You should be content, Lao Si. A man like me is hard to find.

This show has become the most sensational variety program of the year.

It has official endorsements.

And not just from one region—endorsements from all over.

This is all thanks to Cao Cheng's influence.

As the richest man, he has significant collaborations and investments everywhere.

Moreover,

the show initially grabbed attention with its beauty pageant theme but gradually shifted toward inspiration and positivity, which made it even more appealing to domestic authorities.

The program also subtly manipulates its fans.

It sends a message: The idols you adore are already this beautiful, this fit, and this talented, yet they still train and improve relentlessly every day. Meanwhile, you’re sitting there munching on chips, guzzling soda, and ballooning into a pig.

Do you even deserve to stan such idols?

Of course,

the wording isn’t that blunt, but the implication is clear.

...

Later,

the elimination rounds began.

Cao Cheng pulled out his trump card.

He prepared a stash of original music—hundreds of chart-topping hits, the kind that could light up the stage in seconds.

He also collected various "treasure chests" and managed to extract some tracks from South Korea, Japan, and other smaller countries.

Each had its own style and flair.

All original.

Every single one worthy of being a hit.

This added a layer of depth to the show.

Once the elimination rounds kicked off, the tension and excitement were already sky-high.

Now, with this arsenal of bangers,

the impact was immediate.

Almost as soon as the episodes aired, these original dance tracks and songs became the soundtrack of streets and alleys in every country.

And the audience grew even more hooked.

Ad revenue for the show multiplied several times over.

With viewership numbers this staggering, advertisers had no choice but to pay up.

...

...

"You cheated," The Fourth grumbled, glaring at Cao Cheng.

Cao Cheng looked up from his laptop and smirked. "A bet’s a bet."

"Hmph."

The Fourth muttered under her breath, her words too garbled to make out, but they definitely weren’t compliments.

Understandable.

She’d been on the verge of winning the wager.

She could’ve played Zhao Min and gotten three chances to order Cao Cheng around—to do anything she wanted.

But then this season of "Produce 101" skyrocketed the fame of the Twelve Golden Flowers.

Even though the show wasn’t over yet, anyone could see the dominance of the Eight Golden Flowers.

Each of them was already a powerhouse.

Looks? Check.

Bodies? Check.

Sense of humor? Not lacking.

Plus, they had Miracle Media backing them.

And with Lin Zhi, Wang Yue, and the other four Golden Flowers setting the precedent,

it was easy to predict how insanely popular the Eight Golden Flowers would be after the show.

Hell, even now, brands were already reaching out to Miracle Media, hoping to sign the Eight—or even all Twelve—Golden Flowers for endorsements.

The offers were astronomical.

On par with A-list celebrities.

Moreover,

given their current trajectory, the Eight Golden Flowers were practically guaranteed to become top-tier idols after the show.

In the idol world, it’s all about the money.

If brands are willing to pay for you,

and fans are willing to buy what you endorse,

you’re basically already A-list.

So,

in other words, Cao Cheng had basically won.

The bet had been about becoming A-list—it never specified whether as actors or singers...

And Cao Cheng had exploited that loophole, turning them into A-list idols!

"Alright, alright."

Cao Cheng reached out and pulled her onto his lap.

He grinned. "I’ll admit I cheated this time. You win. Three favors—anything legal, I’ll do. Deal?"

The Fourth scoffed. "A win’s a win, a loss’s a loss. I don’t need you to hand me anything. I’ll just beat you next time—no freebies."

Hearing that,

Cao Cheng looked at her with newfound respect.

"Damn, Sister Xiang. You’re actually this honorable?"

"Pfft. Cut the sarcasm. I, Ren Yuege, win with grace and lose with dignity."

Cao Cheng nodded. True, The Fourth was usually brash, occasionally a little scheming or mischievous.

But...

she always kept her word.

If he let her win, it’d actually be an insult.

Cao Cheng straightened up. "I take back what I said earlier. I won this round, and I shouldn’t have doubted Sister Xiang’s integrity."

"Hmph!" Ren Yuege lifted her chin haughtily.

Then, Cao Cheng leaned in.

Ren Yuege shoved his face away, scowling. "What do you think you’re doing?"

Cao Cheng blinked. "Uh, you lost, right? I’m claiming my prize. Remember? A little peck, plus you gotta call me ‘good brother.’"

"..."

Ren Yuege’s face burned.

Holy crap.

Why had she agreed to such a bet?

It had seemed like a sure thing—after all, how easy is it to hit A-list?

And back when they’d made the wager, there were barely any A-list idols.

Who knew they’d become a dime a dozen after a few years?

Nowadays, anyone with a pulse could become a temporary A-lister through a survival show.

Looking back, she’d totally fallen for his trap.

Ren Yuege muttered, "No. It’s not over yet. Sure, they’re pretty much guaranteed to hit A-list, but what if something happens? There’s still three months left."

Cao Cheng whined, "Come on, why drag it out? Just pay up now, and we can move on to the next bet."

"Nope. We wait till it’s official. What if I win?"

"If you win... you can peck me back. I won’t stiff you."

"Get lost. You think I’m stupid?"

The Fourth snorted.

The two of them lounged around the office.

Unlike at home, there weren’t many people around.

