CHAPTER 23

Jiang Su ended up selling the gold bars to Zhao Qiuying and He Feng, making a total of 90,000 yuan. No middleman, no taxes.

Jiang Su was very pleased.

He Feng, holding a gold bar, gleefully posted a bragging moment on social media.

After all, in this reality show, he had always been the one who won the least.

After posting the picture, He Feng couldn’t help but ask Jiang Su, “You’re not keeping even one as a souvenir?”

Jiang Su asked in confusion, “Why would I? If I want one, I can just win again next time.”

He Feng: “…”

Sorry for disturbing you.

Shortly before the second public performance, the show arranged another PK round, mainly to give those stuck in the background a chance to turn things around. Those who couldn’t… would be eliminated.

Once again, no one dared to challenge Jiang Su, so she breezed through without doing anything. The episode ended just like that.

“For the second public performance, you’ll be collaborating with contestants from another show on our platform, The Road to Band. The order of selection will still be based on your rankings. You’ll need to work together, choose and arrange songs, and they’ll provide your instrumentals and harmonies…” Zhao Qiuying announced the new rule.

This was, without a doubt, a forced opportunity to bring in external help!

If they chose the right collaborators, their stage performance could improve significantly. If they chose poorly, a lack of chemistry could completely ruin their performance.

“This other show hasn’t even aired yet. We’ve never even heard of it… Is it just some obscure program the platform wants us to promote first?” complained a trainee from Ding Xuan’s company.

“But isn’t it called something-band? Maybe they actually have some skills. Partnering with them basically means we get our own personal stage band, right?” Ding Xuan chimed in.

Of course, that wasn’t what she was really thinking.

Ding Xuan couldn’t help but glance at Jiang Su. Her expression remained eerily calm, making it impossible to tell whether she liked or disliked the new rule.

She was always like this… quietly getting things done before anyone even noticed.

Ding Xuan found it frustrating.

Especially knowing that after this, Wan Yue would come crying to her again, blaming everything on her—it made her even more annoyed.

Zhao Qiuying swept his gaze across the room, taking note of everyone’s reactions. Then, in a cool, detached tone, he continued, “The staff will take you to the other show’s set shortly, where you’ll get a brief introduction before making your choice. If you’re interested, you can also watch some of their past performances for a deeper understanding.”

After Zhao Qiuying finished speaking, someone immediately came to take them to the neighboring variety show.

How could one describe the variety show next door?

Unlike their own program, which had a luxurious and polished setup, the neighboring show looked downright shabby in comparison. The set was simple, and even the participants seemed particularly lackluster.

Without much interaction, they quickly returned.

Someone whispered, “…They all look kind of strange.”

“It’s not that they look strange, but their style is… rather unique?”

“Yeah, if looking like you haven’t washed your hair in eighteen days counts as unique.”

“There’s even a guy with a receding hairline… and a girl whose makeup is totally botched. What kind of variety show is this? It’s worse than a regular amateur show…”

The people from Ding Xuan’s company were nearly losing their minds.

“What kind of ‘guest support’ is this supposed to be?”

Ding Xuan lifted her eyelids slightly at the complaint. “Maybe when they stand on stage, they’ll at least make you look prettier by comparison.”

Some of the sharper ones turned back to seriously examine the program again.

Others gave up in frustration, deciding to just pick randomly.

Li Mo’er pulled out a chair beside Jiang Su and sat down, chuckling. “Have they never heard of Beyond? I haven’t listened to many of their songs either, but even I know their reputation. It’s obvious these guys are rock musicians…”

“Jiang Su, have you decided which band to choose?” Li Mo’er asked.

Wu Qingqing sat on the other side, but her tone wasn’t as relaxed. She said in a low voice, “These guys aren’t easy to figure out… If we work together, they might not be willing to play supporting roles for us. They have their own lead singers.”

She circled a few names and said, “These are pretty famous within this circle. But precisely because they’re well-known, they’re likely to be even more arrogant… The smaller and more niche a scene is, the harder it gets.”

Jiang Su quietly took in everything they said.

At that moment, her phone lit up with a WeChat message.

She wasn’t used to receiving messages from others—she’d never had friends before, and there were barely any contacts on her phone.

It was Li Mo’er who glanced down and said, “Jiang Su, you got a new message.”

Jiang Su responded and opened the chat.

Wang Ji: [Just finished watching your fourth episode. Damn, 666. I wanted to send a comment, but it was so crowded I nearly got pushed out.]

Wang Ji: [I’m right downstairs at your building.]

Wang Ji: [I came to visit a buddy… Heard you guys are pairing up with bands for the second performance?]

