Chapter 8

Only after Shen Junyi and his group had completely disappeared through the door did Zhao Yu finally look away and let out a wistful sigh. “Let’s go back.”

Lin Zhinan glared at her with a mix of frustration and disappointment, then pulled out the autograph and thrust it at her. “Here!”

Zhao Yu stared at the cool signature on the paper for a long moment. She recognized his handwriting—after all, he’d written her summer journals back in the day.

This signature was probably professionally designed, but the strokes still carried traces of his personal style.

Zhao Yu said glumly, “Never mind—you keep it.”

Lin Zhinan: “???” She stared at her in disbelief. “Are you even a real fan?”

Zhao Yu: “…”

Lin Zhinan looked at the autograph for a moment, then tucked it back into her pocket. “Fine, I’ll keep it then. I’m actually starting to really like Shen Junyi now.” She clasped her hands over her heart. “So handsome, such a great body! I really want to touch his abs!”

Zhao Yu: “…………Give me back that autograph!”

Lin Zhinan made a funny face at her and ran off giggling.

Back in the training room, everyone was still buzzing about Shen Junyi’s visit. Even the non-fans were won over by his looks and figure. With such a great personality to boot, many of the girls were declaring they were switching their allegiance.

Feng You, having secured both a photo and an autograph, couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. In a great mood, she enthusiastically introduced Shen Junyi’s work and daily life to the trainees who weren’t familiar with him.

— “That scandal was obviously fake! He often shares stories about his goldfish with fans—every single one had a name! But in the end they still didn’t survive. Last month he even held a funeral for them.”

— “He’s actually kind of goofy. Right after his debut, he was on this variety show, and two female guests tried to use him for a dating scandal, putting out tons of press releases. Usually, the company would release a statement denying it, but when a reporter asked him about it in an interview, he just said straight out that it was fake because no one was good enough for him right now, hahahaha. He got dragged for that for ages—it was both heartbreaking and hilarious.”

— “He works so hard. The difference between his early performances and now is huge. Back then, fans would go to the airport and tell him, ‘Baby, you need to train hard, don’t let anyone look down on you!’ And he’d say, ‘I know, I know, don’t rush me, I’m trying!’ So adorable!”

Every fangirl’s eyes lit up when she talked about her idol.

As Feng You chattered on, she suddenly noticed that her number one rival, Zhao Yu, had somehow drifted over and was listening quite intently.

She shot her a look. “What do you want?”

Zhao Yu: “…I’m just listening casually.”

Ever since Lin Zhinan had discovered her phone wallpaper, Zhao Yu had changed the photo, and now no one except Lin Zhinan knew she also liked Shen Junyi.

Feng You snorted but didn’t kick her out, continuing to promote her idol.

Zhao Yu hadn’t been in contact with Shen Junyi since high school.

In her memory, her little brother would forever be the clean, summery boy from their first meeting. Those short, annual summer vacations were the entirety of their time together.

In front of her, he’d always been that warm, friendly boy-next-door.

But now, hearing Feng You describe him, she realized she didn’t really know him at all. She’d only ever known one side of him—because he was the neighbor’s little sister, so that was all he showed her.

The more she heard, the more she learned, the further away she felt.

In the end, Zhao Yu silently got up and went back to practice.

Back to training, then.

She’d get to his side sooner and learn every side of him.

…

After moving up to the Intermediate class, the training intensity increased, and both the dance and vocal lessons got harder. Day after day, repetitive and exhausting, with no end in sight.

Jiang Lei and Jiang Yu’s predicted “giving up halfway” never came.

Though Zhao Yu complained about being tired every single day, if anyone said, “Forget it, just stop,” she’d bounce right back up like she’d been injected with adrenaline.

Sometimes Jiang Yu would run into Yang Jie at work events and ask about his niece’s progress. Yang Jie had nothing but praise—so much so that Jiang Yu started to wonder if his niece had been swapped out during training.

Beijing’s weather gradually cooled from hot to cold. When winter arrived, heavy snow fell.

Sichuan rarely saw snow, and when it did, it was just a thin layer. Zhao Yu was excited to see the city blanketed in white. After school let out for winter break, she moved back into the trainee dorms for intensive training.

The company had held another internal evaluation last month, but neither Zhao Yu nor Lin Zhinan participated this time—they knew their own limits and saw no need to test themselves.

Feng You also sat out. The humiliation of her previous defeat had hit her hard, and with her competitive nature, she wasn’t about to embarrass herself again without a sure win.

As the New Year approached, the company gave the trainees a week off.

Jiang Yu had wrapped up filming early this year and wouldn’t be working during the holiday. Since he hadn’t gathered with the family properly in years, after discussing it with Jiang Lei, they decided to spend the New Year together in Hangzhou.

Jiang Lei and Zhao Kangning had gone a few days early, while Zhao Yu traveled from Beijing, making her the last to arrive.

