet his dad had two illegitimate kids outside.
When that scandal broke, Peng’s mom comforted him, telling him not to worry.
With her watching, Old Peng wouldn’t dare produce any illegitimate heirs to dilute Peng Guoguo’s inheritance. Under her obsessive vigilance, his dad was exasperated but powerless. Married young, now middle-aged, what was the point of fussing? They made do.
Their marriage wasn’t great, but they kept up appearances in public.
Their only heart-to-heart was Peng’s dad complaining that his wife spoiled their son too much, giving him excessive allowance, turning him into a useless playboy.
In a meeting, Peng’s dad ignored his “useless” son’s call.
But when the secretary, pale-faced, said “Mr. Peng,” he knew his son was causing trouble again.
When he answered, his tone was thoroughly impatient, “Speak fast. Need more allowance? Ask your mom—”
Peng Guoguo’s voice was loud, almost growled, “I don’t want money. I want to transfer schools!”
Peng’s dad wasn’t moved to tears; his frown deepened, “What trouble did you cause at school now?”
Transferring wasn’t new for Peng Guoguo.
A slacker stays a slacker no matter the school.
With the college entrance exam nearing, Peng Guoguo was set to study abroad. Unless it was major trouble, his dad thought his son could tough it out.
After all, he wasn’t studying seriously, so what difference did the school make?
The disdain in his dad’s tone stung Peng Guoguo.
He opened his mouth to defend himself but didn’t know where to start.
“I want to transfer to Chengdu… You said Xie Qian’s capable and I should stay in touch with him. I thought it over, and proximity helps. Like they say, familiarity breeds fondness. If I’m around him all the time, I’ll be his best friend!”
If Peng Guoguo said he wanted to study hard and aim high, his dad wouldn’t believe a word.
But this excuse was spot-on.
Young people’s bonds are built through time spent together.
His useless son wasn’t good at much, but he had some knack for relationships.
In their circle of young Beijing elites, hanging with playboys would only make him worse, but sticking with someone like Xie Qian couldn’t make him any worse than he already was.
Peng’s dad agreed readily, “Fine, I’ll have the secretary handle your transfer.”
He didn’t even ask why Peng Guoguo suddenly had this idea.
That was their usual father-son dynamic.
When asked if he had more to say, Peng Guoguo figured since he’d made the call, he might as well get something out of it, casually mentioning his allowance per his dad’s tone.
Peng’s dad wasn’t surprised.
—Can’t expect too much from a useless kid!
“I’ll have the secretary transfer it to your account.”
With that, he hung up.
Peng Guoguo gave a self-deprecating smile.
He wasn’t short on allowance.
When he’d chased Xie Qian offering a loan, it wasn’t just to see him squirm.
He really had plenty of money—more than enough for parties and treating friends.
Sometimes, he didn’t want money. He wanted something else, but his mom didn’t understand, and his dad couldn’t be bothered to care.
When he thought about smoking again, his eyes caught the copy of *Teen Idol* tossed on the sofa.
The book said everyone is their own idol.
Peng Guoguo found it cheesy.
Were there really that many idols in the world?
…Without the “useless” to compare to, how could you see an idol’s brilliance?!
