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?"
transmigrates into the world as the sect master of the Heavenly Yan Sect, which is on the verge of being wiped out. He binds a system that grants him cultivation power based on the number of disciples he has: for each disciple, he automatically gains a year's worth of cultivation every single day! Take one disciple: every day he gains 1 year of cultivation power. While others struggle through a year of bitter training, he gets the same just by sleeping through a single night. Take ten disciples: every day he gains 10 years of cultivation power. Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul—he breezes through all bottlenecks without lifting a finger. Take one hundred disciples: every day he gains 100 years of cultivation power. Even a Soul Transformation Venerable before him can’t survive a single blow. Take ten thousand disciples: every day he gains 10,000 years of cultivation power! With a wave of his hand, he topples empires. With a single step, he crushes the sacred grounds of the universe. ... While others fight tooth and nail for secret techniques, Lin Yan casually hands out Nascent Soul-level cultivation manuals as beginner textbooks. While others strain to find talented recruits, Lin Yan opens his doors to anyone—so long as they’re human. In just three short years, the Heavenly Yan Sect went from a backwater sect made up of three crumbling huts to a sacred land that every cultivator under heaven would kill to enter. ... One day, otherworldly demon gods invade, with a million demon soldiers pressing down upon the realm. Lin Yan, yawning, rises from his lounge chair and glances at the system panel: [Current Disciples: 1.28 million] [Daily Cultivation Increase: 1.28 million years] He waves his hand casually, and the countless demon soldiers are reduced to ashes in an instant. “So noisy… interrupting my fishing.”
pression Bureau] Transported to a fantasy world overrun by demons and monsters, Gu Qingfeng becomes a jailer in the Demon Suppression Prison of the Great Yan Dynasty's Demon Suppression Bureau. From this point on, bizarre cases frequently occur in the Demon Suppression Prison, once known as hell on earth and infamous for its gloomy, terrifying atmosphere! Why do the demons and monsters in the prison wail miserably every night? Why has the corpse demon, capable of transforming into various beauties, donned black stockings and switched careers to become a foot massage therapist? Why has the eye demon, expert in soul-snatching and illusions, turned into a VR headset? Why is the fox spirit performing otaku dances? Are all these occurrences a twisted expression of demonic nature, or a descent into moral depravity? After peeling away layer upon layer of mystery, all clues ultimately point to a jailer named Gu Qingfeng. Gu Qingfeng: "Hehehe... My dear demons and monsters, whose card shall we flip today?"
ap a wealthy young lady? Or else I'll be eliminated by the system? Ye Feng, who awakened the Kidnapper System, originally wanted to live a peaceful life but never imagined he would become a kidnapper of young women. However, after some time, he discovered that all the girls the system ordered him to kidnap were far from ordinary. "Big brother Ye Feng~ You've kidnapped my heart, and now you're not allowed to leave me ever again~" "Ye Feng~ You kidnapped me back then, now it's my turn to capture you♡" "Little Feng, you're mine! You can only be mine!" "Ye Feng, none of them deserve you. Only I love you the most♡" ... This is madness, they've all gone mad! Wait, what? Why are all the girls I kidnapped yanderes?!
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
