Chapter 28

The news of Zhao Yu’s return to China stayed at the top of the trending charts for an entire day. Clicking into the topic, all you saw was everyone saying, “Welcome home.”

Even people who weren’t her fans—even casual netizens who didn’t follow celebrity culture—had developed a deep fondness for this passionate, fiery girl after the scandal and the framing incident. Not everyone had the courage to stand up for a teammate at the peak of their popularity.

Put yourself in her shoes—would you have made the same choice? Most people would hesitate.

And that hesitation made them admire her even more.

The fan welcome video also went viral. In it, the girl stood amid a sea of pink, her smile radiant—every strand of her hair seemed to glow, captivating and drawing people in.

Click into any “Zhao Yu” tag, and you’d find countless people declaring they were becoming fans.

Yu Meiren fans eagerly pulled out all kinds of promotional videos and photos:

– Look at this human fairy!!! One glance back from her and half my soul is gone! The other half would follow her into hell for eternity without regret!

– Main dancer skills, visual-tier face—you can’t lose by stanning this fairy!

– A new journey back home, starting from scratch, experiencing the joy of watching a queen rise—you deserve this!!!

– Sister kills without a weapon—just her waist!!! That slender waist and plum-blossom curves are everything I could ask for! A waist this thin must be so easy to grip in bed—QA (not really)…

– /Zhao Yu solo stage compilation – link/ Zhao Yu’s epic shoulder shimmy – link/ Zhao Yu dance practice room collection – link/ Zhao Yu’s iconic dance moments slay without mercy – link/

…

Zhao Yu got in the car, scrolled through her phone for a bit, leaned back against the seat, and sighed happily. “I thought I’d have to start from scratch when I came back—but it seems like I’m even more popular than before?”

After three years away, her authentic, unpretentious charm remained unchanged. Han Shuang couldn’t help but smile. “You were the center of a national girl group. Even without the group now, your domestic popularity won’t be low. But for now, go home and rest for a while. When you’re ready, we’ll discuss your solo career.”

Zhao Yu turned her head. “I don’t want to go solo. Has the company ever promoted a duo girl group? Want to give it a try? Me and Nan Nan—I’ve even thought of a name. How about Twins?”

Han Shuang paused, then said in surprise, “Nan Nan already terminated her contract with the company. She didn’t tell you?”

Zhao Yu sat bolt upright.

Han Shuang quickly explained, “It was an amicable termination. She initiated it—she said she didn’t want to be an artist anymore, that she wanted to move behind the scenes. The company was regretful, but they respected her wishes and signed the termination agreement that same day.”

Zhao Yu had no idea.

She knew Lin Zhinan was the type to process things quietly on her own. The framing must have hurt her deeply, but Zhao Yu hadn’t expected it to push her to quit the industry entirely.

Her first instinct was to call and ask—but when she opened her contacts, she hesitated.

If Lin Zhinan had wanted to tell her, she would have by now. The fact that she hadn’t meant she probably had her own reasons. Zhao Yu decided not to rush it.

She tucked her phone away, feeling glum.

Han Shuang tried to comfort her. “With your skills and popularity, going solo is actually the best path forward. Everyone has their own aspirations. Nan Nan must have thought it through carefully before making this choice. Don’t overthink it—just take a good break. Your parents are already here, right?”

Zhao Yu nodded.

Jiang Lei and Zhao Kangning hadn’t seen their daughter for over a year. They’d arrived in Beijing a week early and, with help from Muyi staff, rented a nice place in a good neighborhood for Zhao Yu.

It was a spacious four-bedroom, two-living-room apartment in a secure, high-end complex with several celebrities in residence. They’d spent the week furnishing and setting it up—utilities, Wi-Fi, everything ready. Zhao Yu could move in straight away.

The car pulled into the underground garage. Zhao Yu sent Han Shuang off, took her luggage, and got into the elevator, pressing the button for the ninth floor.

The elevator was plastered with ads on all sides.

Being surrounded by familiar Chinese characters again—it felt so long.

When the elevator doors opened, she rolled her suitcase toward her new front door. Before she could even knock, the door swung open from the inside.

Zhao Kangning, still in his slippers, almost bounced out. “Baby!!!”

Zhao Yu threw her arms around her father in a bear hug. “Dad, I’m home!”

Jiang Lei came running out of the kitchen at the commotion. The moment she saw her daughter, her eyes turned red. Zhao Yu felt a little teary too, but after three years, she’d toughened up. She just hugged her mother gently.

