Gu Yi had never seriously considered leaving Xingyao Entertainment.

For a regular working person, the base salary was too important to ignore—and Xingyao even contributed to the full benefits package. That policy had been implemented to patch a loophole after a VIC member clung to that clause during their contract termination, significantly reducing their penalty. The company quickly amended the terms afterward.

Of course, compared to the hefty penalty fees for breaking a contract, the base salary was a mere drop in the ocean.

Gu Yi reached out to Sun Youming. “Director Sun, does your studio pay a base salary?”

Sun Youming: “……”

Once he understood the reason for the question, Sun Youming was speechless. “You came to me just for that?”

Gu Yi had already starred in his movie—and yet he was still hung up on a 2,000 yuan base salary?

“In the past, our signed actors didn’t get a base salary. But if you want one, we’ll add it in retroactively.”

“Thank you, Director Sun.”

Sun Youming: “……”

Clearly, Gu Yi didn’t understand what it meant to star in A Letter on My Desk.

The film didn’t pay him a huge sum—just industry standard—but after signing his acting contract with Sun Youming’s studio, and with Gu Yi now having played the male lead in one of Sun’s films, it was a given his market price would soon double.

Gu Yi began calculating his income.

There was the endorsement money from Battle of the Stars, the sponsorships and promotions post-CROWN’s debut… But to his surprise, the biggest paycheck came from Summer Bloom’s revenue share.

Despite the EP’s modest price tag, its sales were staggering. After it dropped, even the cover rights sold well. All in all, once he did the math, Gu Yi frowned slightly—had he… already earned enough to cover a lifetime of base salaries?

It looked like he even had enough to pay his penalty fee.

Sun Youming didn’t oppose Gu Yi terminating his contract with Xingyao Entertainment. Initially, he just hadn’t wanted it to look like he was poaching. But frankly, Xingyao had behaved pretty disgracefully.

Even if Gu Yi didn’t care for the resources they offered, the company still had a responsibility to give him what he was due.

---

【VIC Group Popularity Poll Results: Li Zhiyuan Takes the Crown, Gu Yi Ranks Sixth】
【VIC Group’s Year-End Evaluation Breaks Viewership Records】
【Li Zhiyuan Crowned Again: VIC Group Popularity Secrets Revealed!】

Orange Peel tried her best to avoid VIC-related news—especially after last night’s popularity poll results were released.

Everyone knew what went on behind the scenes. Gu Yi’s fans knew. The other contestants’ fans knew. And yet the press release from Xingyao Entertainment said:

“Although Gu Yi debuted as center in the talent show Battle of the Stars and the limited-time group CROWN has performed well, in terms of popularity, Gu Yi still lags behind Li Zhiyuan. Li Zhiyuan’s breakout acting in Spring’s End and March’s Warmth…”

Orange Peel skimmed the article—roughly 1,000 words. Only 50 of them even mentioned Gu Yi. The rest? Pure praise for Li Zhiyuan.

Orange Peel nearly had a heart attack from sheer rage.

Before the poll even began, Xingyao had been plastering Gu Yi’s name all over every platform. Any fan unfamiliar with the situation might’ve thought Gu Yi was starring in a brand-new variety show.

Veteran fans like Orange Peel knew the details of Gu Yi’s new contract. As far as they could tell, Xingyao had taken full advantage of him—yet couldn’t even spare him an ounce of respect.

“Is VIC Group seriously sick in the head?”

“Team A’s their top unit, right? From Zhu Yu to Tong Shu to Li Zhiyuan—what are these people even?”

“Please, I’m begging, find someone decent to stan.”

At first, Orange Peel didn’t even know what this so-called “TongYi” CP was. The moment she found out, her blood pressure—which had been low for years—skyrocketed. She was cured.

She’d been a fan of Gu Yi since the VIC days, and had never once heard of him being close with Tong Shu!

“Quit the group, Teacher Gu!”

“Leave now! I’ll crowdfund your termination fee!”

The VIC year-end evaluation hit the trending charts. But under the hot search tag, aside from top fans praising their idols, the comments were flooded with variations of “leave the group” and endless question marks.

There used to be a tag called “VIC Group Gu Yi,” but as the scolding intensified, it rocketed toward the top ten—then plummeted outside the top 50 just as fast.

---

After Gu Yi made his desire to terminate the contract known, Sun Youming lent him a legal advisor. All contractual matters were now in the advisor’s hands. Gu Yi only needed to focus on work.

The VIC popularity poll had already cost him two days. By the time he returned, the rest of CROWN had been rehearsing together for several days. Gu Yi was the last to arrive.

“Teacher Gu!”

“Gu Yi!”

Gu Yi greeted them with his usual warm smile. But just as he opened the door, a blur of black fur zipped past like a cyclone, leaving only a chubby backside in its wake.

Ke Rua had definitely gotten fatter.

“We should rename Ke Rua to Tanuki Tornado. Black Tornado Tanuki.”

^[1]T/N: Tanuki Tornado – the only thing I could find as a reference is a Tanuki creature in the game Monster Sanctuary which uses the Tornado skill that deals wind and magical damage to enemies

“What exactly is Yuan-ge feeding this cat?”

The moment Gu Yi spoke, the members of CROWN exchanged a series of complex looks.

“We’re not exactly sure what he’s feeding it, but…” He Zhao pulled a book off the shelf. “We found this after we came back.”

The book’s title: Healthy Piglet Rearing Techniques.

Gu Yi: “There’s a reproductive barrier between cats and pigs… right?”

“There should be.”

In any case, whenever Ke Rua zoomed around like a black blur, it took real effort to catch him.

He Zhao returned the book to the shelf. Gu Yi noticed he didn’t place it back with the vinyl records where it had been originally. Instead, he slipped it among Gu Yi’s chemistry books.

