Some of the trending online comments didn’t sit right with the civil service exam crowd.

【“Heh, Teacher Gu was only temporarily snatched away.”】

【“This is just another weird publicity stunt by Battle of the Stars. I’m not listening, I’m not listening, I’m not listening!”】

Some data-heads even came prepared with stats, armed like scientists—

【“Teacher Gu’s solo poster from Battle of the Stars is 30 yuan each, but one set of our precious Teacher Gu’s past exam prep notes sells for 45 yuan a pop—and they’re still flying off the shelves.”】

【“Please let the Battle of the Stars production team understand clearly: we’re not buying the posters to support your show. It’s because—who wouldn’t want a poster of our genius teacher? We’re all devout followers of the Gu Sect!”】

【“It’s been 24 days, 16 hours, 37 minutes and 22 seconds since Teacher Gu missed a livestream. We miss him.”】

Gu Yi’s fans: “……”

It was as if someone had opened the door to a brand-new world.

———

Gu Yi was sitting in the practice room, hugging his knees and sipping milk.

The show had landed a milk brand sponsorship, and each contestant received a generous amount. He drank one in the morning, one in the afternoon—to recharge his brain, which felt like it had hit a wall lately.

“Gu Yi, try this bit.” Teammate Chen Jiarun called out. Gu Yi put his milk down and came over to take a look.

After days of editing and fine-tuning, their group’s adaptation of Northern Bagpipes had started to take shape.

Gu Yi already knew the song inside out. Chen Jiarun pointed to a revised section: “This part’s a little higher. Think you can manage?”

“I’ll give it a shot.”

Just moments ago, Gu Yi’s face had been indifferent. But the second he took the sheet music, his expression shifted into one of deep focus. Chen Jiarun played the intro on piano while Gu Yi counted the beats, then sang the entire segment with flawless precision.

Chen Jiarun had long since noticed—Gu Yi didn’t just have a clear, bright voice. He had emotional intuition. It was as if he was born knowing how to interpret a song with the perfect mood.

Whether it was Endless City or Tears of Farewell, Gu Yi’s voice always carried a subtle, powerful resonance that drew people in.

Northern Bagpipes was no different.

Chen, Ji, and even teammate Shi Di had all taken a stab at the solo, but none of their individual attempts had the same impact as when Gu Yi sang.

So whenever they made any changes to the arrangement, Chen and Shi would immediately run to Gu Yi for a trial run—

They couldn’t emulate the carefree elegance of the original singer Qin Lang, so their strategy was to emotionally move the audience through a more heartfelt interpretation.

Good or bad—one listen from Gu Yi and they’d know.

“How was that run?” Gu Yi asked.

Chen didn’t answer with words. He just gave a firm thumbs-up and smacked Gu Yi’s palm in a solid high five.

“Yeah!”

The adaptation of Northern Bagpipes wasn’t easy. Gu Yi woke up early every day to listen to his teammates pitch different ideas for the song.

No one understood the process—how they’d gone from concept to this final version—better than Gu Yi.

He didn’t need to drill dances until he was sick, but over the course of this week, it felt like his brain had been crammed full of new knowledge. It would take time to digest it all.

But it was worth it—he had mastered the song completely.

For Gu Yi, working on Northern Bagpipes was even more fulfilling than Devil’s Heart. He had begun to truly understand what it meant to “feel” music—not just like it on the surface, but connect with it on a deeper level.

———

Episode 4 of Battle of the Stars was even more cutthroat than the last.

During rehearsal, Gu Yi noticed how tense Yi Shuo and Yue Miao looked. Their run-throughs were scheduled for the morning, and by the afternoon, the livestream would begin.

From 30 contestants, only 20 would survive.

Yi Shuo and Yue Miao might have strong popularity in the top 30, but making it into the top 20 wasn’t guaranteed.

In past idol shows, the top 20 weren’t guaranteed to debut, but they were the ones fans remembered most.

With only 6 debut slots, the top 20 was already reaching for the sky.

These were the toughest hours.

“We have to give it our all now,” Chen Jiarun said.

Gu Yi nodded lightly.

On the Battle of the Stars stage, both Devil’s Heart and Northern Bagpipes had made him realize—there really were people in this world who shared the same passion for idols as the original Gu Yi.

Every ounce of laziness on stage was a betrayal of those people.

He didn’t care about rankings—whether he got first place or didn’t debut at all. But as long as he was still standing on that stage, he’d give it everything.

This time, “Orange Peel” had specially taken time off and—with superhuman reflexes—managed to snag an audience seat ticket.

She had only ever gone to see Gu Yi live once before, when she’d first started following the Vic group. Back then, Gu Yi had just debuted, and honestly—he’d been such a fresh little cabbage. She’d liked him at first sight.

