Chapter 41: Hello Everyone, I’m Mengmeng.

After the fourth public performance ended, Ancient Style King treated everyone to dinner as promised.

He even ordered a bottle of champagne to celebrate his escape from misery.

“I came into this show with soaring ambition, thinking, I’m not bad, right? Started singing OSTs and still managed to snatch a Guest Singer spot from proper singers. At least in the production team’s eyes, my skills aren’t lacking, my buzz is passable. That old-timer Zhuang is a veteran singer; for the sake of the stage, he couldn’t possibly make things hard for me, could he?”

It was a nice thought, but everyone knew what happened next.

On the very first day of filming, the Night Heart Seven production team had already trended because of internal guest conflicts and a Main Guest making their Guest Singer cry.

Recalling it now, Wang Chao no longer felt so upset.

Not only was he not upset, he was calmly introspective. “Putting your hopes in others is the stupidest thing. Too bad it took me two full episodes to understand that. In the beginning, I only used ridiculous, foolish tricks to fight for screen time. I’m scared to even re-watch those two episodes now, afraid of finding comments scolding me…”

The audience wouldn’t always blindly follow the production team’s emotional manipulation.

When they had time to ruminate on earlier episodes, or watch video breakdowns of guest motivations by film/TV bloggers, they’d naturally catch on.

Even the slowest would understand these petty schemes.

And that feeling was the worst!

I know I’m someone who played petty tricks to grab screen time. The audience initially didn’t know, and now they know I’m that kind of person. Will that dislike and distaste update with my performance? If it persists, will it outweigh any sympathy for being assigned to Zhuang Yifan’s group and just turn into full-blown disgust?

For a considerable time, Wang Chao was trapped in this internal friction, unable to escape…

“Honestly, I was very jealous of Mengmeng at that time.”

He looked towards Li Tingzhou with a wry smile. “But what I hated more was the person I was. The things you couldn’t do, someone else did. The relationships you couldn’t manage, someone else handled flawlessly. Not only did you not learn, you got jealous. Things wouldn’t improve that way, and the situation wouldn’t change at all.”

Mao Maoyu sighed heavily. “Comparing yourself to Mengmeng is a bit masochistic.”

Ancient Style King nodded emphatically. “Yes. So I was only hit by it for a little while before I figured things out.”

“Chatting more with Mengmeng, my tolerance grew. Those word-wrangling matters didn’t seem so hard to endure anymore. It’s work. The odds of meeting a good Client or partner aren’t that big. But you have to finish your own task no matter what. Once the show airs, who knows who will be judged by the audience?”

He’d imagined his situation far too dangerous, and Zhuang Yifan far too important.

With a slight nudge from Mengmeng, Wang Chao saw the light and decided to take a pragmatic path.

Whether he won a title or not, truthfully, it didn’t matter that much, because the benefits a Guest Singer could take away were actually very limited—especially since Zhuang Yifan was so selfish.

Unless he was Mengmeng: able to soar himself, and take all of Heartbreak with him.

So, unless someone desperately needed a reputation transition like First Sister—coming in solely gunning for the “Season 7 Champion” title—second or third place meant roughly the same thing. Rather than worrying about elimination, it was better to harvest more topic buzz during the limited filming cycle, using that momentum to launch a personal concert tour.

Real benefits you could actually grasp were the most solid!

“Too bad I understood it all too late.”

Wang Chao took a sip of champagne, failing to detect any special fruity notes mentioned in the advertising.

Well, a mountain pig can’t appreciate fine grain.

He didn’t know if he was drunk, rambling on. “It wasn’t until the last couple episodes that I realized viewers quite like this ‘busting my ass for nothing’ persona I have—makes me look honest and hardworking, right? Well, at least it’s relatable.”

The table immediately burst into laughter. “Because working stiffs are empathizing with you.”

That was it exactly.

Since he’d decided on a path, he had to seize the core competitive edge!

