Xu Yao returned to his seat, and Lai Xingwei immediately leaned over like he’d been waiting forever, complaining in a flurry, “What took you so long? A bit later and the dance performance would’ve already started.”

Xu Yao gave him a glance. Lai Xingwei, hit with that all-too-familiar sharp look, instantly felt his scalp tighten. He quieted down noticeably and quickly corrected himself, “I just meant—the next program is ballet, didn’t want you to miss it. Don’t you really like ballet performances?”

Xu Yao, the workaholic he was, didn’t even know when he’d supposedly picked up this hobby. “I like ballet?”

Lai Xingwei replied matter-of-factly, “Didn’t you always go with little Yan back then? He loved ballet, and you were always there with him. Yu Yan and I asked you out how many times, and you just brushed us off.”

Xu Yao didn’t respond right away.

The name “Yan Lai” had been locked deep away in his heart for years now—something he’d tried to avoid bringing up at all costs. But tonight, it felt like everything was conspiring to drag that name back into his mind, one reminder after another.

In a low voice, Xu Yao said, “Don’t mention him.”

Lai Xingwei didn’t quite catch it. He also wasn’t sure which of his words had struck a nerve, but when he saw the way Xu Yao’s expression suddenly turned stormy, he immediately looked annoyed. “I thought you’d changed after those years abroad, but you’re still the same sour-faced mutt. I’m telling you now—I’m not the same person either. Don’t think I’m scared of you.”

“Sour-faced mutt” was a nickname Xu Yao’s circle of friends had given him. It dated back to when he came out of adolescence and started flipping moods without warning. His temper had a switch: when he was in a good mood, he acted like a normal person; when it was bad, he was like a mad dog, biting at anyone who came close.

Just then, the stage lights shifted. Fog rolled out from the back of the stage. The set was dreamlike, straight out of a fairytale. From the left and right, troupes of male dancers in pristine white ballet costumes stepped gracefully onto the stage.

Lai Xingwei was just talking big. In reality, he didn’t dare to truly provoke Xu Yao. After a brief warning, “It’s starting, pay attention,” he quickly fell silent and stopped talking.

Xu Yao found himself a little distracted. As he watched the dancers on stage, their movements neat and graceful, his thoughts had already wandered far away.

To be honest, he wasn’t particularly interested in ballet. In the past, he’d watched a lot of it, not for the art itself, but because Yan Lai, the art student back then, had been passionate about it. To keep up with his interests, Xu Yao had attended many performances.

Now, he couldn’t remember much of it.

Back then, he was younger, overly confident, thinking the world revolved around him. No one ever disagreed with him, and no one ever disliked him.

He had taken for granted that, as neighbors and childhood friends with Yan Lai, they shared an unspoken bond. He believed he had the best of everything—favorable timing, good fortune, and the right people by his side. But who could’ve known that, just minutes before a big performance he had painstakingly prepared for, he overheard Yan Lai telling someone else something shocking.

That “someone else” was none other than his father.

In an instant, the confident young man’s world came crashing down. His performance was completely ruined, and Yan Lai’s embarrassed, stunned expression was the last thing he remembered seeing.

Now, only someone like Lai Xingwei, with no sense of gravity, was still oblivious to the truth of that performance. Anyone else, let alone mentioning Yan Lai’s name, would avoid any related topic as if it were a taboo.

The lights dimmed and then brightened again, and the music for the dance had come to an end.

Lai Xingwei clapped enthusiastically from the side, his hands sore from the effort. He was so excited he almost tried to drag Xu Yao into clapping along.

“Did you see that! They danced so beautifully! Do you think I’m exaggerating when I say she’s a fairy? Not at all!”

Xu Yao replied coolly, “The lead dancer missed the eighth beat.”

“…Huh?” Lai Xingwei had been too focused on the pretty girl he was currently chasing, not paying attention to the details. “Don’t nitpick, a tiny mistake like that is normal. It’s a big stage, it’s understandable to be nervous. Forget that, did you see the girl in the third row…”

Before he could finish, Xu Yao stood up. “I’m leaving.”

Lai Xingwei tried to stop him, his face matching the color of his hair. “You’re leaving already? After it’s over, I wanted to introduce you to someone. Hey, hey, hey, come on, just wait a little longer.”

Xu Yao pointed at his watch and coldly said, “An hour and a half. Your dad doesn’t even give me this kind of face.”

From the way Xu Yao said it, Lai Xingwei knew he was truly done with the event. He quickly let go of Xu Yao’s arm, not daring to stop him anymore.

Xu Yao gave him a glance. “I’ll talk to you about the copyright tomorrow. If you don’t show up…”

Lai Xingwei raised three fingers to the sky in a dramatic gesture. “I will come! I swear I’ll come! If I don’t, I’ll never find a girlfriend in my life. Bro, let me just say one more thing.”

Xu Yao stared at him in disbelief, and Lai Xingwei quickly added, “Her name is Qiao Qiao. Help me out, buddy.”

Xu Yao: “…”

Xu Yao: “Shut up.”

Without looking back, Xu Yao left. As he passed by the back row again, the empty seat was still unoccupied.

As Xu Yao walked past, the beauty mark near the corner of the mouth once again flashed through his mind. He paused for a few seconds before finding the person responsible for seating arrangements.

He asked, “What’s the name of the person sitting in that seat? I’d like to take a look at their information.”