Gu Yi glanced at him. He Zhao smiled innocently… and didn’t budge.

Gu Yi moved the book again. He Zhao shoved it right back.

“I feel like I’ve just been provoked,” Gu Yi muttered.

But when it came to banning chemistry knowledge, He Zhao and the rest of CROWN had long formed a silent alliance.

---

After regrouping, CROWN’s first gala invitation came from Deep Blue TV.

Though Deep Blue didn’t have the online buzz of Qingning TV, it was still a highly respected veteran network, especially renowned for its event stages.

“I’m kinda nervous,” Yang Ting admitted, taking a deep breath backstage. “It’s been a while since I was last on stage.”

“Channel your courage from Africa,” Liu Junyuan joked. “I still have those selfies you sent me.”

Yang Ting replied solemnly, “I merely rescued a young man from peril. No need to thank me.”

Then he looked at Gu Yi. “Teacher Gu, you alright?”

Both CROWN and VIC Group were set to perform at this gala.

Naturally, VIC would be represented by members of Team A. After CROWN confirmed their attendance, Liu Wei even approached Gu Yi to ask if he could make a brief appearance on behalf of VIC.

“The performance schedules don’t overlap.”

“I haven’t rehearsed with VIC. If I go on stage, it’ll affect the overall performance.”

“That’s fine. As long as you’re willing to show up, we can work everything else out.”

As soon as Liu Wei said that, Gu Yi gave her a long, deep look.

That one glance left her momentarily stunned.

She’d worked with young idols for years. The more famous they were, the more temperamental they got. Even someone like Tong Shu—who had a warm, boy-next-door image in VIC—had an entirely different persona behind the scenes, and she knew it.

But Gu Yi was different.

He’d always been gentle, never once throwing his weight around no matter how popular he got. With Liu Wei, he was consistently polite and respectful.

Yet in this moment, without saying a word or showing any outward anger, he made it crystal clear—he was upset.

And before that look, any explanation Liu Wei had prepared got stuck in her throat.

Gu Yi’s eyes were full of knowing.

He understood exactly what she was trying to do—he just didn’t bother calling her out.

She had wanted to use Gu Yi to bring more attention to VIC Group.

Gu Yi was usually easy to talk to. The new Team A lineup didn’t include Zhu Yu, and no one had offended Gu Yi personally. By all accounts, he should’ve agreed.

Liu Wei had even thought about negotiating a higher appearance fee for him if he was willing.

But Gu Yi had refused.

And Liu Wei passed that refusal on to Team A.

“I told you,” one of them scoffed, “he’s way too famous now. Why would he care about a small outfit like ours?”

“Liu-jie, even if Gu Yi’s film contracts are under Director Sun’s studio, he’s still a member of VIC, right? Is it really okay for him to skip the gala?”

For the members of Team A, this was their first time appearing in Deep Blue’s New Year’s Gala. When Liu Wei suggested inviting Gu Yi, none of them objected.

They all knew how much more recognition Gu Yi had with the general public. Sharing the stage with him—getting even a second of screen time together—would boost them far more than months of effort on their own.

But Gu Yi had turned them down without hesitation.

Li Zhiyuan and the others, who had once felt slightly guilty for ranking higher than Gu Yi in the popularity poll, now secretly gloated. So what if Gu Yi was more popular outside? The moment he returned to VIC, they still had the upper hand.

“If he hadn’t lucked out getting into Battle of the Stars, he’d still be stuck in Team J.”

VIC’s hierarchy was rigid. Members of Team A were used to acting humble in the wider entertainment industry, but back within the group, they inevitably grew arrogant—those ranked lower didn’t even register to them.

Back when news broke that Gu Yi had collapsed, they didn’t spare him a glance. In fact, they thought he’d embarrassed VIC.

And now, with Gu Yi suddenly towering over them, it left a bitter taste in their mouths.

“I don’t think we need to include Gu Yi,” one said. “He’s not that much better than us.”

“Yeah, I agree.”

Their grumbling continued until a line of text flashed across the TV screen:

CROWN—Up Next

“Let’s see just how amazing Gu Yi thinks he is,” someone said with a sneer, their lips curling in derision.

One minute later: “They’ve got professional mentors. We really can’t compare with Jiangshi TV’s resources.”

Three minutes later: silence.

The entire dressing room went dead quiet.

CROWN performed two songs that night—Summer Bloom and Reckless.

Summer Bloom was the pinnacle of musical artistry, capturing the moment a flower embraced its final blaze of glory. Even in the dead of winter, its brilliance burned through the screen and struck straight into the heart.

Even if VIC Group trained for another ten years, they still wouldn’t be able to deliver a performance like Summer Bloom.

In the camera’s lens, Gu Yi was like a source of light—completely different from the restrained figure seen during VIC’s popularity poll.

Back then, Gu Yi was quiet and low-key, with only a slightly above-average face.

But now, he radiated every ounce of his charm to the audience. Nothing could dim his brilliance.

Reckless was a rock track. Where Summer Bloom was a silent explosion, Reckless was unrestrained release—raw power, sweat, and wild ecstasy. Though CROWN’s styling wasn’t edgy or rebellious, their voices and emotions were—screaming through the song with unfiltered energy.

The same Team A members who were just itching to “see what Gu Yi’s got” had completely shut up.

They might lack the skills themselves, but they weren’t blind.

Their own upcoming performance on Deep Blue’s stage? No promises it would go smoothly. They hadn’t trained nearly enough.

And if things went wrong, he already had an excuse lined up: “Team A hasn’t reunited in a while. The chemistry’s not there yet.”

But from what he’d heard, CROWN hadn’t performed together in months either.

Which meant… this stage with Deep Blue was their first after regrouping.