Others mocked him for kissing up to Mengmeng, practically becoming a Gold Fan himself. But Wang Chao laughed at them for not seeing: encountering a benefactor like Mengmeng, who was still in his own growth phase—if not now, when?

Why do you think original stocks are valuable?

Because the investment cost is low.

Taking advantage while Mengmeng was also on the rise—whether it was providing stepping stones or emotional support, as long as it was support Wang Chao could offer, he was willing to give it. Otherwise, revisit this six months or a year later, who knew if it’d be mutual support or Mengmeng just one-sidedly lifting him up…

~

After seeing off Ancient Style King, time seemed to press the accelerator.

Once the group, including Eldan, returned to J City, after a brief recap and summary meeting, everyone plunged headlong back into new work.

Qu Yanni was very excited about the mixed-race Slavic man’s arrival.

She urged Eldan to quickly register on domestic social media platforms, casually complaining, “Our main battlefield is Weibo. What are you doing on Little Red Book?”

Comrade Li Fushun replied guilelessly. “I heard the netizens there are friendlier.”

Qu Yanni hesitated. “Okay… but I think you’ll still need accounts on the other social platforms.”

After personally going through Eldan’s over 180 public posts on his Little Red Book page with two assistants, she had to ask Mengmeng to mediate. She put it tactfully. “I don’t expect him to be proficient in all the internet slang and general taboos, nor to avoid potential controversy like a native Chinese speaker. But without any oversight, I’m afraid…”

Li Tingzhou looked at the few posts they’d pulled out as typical examples and nodded helplessly.

“I’ll talk to him.”

So, under his guidance, after learning to use the food delivery app, Eldan also gained a preliminary grasp of Weibo, Douyin, and their respective taboos, developing a deeper understanding of the ecosystems of the three major platforms.

“I swear I will be cautious in word and deed.”

Li Tingzhou remained skeptical. “I hope so.”

That night, on Little Red Book, Eldan posted their dinner gathering photo—refined and romantic. On Douyin, he posted a DJ speed-up remix of “Endless Summer,” responding to three confused Heartbreak fans accusing him of copyright infringement, and pinned a verification photo in the comments: himself making a peace sign behind Mengmeng’s head. On Weibo, he posted a photo with Qiaoqiao and his child, pretending to officially announce Heartbreak’s fourth-generation member (which wasn’t quite true…).

All three platform updates were scheduled posts, fair and square.

In short, the newcomer Li Fushun had proven through action that he was diligently adapting to local customs.

“Boss Qu, you underestimate a genius’s learning ability.”

Liu Lusi complained to her old classmate, both proud and troubled.

Heartbreak actually had two of them: these unrestrained, entirely self-regulated geniuses!

Speaking of “Endless Summer,” even with traffic split across platforms, its saves had already reached a very impressive number. Its popularity further proved that Heartbreak’s recent packed schedule hadn’t been in vain. Whether the music variety show or the music festival, both Heartbreak and Mengmeng’s individual gains were clearly reflected in the single’s performance.

If the schedule hadn’t been so stretched, Heartbreak might have struck while the iron was hot and released another single to fully feed the fans.

But that just wasn’t feasible; their energy wouldn’t allow it.

Monday afternoon, Li Tingzhou was heading to the “All-Star Launch” training island to be a Flying Guest, in the role of a Special Mentor.

The filming was estimated to take a day and a night—a very tight schedule.

Barring any surprises, the show’s official account would post a teaser on Monday.

This booking was part of the deal Liu Lusi negotiated with Vice President Zhou. It was just that when the contract was signed, neither side imagined Mengmeng would rise so fast—so fast that Whale Media now deeply regretted not fighting harder to secure him as a Fixed Mentor.

“You’re only recording for one day, but we should still quickly familiarize you with their faces.”

So, Li Tingzhou began a game of matching.

“This is XXX, this is YYY, that one is OOO.”

Beyond that, Liu Lusi had to brief him on the internal factional lines: which ones were Whale’s own Trainees, so keep it light; which were pushed by other platforms, just gloss over them; which was the Light of the People’s Choice, where he could find an appropriate moment for a compliment; which was the designated comic relief, potentially a good entry point to advance the narrative if needed.

