Hurry Up and Cry for Me

In Old Wang's eyes, this was a golden goose.

It was even more thrilling than making movies.

Sure, films these days easily rake in billions at the box office.

But you have to understand—blockbuster productions require investments of at least hundreds of millions, not to mention over half a year of shooting.

Most importantly, out of those ten billion in box office revenue, theaters take more than half.

Then there’s more to split—5% for the film development fund, 3% for distribution, and all sorts of taxes...

In the end, how much actually ends up in your pocket?

...

Now look at Young Master Cao’s project.

How much was invested?

And how much came from sponsors?

Just take tonight’s stage, for example—they probably spent nothing and still made hundreds of millions.

And that’s not even counting the long-term revenue.

These girls aren’t just girls—they’re pure gold.

The top nine, once they debut, will land major endorsements in no time.

For the first two years after they blow up, they won’t even need much promotion—they’ll effortlessly pull in eight or even nine figures annually.

If you can get a slice of that pie, it’s way more comfortable than the film business.

No worries about losses at all.

Even if the second season isn’t as explosive as the first, it’ll still turn a profit.

And let’s not forget—there’s the boy band too.

Let’s be blunt—pretty girls are nice, but the real money-makers are always the boy bands.

Because there are more female fans.

And with a large female fanbase, you get plenty of... let’s say "enthusiastic supporters" who are incredibly easy to sway.

They’ll buy whatever you tell them to.

The endorsement fees are astronomical.

"Boss Cao, can I really get in on this?" Old Wang couldn’t quite believe it.

Cao Cheng replied, "Of course. You know, the whole point of this project is to cultivate my own 'Twelve Golden Flowers'—after all, Miracle Media doesn’t have any trainees under its wing."

At this, Old Wang nodded in understanding. "That’s true. I’ve never heard of Miracle Media having any trainees. But what about Boss Wang over there?"

Not far away, Wang Haodong seemed to sense the conversation and glanced their way.

Old Wang gave him a polite nod and smile.

Cao Cheng chuckled. "Haodong and I are on good terms, but that’s just personal. I invested in his company—just a small stake, really, to humor him. Besides, he’s just in it for fun. What does he know about the entertainment industry?"

Old Wang laughed.

Fair point.

Wang Haodong was the self-appointed watchdog of the circle.

He’d made plenty of enemies.

So even though he had his own company and decent ties with Miracle Media, hardly anyone gave him any real respect.

Most people would love to see him taken down a peg.

Cao Cheng added, "And right now, this show’s gotten so big that even the Ministry of Culture is keeping an eye on it. The pressure’s no joke."

"No one can hoard all the profits for themselves. We all need to work together, strengthen our soft power—that’s what the higher-ups want to see. If this turns into a monopoly, we’ll all get slapped."

There was a pointed undertone to Cao Cheng’s words.

Old Wang suddenly understood—so that was it.

The show had gotten too big, and even Young Master Cao was feeling the heat.

Or maybe the higher-ups had given him a warning, forcing him to make some concessions.

Realizing this, Old Wang laughed. "Got it. Then I’ll definitely invest. Just make sure to save a spot for me, Boss Cao."

"Absolutely. We’ll discuss the details later."

Just like that, the matter was settled.

Of course, this wasn’t out of Young Master Cao’s kindness.

He knew this kind of show wouldn’t last forever.

Even though he’d deliberately framed it as "positive energy" and a showcase of soft power,

capital is capital—it’s bloodthirsty.

If Cao Cheng didn’t bring them in, they’d just create their own versions.

And if they did, they’d likely end up like the mess in his dreams—pouring milk down the drain, sparking public outrage.

Especially since their vetting would be sloppy, with trainees constantly embroiled in scandals...

The whole thing would turn into a toxic circus.

The Ministry of Culture might just shut it all down, and Cao Cheng would inevitably get dragged into it.

After all, he was the one who started it.

So,

Cao Cheng decided to bring them in. Let them all play together. What he really wanted was the emotional engagement.

As for letting them profit? They’d just get scraps—nothing substantial.

This way, the show’s lifespan could be extended, and he could keep harvesting those emotions for a few more years.

And when the time came, he could just sell the rights to the show... cashing out one last time.

That was Young Master Cao’s real plan.

...

Word spread fast.

The venue was loud, but the VIP section was partitioned, and Cao Cheng’s words were heard clearly by those nearby.

Soon, everyone was buzzing about it, eager to invest.

Cao Cheng sighed and raised a hand to quiet them. "No need to rush. We’ll discuss this later. You all know I’m not the type to hog the pie—I prefer making the pie bigger so everyone gets a slice."

"So,"

"Don’t worry. There’ll be opportunities to collaborate, to invest."

"For now, enjoy the show. Later, I’ll have Sister Li draft the partnership details and invite you all to discuss. Sound good?"

"..."

The crowd immediately erupted in praise.

"Boss Cao is the man!"

"Such generosity!"

"True leadership!"

"Boss Cao is awesome."

Of course, the foreign entertainment company executives were also thrilled. They hadn’t expected Cao Cheng to include them in the game...

Even if the calculations showed that with so many people involved, the profits wouldn’t be huge.

Just being part of this grand event was a victory.

Next year, they could prepare even stronger trainees.

This debut stage was far better than small-scale domestic competitions.

It wasn’t just a platform for the trainees—it was also a massive stage for the behind-the-scenes staff, the lyricists, and the composers.

This year’s preparations had been insufficient.

Everyone had been caught off guard, but next year promised to be even more spectacular.

...

The performances of all twenty-plus contestants came to an end.

