This girl has no talent at all, just a damn pretty face.

The Fourth knew it very well in her heart.

Gambling was bad.

She had never won before.

But...

This time was different, okay?

Last time, she had been tricked by that little brat Cao Cheng.

This time, it was about big data.

About the fans.

About the votes.

As long as no one cheated, anything was possible.

Besides, her odds of winning were higher this time.

That’s what The Fourth thought.

...

In fact,

The Fourth’s chances did seem better.

Even if you ignored the "little Koreans," the others weren’t bad either. The current ninth-place contestant was also a trainee from China.

The current bet was: the brat versus twenty-one.

The Fourth had twenty-one chances to win.

Even excluding the "Eight Great Guardians," she still had over a dozen.

As long as Yang Chaoyue didn’t make it into the top nine, she would win.

If Yang Chaoyue made it, The Fourth would lose.

The odds were in her favor!

Besides,

Cao Cheng was only relying on his memory.

But many details had changed, and the situation was different now. Whether Yang Chaoyue could debut in the end—even Cao Cheng wasn’t sure.

You could say Cao Cheng just trusted fate more.

This girl had gone from knowing nothing to where she was now. If there wasn’t some predestined fate at work, Cao Cheng wouldn’t believe it.

...

"I’ll take the bet~~" The Fourth snorted.

Cao Cheng felt the timing was right.

They had bet several times already.

Wasn’t it time to go a little deeper?

Suppressing a laugh, Cao Cheng said, "If you win, I’ll grant you three wishes."

"But if I win, you... only have to agree to one thing for me."

"Sure... Huh?"

The Fourth was about to agree immediately but stopped herself, glancing at Cao Cheng. "What thing?"

Cao Cheng shook his head. "Haven’t thought about it yet. I’ll tell you later."

"Think of it now." The Fourth wasn’t falling for that.

She knew exactly what kind of person this little brat was.

Always looking for an advantage, sulking when things didn’t go his way!

With someone like him,

if you didn’t clarify things beforehand, you’d probably get scammed.

Instead of answering, Cao Cheng countered, "Have you thought of your three wishes yet?"

"..." The Fourth’s breath hitched.

She had thought about it before.

Not that she really wanted to imitate Zhao Min or anything—just to bully him a little. Like making him wash her socks, then filming it and posting it online to show everyone she’d won.

Imagine the uproar if a video of a billionaire’s younger brother losing a bet and washing her socks went viral. Her fans would probably set off fireworks in celebration.

But...

That was just a passing thought. She hadn’t decided if she’d actually do it.

With three wishes in hand, she couldn’t waste them all on something like that, right?

So,

The Fourth hadn’t fully made up her mind yet.

...

Seeing her expression, Cao Cheng smirked. "See? You haven’t even figured yours out yet, and you want me to decide mine? You can’t have it both ways. We’re modern women who hold up half the sky—can’t act like spoiled little fairies."

"What’s wrong with ‘little fairies’?" The Fourth shot him a look.

The term had just become popular this year.

And it was purely complimentary.

A genuinely positive term.

It praised girls who wanted to lose weight and focus on self-improvement.

It went viral because of a trending post with a picture captioned: "Remember, you’re a fairy—you live on dew! So stop eating already!!"

A wholesome term.

Motivational, even.

But in the future, it wouldn’t stay that way...

As time passed, it took a weird turn.

A perfectly good term ended up sounding like it belonged to menopausal women.

...

Of course,

The two didn’t dwell on the term for long.

They began a battle of wits.

In the end, the rule remained: nothing illegal or against moral principles.

After that,

Cao Cheng and The Fourth headed to the cafeteria together.

The production team and supervisors were there, eating a special meal.

Once the meal was over,

Cao Cheng prepared to leave.

Before going, he didn’t visit the "Eight Great Beauties"...

Once in the car,

The Fourth suddenly remembered something.

"You bought an entertainment company before—what was it called?" she asked.

"What?" Cao Cheng didn’t catch it at first.

The Fourth didn’t elaborate. Instead, she took out her phone and searched.

Soon, she found it.

The Fourth gasped. "Ye Lan Culture? The one you had Sister Li acquire... was Yang Chaoyue’s company?"

Only then did Cao Cheng realize what she was talking about.

Before the elimination rounds even started, Cao Cheng had arranged for Yang Chaoyue’s situation to be handled.

It was a straightforward acquisition, but it wasn’t merged into Miracle Media.

The deal was kept low-key, with no public announcement.

After all, it was just a minor acquisition in Miracle Media’s portfolio.

No need to make a fuss.

The Fourth had only just connected the dots.

Something had felt off before.

Now she understood.

The Fourth stared at Cao Cheng. "So, from the very beginning, you believed Yang Chaoyue would debut and become popular? That’s why you bought her company outright?"

Cao Cheng grinned. "Bingo!"

The Fourth suddenly felt like she’d been played.

But Cao Cheng shook his head. "It doesn’t matter. I was just casting a wide net. Our bet stands—as long as no one cheats or manipulates the data, anyone could make the top nine."

