Yang Laoliu Has an Idea to Stir Up Trouble

Yang Laoliu had an uncontrollable urge to stir up some trouble.

Watching the group of girls, she resisted the impulse to pull out her phone.

But before she could do anything, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cao Cheng already taking out his phone—snapping pictures.

He was filming the procession of waitresses carrying dishes into the room.

And also capturing the nine of them.

How could Yang Laoliu hold back now? If the boss was taking photos, and she didn’t, wouldn’t that be disrespectful?

Right?

So, stealthily, she fished out her phone and started snapping away too.

Besides, it was just a few photos—she wasn’t planning to actually post them for fans to see. No need for that.

She’d keep them for herself, maybe show them off to her family later.

Yang Laoliu had another thought.

Who knew? These waitresses might just end up debuting someday because of their looks.

You never could tell with these things.

If one of them actually made it big,

she, as a senior in the company, would have some leverage—something to brag about. Maybe even gain a little follower.

How nice would that be?

...

Amid the bustle of dishes being served,

the table was soon covered in culinary masterpieces—works of art, really. The kind with artistic value so high it could reach three or four stories.

The girls were practically drooling.

Especially since, with just a glance, each could spot a favorite hometown dish.

With a casual wave, Cao Cheng gave the signal: Dig in!

As he took his seat at the head of the table, the nine girls settled in around him.

Following the usual pecking order, to his left was the leader, Ye Lan, to his right was the second eldest, Shen Yi, then third sister Xia Zhi, and so on...

Once everyone was seated,

Cao Cheng reached out toward Yang Laoliu. "Let me see the photos you took."

Yang Laoliu’s expression froze for a second before she forced a smile, handing over her phone.

"Password?"

"980731."

Ding—

Unlocked.

Cao Cheng scrolled through the photos and videos.

Honestly, her photography skills were mediocre—nowhere near his level.

He shook his head. "Not great. The angles are off. Add me later—I’ll send you my videos. You can post them online if you want."

"Really? I can post them?" Yang Laoliu blinked.

"Why not?" Cao Cheng chuckled. "Our company’s pretty relaxed. It’s just dinner—I’m posting mine too."

"Alright, sit down. Pour yourself a drink—or juice if you can’t handle alcohol."

"Let’s eat!"

At his words, the girls raised their chopsticks.

But their movements were slow, deliberate—no one took the first bite.

They were waiting for Cao Cheng.

He knew it, so he casually picked up a piece of food—

And with that, the meal officially began.

Glasses clinked. Most of the girls had poured themselves red wine, though a few opted for something stronger.

Between bites and sips, the atmosphere loosened, conversations flowing more freely.

Cao Cheng steered the talk, asking about their year—any hardships or funny moments. That opened the floodgates.

Plenty of amusing stories.

And a few frustrations too.

Like dealing with antis.

Not everyone liked them, after all. While the hate wasn’t overwhelming and their public image was decent, some of the vitriol online was genuinely infuriating.

Luckily, with so many sisters around, they could console each other—or even log into burner accounts to clap back.

But with solo activities coming up, they’d have to face things alone.

...

Several rounds in,

the chatter was lively.

Beside him, Ye Lan, who’d had quite a bit to drink, suddenly spoke up. "Young Master."

"Hm?" Cao Cheng glanced at her.

Her cheeks were flushed, adding a tipsy charm to her beauty. "Young Master, after we all go our separate ways… who do you think will have the biggest fanbase? Who’ll do the best?"

The question hung in the air.

Chopsticks paused. Voices stilled. All eyes turned to Cao Cheng.

He smirked, scanning the table. "Want to know?"

Nine eager nods.

Some out of curiosity.

Others—not so much.

There were plenty of sharp minds here.

Especially Ye Lan.

Asking this under the influence? A little calculated.

That was her brilliance.

Seemingly casual,

but once Cao Cheng named someone, it would carry weight.

If the boss said you’d do well, even if you didn’t, he’d probably throw more resources your way just to save face.

Take Lin Zhi, for example.

The first one he’d ever promoted—the golden girl among the Twelve Golden Flowers. The ultimate big sister.

Even as just a variety star, she had endorsements and opportunities pouring in.

Ye Lan knew she couldn’t match Lin Zhi’s standing in Cao Cheng’s heart, but… maybe she could be second best.

A little extra favor would do.

In short—

She was vying for favor.

...

Cao Cheng gave her a sidelong look.

Ye Lan’s face was rosy, her eyes bright with tipsy anticipation.

Under the weight of their collective gaze, he took a moment before answering. "I think… Yang Laoliu won’t do too badly."

"Me?!" Yang Laoliu pointed at herself, stunned.

She’d considered every possibility—except this one.

She knew her limits. Couldn’t sing, danced like a stiff board, and acting? Forget it. Fans often joked that her only asset was her face.

And sure, it was a nice face—pleasant to look at.

But also thick-skinned.

Her biggest claim to fame was sheer luck, earning her the nickname "Lucky Fish." People literally prayed to her.

Like during this year’s college entrance exams.

They’d been on tour, but right before the tests, a trend exploded online. Middle schoolers, high schoolers—even regular exam-takers—flooded group chats with memes of Yang Laoliu, hands clasped, bathed in holy light.

She’d become a meme.

Or a few months back.

When Hello Mr. Billionaire hit theaters, raking in three billion at the box office,

the nine of them had cameoed and even sang an insert song—Burn My Calories.

No one remembered the lyrics except Yang Laoliu’s iconic line: Burn my calories!

Some things just defied logic.

Eight of them had trained for years—two and a half, to be exact—only for Yang Laoliu’s awkward dancing to steal the spotlight.

...

Cao Cheng’s words hung in the air.

All eyes shifted to Yang Laoliu.

Some envious.

Some resentful.

Others resigned.

Bitter smiles all around.

Eight different reactions, but deep down, the sentiment was the same: Why her? What’s she got that we don’t?

They knew Yang Laoliu was lucky.

But knowing didn’t make it easier to swallow.

That kind of resentment didn’t just fade away.