In short, for all the various hype-boys big and small, Liu Lusi had a ranking prepared.

“Anyone surpass Feng Mo?”

Liu Lusi thought for a moment and answered, “No.”

But she then pointed at one of them. “This one’s special. His aunt is…”

Li Tingzhou nodded. “Understood.”

From an ethical standpoint, a mentor ranked higher than a trainee. Besides, the hype-boys in this batch couldn’t even beat Feng Mo, so their titles were somewhat diluted. In any case, Li Tingzhou was only there for one episode, specifically to play the role of disrupting the status quo and reshaping the trainees’ perceptions. He didn’t need to display kindness or tolerance.

Just before wrapping up, Li Tingzhou remembered something else. “Oh, right, that guy you mentioned before, Si Yuan? Is he still here?”

Liu Lusi shook her head. “Already eliminated, but it hasn’t aired yet.”

“All-Star Launch” started filming earlier than “Sing My Heart Tonight,” but with so many contestants, even with eliminations every episode, the competition had only just reached the Top 48 (aired version).

“Night Heart Seven’s” filming-to-air delay was only about a week.

But for “All-Star Launch,” the lag was a full cycle!

So Liu Lusi rephrased. “In the rankings announced Friday, Si Yuan was already at the bottom, completely within elimination range. Sigh, I’d hoped you could meet him during your guest appearance.”

Li Tingzhou had some impression of Si Yuan.

If he remembered correctly, he was one of the decent vocalists among the Male Trainees.

“Eliminating everyone who can sing—where are they planning to find auto-tune engineers later?”

What level of master would it take to save a flock of water buffaloes?

Liu Lusi was now just relieved Mengmeng hadn’t signed on as a Fixed Mentor.

She even felt this batch of trainees wasted Mengmeng’s good song, sighing. “Who knows? I thought and thought, maybe Si Yuan just lacked a bit of comprehension. He started dance from scratch; even if he only slept 3 hours a day, he could only just memorize the moves without mistakes. The gap to being outstanding was astronomical.”

Unless Si Yuan had a face like Mengmeng’s, authoritative enough to make fans willingly forgive all his shortcomings and shower him with enough patience to wait for his growth.

Maybe then everyone would even call it the real “idol nurturing” experience…

Li Tingzhou was mentally prepared for the shock the training island would bring. “Okay, I should go pack. For these two days, I’ll trouble you to keep an eye on Eldan, don’t let him order too much delivery. No need to rush finding him an apartment; let him adjust at my place for a while.”

That afternoon, Li Tingzhou flew to J Island, S Province.

No joke, “All-Star Launch” really had set its training camp on an island.

Though a large part of the island was still connected to the mainland, it was enough to largely block out proxy photographers and excessive fan intrusion. This was also one reason the male version of “All-Star Launch” still maintained an air of freshness: very little leaked information. Apart from minimal public performance reports and the eliminated Trainees seemingly smuggled out weekly, there were almost no channels to get updates beyond official ones.

The little assistant traveling with Li Tingzhou grumbled. “Is it possible that people who love talent shows actually enjoy watching trainees commuting or secretly visiting the supermarket?”

Setting the training camp on an island was like stripping fans of any hope for juicy gossip.

Li Tingzhou comforted him. “Correspondingly, they also can’t shoot clips of trainees smoking, or hiding phones for secret dating. The talent show filters can stay in place a bit longer.”

“Mengmeng, your words are so hurtful too…”

Li Tingzhou laughed. “Alright, I’ll stop.”

Once they landed on J Island, they were immediately picked up by the program team’s car and driven to the training island. Truth be told, the scenery along the way was quite nice, though the eliminated trainees probably had no heart to appreciate the summer island views.

“All-Star Launch” Director Jie Yifu was on good terms with Pan Jun. He personally came to greet Mengmeng, giving introductions all along the way.

“You win some, you lose some. Trade-offs have to be made.”

