Twelve Golden Hairpins aiming for the A-list.
Is it difficult?
Extremely difficult!
As hard as scaling the heavens.
This isn’t just about reputation, nor merely about influence and professional competence.
Consider this: some actors possess top-tier skills, even winning Best Actor awards.
Fans and casual observers alike can’t deny their talent.
Yet, even they might not make it to the A-list.
Take Fu Dalong, for instance—the actor who played Emperor Yang of Sui in this year’s TV series The Sui-Tang Romance.
He debuted at the age of eight.
But even now, let alone in another decade, he still wouldn’t be considered A-list.
The A-list isn’t just about appearances. Professional ability is one thing, but commercial value is another—it’s a comprehensive evaluation.
Commercial value alone is a hurdle many can’t clear.
A-listers must secure at least one or two national endorsements from top-tier brands, if not regional or even global ones.
Especially the ability to drive fan purchases—what’s now called "sales influence."
This is no easy feat.
There are only so many top brands to go around. Every bite you take means less for someone else.
If you want to push all twelve Golden Hairpins to the A-list, you’d essentially have to knock twelve established A-listers off their thrones.
And that’s just the surface. Think of the artists, companies, and capital you’d offend.
...
That said,
given Young Master Cao’s status, the funds at his disposal, and the backing of the Tang family,
he could brute-force their rise by disregarding rules and shamelessly pushing them.
It’s possible.
But how long would such artificially propped-up A-listers last? Would fans tear them apart? Would haters drown them in criticism?
If you lack the merit for the position, heaven will strike you down.
So,
forcing it is out of the question.
Whatever commercial prowess they have must be backed by genuine ability.
The A-list is the embodiment of comprehensive strength.
This is why The Fourth doesn’t believe Young Master Cao can elevate all twelve Golden Hairpins to A-list status within five years.
The more you understand, the more impossible it seems.
But alas…
She doesn’t know Young Master Cao has cheats.
Not just foresight of future trends, but other cheats too.
For example, many things in his hands can be "enlightened."
He used an "Enlightenment Pill" to instantly elevate Lingling to piano virtuoso status—he could just as easily push these twelve’s professional skills to A-list level.
All it takes is a bit more tea, or even a single Enlightenment Pill.
A year from now,
they’ll be completely reborn.
Lin Zhi included—her overall ability is the strongest, excelling in singing, dancing, acting, variety shows…
Cao Cheng’s vision for Lin Zhi is like A'Zhu by Murong Fu’s side: a maid’s body with a young mistress’s destiny.
She’ll bear Cao Cheng’s mark wherever she goes, forever tied to him.
First, Cao Cheng will sharpen their professional skills, then use a flood of works to attract massive fanbases.
Finally, the endorsements will follow.
Step by step, the twelve Golden Hairpins are destined to shine.
This is what The Fourth doesn’t grasp—she still thinks these girls are only good at dancing, with everything else being mediocre.
Only Lin Zhi stands out slightly in overall ability.
So this bet? Cao Cheng has already won.
...
...
June saw several major events online.
Almost all linked to Cao Cheng.
First, Great Detective surpassed a billion views, concluding flawlessly with ratings all above nine.
Second, his new variety show—a parent-child theme—debuted to rave reviews, exploding in online views and TV ratings, also scoring a nine.
Third, Cao Cheng’s market prediction came true: after a steep dive, it rebounded fiercely, cementing his godlike status.
Fourth, mid-month, Cao Cheng gave an interview…
A small one. He was out shopping with The Fourth when recognized, and coincidentally, a street interviewer happened to be nearby. Naturally, they got cornered.
This reporter also knew a bit about Cao Cheng’s past.
Like how he once won a million betting on soccer—no secret, as the news had leaked from the provincial sports lottery center in Sanjiang, making it credible.
So,
during the interview, the reporter asked: "The national team is about to face Thailand at home. Everyone knows you’re knowledgeable and passionate about soccer. Any words for our national team players?"
The reporter was just fishing for a headline to wrap up.
Already drafting titles like:
Tycoon Cao Cheng Praises National Team…
Or Tycoon Cao Cheng Optimistic About National Team…
That sort of thing.
Soccer’s hot.
Cao Cheng’s hotter. Combine the two, and it’s guaranteed traffic.
Plus,
everyone’s optimistic about this match.
