The internet was suddenly flooded with titles like "Koi Fish," "The Lucky Girl," and "The Chosen One."
Looking back, it made sense.
This village girl—the last hope of her hometown—had somehow, step by step, climbed to the top!
Who would believe it?
But luck was just on her side—what could anyone do about it?
Later, the official show blog posted the voting data for the final lineup debut online.
Beyond the basic numbers, they even included detailed breakdowns of where the votes came from, meticulously categorized by region.
If you had the patience to go through it all, you’d realize that Yang Chaoyue had a massive fanbase.
And it wasn’t just from one place.
Not even just within the country.
At least 30-40% of her support came from all across Asia.
Her reputation wasn’t bad either—just a bit prone to tears.
Most of the comments agreed that Yang Chaoyue was adorable.
Especially in a natural, unpolished way.
Like the girl next door.
Some people just have that innate likability.
There were still a few stubborn haters, but once those glowing photos of Sister Chaoyue surfaced—looking almost divine—even the haters caved.
One even posted "Blessings Received!" under her picture.
And with that, their mindset shifted.
What was there to hate?
This girl really was cute.
And lucky.
Unbelievably lucky.
No real scandals either, aside from the crying.
…
Before anyone knew it, December arrived.
The hype around "Produce 101" still hadn’t died down.
These first few months were the most active for the contestants.
Whether they were in the top nine, other participants, or even those eliminated—everyone was still riding the wave.
Companies were capitalizing on the momentum, pushing their talents into new groups, variety shows, or whatever opportunities they could grab.
Even the "Eight Golden Flowers" and Yang Chaoyue hadn’t had a single day off this entire month.
Every day, they were shuttled around in company cars—either catching up on sleep or rehearsing new songs.
The rest of the time? Rushing to schedules.
Shooting endorsements.
Over a billion yuan worth of deals, all crammed into one month.
Anyone with half a brain knew to strike while the iron was hot, and Cao Cheng understood that too.
Sure, he was the "Chosen One."
At least, he liked to think so.
But he wasn’t above playing the game.
Unlike those other arrogant protagonists who disappeared at their peak, letting their fame fade just to act mysterious.
What was the point of that kind of pretentiousness?
Cao Cheng had read those kinds of stories—where the protagonist vanishes after hitting it big, and the whole world scrambles to find them.
Honestly?
He didn’t see it as cool—just stupid.
…
After a month of nonstop schedules and endorsement shoots, the nine-member group still didn’t get a break.
Even with the Lunar New Year approaching, rest wasn’t an option.
They had to head to Beijing—they’d been invited to perform on the Spring Festival Gala.
That was a far bigger platform than most girl groups ever got.
On top of that, they had to rehearse new songs and choreography.
Mostly to help Yang Chaoyue keep up.
Time was tight, the workload heavy.
Cao Cheng hadn’t even seen them once since the show ended.
That’s how busy they were.
And this grind wouldn’t let up.
Not for a whole year.
They had a tour coming up, after all.
The final episode of the show aired while they were shooting ads, revealing behind-the-scenes moments—their nerves before performances, Yang Chaoyue’s stunned expression when she made the top nine, and the tearful goodbyes as they left the training camp.
Even as they boarded the bus, their faces were full of reluctance as they looked back at the small town they’d called home.
Fans were bawling.
This show really knew how to tug at heartstrings.
…
Before kicking off their Asia-wide tour, the nine made a quick stop to film a cameo.
"Burn the Calories"—Shen Teng’s second movie, where they played insurance salesgirls.
After wrapping the shoot, they were back on the move.
They got two days of "rest," which mostly meant more singing and dancing practice.
But hey, if some people considered karaoke a leisure activity, this counted too, right?
Exactly.
This was their version of downtime.
Then, after those two "restful" days, they boarded a flight overseas.
Capital cities across the continent.
Surrounded by bodyguards.
The moment they arrived, they were met with deafening screams from seas of fans.
The nine were shocked—they hadn’t expected this level of international popularity.
They knew "Produce 101" was big, but not this enduring.
When footage of their reception made it back home, domestic fans were green with envy.
Even casual observers felt a sense of pride.
Finally, a group of stars from their country was making waves abroad.
From that day on, the nine embarked on their 46-stop tour.
Not too many shows, really.
With just one album—twenty songs, plus dance tracks—it was enough.
Especially since they’d invite former contestants from the show to join them at each stop, performing local favorites together.
Twenty-something shows across Asia.
Nearly thirty shows.
The last dozen or so were held domestically.
Every provincial capital had to be covered.
...
And so it went.
"Idol Producer" also kicked off.
This time, it was a boy group, so the name had changed.
The location was different too.
No longer a small town, but the "Big Factory."
By the time "Idol Producer" started, the nine girls were still on their concert tour, which would last at least nine months.
Meanwhile,
preparations for "Produce Camp 2019" were also underway.
Everyone had a year to prepare. This round might not match the hype of the first season, but it was still intense—everyone was scrambling to outdo each other.
It would be hard to replicate the sheer dominance of the "Eight Golden Flowers" from before.
Especially after seeing the popularity of the nine-member group and the money raked in from their tour—who wouldn’t be envious?
Just the concerts alone brought in billions.
Of course,
a similarly dominant figure emerged on the boy group side too.
Coincidentally,
like the "Eight Golden Flowers," he had only trained for two and a half years.
And judging by the boy group’s reception, they were clearly more favored by fans than the girl groups.
Too many female fans.
This guy definitely wasn’t one of Cao Cheng’s people.
But he was under Young Master Wang.
...
Young Master Wang followed Cao Cheng’s lead, feasting nine times a day.
He grew plump and prosperous.
In just a few years, he’d put on a lot of weight.
But success radiated from him.
Before, he just seemed like a nobody—now, he carried an aura, oozing prestige from head to toe.
And he was competent too.
Take the "two and a half years" thing, for example.
Cao Cheng had only casually mentioned it, but Young Master Wang had his steward handle the matter seamlessly.
The guy was sent to the "Bala Bala" company.
Once the "Idol Producer" boy group show aired,
"two and a half years" became a sensation.
And "Bala Bala" blew up too.
...
That year,
Cao Cheng basically coasted.
One day,
Tang Xin came home, had her fill of "public rations," then brought up their son.
"What?"
"Send him to Beijing?"