Saying this, Jie Yifu pointed to the “All-Star Launch” main broadcast hall, which Whale had spent two whole months constructing in secret. From its exterior, it truly resembled a glittering planet, brimming with a tech-savvy feel, clearly built at great expense. The starlight emanating outward pointed towards the surrounding dormitories, Functional Practice Rooms, and Mentor Dormitory.

“The scale is indeed impressive.”

“Barring surprises, we’ll film here again next season.”

No wonder, then.

Along the way, Jie Yifu briefly described the status of the remaining Trainees. “The gap between the top ranks is widening with every episode. But the fight for first place can’t end too early, or it’d be boring. The problem is, the Upper, Middle, and Lower Circles have all completely stratified!”

He took a deep breath.

“The Upper Circle sits steady in debut positions, complacent and secure, already catching celebrity-itis before debuting. The Middle Circle knows their chances are slim; a minority choose to fight with everything they’ve got, but their attitude contrasts so sharply with the rest that even the Mentor Group can’t stand it.”

As for the Lower Circle, Jie Yifu didn’t even bother mentioning them.

They were in full coasting mode.

What else could they do but coast?

Fight for parts? Not enough skills. Fight for screen time? The cameramen and editors knew the internal rankings best; they wouldn’t even invest more footage, so where would the material for editing come from?

They were just enduring the days, watching the guaranteed-debut Trainees do nothing special.

Li Tingzhou could see that Jie Yifu still wanted to salvage things. But fan preferences and public perception wouldn’t bend to the production team’s will. The chemistry between people was even more esoteric. The ones the show invested in weren’t necessarily liked by the public. Otherwise, why would there be terms like “Light of the People’s Choice”?

Thinking of this, he felt the guests on “Sing My Heart Tonight” Season 7 were truly professional and dedicated.

Even knowing Ren Shiyu was the designated champion, they still gave it their all…

Soon, Jie Yifu led Li Tingzhou to the waiting room.

There, he got a simple styling, attached his microphone and receiver pack, and quickly went over the script the Associate Director gave him, catching up on the current stage:

The broadcast had reached the Top 48 Placement Battle, but in reality, they were already at the Final Phase Inspection.

The last 18 Trainees were split into two groups for performances.

Two original songs awaited their choice: “BAD” and “See You Tomorrow.”

Following the precedent of the female “All-Star Launch,” these two songs were meant for the finale night performances. Even after debut, they would be included in the future group’s debut album.

Now, inside the broadcast hall, the Trainees were dividing parts.

The method of dividing parts was ruthless: starting to choose from the 18th place upward. As long as your rank was higher, you could even arbitrarily change the parts chosen by those below you. Of course, if you changed someone else’s, someone ranked even higher could change yours.

Li Tingzhou went to the Observation Room to meet the Fixed Mentor Group.

“Hello everyone, I’m Mengmeng.”

Everyone quickly stood to greet this long-awaited new victim!

“Teacher Mengmeng, you’re finally here—”

“This ‘BAD’ is your song. You absolutely must keep an eye on it yourself.”

The one speaking was Vocal Mentor An Jue. When he’d first arrived, he’d been a bit sour that the show approached Mengmeng first before contacting him to fill in. But after countless sleepless nights agonizing over that herd of water buffaloes…

Now seeing Mengmeng come full circle and still end up here, he was both delighted and sentimental.

Delighted to meet Mengmeng, ideally to discuss some kind of collaboration. Sentimental because some fates were just destined; no matter how many detours, they’d eventually return to where they were meant to be.

See? The suffering you’re meant to endure, you can’t escape no matter what, hahaha!

When An Jue laughed, the other mentors also declared defeat in holding back their smirks.

Everyone looked at Mengmeng; mixed with their welcome was a sliver of schadenfreude.

Li Tingzhou forced the corners of his mouth up. “Thank you for the reminder.”

From the moment the music team had repeatedly begged him to record a super-precise, highly polished demo, he’d had a bad feeling about this. After all these days, that feeling had finally become reality…