China’s ranked 50–60.
Thailand’s over 100.
Double the gap.
And Thailand’s sending second-stringers.
China’s fielding its best, plus they’re the "King of Friendlies"—expect at least a three-goal win.
In short, it’s trending.
But,
shockingly,
Cao Cheng blinked. "The national team has a match? Against who?"
"Thailand!" The reporter was stunned. "You didn’t know? It’s all over the news. Everyone’s watching this friendly."
Cao Cheng looked baffled. "Wait, who even watches the national team anymore?"
"......"
"......"
That offhand remark left everyone speechless.
The reporter froze, then thrilled internally.
The Fourth tugged Cao Cheng’s sleeve.
You can’t just say that!
Even if you think it, don’t voice it.
A nobody could get away with it.
But you?
This’ll alienate an entire industry.
Remember,
many wealthy firms sponsor sports—there’s a whole profit chain involved.
Cao Cheng chuckled. "Sorry, I speak my mind. But honestly, I haven’t followed it. I only watch the World Cup, every four years. Other matches? I’d love to, but no time."
"Anyway, the national team’s playing… who again?"
"Thailand," the reporter answered, stifling laughter and excitement. This was going viral.
"Ah, Thailand! Strong team—at least compared to ours. Here’s my take: if they lose by fewer than five goals, it’s a win for us." Cao Cheng nodded gravely, then pumped a fist. "Go team!"
The interview blew up online that very night.
Emotional outrage poured in.
Players and fans alike were livid.
Sure,
as fans, they could trash the national team—frustration was understandable.
But you? Fine, you’re rich, but are you even a fan?
You know nothing.
Calling Thailand "strong"?
Strong my foot.
Know what "King of Friendlies" means?
Know how prestigious that is?
They tied with France—how’s that for impressive?
Now facing Thailand’s B-team, and you say "don’t lose by too much"?
How shameless.
And utterly disgusting.
...
In short,
it felt like the entire nation was cursing Cao Cheng.
Some people were utterly confused, not even realizing that Young Master Cao was sarcastically mocking the national football team. They simply saw Cao Cheng as a traitor, boosting others' morale while undermining their own.
Isn’t this the behavior of a traitor?
Perhaps some were just stirring the pot.
In any case, Young Master Cao was bombarded with insults for two whole days, raking in an insane amount of emotional engagement—practically striking gold.
As expected.
Human anger is pretty easy to ignite.
On the third day,
when the national team lost 1-5 at home to Thailand’s second-string benchwarmers, the entire world fell silent.
The people cursing Young Master Cao vanished.
Not a single one remained.
It was as if they had all dropped dead overnight.
At the same time, someone—no one knows who—started the apology trend.
A fan left a comment under Cao Cheng’s Weibo post: "I’m sorry. I cursed at you the other day. I admit I was a bit too loud. Only today did I realize you’re a master. If only I’d listened to you and bet a mere hundred on the match, I’d be financially free by now. Wuwuwu…"
One apology led to another.
And then came the bandwagon meme-makers.
What no one expected was this:
The national team lost.
The coach fled overnight.
But the one who ended up trending the most? Cao Cheng.
What a kind soul Cao Cheng was.
He even comforted the haters.
Occasionally, Cao Cheng would reply: "Ah, don’t be sad. Like I said, losing by fewer than five goals doesn’t count as a loss. It’s only 1-5—just four goals. We won."
"Pfft—"
"Damn, I’m dying. I just realized this Cao guy is a savage at sarcasm."
"Hahahaha… This is the most brutal roast of the national team ever."
"Before, so many players publicly called out Young Master Cao, saying he was clueless. Now? They’ve all deleted their posts, shut their mouths, and some even disabled comments."
"Even General Fan spoke up: ‘They’ve lost all shame~~~’"
...
Several major internet dramas this month were all tied to Young Master Cao.
Not only did Cao Cheng rake in hefty emotional engagement, but his fame skyrocketed too.
Those who knew and those who didn’t—all now recognized Cao Cheng as the "God of Gambling."
His mouth might as well have been blessed.
Whatever he said came true.
It was almost like his words held divine power.
And this was hands down the biggest upset of the century.
Just think about it—the news was out: the 1-5 odds had a max payout of 1,000x.
Someone bet eight bucks and won 8,000!
Such odds had never happened in football history.
