Chapter 73

P.S. Thank you to book friend Gu Shiyue for the book coins!

For rational discussions, even if someone looked down on her, Luo Quan wouldn’t care—singing ability could be proven later; now that her rhythm with Cao Mufeng had just calmed down, there was no need to stir up more hatred over something so trivial.

After setting the tone for the Weibo Night, the female host continued chatting and laughing with the stars who came up to collect their awards, as if nothing had happened; later, Cao Mufeng went up again.

Having been burned once, Cao Mufeng gave the female host no chance to exploit the situation—he never even looked at her from the moment he stepped on stage until he left; she tried to strike up conversation multiple times, but he brushed her off with a few short replies, denying her any opportunity to succeed.

The entire Weibo Night lasted two and a half hours, serving as a summary of China’s online landscape over the past year; just glancing at the award list revealed who had the highest popularity and who was the hottest this year.

But starting this year, China’s traffic environment was likely to undergo a dramatic shift.

Many seasoned Korean idols were returning home to develop their careers; these idols, who had spent years grinding in Korea, were no match for domestic fresh-faced idols in terms of combat power, and their fan bases were also substantial—signing with a top company and increasing exposure could easily net them hundreds of thousands of new followers daily.

So this year was probably the last golden moment for domestic idols; by this time next year, half the names on the award list would likely be new faces.

Just after Weibo Night ended, while the award announcements of several stars were still trending, a major piece of news dropped to the top of the trending list:

“Wen Xia signs with Penguin Interactive!”

“At 9:00 PM Beijing time on August 21, former captain of the renowned Korean idol group SweetGirl, Wen Xia, completed her signing after meeting with Penguin Interactive’s General Manager Zhou Yang.”

“Effective immediately, Wen Xia is now an artist under Penguin Interactive, with a three-year contract.”

For over a month here, where Wen Xia had gone was the most heated topic among fans.

As a female idol hot across China and all of Asia, Wen Xia’s talent and looks were at the peak of her industry; though she had left her group, this did little damage to her popularity—in fact, it could be seen as a positive.

Previously, her main focus had been Korea, with only occasional appearances on Chinese variety shows or commercials.

Now that she had returned home after leaving the group, her development options had multiplied greatly—whether continuing as an idol or pursuing an acting career, both paths looked excellent.

Moreover, with the ban on Korean entertainment just beginning and the Korean wave severely hit, the state was also planning to cultivate homegrown entertainment culture, including idol groups.

It was rumored that Penguin was planning a nationwide idol selection competition, and Wen Xia’s signing confirmed this rumor was likely true.

If Wen Xia were to lead a girl group meticulously selected from across the nation, she might even rival Korean girl groups.

Of course, aside from Wen Xia’s signing, all these were still speculation—how things would develop depended entirely on her own choices.

After Wen Xia announced her signing with Penguin Interactive, other idols who had returned home from their groups also gradually revealed their signing companies—all top-tier domestic artist management firms, each expert at hype and buying trending topics.

Within minutes, the top spots on Weibo’s trending list were completely dominated by these idols; yet at the center of the storm, Wen Xia simply posted a calm Weibo:

“Just signed a contract—I’ll still be in Japan for a while longer. Fans eager for my upcoming program announcements will have to wait a bit longer.”

As soon as the post went up, Wen Xia’s fans erupted in wails—her idol had been silent for over a month, staying home posting idle diary entries like some artsy girl; why not learn from her own roommate Luo Quan? Look how prolific she is—she’d released fifteen songs in just over a month since debut.

Though fans were pressing hard, Wen Xia showed no intention of starting work early.

For years she had worked nonstop for her idol career, barely getting ten days of vacation a year; the relentless, high-intensity schedule had drained her nearly dry, and now that she finally had a chance to rest, she was determined to enjoy it fully before returning.

She had already explained these thoughts to Zhou Yang, who responded generously, saying he’d treat it as her summer vacation—she just needed to be back before National Day.

With those words, Wen Xia felt no guilt whatsoever.

Of course, she wouldn’t truly play until National Day—she’d likely start working as soon as Luo Quan returned to school.

She had originally gone to Tokyo to rest while also hanging out with Luo Quan; now that Luo Quan was back at school, their chances of meeting would be slim, and playing alone held no appeal.

As for Juniko, she had previously mentioned wanting to drop out of school to fully commit to her idol career.

But dropping out wasn’t something she could decide alone—she needed to discuss it with her family first.

Knowing Juniko’s grandfather as Luo Quan did, dropping out was unlikely; after all, she had been kicked out of home precisely because she wanted to become an idol—now she dared to drop out again for the same reason? If her grandfather found out, he’d be far more likely to personally expel her than to nod in approval.

But when the mountain stands before you, a path will appear—Juniko’s determination to become an idol was unusually firm, embodying the stubborn spirit peculiar to the Japanese.

To help Juniko improve her dancing skills, Wen Xia enrolled her in a “Red House Dance Studio” training class before returning to Japan with Luo Quan.

“Red House Dance Studio” was world-renowned; its instructors were internationally famous dancers; Wen Xia herself had studied there for nearly a year, making far greater progress than she ever had by practicing alone.

Although Wen Xia enrolled Juniko only in the Beijing branch of Red House Dance Studio, the instructors’ standards wouldn’t be much lower—they’d have more than enough skill to teach Juniko.

Since there were only a handful of branches nationwide, getting in wasn’t easy at all; it was only because Wen Xia had some personal connection with one of the studio’s founders that she got a backdoor entry.

For an ordinary person wanting to learn dance there, they’d have to wait in line for ages!

This was the gift Wen Xia brought back for Juniko—originally meant to be a surprise.

But when the two girls returned home, the scene before them left them stunned.

The living room was in chaos: shards of a broken cup littered the floor, the large TV facing the sofa had a massive dent, the dining chairs were overturned, the entire room was a mess, and Juniko was nowhere to be seen.

“Did burglars break in?” was Luo Quan’s first thought.