Jiang Su raised an eyebrow slightly. She suddenly recalled that Wang Ji’s profile mentioned he had played rock music for a few years.

Before she could reply, another message arrived.

Wang Ji: [Today, I’ll show you how awesome Brother Wang really is! Come downstairs, buy two milk teas, and I’ll introduce you to my buddies! I’ll even recommend a band for you!]

On the other end, Wang Ji was practically wriggling in excitement.

Finally! A chance to reclaim his glory!

Wu Qingqing was still talking when she glanced down at Jiang Su’s phone.

She didn’t see the messages clearly but did catch the name on the chat window.

Jiang Su stood up. “I’m going to take another look next door.”

Wu Qingqing: “Oh, okay, go ahead.”

Yu Xinyan, who had been silent the whole time, suddenly stuffed a small bread roll into Jiang Su’s hand. “Don’t go hungry on the way!”

Wu Qingqing: “……”

She’s acting like a mother hen.

Jiang Su took the bread roll and headed downstairs.

Only then did Wu Qingqing react, albeit a bit late. “…Wait, Wang Ji, Wang Ji—why does that name sound so familiar?”

“Hm? Who?” Li Mo’er asked. “You mean the MC from Battle Royale?”

Wu Qingqing: “Yeah!”

Yu Xinyan chimed in, “I think Wang Ji used to be in Honey Band…”

Wu Qingqing couldn’t help but swear, “Holy shit! He used to be in Honey?”

Yu Xinyan nodded. “Yeah. I went back and watched a few episodes of Battle Royale. He kept joking on the show about how he used to ‘pluck cotton for a living’… So I looked it up.”

Wu Qingqing’s expression grew complicated. “Honey Band was the most badass band of the 21st century… They even won international awards.”

How the hell does Jiang Su always manage to connect with people wherever she goes?

Wang Ji really was waiting downstairs. As soon as he saw Jiang Su, he took her straight to the program’s filming location.

Earlier, the bands had been indifferent, but now the atmosphere instantly became lively.

One by one, they approached and exchanged greetings with Wang Ji. Then, all eyes turned to Jiang Su.

Wang Ji clapped the shoulder of a man in his fifties and said, “Old Qiu! How about teaming up with them?”

…

Meanwhile, the show had started releasing behind-the-scenes footage of the band selection process—though, of course, none of the critical discussions were included.

Even so, netizens and fans immediately picked up on the awkward tension.

[Everyone looks so stiff… Is this partnership even going to work?]

[This was obviously set up as a challenge by the producers.]

[What’s going on with Ding Xuan’s company? This year, they’re even cockier than YIYI? They’re practically wearing their disdain on their faces. I mean, I don’t blame them for being skeptical, but at least try to hide it a little.]

[Honestly, with everyone standing together like this… it really does look like a ragtag army.]

At this point, band fans finally caught wind of what was happening.

They were already feeling indignant.

To them, talent show contestants were just mainstream fluff. And now these idols had the audacity to turn around and look down on underground bands for being “small” and “poor”?

The smaller the community, the stronger the loyalty.

Even before the second performance aired, a wave of band fans were already sharpening their knives, ready to pick apart every flaw. Some even started posting complaints:

[Yeah, rock musicians are broke, but not broke enough to play backup for a bunch of idol trainees, okay?]

Whether or not the trainees would actually benefit from their band partners remained to be seen, but the show had certainly succeeded in stirring up controversy—pushing engagement and attention even higher.

From that day on, Jiang Su became busy with constant rehearsals.

Zhao Qiuying was a bit worried. She considered using her connections in the music industry to introduce Jiang Su to a reliable band—one that wouldn’t throw a tantrum halfway through.

But in the end, it didn’t even matter.

She couldn’t get a hold of Jiang Su at all.

Zhao Qiuying returned to the old house, only to find that his grandfather was just talking about him to his mother.

“Tsk, tsk, look at this, look at this… how childish…”

As soon as Zhao Qiuying approached, he saw his grandfather pointing at the two mascot costumes he had brought home.

Mrs. Zhao couldn’t help but laugh as well. “What’s this? Some kind of performance outfit?”

Zhao Qiuying’s ears turned slightly red. “…No.”

He quickly took them away himself.

His grandfather followed closely behind, nagging in a low voice, “Good grandson, help me change the channel. I can’t get it right. Why can’t I hear that little Jiang playing the suona anymore? Tell me, is she playing the bianzhong* now?”

(*Bianzhong: an ancient Chinese chime instrument.)

Zhao Qiuying: “…No.” He paused for a moment and added in a lowered voice, as if sharing a rare moment of joy, “But this was a gift from her.”

