Onstage, the three mentors gave a subtle nod, signalling Gu Yi to begin.

“He’s actually singing Endless City? That’s one of my top looped tracks. Please don’t ruin it, Gu Yi.”

“I hate people with zero self-awareness… even if that face really is something else.”

Endless City was the theme song of a 1990s film of the same name. It told the story of a girl trapped in the shadow of her childhood—haunted, unable to escape the past. For her, the city was endless, with no exit. No matter how far she ran, she was still caught in the web of memory.

Gu Yi chose this song because it was the original Gu Yi’s favourite—the one he had listened to the most. He’d even watched the film repeatedly. That final scene, when the girl glances back over her shoulder with heartbreaking fragility, was burned into his memory.

…

Gu Yi slowly closed his eyes.

There was no flashy styling for this first round, no dazzling set pieces. What the show aimed to reveal was raw, unfiltered ability.

Gu Yi had heard this song hundreds of times. To him, it wasn’t just a song—it was a poem etched with the course of a girl’s life.

“Night falls, the city sleeps.”

—Wait, what?

The expected pitchy, off-key mess didn’t come. Instead, Gu Yi delivered the opening line with a soft, low tone. His voice was gentler than the original singer Luo Hong’s, lacking technical polish but carrying a simplicity that felt almost childlike.

Line by line, he followed the melody. He didn’t rely on the explosive emotion the original version was known for—his take was more subdued, restrained.

And yet—it was beautiful.

Perhaps precisely because Gu Yi lacked polish, the song felt pure. Endless City didn’t call for vocal gymnastics. It asked only for sincerity.

The stage was silent, the backing track soft. The audience could hear almost nothing else—just Gu Yi’s voice.

Technically, Gu Yi wasn’t the strongest contestant in Battle of the Stars. His tone wasn’t particularly unique either.

But still—when he sang, the song became lovely. No chaos. No clutter. Just a simple, quietly powerful song.

Even the comment stream fell silent.

“!!!!”
“My only takeaway from Gu Yi’s performance: peace. He looked peaceful. He sounded peaceful.”
“I… probably shouldn’t have made fun of him earlier.”
“Listening to Gu Yi sing Endless City, I suddenly saw Xiao Qiu’s face in my mind.”
“So, so, so good! Who was it that said Gu Yi had no talent?!”

As the song ended, Gu Yi lifted his gaze toward the camera. He couldn’t see how he looked to the audience—but in that instant, many viewers held their breath.

Under the lights, his eyes shimmered like a sky full of stars.

“Drowning in his beauty.”
“My hand clicked the vote button by itself.”
“What the hell is Xingyao Entertainment doing? Why aren’t they pushing this man?? I don’t get it.”

When his performance ended, Gu Yi relaxed. On stage, he had radiated sharp, almost blinding energy. But now, that sharpness melted away.

The camera panned to Baiqian Entertainment’s three star trainees—Ji Chi (rank #1), Xie Xingjia (#2), and Li Mu (#3). After receiving the first “S” ratings of the night, they had seemed confident and calm.

But now, caught on camera, they looked tense.

Everyone wanted to know what rating Gu Yi would receive.

Before his performance, many had assumed he’d get a D—especially since the initial rank determined groupings for next week’s team battles. Gu Yi hadn’t even been considered for most teams.

But after that performance? No way was he getting a D.

One of the mentors, Han Xiao, turned to Gu Yi.

“That performance of Endless City,” he said, “was the most complete of the night.”
“You weren’t just performing—you were trying to connect. You shared something, and the audience responded.”

It was Han Xiao’s first time judging a reality competition. After accepting the Battle invitation, he binge-watched all the idol shows on the market. He expected to see at least one contestant with nothing but a good face and no talent—classic casting move.

When Gu Yi walked out, Han Xiao thought he’d found that guy.

But Gu Yi’s performance surprised him.

Yes, he had weaknesses. But he had something rare—authenticity.

Not a calculated display. Not a showcase of tricks. Just raw, genuine emotion, wrapped around a song.

Under the spotlight, Han Xiao raised his letter card—

“What grade is it?”
“A A A A A A A!!! Holy—!”
“Gu Yi got an A?!”

Han Xiao gave him an A. The other two mentors followed suit.

So far, only Baiqian’s trio had gotten S-rank. A was the next highest.

Gu Yi jogged into the bleachers and took his seat in the A-row.

He didn’t know the contestants around him, but the moment he sat down, several of them gave him polite nods.

Gu Yi responded with a soft smile.

