Chapter 18: Vote Clearing Plan

After settling Chang Yu’s position, Cen Lan went straight to Feng Jingyu’s home, bringing with her a box of cherries—Feng Jingyu’s favorite.

Feng Jingyu’s eyes lit up as she received them, unable to resist popping one into her mouth right away.

“So sweet! Cherries are my eternal love.”

Cen Lan smiled. “Looks like I made the right choice.”

“You know me best, Sister Cen Lan~” Feng Jingyu pulled Cen Lan down to sit with her on the sofa.

Once seated, Cen Lan got to the point. “The planning team asked me to come and seek your advice. They want to know why you only adjusted the performance order for Cheng and Chu. After all, there were other groups with equally dazzling performances.”

“Hmm? Did I not explain clearly last time?” Feng Jingyu tilted her head. “Actually, it’s quite simple. Aside from Cheng Wangshu and Chu Yunwan—and, as it turns out, even our staff—no one has really understood the essence of a talent show.”

Cen Lan fixed her gaze on Feng Jingyu. “I’m all ears.”

“Treat yourself as the embodiment of ‘dreams’ and, in a short span of time, seize the hearts of fans completely. The devotion fans pour into you depends on whether you stay or go on this show. This is a talent showcase, but it isn’t just about talent. You are the vessel for the fans’ dreams, and carrying those dreams is no easy task.” Feng Jingyu ate another cherry, the perfect sweetness bursting in her mouth, making her squint with happiness. “Only on the stage of ‘Expedition’ did I see that kind of desire to perform. The song was also brilliantly rearranged—you could tell they knew their strengths and worked to amplify them. That’s what sets them apart from the rest.”

Cen Lan nodded in understanding. “I’ve learned something, Teacher Feng.”

Feng Jingyu made a goofy face. “That last meeting—there really was a problem with the personnel, wasn’t there?”

“It’s fine, all sorted now.”

Feng Jingyu gave Cen Lan a comforting hug. “You’ve worked hard, you’ve worked hard.”

Cen Lan replied playfully, “Serving the people.”

The two burst out laughing together.

·

With the first stage over, the host immediately announced a string of new rules, leaving the girls completely stunned. Team formation, song selection… the process moved so quickly it caught everyone off guard.

It was Cheng Wangshu and Chu Yunwan who reacted first. As Class A members, they stepped up to stabilize the situation, leading everyone through team selection and song choices.

When they returned to their residence, the group was still reeling from the excitement of the first stage and the bombardment of new rules when another bombshell dropped: the results of the first round of voting had been released.

The program only announced the top nine and the very last place. When they saw the overwhelming lead held by Cheng Wangshu and Chu Yunwan, the air fell silent.

In that moment, these young, innocent girls finally felt the reality of a knockout competition.

Elimination meant someone would have to leave.

First came unease. Then, thinking about having to compete so ruthlessly against old friends and companions from their own star systems, fear crept in. The entire atmosphere of the town changed.

Cheng Wangshu sensed it first. Her instincts told her she couldn’t let this continue. So she found an opportunity to gather everyone together and, in a roundtable discussion, had them share their inner journeys over this period. She began herself, speaking in detail about her own struggles and changes since arriving in Star Selection Town, and how she finally made up her mind.

Chu Yunwan followed right after. With the two of them leading, the others began to open up about their anxieties during this time. When emotions ran high, many couldn’t help but secretly wipe away tears.

“I know everyone values their friendships, but this competition isn’t about eliminating the weak—it’s about choosing the most suitable people. We’re all just working toward that goal. No one is wrong for trying, and no one is wrong for wanting to win,” Cheng Wangshu said, her expression resolute as she looked at everyone. “We just need to be the best versions of ourselves—don’t feel guilty, don’t be afraid of elimination, and don’t let yourself have regrets. That’s the best reward you can give yourself!”

After hearing these words, several girls broke down and cried, everyone hugging each other, drawing warmth from one another.

Once the tears were shed, tomorrow they would face new challenges with renewed spirits.

They did it for themselves—and for the star systems behind them.

·

This roundtable was faithfully recorded and released on the StarNet as a behind-the-scenes feature.

Many people who’d previously scoffed at the talent show were moved by the girls’ heartfelt confessions, and all forty contestants saw their vote counts rise to varying degrees.

