“???????”

As the “Tears of Farewell” performance ended, Orange Peel stared at her screen with a massive question mark flashing across her forehead.

This was… beyond absurd.

She refreshed her homepage—and sure enough, all of Gu Yi’s fans were going feral:

“Does that guy actually think he sang well? I’m losing it!”

“Thank you Battle of the Stars, for curing my chronic low blood pressure.”

“Why are Feng Yanbin and Yan Qin looking so wronged in every other clip? Like half the behind-the-scenes footage was just them acting hurt.”

“Chenxi Entertainment stepped in to defend them? @Starshine Entertainment, where are you, you useless company!?”

“Tears of Farewell” was the final performance of the night, and not long after it aired, a blogger named Broken Strings dropped their critique of the episode—zeroing in on that group:

【A hastily assembled performance, no emotional core, completely disjointed—proof that bad teamwork can destroy a good song.】

【Yu Pei herself would weep if she heard this.】

【Weak skills are one thing, but the off-stage drama was more compelling than the performance itself.】

【The fact that Feng Yanbin won the internal group vote just makes me furious!】

【They really took their tea-sipping act to the next level—bullying Gu Yi and then pretending to be the victims.】

Originally, most buzz had been around the “Lady Bird” performance, but once “Tears of Farewell” aired, the conversation shifted entirely. The group stole the spotlight—for all the wrong reasons.

Gu Yi’s Weibo follower count doubled overnight.

…

Once all the performances ended, it was time for eliminations. Of the 54 contestants on stage, 24 would be cut. Only 30 would survive.

From the internal group votes, 9 contestants had already secured a place in the next round. That left 45 people fighting for just 21 spots.

The host smiled at the contestants and announced:
[Next, 9 contestants will be selected by audience votes.]

[There are 2,000 live audience members. They will rank each group’s contestants, and the top 9 performers overall will be directly promoted. The final 12 spots will be determined by popularity rankings.]

[Now, please vote for the members of the “Light Blue” group.]

“…I’m dying to see how many votes ‘Tears of Farewell’ gets.”

“Same…”

“I’m not gonna name names, but someone’s about to get roasted.”

In the “Light Blue” group, Yao Junyan came in second—but since the first-place performer had already secured advancement through group vote, Yao Junyan got in through the audience vote.

“Lady Bird’s” audience pick was also Ji Chi.

[‘Tears of Farewell’ group, please step forward.]

During their performance, they’d been far from the crowd—but now, just one step closer, they could see the audience’s expressions clearly.

Gu Yi stood in the front row, same spot as before—far right. And then, all at once, a thunderous cheer erupted from the quiet crowd:

“GU YI!!! AAAAAAAHHHH!”

“GU YI! GU YI! GU YI!”

The instant he heard his name, Gu Yi’s eyes widened in disbelief.

[Voting begins!]

Once the host called “Stop,” the results appeared on the big screen.

“Tears of Farewell” Group:

• Gu Yi: 1,982 votes
• Feng Yanbin: 6 votes

……

……

Other contestants: “……”

Live viewers: “!!!”

If there’s a definition of poetic justice—this was it.

The stage was silent, utterly dead. Feng Yanbin’s smug expression had vanished entirely, replaced by stunned disbelief. Even under makeup, the pale hue of his face couldn’t be hidden.

Gu Yi had almost swept the entire vote.

And the rest of them? Combined, they couldn’t even match a fraction of his tally.

Even “Lady Bird” standout Ji Chi had only outscored his teammates by a few hundred.

But the real kicker?

Just thirty minutes ago, Gu Yi had gotten zero votes in the internal group vote.

“Feng Yanbin’s expression might look pitiful, but all I can say is—audiences really do see everything.”

“Am I happy? I AM ECSTATIC!”

“Low skill isn’t shameful. Being a terrible person is.”

“YESSS! Divine justice! Teacher Gu gets to stay! All those Kitty Quiz hours weren’t wasted!”

“Congrats to Gu Yi!! Feels like a power-fantasy protagonist comeback arc!”

“Gu Sect.”

“Gu Sect.”

With two voting rounds done, 18 contestants had been selected. The last 12 would be based on popularity.

At this point, Yan Qin and Qi Ji were looking grim—they had almost no chance of making it based on public appeal.

“If they hadn’t bullied their teammate, maybe they could’ve left with dignity.”

“+1.”

Eliminated contestants looked bittersweet, but many were able to say “No regrets” proudly on stage. Yan Qin and Qi Ji, however, couldn’t manage it—only muttering “Thank you for your support.”