Jiang Lei stroked her head, kissed her cheeks, and looked her over from every angle, unable to get enough. Then she laughed. “Your dad’s been standing by the door for half an hour listening for sounds. The sudden opening must’ve startled you.”

Zhao Kangning took his daughter’s suitcase and shot his wife a look. “I was not!”

Jiang Lei suddenly remembered the pot on the stove. She turned and hurried back. “Baby, go wash up and change. Dinner’s almost ready.”

The heating was on, and the pressure cooker was hissing from the kitchen. Zhao Yu smelled the familiar scent of twice-cooked pork.

Only at this moment did she truly feel it—she was back.

She was finally home.

…

And so began her holiday—like a pampered invalid with atrophied limbs.

Zhao Yu didn’t have to do a thing. Even drinking water came with Zhao Kangning carefully holding the cup to her lips. At first, she felt a little embarrassed—she was grown up now, not the spoiled girl she used to be!

But after a while of being doted on by her parents, she tossed all the independence and resilience she’d built overseas right out the window.

“Dad, my phone.”

“Mom, peel me an orange.”

“Dad, close the window—it’s a little cold.”

“Mom, turn on the AC for some air—it’s stuffy.”

“Dad, plug in my phone.”

“Mom, I threw my socks in the basin.”

Her parents were delighted to be at her beck and call, wishing they could spend 24 hours a day making up for all the hardship she’d endured abroad.

A week later, Jiang Yu wrapped up his work and returned to Beijing—so Zhao Yu gained another servant.

Jiang Yu never imagined his niece would actually make it. The image of her whining and wheedling to become a trainee was still vivid in his mind, and yet it seemed like only a blink before she’d become one of the hottest artists in the industry.

The day before, his crew had been huddled together discussing whether they could invite Zhao Yu as a regular on their next variety show.

Jiang Yu almost laughed at the irony.

Few people in the industry knew they were related—Zhao Yu had debuted in Korea and had limited involvement in the domestic scene. But now that she was back, it was time to get her career in China off the ground.

Jiang Yu tossed three new variety show proposals in front of his niece and said in a very boss-like tone, “Pick one.”

Zhao Yu sat cross-legged on the sofa, eating an orange. She flipped through them and said, in a tone just asking for a punch, “Uncle, you know my appearance fee is pretty expensive, right? I can give you, like, ten percent off at most.”

Jiang Yu: “?”

They messed around for a bit, then Jiang Yu grew serious. “Your domestic buzz is indeed very high right now. But you have to admit—it’s largely thanks to that scandal. It boosted your name recognition, but your actual traffic is inflated. Your previous activities were all overseas—no data on endorsements or performances here. Excluding your overseas popularity, just looking at the domestic market, your commercial value doesn’t meet capital’s standards yet. It’s not quite starting from scratch, but the road ahead won’t be easy either. Competition among female artists in China is no weaker than abroad.”

Zhao Yu understood all of this.

She hadn’t worked with domestic capital yet. They wouldn’t fully trust her, wouldn’t hand her top-tier resources like she’d had in Korea right off the bat.

She needed to first deliver results that satisfied them, prove her domestic appeal, and gradually climb back to the top.

She had to—and she would—accept the gap in status between Korea and China.

She was no longer the center of a national girl group. She was just a singer-dancer idol who’d quit her group and come back home.

Keeping a level head was important.

Zhao Yu finished her orange, wiped her hands, and started carefully reading through the three proposals Jiang Yu had given her.

They were all new variety shows. The guest lineups weren’t top-tier, but each had some buzz. The investments weren’t huge—these were the best resources Jiang Yu could get his hands on.

Zhao Yu loved the stage and wasn’t keen on variety shows. But she knew she needed to get her face out there for the public, and variety was the fastest and easiest way.

In the end, on Jiang Yu’s recommendation, Zhao Yu chose an outdoor adventure show. Right now, audiences were still drawn to outdoor adventure competitions, and several domestic shows in that genre had performed well.

Her vacation ended tomorrow. Muyi’s development plan for her was already finalized. The next day, after her break was over, Zhao Yu took the proposal to the company.

She’d left as an unknown trainee. Now, even the front desk receptionist ran up to her, blushing, for an autograph.

Zhao Yu looked at the newly renovated company building, overcome with emotion.

