The next round of Battle of the Stars featured nine songs in total—ranging from rock to ballads to classic boy group dance tracks from overseas.

Among the nine, the one universally acknowledged as the hardest was “Devil’s Heart.”

A Japanese cover with a flood of lyrics, rapid-fire rhythm, and a choreography rooted in power moves, Devil’s Heart was a nightmare for most trainees. No one wanted to draw it.

And yet, as soon as Gu Yi finished pulling his lot and the screen lit up with the song title “Devil’s Heart,” the live audience burst into laughter—

What kind of cursed luck is this?

Ji Chi had the first pick of teammates. Out of all 99 contestants, he had the biggest advantage—until this. Devil’s Heart dragged him down to everyone else’s level… maybe even a step below.

Gu Yi himself looked completely dazed.

“That kid looks shook, LOL.”
“What a plot twist!”
“But honestly, this team fits ‘Devil’s Heart.’ We want devilish hot guys, and that’s what we’re getting!”

It wasn’t just Gu Yi. His teammates were equally stunned. After a beat, one of them—Yao Junyan—gave Gu Yi a silent thumbs-up.

That draw… was legendary.

“I have a feeling this practice is gonna kill us.”
“Same…”

Once they watched the demo video, the room sank into collective silence.

“…Wanna just give it a shot?” Ji Chi finally said. “We’ve got to try at least once.”

Gu Yi: “…”

Right after the live broadcast ended, most of the contestants skipped rest and headed straight to the practice room to start breaking down the choreography and assigning parts. Ji Chi, as the strongest performer in the group, naturally took centre.

All of Ji Chi’s team members had received an A-rating during the solo showcases. They weren’t necessarily high in popularity, but in terms of skill? No question.

“Yi Shuo will take this section, Yue Miao and I will split these two. Gu Yi, you handle this verse. Junyan can cover the rest—sound good?”

Gu Yi nodded. “No objections.”

Dividing lines was the easy part. But once they started on the choreography, the difference between Gu Yi and the others became obvious.

Devil’s Heart was infamously difficult to dance, and the Battle of the Stars version had been modified to emphasize even more strength and precision.

Ji Chi found his rhythm after just three or four viewings.

Yue Miao, Yao Junyan, and Yi Shuo picked it up quickly too. By midnight, all three could more or less follow the beat.

Only Gu Yi lagged behind.

He learned choreo slowly, and unlike vocals, dance couldn’t be skipped—every member had to participate, which meant no hiding.

Gu Yi let out a soft sigh.

He didn’t mind slacking on his own, but if his slacking dragged the team down, he would feel guilty.

…

The first episode of Battle of the Stars didn’t make a huge splash online. Jiangshi TV, the platform airing it, already had the least reach of any major network. On top of that, even they hadn’t expected the show to do well. The marketing budget was practically nonexistent.

It ranked 15th on the day’s streaming charts—even below the rerun of Take It Slow, Life on Qingning TV.

Which was wild, considering Take It Slow aired on Fridays via broadcast first, then dropped online a day later.

When Shao Jing saw this, he immediately called Zhu Yu: “Didn’t I tell you this show would flop?”

Zhu Yu was also browsing Weibo at the time. There were barely any trending topics about Battle of the Stars. The highest one was a rumour about a contestant’s scandal.

The viewership was so low that even reruns of Take It Slow beat them.

Even Zhu Yu’s fans hadn’t seen that coming.

“Seriously, just cancel it. As long as Gu Emperor’s around, the show’s doomed.”
“+1. Who even has time to watch a three-hour debut episode of a dying idol show?”
“It’s hilarious that an idol show has less buzz than a chill lifestyle one. What even happened to fangirls?”
“Nobody wants to watch a bunch of ugly wannabes. Pass.”

It might’ve started with a major Zhu Yu fan. The night Battle of the Stars aired, a hashtag began climbing:
#BattleoftheStarsViewershipLowerThanTakeItSlowRerun
The tag exploded with Zhu Yu fans mocking Gu Yi, and by early morning, it had even cracked the Weibo trending list.

One of the biggest music critics online, “BrokenString,” happened to come across it.

Everyone in the industry knew how wild idol survival shows had gotten—especially the off-brand ones. In BrokenString’s eyes, the genre still had potential… but it had long since been eaten alive by bad editing, shady deals, and over-hype.

He wasn’t a snob about idols. He just sighed at how sad the whole scene had become.

Out of curiosity, BrokenString clicked into Battle of the Stars.

Thirty minutes later… he still hadn’t paused.

In fact, he watched the entire three-hour episode from beginning to end.

