Chapter 20

After the shoot ended, all six MCs had taken a liking to Zhao Yu and exchanged contact information with her. A full day of running, climbing, and jumping around wasn’t any easier than performing, but the five girls couldn’t rest—they had a show in another city tomorrow and needed to head over early.

For Shining Five, stuck in that middling limbo, every bit of exposure mattered. Their popularity and fanbase had to be earned one performance at a time.

Zhao Yu felt like she hadn’t had a proper breather in ages.

Their first album was completely finished, and they’d been shooting music videos one after another. After the New Year, when the album dropped, they’d have to hit all the music shows for promotions, rehearse the group choreography over and over—even sleep time got squeezed out.

Lin Zhinan used to joke that Zhao Yu was like a robot, running twenty-four hours without getting tired. Now Zhao Yu actually wished she were one—so she wouldn’t feel exhausted anymore.

Year-end was approaching. In a few days, Shining Five would start their busking tour—a fan benefit the company had promised right after debut but kept delaying because of the nonstop schedule.

Recently, fans’ pent-up anticipation had started to boil over, so the company didn’t dare put it off any longer and finally added the busking plan to the calendar.

Before that, though, Shining Five had two more music festivals to play.

These were the last two music festivals of the year, both on the same day but in different cities. The company had coordinated the timing with both parties—Shining Five was scheduled to perform early at the first one, then immediately rush to the second.

The timing was supposed to work out perfectly. But no one expected a hiccup during their waiting period.

Shining Five was already fully made up, with about half an hour until they went on, when they were told their performance slot had been pushed back by one.

At a music festival, each act’s set was at least thirty minutes long.

That one push meant they’d definitely miss their next show.

Since these were just small festivals, the agent hadn’t come along. Only two assistants were with them, and they immediately panicked and went to negotiate with the organizers.

Lin Xiuxi tossed her half-eaten boxed lunch into the trash and asked a staff member, “Who took our slot?”

The word “took” was blunt. The staff member, just a low-level runner, stammered, “It’s FLY.”

FLY was a girl group that had debuted six months earlier. They’d won a Best New Artist award, but in terms of current popularity, they were about on par with Shining Five—if anything, Shining Five had stronger momentum.

Lin Xiuxi sneered. “I was wondering who it was. They think they’re above us?”

With that, she was off to confront them, no discussion.

She was the leader, and with the agent absent, she naturally called the shots. Zhao Yu had a bad feeling—with Lin Xiuxi’s spoiled heiress temperament, this could blow up. She quickly told Kristen to call the agent and have the company handle it through official channels, then chased after her.

By the time Zhao Yu caught up, Lin Xiuxi was already in a full-blown argument with the other group.

The Korean entertainment industry placed huge emphasis on seniority. Even though FLY had debuted only six months earlier, they were still their seniors. Lin Xiuxi came in hot and didn’t use honorifics, so of course they weren’t going to be nice to her.

Lin Xiuxi didn’t give a damn about them anyway—a poor-man’s girl group from a small company that just got lucky with an award. She’d never been treated like this since entering the industry. By the time Zhao Yu got there, Lin Xiuxi looked ready to throw hands.

Zhao Yu pulled her hot-headed teammate back, calmed her down with a few words, then turned and said, “Apologies, seniors. Xiuxi was a bit impulsive.”

The other side was cold and hostile. Their leader sneered, “So rude to your seniors. You need to be taught a lesson. Isn’t she going to apologize to us?”

Zhao Yu remained calm and composed, smiling. “Of course she can apologize. But after Xiuxi apologizes, shouldn’t you apologize to us as well—and give back our performance slot? After all, stealing from others isn’t exactly honorable, and if word gets out, it wouldn’t look good for you either. Don’t you agree, seniors?”

FLY had thought she’d be easy to push around because of her nice attitude. Now, stung by her counterattack, they all glared at her through gritted teeth.

Zhao Yu smiled. “There’s really no need for this. It’s just an order of appearance—who goes first or last doesn’t affect anyone’s popularity. Unless, seniors, you’re afraid that if you go after us, you won’t be able to match the energy we leave behind?”

“You—!”