She still had one year left on her artist contract with Muyi. They’d always treated her well, and though they weren’t a big company, she didn’t plan on leaving—and she believed they’d give her their best.

Muyi’s CEO, Yang Jie, was a friend of Jiang Yu’s. It was because Jiang Yu had asked Yang Jie for a favor back then that Zhao Yu had been able to join Muyi as a trainee. Looking back, it had clearly been a win-win decision.

They spent hours in meetings. Muyi’s personal plan for her was solid—variety, performances, endorsements—every aspect covered.

When she saw the variety resources Jiang Yu had provided, Yang Jie wasn’t surprised at all. Han Shuang had been reassigned from the trainee department to become Zhao Yu’s new agent. After the meeting, Han Shuang said mysteriously, “Want to meet your new team?”

Zhao Yu said, “Sure.”

And then she saw Lin Zhinan, beaming like a flower.

Zhao Yu: “???”

Zhao Yu: “You—you—you! What are you doing here?!”

Lin Zhinan: “I—I—I! I’m your personal assistant now. Surprised? Shocked?”

Zhao Yu: “?”

She grabbed Lin Zhinan and started pounding on her. “Lin Zhinan, are you insane?! Why would you quit being a star to become my assistant?! Even if you were traumatized, you don’t have to stoop this low!”

Lin Zhinan shrieked and ran for cover behind Han Shuang. “How is being an assistant stooping low?! Don’t look down on assistants! All jobs are equal! And this is just temporary—I’m going to be your agent one day!”

Zhao Yu: “What the heck?”

Lin Zhinan: “I’ve already signed up for the agent certification exam!”

Half an hour later, the two of them sat on the rooftop terrace, each holding a cup of milk tea.

It was still cold, but the sky had cleared into rare, bright sunshine. Lin Zhinan squinted, leaning against Zhao Yu’s shoulder, her tone content. “I’ve done a lot of thinking this past month—from when I decided to become a trainee all the way to leaving the group. In the end, I came to one conclusion: I’m not cut out to be a star.”

Zhao Yu said, “Bullshit.”

Lin Zhinan ignored her. “Back when I was a trainee, everyone saw me as a hardworking maniac. That same effort, on you, made you stand out as the best. But on me, it just made me a mediocre person making up for a lack of talent with hard work. Yu Yu, we both know—at the training camp, I only debuted because of your popularity. Our CP fans called us what… ‘Yu Nan’?”

She laughed and took a sip of milk tea. “So I debuted, riding on your coattails. But I was still the least popular, most invisible member of the group. You carried me to the top. Without Shining Five, I’d probably have faded into obscurity long ago. There’s always been this saying in the industry: some people just don’t have that audience connection. No matter how good their acting, how good-looking they are, how talented they are—they just don’t click. They don’t blow up.”

She sighed. “And now, I have to admit—I’m one of those people.”

Zhao Yu didn’t know what to say.

Lin Zhinan sat up straight, almost as if she were comforting Zhao Yu. “I’ve already tried my best for the dream—for three years. I came, I stood at the top, I saw the most beautiful view. Leaving now, I have no regrets.”

Zhao Yu said, “But—”

Lin Zhinan grabbed her hand. “Didn’t you once say, if you can’t catch a dream, just change your dream? My new dream is to get my certification and become your agent! I’ve been in this industry for three years—I have plenty of connections too!”

Her eyes sparkled. Zhao Yu had never seen her so confident. “Now,” Lin Zhinan said, grinning, “it’s my turn to carry you. I’ll send you to the top.”

Zhao Yu looked at her for a long moment, then reached out her hand in the sunlight. “Alright then, Agent Lin. Let’s work together.”

Lin Zhinan smacked her hand in a high-five.

And Zhao Yu’s palm was stinging red.

Zhao Yu: “…?”

Lin Zhinan: “…Sorry, got a little excited.”

As they were messing around, the rooftop door suddenly swung open. Han Shuang hurried in with her phone, her expression looking like she’d just won the lottery. “Xiao Yu! Did you see my WeChat? The director of The Thorny Path just called—they’re inviting you to join the show!”

Zhao Yu looked confused. “The Thorny Path?”

She’d just returned home and wasn’t familiar with domestic resources.

But Lin Zhinan beside her piped up in surprise: “Isn’t that the big-budget variety show that’s rumored to have Shen Junyi?”

Zhao Yu: “?”

What?

Who?