Experts are indeed experts... They are so accurate in judging people

The methods these people employed were actually quite old-fashioned.

But sometimes, they worked like a charm.

It was all about public opinion.

As major entertainment companies in their respective countries, they naturally had some tricks up their sleeves when it came to PR.

So,

after this particular day, if you went to Japan, Korea, or even Thailand… and dipped into the local fan communities, you’d notice a gradual increase in "whitewashing" articles.

There were also "experts" and "influencers" making predictions about the final nine members of Produce 101.

It was a clever tactic.

Predictions… essentially prepared fans psychologically in advance.

With expectations set, when the results were finally announced, the backlash would be far less severe. Fans might even feel it was only natural, praising these experts for their foresight—Wow, they really know their stuff!

Naturally, these early predictions began leaning heavily toward the Eight Golden Flowers.

The Eight Golden Flowers were already symbols of talent and beauty.

Honestly, they didn’t even need many experts to whitewash their image—the eight of them had already amassed a legion of organic supporters.

This single show had caused their fanbase to explode across Asia.

So,

in the end, after weeks of relentless PR maneuvering,

the predicted outcome was clear: all Eight Golden Flowers would debut together.

While this sparked some dissatisfaction among fans in certain countries,

the majority simply shrugged and thought, Well, isn’t that how it should be?

The Eight Golden Flowers were exceptional.

Not just in dance.

But also in their aura.

Their looks, their figures.

Even their multilingual skills.

And most importantly, their personalities—utterly magnetic. During training breaks, they’d help others in need.

If someone struggled, they’d step in to guide them.

With traits like these, winning fans was a given.

The devil’s in the details, as they say.

Above all, they hadn’t cheated.

They weren’t some washed-up group pretending to be rookies.

Sure, Produce 101 had a few contestants like that—seasoned performers who outshone the average trainee.

But the Eight Golden Flowers weren’t part of that crowd.

They’d never debuted before.

They weren’t even a pre-existing team.

At most, they’d competed in school events, with their biggest stage being a group dance for the Spring Festival Gala…

Until Cao Cheng handpicked them one by one and formed this unit.

Let’s put it this way:

On the surface, these eight had zero scandals—none in public, none in private.

The worst "dirt" anyone could dig up was envy over Cao Cheng’s harem.

Or jokes like: The joys of being a chaebol—you wouldn’t understand.

But really, who cared about that?

Especially with The Fourth around. Anyone familiar with Miracle Media knew she was the one in charge.

Her presence alone gave fans the impression that Cao Cheng couldn’t possibly mess around freely in the company—would The Fourth ever allow it?

So,

thanks to her, these so-called scandals remained nothing but conspiracy theories, without a shred of concrete evidence.

...

The PR machine kept rolling.

As the show neared its finale, even casual viewers grew curious about the final lineup—let alone the diehard fans.

With such intense scrutiny came endless debates and speculation.

The same was true domestically.

By November, fans were buzzing with questions…

But their focus was different.

Here, the big question was whether the Eight Golden Flowers would debut intact.

Would all eight make the final nine?

Or would one or two fall short?

This was crucial.

It was the difference between a perfect ending and a bittersweet one.

Especially since past eliminations had been based on online votes, and in most rankings, all eight had secured spots in the top nine.

Only once or twice had one or two slipped out.

Gradually,

fueled by the ongoing PR push,

the public’s curiosity shifted from who’s debuting to can the Eight Golden Flowers debut together?

By this point, the outcome was all but set.

As elimination rounds continued,

live audiences and livestream viewers could see the eight’s dominance firsthand.

The performances weren’t pre-recorded anymore.

With fans in the crowd,

every standout moment—or misstep—spread like wildfire through fan communities.

Including raw, unfiltered stage shots.

These "candid photos," taken by fans without any editing or touch-ups,

put every performer’s skills under a microscope.

Different phones, different angles—some shots were downright unflattering,

turning minor flaws into scandalous fodder.

Yet even under this scrutiny…

the Eight Golden Flowers remained flawless.

Now, was Cao Cheng’s PR team working behind the scenes? Undoubtedly.

But a lot of it was organic fan enthusiasm.

All it took was a nudge, and fans would run with the topic, debating endlessly on their own.

And that was exactly what Cao Cheng wanted.

...

Now, with Produce 101 dominating conversations across Asia,

the momentum from domestic fans quickly spread to international communities.

Slowly but surely, it shifted global perceptions.

After over a month of this,

the tide had turned.

The Fourth watched the public opinion shift in real time.

From countries rallying behind their own contestants,

to fans everywhere debating whether the Eight Golden Flowers would debut together.