Even now, she stuck with him for that very reason.

But Gu Yi’s idol career hadn’t taken off like she hoped. She watched him fade from the spotlight, step by step, falling into obscurity.

A friend once told her—stanning an unpopular idol was painful.

Because no one knew him. Most of the year, there’d be no updates at all.

At that moment, under the shimmering glow of the sunset, “Orange Peel” stared at the glittering display board and suddenly covered her mouth.

She’d made it. Finally.

Lifting her phone, she held up a victory sign and snapped a photo with the handsome boy on the poster—wearing the brightest smile she could muster.

Once inside the audience hall, Orange Peel took out her small LED fan sign—tiny, really. She glanced around and quickly noticed that everyone else had come far better prepared.

Especially the girl beside her. Not only did she have a massive light-up board, but she also unfurled a large poster. The moment it opened, Orange Peel’s face instantly changed.

At the bottom of the poster, in bold lettering, were the words: “Trust in Gu god, and your exams will be blessed by the gods.”

Wait—wasn’t Battle of the Stars supposed to have “stolen” Gu Yi?

Weren’t they the “never surrender” faction?

And yet here she was, infiltrating the scene and spreading the faith. Woman… you’re brave.

Orange Peel struck up a conversation with the girl. Ten minutes later, she was this close to being converted.

“I mean… I’m just here to support Teacher Gu.”
↑ Surface-level excuse.

“The cheapest online lecture costs 980 yuan, and the elite masterclasses go up to 8800. Tickets to Battle of the Stars are only 380. You get hot guys, killer dance moves, and a chance to bask in the glow of the Exam god—where else could you get a deal like that?”
↑ The real reason.

———

This episode of Battle of the Stars—from the very first performance—Orange Peel knew her trip had been worth it.

She’d watched this stage countless times on screen, but this time, the contestants’ skill and stage presence were undeniably the best she’d ever seen.

Li Mu from Baiqian already had a classic performance with Soul, but his execution of Stillness tonight was arguably even better.

And it wasn’t just Orange Peel who was stunned—the girl beside her was also speechless.

“I finally understand why the fans keep begging Teacher Gu to go full idol.”

The civil service prep group chat: “???”

Don’t betray us now, please!!

But watching your idol on a screen was one thing. Seeing them perform live, right in front of you—that was something else entirely.

She didn’t have to wait long before the Northern Bagpipes group appeared.

It had been so long since she’d seen Gu Yi in person. And when his figure stepped onto that stage, Orange Peel realized that the awe she felt now was exactly the same as the first time she discovered him in Vic.

No matter how dazzling the contestants around him were—he was the one you could never ignore.

Compared to the explosive Devil’s Heart, the arrangement of Northern Bagpipes was gentle and lyrical, with a notably long intro.

“Gu Yi’s looking at Ji Chi—ahhh!!”

“Honestly, Blueberry Mobile’s biggest contribution this season was filming that ad with the two of them.”

The choreography for this song was minimal, placing greater emphasis on the members’ expressions and subtle body language.

As the intro softened, a voice suddenly seized the entire audience’s attention:

“I imagined the freedom of the wind.”

“A beast galloping across the plains.”

It was a different tone from Qin Lang’s original—more delicate, more intimate. But the instant Gu Yi’s voice reached her ears, something inexplicable rose up in her heart.

It was like a feather landing softly on her chest.

Orange Peel found herself clenching her fists, unconsciously holding her breath.

Gu Yi’s voice was like a thread, stitching together the entire performance of Northern Bagpipes—

“Gorgeous!!”

“This is what I imagined Tears of Farewell would feel like!!”

“Can someone please explain how Gu Yi improved this much?!”

“I thought Northern Bagpipes would get overshadowed by Stillness, but now? I think they’re both incredible!”

If Devil’s Heart was the pinnacle of synchronized movement, then Northern Bagpipes was the pinnacle of vocal harmony. The singers in this group might not have the strongest individual voices, but when their tones blended, the effect was breathtaking—truly spellbinding.

“Amazing!!”

When this group finally turned to face the audience, everyone realized: their outfits weren’t flashy, the stage design wasn’t dramatic. They had simply sung their hearts out.

But in those few minutes, that simplicity held so much power that no one could look away.

Orange Peel couldn’t help but remember the image of Gu Yi playing his guitar in a near-empty livestream room.

Beside her, the girl who’d held up the big poster at the start now had it rolled up, typing frantically into her phone:

“I’ve defected!!”

“??” Moments later, the civil service prep group chat exploded with video clips of the Northern Bagpipes performance.

“You wouldn’t understand this kind of love.”

“???”