Of course, the fastest increases were still for Cheng Wangshu and Chu Yunwan.

·

“According to Professor Wang’s model and data analysis, Cheng Wangshu and Chu Yunwan have the highest probability of debuting. To ensure the final group lineup, I recommend making them priority candidates.”

This first-phase meeting of the talent show was Chang Yu’s responsibility to report. According to feedback from Wang Pei’s team, Chang Yu had never complained about any task assigned to him, and had even offered many suggestions, greatly improving the efficiency of the data team.

This time, he had volunteered to give the report, and Cen Lan agreed readily.

At the meeting, Chang Yu sat toward the back, showing no sign of his relationship with Professor Lu, who also made no mention of it, listening calmly to Chang Yu’s report.

Feng Jingyu tapped her fingers lightly on the table, pondering aloud, “Given the momentum of Cheng and Chu, this suggestion is a good one. But there are always all kinds of surprises in talent shows, and fans’ love is never constant. To love is to wish them to thrive; to hate is to wish them to fall. A fan’s love can be fickle—today they’re devoted to you, but tomorrow, for some reason, they might turn on you and become your harshest critic.”

“Turn on them?” The people present looked confused.

“It means I don’t like you anymore, and I’ll expose all the secrets you tried so hard to hide,” Feng Jingyu explained.

“Fans actually have access to that kind of information?” Chang Yu was shocked.

“Of course—especially for idols who debut through talent shows. Fans know your history inside and out.” A smile played at Feng Jingyu’s lips. “Don’t underestimate what fans can do. As long as you’ve left a trace on the StarNet, it won’t take a day for them to dig up things you yourself may have forgotten you ever made public.”

“Why would fans do something like that?” Chang Yu struggled to understand. “Aren’t they supposed to like the idol?”

“It’s curiosity—fans’ love amplifies that urge, driving them to know everything about their idol. Besides, even for a celebrity you don’t care about, if something happens, you’d want to gossip about it, wouldn’t you?” Feng Jingyu glanced at Cen Lan, her look clearly asking where this sweet, naive kid came from.

Cen Lan responded with a wink, perfectly mimicking Feng Jingyu’s expression.

Professor Lu coughed and asked, “So, Ms. Feng, what’s your opinion?”

“The first stage just ended, and the fan base isn’t fixed yet. For now, we hold steady. Priority candidates can wait until the middle phase. By then, the fans who remain are basically set. They’ll have invested emotionally, with time and money, and will consider sunk costs—they won’t leave so easily.” Feng Jingyu made the final decision. She looked around the room, her tone deepening. “Fans are extremely sensitive to and resentful of anything ‘rigged.’ No matter how subtle your actions, there’s always a chance you’ll be found out—especially with something as big as manipulating votes. Intervening too early will only make fans hostile, and will saddle contestants with a negative label from the very start. Our contestants carry a political image; we can’t let the audience doubt our fairness.”

Everyone nodded instinctively.

“That’s all for today’s meeting. Dismissed.”

·

Once everyone had left, Feng Jingyu instantly shed her composed, master-strategist demeanor and collapsed onto the table.

“I’m exhausted… I really hate meetings…” Feng Jingyu looked as if she were on the verge of death.

Cen Lan thoughtfully massaged Feng Jingyu’s back. “You did great. Even Professor Lu was nodding along.”

“That’s because I have a split personality. Whenever there’s a meeting, my dark persona emerges. I’ve named her: Dark·Feng Jingyu.” Feng Jingyu closed her eyes, launching into nonsense. “Sometimes we have late-night heart-to-hearts. She calls me ‘partner,’ and I call her my other self.”

Cen Lan stifled a laugh. “So which personality are you now?”

“Of course, the real one.”

“Well then, the real Feng Jingyu, want to go out for hot pot together?”

Feng Jingyu sprang up. “Yes!”

“Let’s go. Your favorite hot pot place just happens to have a discount today.”

“Yay~” Feng Jingyu cheered. “Oh, let’s invite Huaiyin too. He’s been cooped up in the studio for so long, all the songs he’s written lately sound lifeless.”

“You’d better not let him hear you say that.”

“I’m only telling you.”