Chapter 13: Cheng Xiao’s Strange Behavior

As Gu Jingyi resumed his seat on the throne, silence fell over the crowd. After two seconds, applause broke out.

Cheng Xiao watched the composed man sitting in the number one position, gradually merging with the confident youth she remembered. A man as striking as him was like a firefly in the dark, so vivid, so outstanding.

Listening to the thunderous applause ringing in her ears, she felt an instinctive reaction stirring within her, like the ebb and flow of tides long past.

Cheng Xiao felt a quiet relief that Gu Jingyi was somewhat distant from her; otherwise, he might have heard the rapid, burning beat of her heart.

As the performance ended, Cheng Xiao at the mentor's seat took a deep breath to steady her emotions. Beside her, Zhou Jieqiong quietly reached out and rubbed her thigh.

“Ah, what are you doing?” Cheng Xiao exclaimed, startled by the sudden touch.

“Look at you, staring at Gu Jingyi for so long. Be careful — who knows if the cameras might catch it,” Zhou Jieqiong whispered, leaning in to warn her.

The warmth of her voice made Cheng Xiao’s ears flush red. Still lingering in the previous mood, she was particularly sensitive.

“It’s fine. Even if the production team caught it, they wouldn’t include it in the final broadcast,” Cheng Xiao replied confidently, turning her head away.

Zhou Jieqiong glanced at her secretly, a little flustered, then turned her head aside.

On stage, Wang Ziyi still stood there, lost in the moment, awaiting Zhang Yixing’s final judgment. Gu Jingyi had already retaken his seat, while Wang Ziyi seemed unable to shake off the sting of defeat.

Voices from the director’s earpiece urged Zhang Yixing on, who nodded subtly. Adjusting the microphone before him, he looked at Wang Ziyi with a hint of pity.

As the first contestant to challenge Gu Jingyi, Wang Ziyi had gained the attention he sought. Yet, regrettably, every mention of his name was tied to Gu Jingyi’s, like an accessory highlighting just how formidable the “king” was.

“Wang Ziyi, I regret to announce that you have failed in your challenge. You will be demoted from Class A to Class F,” Zhang Yixing declared.

Upon hearing this, Wang Ziyi forced a stiff smile. “Understood, Producer Zhang.”

Falling to Class F was akin to tumbling from the clouds to the dust for trainees. He would have to leave the relatively exclusive Class A dormitory to squeeze in with the worst accommodations alongside everyone in Class F. The thought alone irritated the proud Wang Ziyi.

Before filming began, Wang Ziyi knew how much effort and how many connections his company had leveraged to secure a spot for their trainees as the last batch of performers, all for a chance at the “Battle.”

The “Battle” was a one-on-one duel segment, offering trainees extra screen time and opportunities.

His company’s boss had secretly advised him before entering the show: all the hot contestants had been thoroughly researched. If he had the chance for a “Battle,” he must choose a popular contestant. The first episode’s recording was crucial; he needed to showcase his best side to the audience.

The reasoning was simple: choosing a popular contestant ensured his footage wouldn’t be cut.

With over nine hours of recording and fifty stages performed by a hundred trainees, plus mentors’ comments, ordinary trainees’ screen time depended heavily on the production team’s discretion, aside from the royal family and popular contestants.

If one could win a Battle against a popular contestant, once the first episode aired, the company would start a full-scale push—securing press coverage, trending searches, and promotions by marketing accounts.

As a dark horse, Wang Ziyi had hoped to attract early bets.

Talent shows were like invisible battlefields. Gaining attention early was like rolling a snowball, amplifying advantages and smoothing the path ahead.

In such shows, fans were everything.

That was why Zhang Yixing referred to the audience as “national producers.” Idol Producer followed a nationwide voting system.

Every viewer had the power to decide the fate of the trainees.

Only the top nine vote-getters could debut as a group.

Each viewer had free daily votes and could purchase more.

It was a contest of popularity and genuine money.

This only fueled Wang Ziyi’s frustration.

Having lost to Gu Jingyi, the company’s prepared press releases could no longer boast of his victories.

From now on, every article would only praise his courage and Gu Jingyi’s strength.

No matter how much subtle praise was scattered within, it all served to elevate Gu Jingyi.

Even if some generous fans casually voted for familiar trainees in earlier rounds, those votes paled compared to Gu Jingyi’s massive pool.

Because in the one-on-one duel, Gu Jingyi was the victor. He was the true winner; no matter how much the defeated were praised, who could ignore the champion?

Wang Ziyi descended into Class F, the bottom of the pyramid.

What was worse, when he looked up at Gu Jingyi, he found the latter didn’t even glance his way.

As if Gu Jingyi had merely appeared casually and, without effort, crushed him with the might of the “king of ashes.”

He was like a mere passerby, his name unremembered.

Wang Ziyi felt both unwilling and deeply humiliated.

Perhaps his gaze was too intense, for Gu Jingyi at the pyramid’s apex seemed to notice and briefly looked down, as if surveying beneath him.

Dressed simply, Gu Jingyi glanced at Wang Ziyi’s fashionable attire then quickly looked away.

With Gu Jingyi’s keen eye, he immediately recognized it as a hot new item from a prominent streetwear brand.

Wang Ziyi had first intended to use him as a tool, then sought to unseat him.

But alas, now not only was Gu Jingyi more handsome, his stage presence was superior, and he stood higher.

The recording was nearly complete; the first episode was practically wrapped.

Then, Gu Jingyi saw Zhang Yixing turn around, facing the camera with his back to them.

“To all the national producers—”

“Please support us!” Gu Jingyi, standing at the number one position with the other ninety-nine trainees, rose and echoed the phrase.

Then, he, along with the trainees and the mentor Zhang Yixing facing away, bowed deeply.

A long, steady, ninety-degree bow.

To countless cameras.

And beyond them, to the innumerable national producers of the future.

From this moment on, my fate is in your hands.

I am Gu Jingyi, trainee of Huace Entertainment. Please take care of me.