She had to admit, she was impressed.

"How much did this PR campaign cost you?"

"Nothing."

Cao Cheng smirked. "The overseas companies handled most of it. I just gave it a little push—threw out a few talking points."

"You’re…"

The Fourth was speechless. "You’re downright shady."

The slang was something she’d picked up from Cao Cheng.

She didn’t fully grasp the meaning,

but right now, it perfectly captured how effortlessly he’d manipulated public opinion—without anyone noticing.

Cao Cheng laughed. "This is called strategic operations. The timing, the circumstances, the public sentiment—everything lined up in my favor. It’s my show—why shouldn’t I steer the narrative?"

"Let me tell you, I’ve played fair. Other shows would’ve rigged votes, faked data, even scammed fans into buying milk cartons for votes—until the authorities stepped in. Believe me?"

The Fourth had no rebuttal.

On reflection, he had been relatively fair.

At least based on the data she’d seen, there was no fraud whatsoever.

The Eight Golden Flowers had earned their spots through sheer skill.

These were artists trained from childhood, top-tier talents in dance.

After Cao Cheng took them in, they underwent rigorous training—two and a half years of it!

Just their dancing, stage presence, figures, and looks already outclassed 99% of the competition.

And then Cao Cheng had enhanced them further.

The upgrades to their aura, skin, and features? That was practically cheating.

Not that they were invincible—

but in this season, finding anyone who could rival them was nearly impossible.

Even if there were, there’d only be one or two at most.

Thinking you could find a group to go head-to-head with them? Dream on!

No way around it.

What’s more,

the "Eight Golden Flowers" are only a unit within the context of this show.

For many longtime fans, it’s not just eight—it’s the Twelve Golden Flowers.

Is Lin Zhi popular? Absolutely—The Great Detective!

Is An Ya popular? You bet—Charlotte!

There’s already deep affection for the Twelve Golden Flowers, so when the other eight appeared, the old fans were overjoyed.

That’s the core fanbase.

Love me, love my dog.

Even Cao Cheng’s anti-fans and obsessive "wife fans" were fully supportive.

They might curse at Cao Cheng, trade barbs with the young master, but when it comes to artists under Miracle Media, these fans adore them unconditionally.

It’s like night and day.

An outsider might think they were Miracle Media’s fans, spending all their time roasting Young Master Cao.

Unbelievable!

...

Ring-ring~~~

Just then,

Cao Cheng’s phone buzzed.

He was focused on his laptop, while the phone sat on his desk.

"Get that for me," Cao Cheng said.

The Fourth, sitting nearby, stood and walked to the desk. A glance confirmed it was a call from the show’s production team.

"Hello," The Fourth answered.

"Cao—uh, President Ren?" It was the chief director.

"Speaking. What’s up?" Ren Yuege replied.

The director sounded frantic. "Is—is President Cao there?"

"He is. Is there something I can’t be told?" Ren Yuege chuckled lightly.

"No, no! It’s not that. It’s just... this is big. President Cao needs to be informed, but telling you is the same."

"What happened?" Ren Yuege’s brow furrowed, picking up on the urgency in the director’s voice.

"It’s like this—Ye Lan got injured. The on-site doctor checked her and said... it might affect the final performance."

"..."

Ren Yuege’s expression darkened.

Ye Lan!

One of the Eight Golden Flowers.

When Ren Yuege stayed silent, the director hurriedly laid out the details.

With the final stage approaching,

everyone was pushing hard in rehearsals.

The Eight Golden Flowers seemed like a sure win, but they weren’t slacking off either.

During a dance sequence, there was a part where they had to descend slowly from several meters up, using harnesses.

That’s when it happened.

The harness jammed.

It nearly caused an accident.

Ye Lan, still suspended, was badly shaken. When she landed, she twisted her ankle—tendon damage.

Not a major injury.

Some rest would fix it.

But it would impact the final performance.

...

The thing is,

all eyes are on the Eight Golden Flowers right now.

Losing one, possibly for the finale?

That’s a huge blow to morale.

It might even shift the dynamics of the final nine.

...

Ren Yuege relayed the director’s words to Cao Cheng.

Taking the phone, Cao Cheng remained calm. "Got it. I’ll head over now. Tell her not to move around."

"Understood, President Cao. But... how should we handle the publicity?"

"With so many people around, it’ll be hard to keep quiet," the director sighed.

"Report it as it is. Have the cameras film the injury too. I’ll deal with the rest," Cao Cheng said evenly.

Hearing his tone, the director seemed to relax slightly.