BrokenString had millions of followers. As a veteran musician, he reviewed every major music-related variety show. While he often tried to be diplomatic, some shows were so offensively bad he couldn’t hold back.

By noon the next day, he posted a long article:

“Battle of the Stars has fewer views than the rerun of Take It Slow. In a post-2018 era where idol survival shows exploded in popularity, this would’ve been unthinkable.

I’ll be honest: before watching, I was ready to rip this show to shreds.
When capital monopolizes every path to success, idol shows turn into a playground where the worst push out the best. I thought Battle of the Stars would be no different.

But after watching all three hours, I have to ask—why is this show a joke to people?
Is it because the production isn’t as polished as Take It Slow?
Because the contestants aren’t as entertaining?
Or is it because audiences have developed a bias against idol shows in general?

Not all variety shows are created equal—but they shouldn’t be judged by genre alone.
Before criticizing Battle of the Stars, maybe give it a fair shot.”

…

BrokenString didn’t just praise in general terms—he included specific clips on his homepage. He highlighted both the Baiqian Entertainment trio and Gu Yi.

Everyone already knew Baiqian’s trainees were the real deal.

But as for Gu Yi—

“This… is what a natural-born idol looks like.”

“If that face is all-natural, then Gu Yi’s really made to be an idol.”

“…I always saw Zhu Yu’s fans mocking Gu Yi—saying he had no skill and hogged the spotlight. I thought he was some washed-up nobody. But… his performance of Endless City? That song was incredible!”

“+1. It’s different from Luo Hong’s version, but it really hits!”

“I’ve been looping it all day. Gu Yi’s eyes—they’re lethal.”

BrokenString’s influence was no joke. As soon as he posted that long-form review, the hashtag #BattleoftheStarsViewershipWorseThanTakeItSlowRerun actually started climbing higher on the trending chart—and suddenly, marketing accounts and genuine viewers alike began recommending Battle of the Stars.

“I’ve never seen a talent show play it so fair. Every stage gets exactly three minutes—no favouritism.”

“There’s no big-name idols on the panel, but the judges actually know their stuff. Their evaluations feel honest.”

“Okay, I’m hooked.”

“Is it just me, or has Take It Slow gotten boring lately? As a long-time fan, I wanted wholesome moments—not this greasy hierarchy nonsense.”

“+1. Someone said Gu Yi bullied Zhu Yu, but when I clicked the hashtag, all I saw were Zhu Yu’s fans flinging the nastiest insults at Gu Yi. Poor guy’s just good-looking and unlucky.”

Unbeknownst to the production team, Battle of the Stars was quietly gaining traction.

—

Back in the training room, Gu Yi started another day of Devil’s Heart practice, drumming along mentally to its punishing beat.

Before he’d even arrived, his two roommates were already packed and out the door. But Gu Yi, not wanting to be the weak link in the Devil’s Heart group, was also one of the first to show up at the practice room.

After warming up, he began going through the choreography bit by bit.

The original host of this body had filled notebooks with training tips and reflections. Gu Yi had memorized every page. Before joining Battle of the Stars, he’d also picked up some basic dance techniques. Slow progress, yes—but he believed that even slow effort would eventually stack up.

“Huff…”

“Loosen up your legs a bit.”

Halfway through practice, Ji Chi showed up. He set down his water bottle and walked over to correct Gu Yi’s posture. “Like this.”

Gu Yi memorized the adjustment and ran through the move again with the music.

Devil’s Heart was brutal—fast tempo, explosive power. Just a short segment left Gu Yi out of breath, but even so, he didn’t ease up on the intensity. He didn’t skip any moves.

He knew: if the power wasn’t there, the whole dance would fall flat.

“When did Gu Yi get here?” Yue Miao asked.

“Way before me,” Ji Chi replied.

He glanced toward Gu Yi.

He knew Gu Yi’s foundation was weak. Before the show even aired, Ji Chi had seen posts online about him.

But Gu Yi was far more diligent than he’d imagined.

That performance of Endless City… it had shaken him. This guy seemed born for the stage. Even without dancing—just standing there and singing—he pulled all eyes toward him.

Just like now.

Gu Yi was the slowest learner in the room. Yet every time someone paused to rest, their gaze inevitably drifted back to him.

From the moment he stepped into the practice room, Gu Yi hadn’t stopped once.

Ji Chi quietly watched as Gu Yi’s clunky movements slowly became fluid. Watched as he forced his exhausted body back onto its feet to run through the next segment.

Every other member of their group had stronger dance technique than Gu Yi.

But watching him—none of them dared slack off, not even a little.