"That may be true, but I still feel like you tricked me." The Fourth huffed.

"Not at all. You’re overthinking it." Cao Cheng would never admit it.

The Fourth pouted, feeling a little uneasy.

But...

Thinking about it, the acquisition had happened months ago, before the elimination rounds even started.

Back then, Yang Chaoyue hadn’t even gained fan support yet.

Timing-wise, Cao Cheng couldn’t have been scheming about their current bet from that far back.

Realizing this, The Fourth felt slightly more at ease.

She asked, "You thought Yang Chaoyue would debut even back then?"

"No."

Cao Cheng put on a serious face and shook his head, then spouted nonsense: "I just thought the girl was interesting. The way she cried made me want to smack her. And then I realized all our company’s artists are talented—even the ‘Two Western Beauties’ we signed actually have skills."

"That didn’t sit right with me."

"It didn’t align with our company culture either."

"So,"

"When I saw Yang Chaoyue, I knew—this was the girl I needed. Zero talent, just a pretty face."

"Pfft—"

The Fourth gave him a weird look, nearly laughing at that last line.

Who talks about a young girl like that?

But...

It sounded ridiculous,

yet upon reflection, it made sense.

After all, this little brat wasn’t exactly a serious person.

This kind of logic fit his personality perfectly.

And Yang Chaoyue really had no notable skills—just a cute face and a nice figure.

Not stunning, but definitely above average.

She was the type who wasn’t exceptional in any area but had no major flaws either. Overall, a very well-balanced girl.

Plus, her crying face was hilarious, like a little ghost.

What The Fourth didn’t know was that, if things played out like in his dreams, this girl would become an absolute legend.

Most people wouldn’t realize it—they’d just see her as another idol.

But when she went solo, she truly broke out—becoming the only artist to simultaneously top Weibo’s Celebrity Influence List, Baidu Index, and Douyin’s Hot Search. She even ranked sixth on Forbes China Celebrity List during her solo career.

This was straight-up top-tier star power.

Especially when it came to live-streaming sales.

Cao Cheng’s memory was a bit hazy, but he recalled her fanbase surpassing 40 million—or maybe even more—and that was just in the next few years.

Given more time, this girl would earn even more.

Just in those coming years, she’d pull in single-session sales exceeding 100 million yuan…

Her annual income would land her in the 200-million-yuan league.

Compared to her, her former group was practically irrelevant.

During their group days, they were decent—some popularity, plenty of endorsements, albums, and concerts.

But once they disbanded, the gap became glaring.

Without Yang Chaoyue, the others might’ve scraped by just fine.

But with her around? They wanted to die.

"Our group can’t tolerate someone this damn legendary."

...

The most interesting part?

This girl had haters… but also didn’t.

Everyone just wanted to worship her.

To soak up some of that luck.

Plus, she was a traffic magnet—a rare idol with almost no dedicated anti-fans. The few detractors were mostly fans of her ex-teammates.

Now that was fascinating.

Great public appeal.

Someone like this…

Tell me she doesn’t perfectly embody Miracle Media’s corporate ethos?

...

...

In a flash.

The buzz around Ye Lan’s injury was still hot.

The new episode aired, featuring scenes of her injury and Cao Cheng treating her.

At that moment.

Cao Cheng shone brilliantly.

A billionaire CEO personally tending to his artist?

Even the haters couldn’t find a bad word to say.

After the episode dropped, viewership exploded—the highest in six months.

Fans worldwide got a clear look at who "Young Master Cao" really was.

Beyond wealth, youth, and looks… he was warm, skilled in medicine…

...

The finals drew closer.

Held at Hangzhou’s 60,000-seat stadium, online tickets sold out within an hour.

Fans from across the globe snatched them up.

For that moment.

Hangzhou became the entertainment capital.

Crews scrambled to set up equipment, wiring the venue in a frenzy.

Even eliminated contestants returned.

CEOs of major companies showed up in person.

Cao Cheng, of course, was there.

Even provincial leaders attended.

Let’s be real.

This wasn’t just a survival show finale.

It was a massive cultural export.

The traditional Chinese aesthetics—songs, stages, costumes—had international fans obsessed.

So the scale wasn’t just big—it was historic.

Like an Olympic opening ceremony.

Mentors performed.

Fireworks lit the night sky.

Drones staged a luminous spectacle.

A mere survival show finale had all of Asia watching, online and offline, with engagement soaring.

State media covered the grand finale.

On-site ad slots went for astronomical prices.

This one night recouped every investment.

The rest of the industry burned with envy.

They’d expected a girl group competition—not a phenomenon rewriting the hype playbook.

The final nine weren’t the only winners.

Even first-round eliminees had built solid fame.

The difference?

Some girls—and their agencies—capitalized on it, debuting new acts.

Others faded into obscurity, living off past glory.

But one thing was certain…

All 100 contestants benefited.

The higher the rank, the bigger the payoff.

That night.

There were no losers.