“Gu Yi’s still here!”

“Safe!”

Gu Yi’s popularity remained solid at sixth—hanging on as the gatekeeper of the debut lineup.

The show was expected to last three more episodes: 30 → 20, 20 → 10, 10 → 6.

By now, everyone realized how big Battle of the Stars had become. More and more fans were camping outside the dorms. Even going to the corner shop required contestants to clean up and dress decently.

Aside from Ji Chi’s group, which had signed with Baiqian Entertainment, most other contestants weren’t from major agencies. Battle of the Stars was a do-or-die shot at fame.

They were chasing even the faintest chance at a breakthrough. This show gave them hope—and they wouldn’t let go.

…

The dorms had gone from 99 to 30 occupants. The shift was drastic.

Gu Yi and his roommate Wu Jie were still there. The third roommate, Cui Jingran, had been eliminated in round two.

For episode four, Gu Yi happened to be placed in the same group as Ji Chi again. This time, the challenge was creativity: both the choreography and the song arrangement had to be contestant-led—no demo provided.

Feng Yanbin’s group was next door. After what happened with “Tears of Farewell,” his new teammates were wary.

His popularity had plummeted. Though he’d scraped through to round four, he always ranked dead last—30th. His votes weren’t even half of #29.

“This is hard…” Gu Yi muttered, pen in hand, brows furrowed.

He didn’t have much performance experience—let alone composition skills.

Their assigned track was “Northern Bagpipes,” a song by folk singer Qin Lang. Known for his unique voice, the song had a deeply personal flavor—making it tough to rearrange.

“The show’s making money now, right? Couldn’t they pick something easier to work with?”

On day one of songwriting, Gu Yi and his team just sat staring at each other. Two minutes of edits, thirty minutes of despair. Rinse and repeat.

Yi Shuo had once explained: Battle of the Stars had likely bought old song licenses early on due to budget. Classics were cheaper, but also hard to adapt. Their distinctive flair made them hard to sing—and even harder to reinvent.

Gu Yi approached this as a learning opportunity, trailing behind his teammates like a loyal puppy.

The original host body had guitar and singing experience, so Gu Yi learned quickly. But his theory knowledge and choreography skills were almost nonexistent. At first, he just listened, confused—but over time, he began picking things up.

“Got it?” one teammate asked, half-exasperated.

Gu Yi nodded.

“So this part goes like this, then that…” said another, in a total stream-of-consciousness blur.

Gu Yi nodded again.

Third teammate: “……”

Gu Yi: nod-nod-nod.

This bit of rehearsal footage was posted to Battle of the Stars’ official account. The comments poured in:

“Gu Yi—a nodding machine without feelings.”

The week had seemed like it would be uneventful.

The “Tears of Farewell” drama was cooling off. Chenxi Entertainment tried to salvage Feng Yanbin’s image—but got flamed into disabling their comments. Meanwhile, Gu Yi’s arc—from getting zero votes internally to 1,982 from the audience—was a textbook underdog victory.

A righteous slap in the face.

Fans like Orange Peel rewatched the audience vote scene dozens of times—each time felt fresh. Jiangshi TV’s official video clip from that moment even outperformed some of their promoted drama series.

And then, out of nowhere, Gu Yi’s name hit the trending list again.

Why?

Because civil service exam results had just dropped.

Fans clicked on the “Gu Yi C Province Exam” tag, only to see wild sentences like:

【Gu Yi’s deep-dive analysis of real questions.】
【Gu Yi explains quantitative reasoning.】

One post read:

【Dude, after listening to Gu Yi’s class, my score went up by 10 points!】

Another said:

【Full bundle of Gu Yi’s real exam prep course: 45 yuan. He’s an idol now, no refunds, thanks!】

Fans: “……”

Uh… what?

A few minutes later, they confirmed—it was the same Gu Yi from Battle of the Stars.

#IfNotAnIdolThenExamPrepLegend
#FansWhoStudyForCivilServiceAreLosingTheirMinds

【Not gonna lie, I was curious, so I listened to his live lesson. Now I get hyped watching the show and feel dead inside during test prep. It’s a rollercoaster.】

【Anyone remember Hecheng community? They came through again.】

The community’s official announcement was next-level:

【Warm congratulations to our cultural ambassador Gu Yi for participating in Jiangshi TV’s Battle of the Stars!】
【Congratulations to our ambassador Gu Yi for reaching the Top 30!】

It scrolled proudly across a digital banner—black background, bright red letters, framed by a ring of digital flowers.

Humble. Bold. Local.

And absolutely iconic.