Xu Yao’s attire and demeanor suggested that he was someone of wealth or status, and the person in charge didn’t dare to underestimate him. Hesitating for a moment, they replied, “I’m afraid I can’t disclose that. May I ask who you are?”

Xu Yao handed over his business card. “Manxing Media.”

Manxing Media was the largest and most authoritative talent agency in the country. The name alone represented opportunities, and the person in charge, after only a brief glance at the card, immediately realized how fortunate they were to be in such a position. They smiled brightly and responded enthusiastically, “Of course, please wait a moment. I’ll look up the information for you.”

…

After leaving the venue, Kang Yao had plenty of free time. He didn’t return to the dormitory but instead went straight to the presidential suite at a hotel outside campus.

For the past two days, he hadn’t stayed in school, and his “Kang Yao” account still had some funds left, just enough to cover his current expenses.

With the fishing game already in progress, he had no rush. After eating and drinking to his heart’s content, Kang Yao finally checked his bank account. The balance showed a four-digit number.

To him, it was pitifully small, meaning he only had three or four more days to enjoy himself before running out of money.

But that didn’t bother him much. Neither financial nor life pressures would make Kang Yao worry. The only thing that distracted him was the muscle damage left by years of dancing.

It was truly uncomfortable.

Kang Yao didn’t like to endure pain, and he wasn’t planning on dancing again in this lifetime. He threw himself onto the bed and fell into a deep sleep, completely uninterested in the early and late practices he used to do regularly.

Dancing was impossible. Absolutely not.

He slept for a full four to five hours. When he finally opened his eyes, he was awakened by the notification sound of his phone buzzing from the group chat.

He opened his phone to find that the dance major class group chat was overflowing with messages, already at 99+.

At the very top, in another dormitory’s group chat, a rather low-key and gossipy message was passed along: [Did you hear?! Manxing Media’s assistant contacted Tong Shao and asked him to go for an interview!!]

This message caused an immediate stir. Normally, very few people were close to Tong Shao, but at this moment, the group chat was filled with various congratulatory messages.

[Is it true?? Congratulations!!]

[Damn, the star of tomorrow, the hope of the Dance Academy.]

In addition to this group, there was another separate group chat that kept buzzing with activity. Everyone except Tong Shao was actively participating, and the conversation became lively:

[I’m just shocked—how is this even possible? Tong Shao made three mistakes in his dance steps today! Manxing’s talent scout has that much tolerance? Or is it just about looks? I honestly think the people in the back row performed better than him. He really shouldn’t have gotten this opportunity.]

[Why did they suddenly contact Tong Shao? Was there someone from Manxing Media in the audience today? Who was it?! No one mentioned this before the show started!]

[Being a true rich second generation, Tong Shao’s life path is totally different from ours. He got signed by Manxing in his first year of college—his future… Tsk tsk.]

[Stop spreading rumors, it’s just an interview, not a contract.]

[They called him specifically for an interview, with his family background, don’t you think he’ll get signed? Please trust in the power of capital, thank you.]

[What did I tell you? Being the lead dancer is a perfect opportunity. If Kang Yao had taken the stage, wouldn’t this opportunity have been… too obvious?]

At this point, someone suddenly remembered that Kang Yao was also in this group chat, and the group chat instantly went silent, as if it had turned mute.

Kang Yao found this amusing. He suddenly received a notification: “You have been removed from the group chat.”

This was even funnier. Kang Yao couldn’t help but laugh and noticed that the congratulatory messages in the class group chat gradually stopped. He opened the chat box and, with a good-natured heart, decided to give the others something else to gossip about.

Kang Yao: [No need to thank me. Tong Shao.]

The group chat was silent for a long time, and Kang Yao didn’t mind. In a great mood, he put down his phone and went back to sleep.

He slept straight through until the next morning. For most people, ten hours of sleep might feel uncomfortable, but for Kang Yao, it was just right. He woke up feeling refreshed and leisurely made his way to the restaurant for breakfast.

While he was eating, his phone received quite a few messages.

Some were concerned, asking if something had happened to him and why he hadn’t come to school yet. Some were curious, cautiously asking if he had been pushed too far last night and sent that message out of anger. There were also messages from teachers, asking him to come over for morning practice.

Kang Yao ignored all of them. After finishing breakfast, he found a comfortable position and opened his laptop. This laptop had been bought by the original owner and left in the dormitory, so it wasn’t used often, but the accompanying equipment was decent.

Kang Yao searched the internet for Lai Xingwei, and immediately, a flurry of information appeared, like an avalanche. From Lai Xingwei’s representative works, Step to the Top and A Hundred Years of Coldness, to all sorts of articles detailing his personal experiences, everything was covered—how he became famous with his debut work, how he came from a family of scholars but rebelled against traditional values, and much more.

The sheer volume of messages was becoming irritating, especially since Kang Yao wasn’t interested in any of them.

He directly ran a few programs he had written a couple of days ago to fetch the information he wanted. Soon, he found something useful:

Lai Xingwei was currently selecting a book model and preparing for the promotional trailer shoot for his new book The Fourteen Realms of Immortal Beasts.

In the industry, there weren’t many authors with the clout to produce their own promotional trailers, but Lai Xingwei obviously had that level of prestige. It seemed that he was inclined to recruit talent from several nearby film and television universities. The campus website of C Film had even uploaded this news.

Kang Yao became interested and sent off the resume he had used in the past along with the recruitment email. He didn’t forget to attach his headshot—his beauty mark was clearly visible in the photo.