No one usually came knocking.

So even though they bickered, neither made a move to leave.

They chatted about nothing in particular while watching the show on the laptop.

Honestly,

the money was well spent. This season’s production team, directors, and editors were the best in Asia.

And not just from one country—

a multinational collaboration.

Every episode had behind-the-scenes footage, and there were multiple versions.

Because some jokes or references only resonated with local audiences.

So,

while post-production was a headache—requiring different edits for different regions—the sheer size of the team handled it effortlessly.

The result? Every version was a hit.

Fans who caught wind of this design even sought out foreign versions to spot the differences.

It was all about novelty.

And it sparked discussions and shares,

bridging gaps between countries.

...

Watching the Eight Golden Flowers on screen, The Fourth mumbled, "These girls are smart. They know sticking close to the Eight means more screen time. Look at them..."

On the laptop, whether during breaks, training, or asking for help, contestants clung to the Eight Golden Flowers.

All clever moves.

And clearly coached by their agencies—

probably along the lines of: If you can’t get good screen time yourself, buddy up with someone who can.

This is perfectly normal.

Just like that bold and fearless big sister who emerged later—whenever the camera focused on her, she’d always have a group of attendants hovering around her in awe.

On the surface, it seemed like respect for the big sister, but in reality, it was all for the camera.

If you had screen time, you were the big sister.

No screen time? You were nothing.

Cao Cheng smiled faintly but didn’t indulge her words.

The Fourth, seeing the smug look on this brat’s face, snorted, "Do you really think you’ve won? Let me tell you, people always stumble right before dawn breaks."

Cao Cheng chuckled, "What kind of metaphor is that? And when was I ever smug? I’m just an honest, simple guy. Don’t go making things up."

The Fourth pouted and kicked her bare foot,

knocking Cao Cheng’s hand away. "Honest and simple? More like a dirty old man!"

"I was just helping you relax. Didn’t you say your feet were sore from walking in heels all day? I was giving you a proper massage, and now I’m the bad guy?"

"And besides…"

"Who’s a dirty old man? Don’t slander me—I’m not old at all!"

"…"

The Fourth laughed in exasperation and swatted him. "I’ve never met anyone as shameless as you. Let me tell you, if it weren’t for…"

She stopped mid-sentence.

The words went unspoken.

Cao Cheng, feigning innocence, pressed, "If it weren’t for what?"

"None of your business!" The Fourth turned her head away, staring at her laptop, but her delicate earlobes flushed bright red.

She had almost blurted it out.

If it weren’t for liking him, why would she allow this?

There was no helping it.

She’d thought about how this kind of contact wasn’t right.

But some things just had a way of shifting emotions drastically.

Like with Third Sister…

She knew about Third Sister’s situation.

Maybe it was because of their cultivation, but she and Third Sister had developed a kind of psychic connection.

Or maybe it was because their names were now in the family registry.

Whatever the case…

When Third Sister was overjoyed, she could feel it.

Not exactly empathy, but a clear awareness.

Especially during that time when she visited the set…

Good grief.

The sensation had been way too intense.

It gave her a whole night of… pleasant dreams!

So,

that earlier phrase—"if it weren’t for liking him"—could also be phrased as "if it weren’t for that."

It was hard for her to change her mindset.

Even so, The Fourth hadn’t made up her mind completely.

Being clingy in daily life was one thing, but breaking that final barrier was out of the question.

She hadn’t resolved herself yet.

Cao Cheng seemed to understand, too, so he never pushed for more.

…

The Fourth quickly changed the subject. "By the end of this show, you’re not actually planning to debut all eight of the Golden Hairpins, are you?"

Cao Cheng nodded. "Depends, but if nothing goes wrong, yeah."

The Fourth rolled her eyes. "Won’t that look too greedy? There are only nine spots total. If the Golden Hairpins take eight, that leaves just one for all the other companies and countries to fight over."

"Why should they get a share?"

Cao Cheng shook his head with a smile.

This variety show was different from the one in his dreams.

Even the contracts weren’t the same.

Sure, it was billed as a debut group,

but after the show ended, there was no obligation to actually form a team—that was just fan service.

In reality, everyone would still pursue solo careers.

So,

the whole "debut group" thing wasn’t even written into the contracts.

In other words…

Cao Cheng didn’t need to worry about it.

Given how explosively popular the show was, he figured most companies would eventually come begging, asking him to lower their trainees’ rankings.

Because those companies needed the girls back to make money for them.

If they debuted as a group, Cao Cheng would take the lion’s share of the profits.

So,

from the very start, he’d left a loophole in the contracts.

A deliberate escape route for these companies.

When they came knocking, they’d have to show sincerity—otherwise, Cao Cheng would happily send their trainees straight to debut.

In other words,

they’d beg him to lower their rankings, offer him benefits, and in the end, everyone would be thrilled to see all eight Golden Hairpins debut together.

A triple win.

Of course, Cao Cheng wouldn’t say this out loud—it’d make him look like a scoundrel.

So he didn’t explain further, just kept massaging The Fourth’s bare feet.

She really was exhausted.

Running around all day like this.

At least she had Cao Cheng to pamper her.

Sigh.

A man like him? Hard to come by.