She hadn’t been to Hangzhou in years. Without Shen Junyi, the city held no appeal for her.

The area had developed rapidly—even the streets had widened.

She arrived home on the afternoon of New Year’s Eve. As she dragged her suitcase into the lane, the courtyard gate next door swung open from inside. Granny Shen, whom she hadn’t seen in years, stepped out carrying a hand warmer, looked up, and after a moment recognized her: “Is that Xiao Yu? Xiao Yu’s here?”

Zhao Yu was still on her phone. She looked up at the voice, and when she saw the elderly woman at the gate, she was startled. She quickly walked over. “Granny Shen, it’s me. How have you gotten so thin? Is your health okay?”

The old woman took her hand, beaming. “Good, all good. I haven’t seen you in ages—you’ve grown into a fine young lady.”

A caregiver and a nurse came over from behind and helped the old woman: “Granny, the car’s coming. Let’s go.”

Granny Shen nodded, then turned to Zhao Yu. “Xiao Yu, come over and visit when I get back this afternoon.”

Zhao Yu smiled and nodded, then asked the nurse, “Is Granny okay?”

The nurse said, “It’s fine, just a routine checkup.”

The old woman was much thinner than Zhao Yu remembered. She watched them leave, then went home to drop off her luggage and asked Jiang Yu about Granny Shen.

But Jiang Yu spent so little time at home that he knew next to nothing. It wasn’t until relatives and neighbors came by to visit that Zhao Yu finally learned that Granny Shen had been diagnosed with cancer two years ago.

For an elderly person, cancer was pretty much a death sentence.

Luckily, it hadn’t reached the terminal stage. She’d had surgery and had been undergoing treatment ever since, with no signs of recurrence in the past two years.

The adults chatted while cracking sunflower seeds. “Granny Shen is lucky—she raised a good grandson. If he hadn’t made it big as a star and started earning money, where would the hundreds of thousands in treatment costs have come from?”

Shen Junyi’s father had passed away in an accident many years ago.

His grandmother had raised him single-handedly.

Zhao Yu sat on a little stool peeling an orange, feeling sad. She quietly counted the years—Granny Shen had gotten sick the same year Shen Junyi signed with Huachang.

She’d never understood why he’d suddenly decided to become a celebrity.

Was it because of his grandmother’s illness?

Back then, he was only a sophomore in college, with graduation still far off. After his father died, his mother had remarried and started a new family, having more children.

His grandmother’s only support was him.

How was he supposed to scrape together hundreds of thousands, maybe millions, for treatment?

He must have been so desperate back then.

One of the chatting adults suddenly called out to her, “Yu Yu, what’s wrong? Why are your eyes all red?”

Zhao Yu looked up quickly, still clutching the orange tightly, and stammered, “Orange juice splashed into my eyes.”

The adults laughed and handed her a tissue.

In the afternoon, Granny Shen returned from her checkup. Zhao Yu heard the commotion and went over to knock on the door. The nurse opened it and saw her, smiling. “Granny was just talking about you.”

The courtyard in the lane was still the same as before, but the furnishings inside had been renovated, with accessibility features installed for the elderly. It was very comfortable.

The household had a housekeeper and two caregivers. Since it was New Year’s, paper-cut decorations were pasted on the windows and red lanterns hung under the eaves, creating a festive atmosphere.

Granny Shen was delighted to see her. Zhao Yu chatted with her for a while, then hesitantly asked, “Granny, is Junyi-ge coming home for the New Year?”

Granny Shen beamed. “He’s coming, he’s coming! He’s performing on the Spring Festival Gala tonight and should be back in a couple of days.”

When she talked about her grandson, the elderly woman’s cloudy eyes shone with pride. Zhao Yu wasn’t very good at chatting with elders; she mostly just listened quietly.

She listened to Granny Shen ramble on about how outstanding her grandson was, how his father had been a sketch actor in an art troupe whose biggest dream was to perform on the Spring Festival Gala stage.

And now, the father’s dream would finally be fulfilled by his son.

Granny Shen was like a proud child, asking the nurse to turn on the TV to a channel featuring Shen Junyi’s programs: “Xiao Yu, have you seen our Jun Jun’s shows? That boy is photogenic, just like his father. His father loved performing on stage—look, our Jun Jun sings and dances, just like his father back then…”

The old woman could barely see the TV screen clearly anymore. She squinted as she spoke, mostly lost in memories.

For some reason, Zhao Yu felt a pang of sadness.

This was Shen Junyi’s first Spring Festival Gala since his debut.

She recalled an interview show she’d watched, where the host asked him what his biggest wish was at the moment. He’d laughed and said he wanted to perform on the Gala.

That joke had even made it onto the trending list back then, with netizens laughing and saying they’d never seen such an unpretentious idol.

Even his fans thought he was just messing around.

But he really did want to perform on the Gala, didn’t he?

So his grandmother could see him on TV.

So he could fulfill the dream his father never got to achieve.