His neighbours blinked, surprised—and quickly smiled back with more warmth.

By the time all 99 contestants finished performing, three more groups besides Baiqian’s had secured S-rank.

Watching this, Orange Peel nearly burst into tears.

“My boy might actually last more than one week!!”

That moment—seeing Gu Yi shine like a star onstage—that was all she had ever wanted.

She had fought tooth and nail in the comments, defending him against vicious haters. She had a few allies, but Zhu Yu’s fandom was bigger—far bigger. Mostly, she had been alone.

They kept asking: “Does Gu Yi even deserve this?”

Now, after Endless City, Orange Peel could answer the world loud and proud:

Yes. He does.

…

If Orange Peel was merely pleasantly surprised, then Gu Yi’s livestream fans were downright shocked:

“Wait—THAT’S OUR TEACHER GU?!”
“When Teacher Gu was streaming for free, I didn’t cherish him. Now I have to pay for Jiangshi TV just to see his face.”
“First episode’s free.”
“Then why are you watching a 120-second ad instead of worshipping Teacher Gu’s face in real time?! You’re not devoted enough. You’re no true Gu cultist.”
“Gu sect. 🙏”
“Gu sect. 🙏”

The exam prep warriors couldn’t reconcile the soft-spoken math teacher from their livestreams with the heartthrob tearing up the stage.

“Teacher Gu is grinding. Man’s working three jobs. It’s tough out here for idols.”

The civil service exam group was massive—and bored, now that the tests were over. They flocked to support Gu Yi like it was their new side quest.

…

Gu Yi had thought that once the contestants finished performing, today’s live episode would be over.

He didn’t expect the group draw to happen immediately after.

The big screen lit up with this round’s group match rules.

The rules were simple: Contestants who received an S-rating would draw lots to select a song, in order of popularity. Once the song was chosen, they could pick four teammates and four opponents. Both groups would perform the same song in the next episode—and the entire losing team would be eliminated.

“Whoa, seriously?! They’re just going to axe half the contestants like that?”
“So they’re not even factoring in popularity after this? That makes this S-card the most expensive one in idol survival show history.”
“That’s brutal.”

Viewers were shocked, and the contestants even more so.

This meant that team selection had to be made very carefully—because if you lost the next round, even an S-ranked contestant would be sent home.

The only way to survive was to build a team packed with both skill and popularity.

The screen immediately showed each contestant’s current popularity ranking.

Baiqian Entertainment’s three trainees were still in a league of their own, far ahead of anyone else.

Gu Yi glanced at the list. He was ranked 28th—still relatively high.

His performance of Endless City had, in a way, already achieved what he came here for. Whether he stayed or went now mostly came down to luck.

As Gu Yi spaced out, the current #1 in popularity—Ji Chi—was already stepping up to pick his team.

After the rules were announced, just about every contestant hoped to get picked by Ji Chi. With his overwhelming popularity and top-tier skills, being on his team was like having an insurance policy.

“Who’s Ji Chi going to pick? Zhang Tianyi? Li Jing?”

The cameras—and every pair of eyes in the room—were trained on Ji Chi.

“My first teammate is—”
“Gu Yi.”

The moment his name was called, Gu Yi stared, completely stunned. He had no idea why Ji Chi would choose him.

Still, he jogged up to the stage and quietly took his place behind Ji Chi, offering a brief high five.

“Hot guy x hot guy duo! If we’re going by visuals, Gu Yi is easily the top pick. Ji Chi’s right behind.”
“Ji Chi, I love your choices. Give me all the hot guy moments!”
“Gu Yi’s actually a bit taller than Ji Chi? I assumed someone with a face that perfect would have at least one physical flaw.”

After selecting Gu Yi, Ji Chi picked three more teammates. With the full five-member team assembled, Ji Chi didn’t go straight to draw the song. Instead, he turned to the others.

“I’ve always had terrible luck drawing lots. Anyone here feel lucky?”

“Nope. Cursed bloodline.”
“Born unlucky, don’t pick me.”
“Let’s rock-paper-scissors.”

One minute later—

Gu Yi blinked as he stared at four identical hand signs.

The others all stepped back, clearing a path.

“You guys don’t think the fact that I keep pulling the odd hand out every time means I’m… maybe cursed?”

“Shh.”
“Silence.”
“Just draw something good. Gu Sect believes.”

Gu Yi: “…”

When the draw result appeared, all five teammates came to the same conclusion:

“Lesson one from Battle of the Stars:
Never entrust your fate to someone else’s hands.”