The host then took the stage, gathering the contestants on one side of the platform while the other side hurriedly set up the "Stairway to Heaven."

Nine spots on the Stairway to Heaven.

The live audience could see it clearly, and the excitement was palpable.

Tonight, the results would be revealed.

Next came a series of interviews.

Teacher Sa and Teacher He played off each other perfectly, their banter putting the girls at ease as they began answering questions.

At one point, celebrity guests from the front row even came up to offer encouragement.

After a long sequence of events,

the girls all turned their backs to the giant screen.

On it, the rankings kept updating, the vote counts skyrocketing.

...

In the blink of an eye,

the numbers on the screen continued to fluctuate, the contestants’ rankings rising and falling unpredictably.

Some of the girls were locked in fierce competition.

But soon, the screen pixelated—

an attempt to prevent spoilers.

Though it felt somewhat unnecessary.

The top nine had such overwhelming leads that the only real suspense lay between the ninth and tenth spots.

For tenth place to suddenly leap into the top five? Nearly impossible.

Besides,

the live audience had their phones. They could check the real-time updates anytime.

Still, a sense of ceremony had to be maintained.

Teacher Sa announced, "The final ten-minute countdown begins now. After that, notaries from multiple countries will jointly verify the fairness of the votes."

"To prevent system manipulation."

"To prevent malicious vote-buying."

"If any fraud is detected, all fraudulent votes will be deducted, along with punitive deductions from legitimate votes."

Teacher He nodded in agreement. "That’s right. This is a stage for fair competition. All the girls tonight have worked incredibly hard. No matter who ultimately steps onto the Stairway to Heaven, no matter who emerges victorious, every contestant here is already a winner."

“Over thirty notaries from more than ten countries will ensure the integrity of the vote count.”

"Now, in these final minutes, let’s hear from the girls about how they’re feeling..."

Teacher Sa immediately turned the microphone toward the nearest contestant.

The final round of interviews began.

Unlike earlier, this was more of a farewell speech.

Before the final nine were confirmed, each girl shared her thoughts.

Predictably, many echoed similar sentiments.

Some reflected on the past six months of training.

Some expressed gratitude for their fellow contestants.

Some admitted regret over mistakes and wasted time.

And of course, there were the standard thank-yous—to their companies, their managers, their fans...

By the end, many of the girls were in tears.

Whether from emotion or sorrow, it was hard to say.

Once one started crying, the others couldn’t hold back either, comforting each other through sniffles and hugs.

...

Fans in the venue and online shouted, cheered, and typed out messages of support.

Phrases like "You’re the best, no matter what!" and "Even if you don’t debut, you’re still amazing!" flooded the space.

Tonight was all about positivity.

The giant screen displayed a barrage of live comments from viewers worldwide, in all sorts of languages.

"This is incredible."

Cao Cheng narrowed his eyes, watching the screen intently.

He could feel it—the emotional energy was explosive.

This wasn’t just energy; it was an avalanche.

And in an avalanche, no snowflake comes cheap.

So much, so much... emotional value was surging forth.

Just from the 60,000 people in the venue alone—how much was that?

Double the usual.

Plus, many in the audience were locals, doubling it again.

As for out-of-towners? Fewer, but still a substantial number.

And this was being broadcast live across all of Asia.

Cao Cheng was loving it.

...

And this was only the beginning.

As the countdown on the screen reached zero,

the final rankings appeared.

Teacher He and Teacher Sa worked in tandem, lightening the mood with humor and playful banter as they announced the top nine.

Their approach was meant to soften the blow of disappointment.

But it just frustrated Cao Cheng.

"Stop messing around," he grumbled internally.

"Make them cry already."

"Old Sa, my fellow countryman, quit the jokes. Recite some melancholic poetry, get the girls sobbing—then the fans will cry too."

"Hurry up!"

This was no time for laughter or levity.

...

Unfortunately, Old Sa couldn’t hear Cao Cheng’s thoughts.

Thankfully,

in this atmosphere, the girls couldn’t hold back anyway. Anxiety, fear, worry, anticipation—their emotions were too volatile to be suppressed by a few jokes.

Whether it was the girls who made it onto the Nine-Step Celestial Ladder or those who didn’t, tears flowed uncontrollably.

Some were tears of joy.

Some were tears of relief.

As the Eight Golden Flowers debuted together, the audience erupted in gasps of amazement.

Though everyone had guessed this outcome, witnessing it in the moment was still incredibly thrilling.

The cameras, fluent in the language of visuals, immediately panned to the VIP podium.

They captured the executives of the foreign companies.

Contrary to expectations, these executives weren’t angry or displeased.

Instead, they applauded with genuine sincerity.

The giant screen displayed their reactions—each of them raising a thumbs-up to the camera, their smiles still warm and earnest.

They even offered their congratulations to Cao Cheng.

The atmosphere was harmonious and jubilant.

A few skeptical fans, though unhappy and suspecting foul play, found no room to voice their dissent under such circumstances.

Only one spot remained…

The debut of the Eight Golden Flowers was expected, so no one could really argue against it—their talent spoke for itself.

But the final slot was crucial. Would it go to a domestic or international candidate? The stakes were high.

"The last one…"

"Total votes: 130 million! Ranked sixth!"

The Eight Golden Flowers had taken the top three spots, but the rankings weren’t strictly sequential.

The sixth position had been left open, meaning someone had outperformed three of the Golden Flowers.

"Who could it be?"

"Let’s look at the screen…"

"Congratulations!"

"Yang Chaoyue!"

"Me?" Yang Chaoyue was stunned, pointing at herself in disbelief.

The screen showed her dazed expression, utterly shocked.

Her fans were equally astonished.