Poaching Talent, the Young Girl Was Deeply Moved

It’s rare to run into familiar faces in the industry.

At the very least, these two in front of me look familiar.

Many stars from the dream of a hundred years don’t exist in Blue Star.

And vice versa.

Blue Star also has plenty who don’t appear in the dream.

There are always subtle differences and changes.

For instance, the hottest celebrity, "Big Mimi," isn’t even a name anyone here has heard of.

But these two not only exist—their life stories align almost exactly with what I knew from the dream.

Take Little Chensheng, for example. He’s currently entangled in lawsuits and won’t reach a settlement until three years later, finally putting an end to his contract disputes.

As for Little Hanyun…

This cute, round-faced girl is now in a period of confusion, with no school to attend.

On top of that, her agency is struggling financially, nearly pushing her out of the industry altogether.

Of course,

she also has a swarm of anti-fans. Leaked inappropriate photos have earned her the cruel nickname—Public Bus.

What a vicious level of malice!

…

The two of them were visibly nervous when they met Young Master Cao.

Cao Cheng’s status and wealth were things they could never hope to reach in their lifetime—something they wouldn’t even dare imagine.

Even though Cao Cheng acted warmly, his sheer presence kept them tense, their muscles stiff.

It wasn’t until the conversation turned to casual topics, with Cao Cheng asking about their lives, that they gradually relaxed.

Cao Cheng looked at Little Chensheng. "Make your comeback on The Voice stage!"

"That’s my advice to you."

"Put the past behind you. From now on, focus solely on music—making good music, the kind you love."

"If that’s who you are, I’ll support you."

"But if this is just a label you wear for the public, I’ll still support you. It’s about what you want."

He gestured around. "Miracle Media isn’t short on money, and we don’t exploit our artists. Everyone’s here to make a living happily—it’s just a matter of how much."

"I see great potential in your future. In our music division, you could be a pillar. But it depends on whether you have the drive."

"If you don’t fight for it, you’ll still get what you deserve—but you won’t be the top star."

"The top spot is earned. Even in a company with a good atmosphere, the entertainment industry is cutthroat. If you don’t compete, some opportunities will slip away because other agencies will fight for them."

"So,"

"our agency’s top star has to be someone with skill and ambition. Otherwise, they’ll lose to outsiders."

"…"

Cao Cheng laid everything out plainly. Little Chensheng was grateful and opened up in return.

Finally, Cao Cheng called in Sister Ali.

She brought a contract.

Little Chensheng, wary from past experiences, scrutinized it carefully.

Then his eyes widened in shock as he looked at Cao Cheng.

The disbelief in his gaze was unmistakable.

And the surge of positive emotions? Immense.

Celebrities with massive fanbases really do generate a lot of emotional energy.

"What’s wrong? Don’t trust your eyes? Or the contract?" Cao Cheng asked.

Little Chensheng shook his head. "I—I just can’t believe it. I’m still just a rookie."

"I told you—I believe in your future. So I’m giving you the best deal possible. I doubt any agency, anywhere, would offer terms this generous." Cao Cheng smirked.

Beside them, the young girl Han Yun was burning with curiosity, craning her neck to peek at the contract—but she couldn’t see.

Still, her heart swelled with hope.

This was her first time meeting Young Master Cao, but he didn’t match the volatile reputation she’d heard. Instead, he felt like an impossibly handsome older brother next door.

It was a nice feeling.

Little Chensheng grabbed a pen and signed without hesitation.

Cao Cheng clarified, "This is just a preliminary agreement. It’s not official yet—you’re still under contract elsewhere."

Little Chensheng nodded. "I understand. I’ll handle this quickly."

Cao Cheng shook his head. "You won’t handle it. Tianyu and Hunan TV won’t let you go easily. Leave it to our legal team. They’ll negotiate. If talks fail, we’ll push for a forced termination. Worst case, we pay the penalty—but you’ll cover it. I’m just spending your money to solve your problem."

"Your family isn’t poor, but if you’re short on cash now, I can lend it to you. You’ll pay me back later."

"I understand. Thank you, Boss Cao."

"Call me ge."

"…Brother Cao."

Technically, Young Master Cao was younger, but the title wasn’t about age.

It was respect.

"Go with Sister Ali to handle the paperwork. Then head to Legal—tell them what you want, and they’ll take over."

"Thank you, ge." Little Chensheng stood and bowed deeply.

Truthfully,

the contract had minimal restrictions and an unusually high profit share.

Cao Cheng wasn’t after pocket change.

Compared to squeezing out every penny, he’d rather harvest Little Chensheng’s emotional energy.

Plus, there was another layer to this.

Once the contract went public, other music agencies would lose their minds.

What the hell?!

You’re setting the bar like this? How are we supposed to manage our artists now?

Aren’t you supposed to be ‘capital’?

Who do you think you are—a philanthropist?

Is this Chen kid your secret love child or something?

Your last name is Cao, damn it!

