Training ended.
Su Nian sat on the floor, clutching her water bottle and panting heavily.
Sweat dripped from her forehead, hitting the floor and forming a small, dark patch.
Xiao Xi crouched in the corner, watching her.
“Sister Su Nian… you worked so hard today…”
Su Nian didn’t speak.
She just continued to pant.
I leaned against the doorframe, waiting for her breathing to even out.
— 2 minutes and 35 seconds.
“Get up.”
She lifted her head.
“Change your clothes. We’re going out.”
She blinked, stunned for a moment.
“Where to?”
“A Level 3 Agency.”
***
In the car.
Su Nian sat in the back seat, her hair still damp and clinging to her cheeks.
Xiao Xi sat beside her, hugging that pink water bottle.
The street scenery outside the window blurred past.
Su Nian stared out the window in silence.
After a few minutes, she spoke up.
“President.”
“Yeah.”
“What is… a Level 3 Agency?”
I kept my eyes on the road ahead.
“The bottom tier of the regulars.”
She blinked.
“Regulars?”
“Idol agencies are divided into two types,”
I said.
“Unorthodox and regulars.”
“The ones you went to before — Yingshan Ling, Wish Cottage — they were all unorthodox. No official certification, no ratings. They open and close on their own, and nobody regulates them.”
Su Nian thought for a moment.
“What about us?”
“Regular. I just paid the fee.”
She leaned in closer.
“You paid a fee?”
“A security deposit,”
I explained.
“A regular agency has to pay a sum of money upfront to prove they are qualified to operate. Then, they give you 3 years to show potential. If you don’t make it, your license is revoked.”
Silence fell over the car.
She sat back in her seat.
“Then how much time… do we have left?”
“2 years and 11 months.”
After saying that, I reminded her, “But you’re different. You have 41 days left. The deadline.”
Her voice dropped.
“…Oh.”
She knew what I was talking about — her sister, her ‘home.’
Xiao Xi stole a glance at her from the side.
A few more seconds passed.
“Then… what is a Level 3 Agency like?”
“About seventeen idols or so.
A small-to-medium enterprise.
They can survive for a long time, but life isn’t easy there.”
She didn’t ask anything else.
She just went back to staring out the window.
The car pulled up in front of a building.
It was six floors tall, built of dark gray stone.
A metal plate hung by the entrance —
[Morning Star Entertainment: Level 3 Idol Agency]
Su Nian stood at the entrance, looking up.
“It’s so formal…”
She clenched her fists.
Then, she followed me inside.
A woman in her thirties came out to greet us.
She wore a gray suit with a badge pinned to her chest — Theater Administrator.
“Welcome. May I ask who you are?”
“We’re here for a tour.”
She glanced at the badge on my chest and nodded.
In theory, as long as a visiting party was accompanied by someone of management rank, they could freely visit restricted areas.
In practice, the host party had more freedom, so having an administrator present allowed for a more extensive tour.
***
In the hallway.
Glass walls lined both sides, offering a clear view of the training rooms inside.
Some girls were dancing.
Some were practicing their vocals.
Others were just staring blankly into the mirrors.
Su Nian walked very slowly.
Her eyes constantly darted from side to side.
The administrator walked ahead, speaking rapidly as she introduced the facilities.
But Su Nian wasn’t listening.
She was watching those people.
Watching them lift their arms.
Turn.
Focus on their marks.
Over and over again.
It was exactly what she had been doing.
But there was a difference —
They did it more smoothly.
It wasn’t the smoothness of ‘having practiced it well.’
It was the smoothness of ‘doing it without thinking.’
She watched them and kept walking.
We reached the door of the main training room.
The administrator pushed it open.
“This is our largest training room.
We currently have seventeen trainees in here.”
The room was massive.
An entire wall was covered by a mirror, and the floor was polished to a brilliant shine.
It looked just like the room she had just left.
But the difference was the numbers.
Seventeen girls were practicing the same dance.
The lead dancer stood at the very front, her movements sharp and clean.
The others followed her.
Over.
And over.
And over.
Su Nian stood at the doorway, watching.
She watched for a long time.
Then, she turned her head to look at me.
There was something written in those dark red eyes.
I didn’t say a word.
I just looked back at her.
She waited for 3 seconds.
Then, she spoke for herself.
“President.”
“Yeah.”
“I want to go in.”
“Go.”
The administrator was taken replace.
“Mr. Lin, this… this isn’t open to the public…”
“Just for a moment.”
I looked at her.
She saw the sheer persistence in Su Nian’s eyes and hesitated for a moment.
“Then… please, go ahead.”
Su Nian walked inside.
She stood beside the group.
No one looked at her.
They were practicing the next dance.
The lead dancer began to teach the new moves.
“Here, lift your hand — right — turn — hit the mark — “
Su Nian watched from the side.
She watched the sequence twice.
Then, she began to follow along.