Zhao Yu shrugged. “With your skills, that shouldn’t be an issue, right? Of course, if you seniors absolutely insist on going first, we juniors are happy to yield.” Her smile was dazzling. “After all, we’re perfectly capable of setting a stage you seniors can follow.”

Her expression—an “Oh well, since you’re scared, we’ll be nice and let you go first”—nearly made FLY’s members explode with rage.

Someone rushed in holding a phone and hesitated. “The performance order—”

The FLY leader glared at Zhao Yu and said through clenched teeth, “We’re not changing it! We’ll go in the original order!”

Zhao Yu threw them a wink. “Thank you, seniors.”

With that, she turned and dragged Lin Xiuxi away without looking back.

By the time the agent called to handle it, the matter had already been resolved.

On the way back, Zhao Yu frowned at Lin Xiuxi. “You were too impulsive. They’re seniors, after all.”

Lin Xiuxi scoffed, her expression dismissive. “I was being generous to them.”

That was just her nature—a conglomerate heiress through and through. Zhao Yu didn’t press further. At least everything worked out. They performed as scheduled and didn’t miss the next show.

Then, a few days later, a video suddenly surfaced online.

It was clearly filmed on a phone—a clip of Shining Five’s Zhao Yu and FLY’s members clashing. But the video had been edited, cutting off the beginning and end. Only the part where Zhao Yu mocked FLY for not being able to match Shining Five’s stage presence remained, ending with her saying brightly, “After all, we’re perfectly capable of setting a stage you seniors can follow.”

Though the faces weren’t clear, FLY’s fans were furious just hearing those words.

The online fan war exploded instantly.

K-pop fandom culture rarely tolerated any stain on an artist’s image. Zhao Yu had always had a pristine reputation—her “human fairy” nickname made even non-fans appreciate her looks and talent.

Those words, strictly speaking, weren’t that serious. But once a perfect person showed even a tiny imperfection, it got magnified a thousand times and dragged through the mud.

When the video dropped, Shining Five was in the middle of their busking tour.

It was Zhao Yu’s first time doing street performances. Though exhausting, it was fun—getting up close with fans, like being a street performer. She sang and danced, genuinely enjoying herself.

During a break, Zhao Yu crouched by a speaker, adjusting the volume. She’d noticed too much static during the last song and wanted to see if lowering it helped.

Suddenly, someone called her name from behind.

Zhao Yu turned around unsuspectingly—and in the midst of the crowd’s screams, a bucket of ice water was thrown at her.

December was already bitterly cold.

The icy water, mixed with chunks of ice, hit her full in the face and soaked her completely.

Chaos erupted on the spot. Security tackled the culprit. Lin Zhinan, enraged, rushed over and kicked the person a few times before Kristen and Heya pulled her away.

Amidst the entire scene, Zhao Yu was the quietest person there.

She stood frozen, as if in shock, cold water dripping from her hair and chin, seeping through her collar and down her body.

She had a heat pack on her lower abdomen—today was the first day of her period.

The crowd screamed and cursed. Some took photos, others filmed. Zhao Yu stood motionless, as if that bucket of water had stunned her brain.

It wasn’t until an assistant rushed up, wrapped a coat around her, and hurried her offstage.

#ZhaoYuDousedOnStreet# quickly became a trending topic in both China and Korea.

Given what had just happened—right after that video surfaced—everyone knew which fanbase was responsible.

Yu Meiren fans were ready to kill. Fighting alone couldn’t ease their fury and heartbreak. FLY’s official accounts and agency were bombarded. Korean fans filed police reports and demanded Zhao Yu’s agency sue the perpetrator for assault.

The internet was in chaos, but Shining Five’s dorm was eerily quiet.

Zhao Yu had come back, changed clothes, and taken a hot shower.

The bucket of ice water hadn’t done any real physical damage. She wasn’t sick, no cramps. She was still fine—as if tonight had been nothing but a minor incident.

But she hadn’t spoken a word.

Not once since that water hit her.

After her shower, she lay down, turned off the lights, and went to sleep.

Someone gently pushed her door open, looked in, and quietly withdrew.

