Shenghai
"Bingbing, have you arrived at the base yet?" Yu Qingjia was in a live call with her.
"Yes, I’ve arrived. I can start recording the show tomorrow." Lu Bingbing’s voice carried exhaustion, but she sounded genuinely happy.
"Bingbing, I’m so jealous of you being able to record a talk show at the carnival."
"It’s just a variety show sponsored by Penguin. Who knows what will happen afterward."
"Things will definitely get better. This ti, you’ve ventured out of our little village."
Yu Qingjia didn’t hold back in front of her captain, speaking her innermost thoughts.
"These things are fleeting illusions. Honestly, I’m quite worried as well. Yuwei’s debut failed; it’s obvious Penguin wants to milk their flow for money."
Yu Qingjia didn’t expect Lu Bingbing to refer to Ye Yuwei in that way.
"Qingjia, it’s all over now. We have no personal grudges with Yuwei. Maybe one day we’ll cross paths again."
Lu Bingbing was signaling that Ye Yuwei was no longer who she used to be.
"Bingbing, leaving this village is so, so difficult! We’ve been enduring for so long."
"I know. But apart from enduring and waiting for opportunities, there’s nothing else we can do."
After hanging up, Lu Bingbing opened her dinner.
A large stead fish, a small bowl of vegetables, and a bowl of white rice.
As she ate, she reflected on everything that had happened during this period.
Everything felt like a dream; she still couldn’t believe the program had ended.
She really liked the atmosphere at the base. The overall environnt guaranteed there was none of the terrifying darkness.
I have to keep striving. I have to truly leave this village.
Lu Bingbing gave herself a silent pep talk.
Knock knock!
Galaxy
Yu Qingjia closed the video software, her mood unsettled for a long ti.
She lay lonely on her soft cot. Looking around, the cramped space felt suffocating, and the hallway faintly carried the sll of rot.
The central communal bathroom was clogged again; soone had tossed corn cobs or similar trash down the pipes.
After reviewing the surveillance footage, it was revealed that the cleaning ladies responsible took shortcuts by dumping garbage into the drains.
A few days ago, one of these cleaning ladies even stole a small idol’s tablet. Before the matter was cleared up, fans had accused another idol of committing the theft.
She had grown utterly disgusted by everything here, wanting to leave countless tis.
She felt as if she were trapped in prison, slowly becoming a puppet.
In the past, she was enthusiastic about replying to fans’ private ssages and hurt by insults from haters.
Now, everything seed numbing.
She didn’t want to read any private ssages—not even the ones expressing care for her—nor did she want to see anything discussed about her on social platforms.
No matter what she saw, it annoyed her deeply.
She used to revel in the praises from fans.
But over ti, she found that there were perhaps just a few dozen people who consistently wrote heartfelt essays or made videos for her.
In reality, those who claid to love her daily were mostly fair-weather supporters; only a handful were truly steadfast.
What filled her with despair the most was seeing no hope of breaking out.
Even though so big fans poured money into her, elevating her into the upper echelon, it ultimately didn’t lead to any comrcial opportunities.
Yet giving up felt unbearable, even terrifying.
She couldn’t imagine, or even tolerate, her fans supporting others after she left—transferring their love for her to another idol.
She loved the image of crowds holding caras to capture her, shouting her na excitedly as she stepped out.
Whenever she saw such scenes, it gave her strength to persevere.
"Yu Qingjia, you must hold on. This isn’t the ti to feel defeated. Maybe Bingbing can break through, and then she might lend you a hand."
Knock knock
"Who is it?"
"It’s !"
Yu Qingjia imdiately recognized Wang Yiran’s voice.
This girl was part of the fifth generation, originally the top star at the Yue Branch Company.
After the branch failed, she was transferred to headquarters. She had been among last year’s God Seven during the general election.
Yu Qingjia deliberated for a mont and eventually opened the door.
Under the light, Wang Yiran appeared carefree—cool and charismatic.
Her facial structure was striking. She had large eyes, a characteristically southern wide nose, thin lips, and a great figure—sharp shoulders, a slim waist, and a rounded hip.
"Yiran, why aren’t you resting yet?"
"I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d co and chat with you."
Wang Yiran’s seemingly distant lips curled into a faint smile.
"Haha! So late at night—you really scared a bit."
Despite saying this, Yu Qingjia still invited her into the room.
Wang Yiran looked around the modest space with curiosity, her gaze landing on a large photo fra on the desk.
"This was taken during my trip to the Maldives with Bingbing," Yu Qingjia said with a smile.
Wang Yiran nodded, "Sister Qingjia, do you think the captain will co back after she returns?"
"...Her room will be kept for her, but whether she cos back—I don’t know." Yu Qingjia had a feeling that Lu Bingbing wouldn’t return this ti.
Leaving here seed to symbolize sothing—a sign that she’s finally broken through.
"What about Li Jiaqi? I heard she’s close with the captain."
"...She doesn’t live in this room."
Yu Qingjia felt her face flush with embarrassnt and annoyance, shocked by Wang Yiran’s direct questioning.
After a mont of contemplation, Wang Yiran smiled, "Sister, let’s collaborate more in performances. My MC skills are weak; I’m better at dancing."
"...Ah?" Yu Qingjia was bewildered, unsure what to make of this girl. They weren’t exactly close, were they?
"Sister, you’re the deputy captain. With the captain gone, I can only turn to you," Wang Yiran explained.
"Oh! So that’s why. Alright, let’s collaborate."
Watching Wang Yiran leave, Yu Qingjia couldn’t help but feel puzzled.
From what she knew, Wang Yiran had a boyfriend before joining the group.
The reasoning she’d given was fair enough—she’d been a forr branch leader, and Yu Qingjia had no valid reason to outright refuse.
Before heading to bed, Yu Qingjia suddenly heard a strange noise from the next wall—listening closely, it sounded like muted sobbing under a blanket.
Yu Qingjia knew it was Zhang Yu crying, the cause being her major fan’s betrayal to support soone else.
The fan had left because Zhang Yu didn’t heed his demands.
This major fan had spent substantial money on her, supporting her for roughly three years.
Each year, he shelled out about 400,000 yuan for her.
Over ti, this fan began ddling increasingly, convinced his actions were out of love for Zhang Yu.
To him, Zhang Yu was pure, kind, naive, and helpless—a victim of systematic oppression.
But Zhang Yu was her own person, a living, breathing individual.
She couldn’t fulfill his idealized expectations. At her core, she was rely a tool for the company—unless she reached Little Juzi’s level, only then could she negotiate.
Yet, these fans have peculiar delusions. They believe spending so much money entitles them to dictate your life for your benefit.
It’s actually a twisted form of control—terrifyingly so.
Even more so than those who pay astronomical sums to gain personal access to an idol.
For, in the eyes of private-access fans, at least they see you as a person. But to these controlling fans, you must embody perfection, a flawless deity.
Zhang Yu couldn’t bear it anymore, arguing with him over private ssages and eventually confronting him outright in a public chat room.
The major fan logged off but resurfaced days later, announcing he was supporting another idol nad Fang Min and gifting her 20,000 yuan worth of virtual coins.
The betrayal devastated Zhang Yu. She didn’t have any other major fans to rely on.
It effectively dood her chances in next year’s election, let alone hopes of breaking out.
Soon after, instances of her bullying younger idols in the group were also exposed.
Every day, haters attacked her on various forums.
Today, soone even used five different phone numbers to call and insult her.
But all this—she could only shoulder alone.
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