Lift the hand.
Turn.
Hit the mark.
The same movements as them.
But —
She was half a beat slow.
Her angles were off.
When she hit the mark, she wobbled slightly.
The lead dancer stopped.
She turned her head.
She gave Su Nian a single look.
Su Nian understood that look instantly.
It wasn’t mockery.
It was ‘Who are you?’
She lowered her head.
Her hands clenched into fists.
But she didn’t retreat.
***
Break time.
The group dispersed to drink water and chat.
Su Nian stood where she was.
No one came over to talk to her.
She didn’t approach them, either.
She just stood there.
Xiao Xi crouched by the door, watching the scene.
I leaned against the wall and didn’t move.
After a few minutes, a girl with a ponytail walked over.
She looked like the oldest one in the group.
She stood in front of Su Nian, sizing her up.
“Here for a tour?”
Su Nian nodded.
“Which agency are you from?”
“It doesn’t… doesn’t have a name yet.”
The girl froze for a second.
Then, she laughed.
It wasn’t a mocking laugh.
It was the kind of laugh that asked ‘What is even happening?’
“No name?
An unorthodox one?”
“No.”
Su Nian lifted her head.
“A regular one.
The fee was just paid.”
The girl blinked.
“You’re here for a tour right after paying the fee?”
Su Nian didn’t respond.
The girl looked at her again.
Then, she said, “Fine. Let me ask you a question.”
“You’re on stage, you get to the chorus, and you suddenly forget the lyrics. There’s no one around to save you. What do you do?”
Su Nian thought for 3 seconds.
“Point the microphone toward the audience.”
The girl was stunned.
“What?”
“Hand them the mic and let them sing,”
Su Nian said.
“Choruses are usually repetitive, so they can guess the words.
Even if they get it wrong, it doesn’t matter.
I just need to smile, nod, and wait for the next section.
It counts as fan interaction.”
Silence.
Clearly, that wasn’t the ‘standard’ answer.
“— Provided your performance isn’t too terrible to begin with,”
Su Nian added.
After she said that, several people nearby looked over, their faces filled with curiosity.
They discussed it for a moment before one of the girls nodded.
“Second one. At a fan-sign, a fan waits in line for 3 hours. When they get to you, they suddenly start crying and can’t speak. There are over a hundred people waiting behind them. What do you do?”
Su Nian didn’t have to think long.
“If it’s a girl, I’d stand up and give her a hug. If it’s a boy, I’d shake his hand and say ‘I’ll remember this.’ Then, I’d have the staff take the fan to the side to rest while I continue signing.”
Another silence followed.
The girl stared at her.
Someone nearby whispered something.
Finally, they decided to pull out a real ‘specialty’ question that circulated within the industry.
“You’ve been debuted for 3 years,”
the girl began.
“You finally win your first individual award. During your speech, you thank the company, the fans, and your parents.”
“But at that moment, someone tells you — ever since you appeared on stage, the viewership ratings have started to drop significantly.”
“What do you do?”
Su Nian froze.
It wasn’t because the question was hard.
It was because —
She had heard it before.
She would never forget the answer from that day.
But this time —
She opened her mouth.
“Because viewership ratings,”
Su Nian said,
“are only calculated after the show ends.
Someone on stage couldn’t possibly know that at the time.”
After returning home that day, she had double-checked another answer with Chuxue.
The true ‘standard answer.’
“If that person told her — “
Her voice stabilized.
“Then that means they are trying to manipulate her.”
“What you should do isn’t answer the question.”
“It’s remembering that person’s face.”
— Those were Chuxue’s exact words.
Silence followed once more.
A long, heavy silence.
Su Nian didn’t say anything else.
She just stood there.
The group of people who hadn’t looked at her before, who moved more smoothly than her, who had trained here much longer than her — they were all looking at her now.
The girl with the ponytail had her mouth open, but no sound came out.
Someone nearby whispered, “Who… who taught her that…?”
Su Nian didn’t answer.
She just stood there, looking at them.
After a long time, the girl finally spoke.
“…Which agency did you say you were from?”
Su Nian looked at her.
“It doesn’t have a name yet.”
The girl smiled.
It wasn’t the same smile as before.
It was something else.
“Then remember this.”
She said, “My name is Cheng Wan.”
“When you finally debut, pray you don’t run into me.”
Su Nian was stunned for a moment.
Then, the corners of her mouth twitched.
She didn’t quite manage a smile.
But those dark red eyes were terrifyingly bright.
***
The return trip.
In the car.
Su Nian leaned against the window, looking out.
Xiao Xi sat beside her, clutching her water bottle, stealing glances at her every now and then.
I watched her through the rearview mirror.
She didn’t move.
She just stared at the scenery outside.
After a long time, she spoke.
“President.”
“Yeah.”
“That question.”
Her tone began to level out —
“The answer you gave me before wasn’t the standard answer… why?”