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?"
his freshman year, Su Bai accidentally bound the "Indulgence Tycoon System." 【Sleeping in? Reward: +$1,000】 【Spent $288 at a street barbecue stall? Cashback: +$2,880】 【Dropped $14,396 on in-game skins? Special reward unlocked: A brand-new Porsche Panamera!】 Luxury cars, penthouses, corporate shares, financial empires… College life was all about living freely and doing whatever he pleased! … When the adorably naive academic genius faced family medical bills and financial struggles, Su Bai waved his hand dismissively: "Your future is on me." "Wuwu~ Big Brother is so good to me! I’ll become a scientist to repay you!" When the genius girl got bullied by a shady professor? Su Bai casually dropped a billion-dollar investment, forcing the university to grovel and beg for her return. A company’s funding chain collapsing? Su Bai smirked—cash was the one thing he’d never run out of. Years later, when people traced the rise of the AI prodigy beauty, who was the man behind her success? Not just that—Su Bai also became the tsundere campus belle’s unattainable dream, the contrast senior’s daily necessity, and the beautiful counselor’s emotional anchor…
] This is a dark fantasy-themed dating simulation game. The main gameplay involves containing various monster girls and investigating the truth of a world shrouded in mist alongside your companions. However, due to his love for the dark and bizarre atmosphere, Luo Wei ended up turning a dating game into a detective mystery game. Women? Women only slow down his quickdraw! To Luo Wei, the female leads in the game are more like tools to perfectly clear levels and squeeze out rewards. For Luo Wei, flirting with every girl he meets and then discarding them is standard procedure. Worried about characters losing affection points? No need. With his maxed-out charm stat, Luo Wei is practically a "human incubus." A little psychological manipulation and those points come right back. It's a bit scummy, but the paper cutout heroines in the game won't actually come at him with real cleavers. However... Luo Wei has transmigrated. He's accidentally entered the second playthrough of this game. His past actions have caused all the girls to transform into terrifying yanderes. Due to the game's setting, most of the heroines he once contained are "troubled girls." Obsessive, twisted, mentally unstable, all aggressive yanderes... The type who will kill you if they can't have you... Luo Wei wants to cry but has no tears left. "I really just want to survive..." In short, this is a story of battling wits and engaging in a love-hate relationship with yanderes.
e vast world of cultivation, where he becomes the master of the Heavenly Ruins Sacred Hall, a dying old man with barely a tenth of his former cultivation remaining. He is immediately confronted with a deadly crisis: his subordinates have rebelled, and his protectors are forcing him to abdicate. At the critical moment, the system descends from the heavens: [Ding! The host has been detected facing a life-or-death crisis. The system is now officially activated!] [As a gift, you have received the Supreme Beginner’s Pack and awakened the ultimate cheat: ten thousand years of pure cultivation essence every second!] Yin Tianjue: “Wait… ten thousand years of cultivation every second? That’s six hundred thousand years a minute, and in one day… I can’t even calculate it. Either way, I’m already invincible!” You’re a peerless prodigy rarely seen in ten thousand years? Sorry, I gain ten thousand years of cultivation every second. You’re an undying ancestor who has guarded a sacred land for countless ages? Sorry, I gain ten thousand years of cultivation every second. You’re the strongest chosen one, blessed with heaven-defying destiny? Sorry, I gain ten thousand years of cultivation every second. From this day forth, I have only one thing to say: “I gain ten thousand years of cultivation every second. Now, how exactly are you supposed to deal with that?”
to panic—he has a system. As long as an investment target dies, he can claim a reward. And since he is immortal, the one thing he has plenty of is time. ... Countless years later. “Immortal Emperor of Longevity? I invested in him.” “Supreme Celestial Venerable? I invested in him.” “Undying Empress? I invested in her.” “...” “Heh. Once they’ve all died, even the Heavenly Dao will have to kneel and call me Dad.”