Holy sh—

…

Soon, the office held only one pitifully nervous girl.

Cao Cheng smiled.

Little Hanyun blurted, "Ge!"

See?

She’s sharp.

No wonder she’d make a comeback later…

But right now, why was she drowning in hate?

Probably too young to navigate the industry.

She needed guidance.

Cao Cheng chuckled. "You’re not signed yet. No need to rush the title. Your situation’s different from Little Chensheng’s. His talent speaks for itself—he doesn’t need much nurturing. But you?"

The girl’s head drooped.

Insecurity weighed on her.

No education. No vocal training. No figure.

Nothing like the "alluring" version of her future self.

Right now? Just a chubby, round-faced girl next door.

Twenty years old.

Cao Cheng frowned, laying on the tough love. "This attitude won’t fly. You know our company’s style—you’ve seen how we operate publicly."

"Head up."

"Chest out."

Hmm.

Not much there.

Seeing her eyes well up, Cao Cheng sighed. "You cry this easily? Is it an act, or are you really this sensitive?"

"Sorry!" She ducked her head again.

Tears pattered down.

This was the moment…

Where a protagonist would hand her tissues—maybe even pin her against a wall, solving everything with one move.

But alas—

Cao Cheng didn’t budge.

Zero protagonist instincts.

Only when her sobs quieted did he continue.

"So your path is different from Little Chensheng’s. But ultimately, it’s your choice. Our company is a family—and as the boss, I’m the head of it."

"You’re all just kids to me."

"I can scold you. Tease you. But no one else gets to."

"…Uh—"

"I mean, everything I say is for your own good, cough."

"As for how you choose, it's up to you—whether to pursue further studies or continue down the path of being a small-time idol in the entertainment industry."

"But I can give you advice..."

He spent over half an hour subtly manipulating her.

Done!

The young girl finally saw the contract.

Now she understood why Little Chensheng had been so incredulous earlier.

In the entertainment industry, this was practically charity.

Like running a free clinic.

The girl was a little scared.

Her previous agency had actually been decent, treating her well, especially her manager.

But precisely because they were too generous, they ended up bankrupt.

Of course, there were other minor issues too.

They just didn’t know how to run a business—the boss got a bit carried away.

Holding the contract nervously, the girl asked, "Won’t the company lose money like this? How will the management team get paid? The company relies on artists to make money, but if the artists take this much, how will the company survive?"

"??"

Cao Cheng was speechless.

This train of thought…

But after a moment’s reflection, he roughly understood her perspective.

This girl still had a good heart.

And honestly, her concern wasn’t unfounded.

The terms Cao Cheng offered were incredibly favorable for the artist, but they didn’t do much for the company.

Any other agency trying this would be digging its own grave.

But Young Master Cao wasn’t worried.

Not because he was rich, but because every project he invested in was guaranteed to make money.

Scraping pennies off artists was nothing compared to the profits from a single hit show, concert, or film.

One blockbuster a year could send the company’s stock soaring.

So,

the artist contracts were more lenient, with better profit-sharing.

The only exception was ad deals and endorsements—there, the company took its usual cut.

That was where the real money was.

How much could you really make just from singing?

"I told you, the company is one big family, and I’m the head of the household. You’re practically my daughter."

"..." Little Hanyun felt there was something off about that statement, but she couldn’t quite argue.

It was true, wasn’t it?

Cao Cheng continued, "So what’s wrong with my daughter earning a little more? As for whether the family makes money or not, that’s not something you kids need to worry about."

"Besides, I’m not short on cash."

"Now it’s your choice—debut on The Voice, or… further your studies?"

"Studies! I want to go to school," Little Hanyun answered.

"Good!"

Cao Cheng smiled and pulled out his phone. "Hey, Grandma, yeah, there’s this girl here. I want to send her to Beijing—Central Academy of Drama, Beijing Film Academy, or Central Conservatory of Music, whatever works. She’s got talent; she’ll thrive anywhere."

He laid it on thick.

The girl blushed, lowering her head, her heart fluttering.

Was she really that good?

If a fan had said it, she might’ve been a little happy.

But coming from her "parent," especially someone like Young Master Cao—young, wealthy, and ridiculously handsome—it made her overthink.

And feel even more inadequate.

She thought she was utterly ordinary, completely unworthy of someone like him.

Cao Cheng went on, "She’s a known artist, the third-place winner of Super Girl in ’04. We can go through the special admissions channel. She’s a good girl, just needs to fill her head with knowledge first. Later, she can act in films and shows—we can’t have her be one of those uncultured idols, right? She’s got to stand on her own merits. I believe in her."

The girl felt seen.

"Alright, thanks, Grandma. Whatever fees the special admissions require, I’ll cover them through the company. Let her study for at least two or three years, get a proper diploma from Central Academy."

"The company isn’t counting on her to make money right now anyway. The more she learns, the more it’ll benefit her for life."

"..."

The girl was deeply moved, her eyes welling up again.

Emotional overload!