After being deified in the secondary market, Cao Cheng now ascended to godhood in sports betting too.
By the end of the month,
the buzz was still spreading online. Latecomers to the news were only just hearing about it now.
They were utterly awestruck.
...
July.
The first major event was also tied to Young Master Cao.
"The Voice" Season 5 aired.
Even though the show had been sold off and rebranded under new ownership, the comments section was still flooded with mentions of Miracle Media.
Many longtime fans just wanted to see how this season compared to the past.
The traffic was insane from the get-go.
The moment it aired, the entire internet was talking about it.
Even industry insiders were stunned—how was this show still thriving?
How many years had it been?
And the hype was still this insane?
Unbelievable.
Damn.
Everyone assumed that without Young Master Cao, the show would gradually fade. After all, shouldn’t viewers be tired of it by now?
Even Cao Cheng himself was watching.
Curious to see the outcome.
But the moment the show aired,
Cao Cheng knew it was doomed.
They’d changed the name.
Not "The Voice Season 5."
But "The Voice 2013."
As if a name change could erase Miracle Media’s legacy.
Technically,
this move wasn’t entirely unreasonable.
The name wasn’t completely unrecognizable.
But it was too rushed.
Sometimes, the safer you play it, the worse it gets.
Minor details that don’t need changing? Best leave them alone.
Because fans are hypersensitive.
Tweak one thing, and they’ll feel the entire vibe of the show has shifted—like something’s off everywhere.
On top of that,
three of the four coaches had been replaced.
Rumors had said two would leave, but it turned out to be three… Only Jay Chou was retained at a hefty price.
At least they didn’t hire that hack.
After all, that hack had once publicly attacked Cao Cheng online. Cao Cheng had nearly forgotten, but the internet never does.
Zhejiang TV had to tread carefully.
Without knowing Cao Cheng’s stance, they simply avoided the issue altogether—better safe than sorry.
Even if they weren’t collaborating with Cao Cheng now, that didn’t mean they wanted to make an enemy of him.
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
m back to his original world. In the end, he realized he had overthought things. [Hey, why is Shen Manni, the female lead, acting strange? Shouldn't she be fawning over the male lead at this point?] [Zhou Qiaoqiao, are you sick? Weren't you supposed to break off your engagement today?] [Damn it! An Youyi, please do your job as an undercover agent and sell my information to the protagonist, you idiot!] ... At this moment, Xu Mo himself didn't know that these female leads had already heard his inner thoughts. Then they decided not to play by the rules. Xu Mo: Please respect my profession as the big villain!
grated, and just when he finally managed to get into an elite academy, he discovered that he actually had a system, and the way to earn rewards was extremely ridiculous. So for the sake of rewards, he had no choice but to start acting ridiculous as well. Su Cheng: "It's nothing but system quests after all." But later, what confused Su Cheng was that while he was already quite ridiculous, he never expected those serious characters to gradually become ridiculous too. And the way they looked at him became increasingly strange... (This synopsis doesn't do it justice, please read the full story)
ive and Ruthless] Before his transmigration, Ye Xuan was playing a game called "Severing Emotions to Attain the Dao." The game's core wasn't about leveling up by fighting monsters, but about conquering various "bad women" with wicked personalities and cold, fickle natures. There was only one method to conquer them: stay unwaveringly by their side, then die at a critical moment, driving them to madness after losing the protagonist. The higher their level of regret, the higher the player's score. To dominate the server, Ye Xuan conquered all the bad women. In the early stages, he showered them with boundless tenderness, only to choose to sacrifice himself for them later, making them weep bitterly and drown in regret. Among them were: Xia Lengyue, the unfaithful immortal wife who chased after powerful men and discarded her husband like trash. Ye Qingcheng, the Demonic Venerable of the Joyous Union Sect, who appeared pure and innocent but was, in reality, promiscuous. Wu Lingxiao, the Empress of the Great Xia Dynasty, who lusted after men and loved maintaining a harem. Bai Qiangu of the Endless Demonic Sect: a bloodthirsty mass murderer. However, when the protagonist transmigrated into the game world, he made a horrifying discovery. Eight hundred years had already passed. The bad women he had conquered had now each become deities and revered ancestors. Faced with the endless stream of toxic women coming for him, Ye Xuan could only rely on his god-tier acting skills to carve a path of survival through this world of treacherous women.