Muffled arguing gradually rose from downstairs—first hushed, then louder as it escalated.

Zhao Yu could hear Lin Zhinan’s agitated voice: “Why can’t we release the full video? They stole our slot first! What’s wrong with Xiuxi confronting them? Isn’t it their fault? Xiuxi’s disrespect toward seniors can’t be exposed, so Xiao Yu can be slandered like this?! You only care about Xiuxi’s image—you’re just going to abandon Xiao Yu, aren’t you?!”

Zhao Yu listened, expressionless, put on her headphones, and cranked the music to full volume.

She hadn’t had a proper rest in such a long time.

Nonstop, exhausted, even her dreams were stages. The music blasted in her ears, but the world felt so quiet.

She lay in the dark, breathing slowly, in and out.

She didn’t know how long passed before a voice suddenly surfaced in her blank mind:

Zhao Yu, what have you been doing all this time?

What are you doing?

Far from your parents, in a foreign country, working so hard, pushing so desperately, nearly dead on your feet.

What are you even doing…

The conviction that had withstood storms and snow for so long—in this moment, it shattered quietly.

…

The next day, Zhao Yu came down with a high fever.

A doctor came to check on her, gave her an injection, and fever-reducing medicine. Lin Zhinan watched her lie back down, gently patted her head, and said, “Get a good sleep. Don’t worry about anything else.”

Zhao Yu smiled at her, then closed her eyes again, drifting in and out of consciousness.

Lin Zhinan clenched her fists as she walked out the door, pulled out her phone, and logged into INS.

Lin Zhinan of Shining Five soon posted on her social media account, clearly stating that the conflict between Zhao Yu and FLY had started because FLY had stolen their performance order.

She explained that Shining Five had two music festivals in different cities that day. To make the timing work, the company and organizers had confirmed the performance order a month in advance. Yet just half an hour before going onstage, they were told their slot had been pushed back and FLY would take their place.

Shining Five’s schedule that day could be verified. They had indeed rushed from that festival to another city afterward—fans had even filmed the five girls sprinting through a high-speed rail station to catch their train.

If FLY’s switch had succeeded, they would definitely have missed the second show.

Lin Zhinan emphasized that the green room had surveillance cameras that day. If the organizers released the footage, everyone could see the truth.

Her statement finally gave netizens the full picture, and the backlash against Zhao Yu quickly quieted down. After all, if FLY was in the wrong first, it was only natural for her to argue.

Still, some netizens argued that even if she was right, she didn’t need to be so sarcastic.

The company had been brainstorming PR strategies, hoping to protect both Zhao Yu and Lin Xiuxi without releasing the full video. But Lin Zhinan’s post threw their plans into disarray.

The company was furious, but what was done was done. With fans now demanding the full surveillance footage and public pressure mounting, the PR team had no choice but to release it.

When Lin Xiuxi confronted FLY, their attitude hadn’t been polite.

They made it clear: we’re taking your spot, so what?

After the dousing incident, public sentiment was already on edge. With the full video out, everyone could see that if Zhao Yu hadn’t stepped in, things might have escalated into a physical fight.

In that context, Zhao Yu’s words seemed entirely reasonable.

The earlier video had been heavily edited—only Zhao Yu remained, a clear smear job, and everyone knew who’d leaked it.

Stealing someone’s performance slot and then framing them? What a repulsive move!

Even if Lin Xiuxi’s attitude in the video was harsh, it was understandable given the circumstances. With seniors like that, respect was hardly earned.

With proper PR steering the narrative, the backlash against Lin Xiuxi was contained without causing major damage.

The tables had turned—FLY was now drowning in mockery and criticism.

And this wasn’t the first time their fans had done something so extreme. Without knowing the full truth, one of them had thrown water on Zhao Yu on the spot. Thank God it was just water and not something else.

Kristen also posted on INS after the video was released, subtly hinting that Zhao Yu had fallen ill with a fever because of the incident.

Fans were heartbroken, and even casual onlookers sympathized—footage of Zhao Yu standing stunned in the cold water was everywhere, and she looked utterly pitiful.

Public outrage reached a peak. In the end, FLY had no choice but to issue a full group apology.