His grandfather’s eyes lit up, and he immediately snatched one of the mascot costumes. “Oh, I see! This was specially requested for your grandpa!”

With that, he happily strode out with the costume, his steps light and quick, heading to the courtyard to show off.

“Old Cheng! Old Cheng!” Grandpa Zhao entered the house.

Old Cheng, who was playing Chinese chess, looked up at him. He had a dark complexion, a face that was always serious and stern, and not even a hint of a smile.

Grandpa Zhao didn’t mind at all. He patted the mascot costume and said, “See? You can’t compare to me anymore. I’m smart, quick, and I even keep up with trends. I know how to be a fan, do you? This was a gift from my idol. Do you even know what an idol is?”

“Tsk, you don’t know anything.” Grandpa Zhao was extremely pleased with himself as he sneered at Old Cheng and then proudly shook out the dinosaur mascot costume.

Cheng Yue happened to walk in just in time to witness this scene.

His eyelid twitched, his mouth went numb, his stomach hurt, and his entire expression turned cold and dark.

Damn it, why does this thing keep showing up everywhere he goes?!

—

Everyone was intensely training, and soon, the second public performance arrived.

No one had seen much of Jiang Su lately, so right up until she was about to go on stage, they still had no idea which band she had chosen.

Before her, Lin Sifeng and a few other A-rated trainees performed.

They had barely sung a few lines when the livestream chat erupted into chaos.

[They’re not even trying to hide their lack of cooperation. Is the production team insane? Bringing in a band just to serve as background props for these nobodies?!]

[Absolute trash. Ruining both my ears and my eyes.]

One particularly enraged A-ranked trainee fan immediately fired back:

[What kind of band has zero stage presence? Who’s disrespecting this stage now? Get some decent performance outfits before you come back! Stop dragging us down!]

Some neutral viewers tried to mediate:

[Hey, rock bands are either rich kids or broke as hell. That’s just how it is.]

[They may look messy, with mismatched ages, styles, and stage presence, but that’s exactly the vibe. Many of them have day jobs—some might be office workers who come to play music in their free time. And some, well, they played until they were too broke to continue and had to switch careers…]

[The girls are working hard too, no need for all the bashing.]

But the words of reason were quickly drowned out.

The chat was once again a battlefield.

Wu Qingqing couldn’t see the comments, but sitting in her seat, she couldn’t help but suck in a breath.

This performance was going to be a tough sell…

Until the host announced Jiang Su’s name.

Electric guitar, drum set, bass, keyboard… instruments were brought onto the stage.

Jiang Su walked up slowly.

Her outfit was simple and sharp.

Black cargo pants with ripped knees, revealing a glimpse of pale skin. A cropped gray-blue sweater. Her long hair was tied up high, and she wore a baseball cap. Her eye makeup was light, and with her downcast gaze, she carried an air of cold detachment and melancholy—an almost inexplicably sophisticated, world-weary charm.

Behind her, three men and one woman followed onto the stage.

A closer look revealed they were all quite a bit older—the eldest over fifty, and the youngest nearing forty. Their appearances weren’t particularly striking. They didn’t even dress as cool as the earlier band.

One wore a dull gray work jacket, another looked like an accountant, and the other two resembled a security guard and a janitor.

The audience and fellow trainees couldn’t recognize them, but the previously chaotic livestream chat suddenly fell into an eerie silence—then exploded with an entirely different kind of frenzy.

[Holy sh*t! The tears of an era!!]

[Sister Ji still looks stunning.]

[In the blink of an eye, I’m old too…]

[Old Qiu has aged so much.]

[LS, shut up. Old Qiu could still smash your head open with his guitar. Back in the day, he once rocked a four-hour set straight without stopping!]

[Just missing the lead singer, haha.]

[Lead singer says: “I’m making milk money in the show next door.”]

[That’s it. Jiang Su gets my vote. She actually convinced them to be her backing band?! Insane. Absolutely insane!!]

After a long pause, fans of the show and the trainees hesitantly typed:

[Jiang Su’s band looks so ordinary… but they’re actually this legendary? Is she some hidden grandmaster?]

A new thread quickly appeared on the forums: 《Jiang Su is this insane?!》

[To continue the title: first, during that commercial shoot, she had a top-tier race car driver as her supporting act. Now, today, she has the most legendary band of 21st-century China backing her up… Is she secretly monopolizing all the niche fanbases? I’m genuinely in awe.]

Dong Jiayu hadn’t participated in this episode. She was with Sister Wang at a major director’s audition.

Sister Wang glanced at the forum post and handed her the phone, her tone meaningful.

“…The gap between you two is getting quite big.”

She had said something similar before.

But this time, the meaning seemed entirely different.