saw a female celebrity tied up and stuffed in the trunk! Little did he know, countless cameras were aimed at him at this moment - this was a new type of reality show. The first randomly selected passerby was caught in less than an hour. But when Xu Moru was selected, things started to take an unexpected turn. "Damn, this isn't how the script goes. This Xu Moru is too bold, he's not following the rules at all." "Crap, is this guy taking it seriously?" "The female celebrity has been scared to tears!"

u serious?" Chen Feng watched helplessly as his painstakingly trained disciple, fresh off a championship victory, publicly abandoned him. "You had your chance, but you didn’t appreciate it. Now, face the consequences of your choice!" Chen Feng possessed the "Master System," a treasure trove of supreme martial arts techniques, capable of molding ordinary individuals into peerless prodigies. "Legs like yours? A shame not to train in the Crippling Kick." "Ever heard of a palm strike that descends from the heavens?" "Auntie! I see extraordinary bone structure in you—a martial arts prodigy, one in ten thousand." The once-defiant senior disciple, now watching her juniors rise to fame one after another, dominating the internet, was consumed by endless regret.

【Prologue: The Beginning of It All – Use holy water to heal the saintess tainted by demonic energy, then converse with her.】 Shen Nian stared at his older sister sipping yogurt, lost in thought. So you’re telling me my sister is the saintess, and yogurt is the holy water? 【Main Quest 1: Brave Youth, Become an Adventurer! Reward: Rookie Adventurer Title.】 【Side Quest 1: Find the Adorable Kitty! Reward: 1000 Gold Coins.】 Shen Nian: "Wait, I’m a high school senior here—did some guy who got isekai’d accidentally bind his system to me?" Hold on, completing quests gives gold rewards? Titles even boost stats? Is this for real? (A lighthearted, absurd campus comedy—not a revenge power fantasy.)

d intelligence to keep the plot moving, and sometimes even the protagonists are forced into absurdly dumb decisions. Why does the A-list celebrity heroine in urban romance novels ditch the top-tier movie star and become a lovestruck fool for a pockmarked male lead? Why do the leads in historical tragedy novels keep dancing between love and death, only for the blind healer to end up suffering the most? And Gu Wei never expected that after finally landing a villain role to stir up trouble, she’d pick the wrong gender! No choice now—she’ll just have to crush the protagonists as a girl!