The extreme fan who’d thrown the water had been taken to the police station the night before. Though the agency wouldn’t actually press charges, the police would certainly give him a stern lecture.

The two-day media storm was finally resolved. Shining Five even gained a boost in popularity from it, which delighted the company. However, Lin Zhinan was strictly reprimanded for posting without permission. After getting chewed out, though, she was still in high spirits.

She put on a hat and mask, went to the nearby supermarket to buy groceries, came back to the dorm, and hummed while cooking green bean porridge—Zhao Yu’s favorite—and two mildly spicy Sichuan dishes. Then she knocked on Zhao Yu’s door to call her for dinner.

Zhao Yu’s fever was gone, but she still looked listless.

Lin Zhinan had expected her to be happy that everything had worked out, but Zhao Yu just ate quietly. Her usually bright eyes were dim, and she said flatly, “Good that it’s resolved.”

Lin Zhinan suddenly felt that something about Yu Yu had changed.

Ever since she’d first met Zhao Yu, she’d been like an unwavering little sun, her eyes always burning with fighting spirit. Years and years of it—even Lin Zhinan had to admire her.

But right now, she couldn’t find that light anymore.

Worried, Lin Zhinan asked, “Yu Yu, what’s wrong? Is something still bothering you?”

Zhao Yu shook her head, finished her meal, and went back to rest.

She didn’t join the next few days’ schedules. Shining Five appeared at events with only four members.

Her illness was gone, but she just didn’t want to go.

The company seemed to understand that this incident had left a deep psychological scar and didn’t push her.

Zhao Yu stayed alone in the dorm, ordering takeout when hungry, sleeping when tired, and spending the rest of the time lounging in the living room watching TV—dramas, variety shows, playing phone games.

It felt like returning to her old slacker lifestyle.

One afternoon, Jiang Lei video-called her again. The moment the call connected, she asked, “Baby, are you feeling better? No more fever?”

Zhao Yu was half-reclining on the sofa, phone in hand, grinning. “Nope, all better. I just ate, watching TV now.”

Jiang Lei and Zhao Kangning had been so furious when they saw the video of their daughter getting doused on the street that they’d wanted to fly to Korea and kill someone. Zhao Yu had barely managed to talk them down.

They’d been video-calling three times a day, worried sick.

Seeing the concern on Jiang Lei’s face, Zhao Yu suddenly felt her eyes sting.

Parents always know when something’s off with their child. Jiang Lei asked gently, “Baby, what’s wrong? Missing your mom?”

She clenched her jaw, trying not to cry, and just nodded.

Jiang Lei said, “If you miss me, come home. If it’s not good there, don’t stay. There, there, don’t cry.”

On the screen, the young girl covered her eyes with the back of her hand and sobbed softly.

After a long while, Jiang Lei heard her whisper, “Mom, I’m so tired. I feel like I can’t keep going. I’m really not cut out to be a star.”

Tears welled up in Jiang Lei’s eyes.

From beside her, her aunt’s voice chimed in: “Is that Xiao Yu? Oh, poor child. So far away, and when you get bullied, we can’t do anything.”

Jiang Lei turned away to wipe her tears. Her aunt leaned into the frame and called out, “Xiao Yu.”

Zhao Yu sniffled. “Auntie.”

Her aunt said, “Come home if you’re tired. It’s okay. You’ve always been like this since you were little—we expected it. No one will blame you. Come home whenever you want.”

Zhao Yu’s tear-dampened lashes quivered.

Jiang Lei wiped her face and turned back. “Baby, should Mom come pick you up? Your dad’s free too. We’ll come over, you can show us around Korea, and then we’ll all go home together.”

Zhao Kangning chimed in, “Yeah, I’ve never been to Korea. With our little girl’s Korean skills, we won’t even need a tour guide.”

The family was already happily planning her return.

Zhao Yu listened in a daze. After a long pause, she suddenly said, “Mom, I’m not coming back.”

Everyone on the other end looked at her.

Zhao Yu lowered her gaze. All the grievance and pain of the past few days seemed to vanish in that instant.

She smiled. “I’m not coming back. I haven’t achieved my dream yet.”