NOVPUBAlthough they had already performed on the holographic stage, the contestants of Guoxinghai remained in a state of isolation—no phones, no internet, and no updates from the outside world.
It was a complete blackout.
They took the stage knowing nothing, and returned to the program group just as clueless.
Even after stepping off the stage, they couldn’t shake their excitement, recalling how the audience seats had been packed to the brim, with some spots squeezing in three spectators per seat.
“Is our show super popular out there? How could there be so many people in the audience? I nearly stopped breathing when I saw that crowd!”
“It’s a holographic stage! If I were a viewer, I’d definitely come watch too!”
“I wonder how many followers I’ve gained on Weibo—ahhh, I saw my light stick in the crowd, it was so shiny!”
The contestants resumed their daily training, but whenever the cameras weren’t focused on them, they huddled together, whispering excitedly.
“Shouldn’t the first episode’s recording be out by now?”
“I think it’s already aired—my parents must be glued to the TV!”
“Same with mine! They probably invited all our relatives over to watch too.”
Their chatter inevitably turned to the unresolved online voting rankings.
“Why is it taking so long?”
“Right? Shouldn’t online voting be quick? Just a few taps on the phone?”
“Ahhh, the online votes aren’t finalized yet, and the live audience votes haven’t been announced either. I’m so nervous.”
“I think the winner in the boys’ group will come down to Tu Zhu or Jin Yuan.”
“Totally! When they performed, I was watching from backstage, and my eyes nearly popped out—they’re insane!”
The young contestants murmured enviously about their peers’ skills before circling back to the delayed vote reveal.
“Do you think the production team is dragging it out for suspense? You know, to keep viewers hooked?”
“Probably. Isn’t that how these shows usually work? Fans will keep watching to see the rankings, but this wait is way too long.”
Unbeknownst to them, their every word was being broadcast live, much to the amusement of the very audience they pitied.
[LMAO they actually feel bad for us not knowing the votes yet]
[This is hilarious—the production team is totally trolling them by not telling them the voting stats are public online this whole time]
[So the only people who can’t see the votes are the contestants themselves? I’m wheezing]
[Last night, Jing Tiangao tried guessing his votes—he looked so serious, like he was psyching himself up, and then he guessed 3,000. Bro, you’ve got millions in live votes alone HAHAHA]
[I’d kill to see their faces when they find out the real-name votes have already passed 2.4 billion]
[The production team is 100% doing this on purpose. The live cuts keep zooming in on the contestants guessing their votes—it’s evil and I love it]
Though viewers playfully accused the production team of mischief, they were thoroughly entertained.
Just as the contestants suspected, audiences were eagerly awaiting the vote reveal—but for a different reason:
They couldn’t wait to see the contestants’ shocked, disbelieving reactions when the real numbers dropped.
[I bet someone’s jaw will hit the floor]
[I’ll wager 50 cents someone falls off their chair!]
[One spicy strip says Jin Yuan won’t believe his own votes at first!]
Netizens placed their bets, reveling in the impending drama.
Amid the anticipation, the production team finally prepared to announce the results—live, of course.
The mentors took turns hosting, and this time, it was An Baixing’s turn.
True to his lively nature—even as a mentor—he stepped onstage and teased the audience with a playful twist:
“Usually, shows announce votes from lowest to highest. But Guoxinghai likes to switch things up.”
“So today, we’ll start by revealing the highest-voted group.”
The contestants visibly tensed, thrown off by the unconventional approach.
An Baixing deliberately shook the results sheet. “But will I announce the champion first? You’ll have to guess.”
From the guest seats, Sheng Quan chuckled and shook her head. “They should’ve put him on a variety show. He’s a natural at stirring up drama.”
Jin Jiu smiled too. “He’s been looking forward to this moment since he signed on as a mentor.”
Yan Hui looked slightly drowsy, subtly covering his mouth as he yawned:
"Not just looking forward to it—he barged into my room last night to practice his stage speech and kept me up until past midnight. It’s been ages since I pulled an all-nighter. Tonight, he’s definitely treating us to dinner."
Sheng Quan immediately turned and chimed in: "Great idea! Once this wraps up, let’s all go eat—An Baixing’s treat. We’ll make sure he pays dearly for it."
Xu Man was thoroughly impressed by An Baixing’s lively energy on stage:
"My next project needs a vibrant singer for a guest spot. I’m definitely roping him in."
She then turned to Jiang Zhen and added, "And you, Teacher Jiang Zhen—you’ve got to come support us too."
Since the project was under Xingmang’s banner anyway, Jiang Zhen agreed without hesitation.
Up in the mentors’ seats, the atmosphere was warm and cheerful, with everyone already brainstorming dinner plans—whether to indulge in a little wine or not.
Down on the stage, however, the contestants were holding their breath in nervous anticipation, because An Baixing was deliberately toying with them—opening his mouth, then closing it, then opening it again.
He had mastered the art of dragging out the vote-announcement segment, borrowing every trick from other talent shows.
Finally, once he had sufficiently strung everyone along and the cameras had captured enough footage of the tense contestants, An Baixing waved his hand:
"First up—Jin Yuan!"
On stage, Jin Yuan—who had come from Country P—had been diligently studying Mandarin since joining the show, and his progress had been nothing short of remarkable.
Hearing his name called, even though he was already an established and seasoned idol back home, Jin Yuan’s heart still skipped a beat.
He… he was in the group with the highest votes—
Before coming to China, Jin Yuan would’ve been confident about winning. But after joining the show and witnessing so many flawless, exceptional contestants, he had started to doubt himself.
Especially when it came to Tu Zhu.
While some contestants believed he and Tu Zhu were neck-and-neck in the boy group category, Jin Yuan could tell—Tu Zhu’s stage presence outshone his.
The reason Jin Yuan had fought so hard to join Guoxinghai was because he had hit a wall in his career.
Though idols in Country P tended to have longer shelf lives than elsewhere, at the end of the day, they still relied on singing and dancing to stay relevant.
Once age started creeping up, it was only natural for the next generation to replace them.
Jin Yuan didn’t want that. He wanted to grow, to keep moving forward.
So he had pushed hard for this opportunity.
Success here would secure his future.
Failure, however, would mean slinking back home to face drastic cuts in his resources from the company.
Nervously, Jin Yuan stepped forward at An Baixing’s call. As he passed the other contestants, his newfound friends offered words of encouragement:
"You’ve got this!"
"Your votes are definitely high."
"Ganbatte!"
When he reached Tu Zhu, Jin Yuan couldn’t help but glance at him.
Tu Zhu was radiant—ever since joining the show, he had been like a gem gradually polished free of dust, growing brighter and more dazzling by the day.
The two hadn’t interacted much, but in that moment, Jin Yuan found himself craving Tu Zhu’s support.
Fortunately, his admired rival flashed him a small smile:
"Go for it!"
Jin Yuan instantly relaxed, nodding firmly. "Thank you!"
He stepped onto the platform, taking a deep, steadying breath.
This time, perhaps sensing his nerves, An Baixing didn’t drag out the suspense.
He asked just one question:
"Contestant Jin Yuan, back in Country P, you once won a talent competition, debuting as the center with the highest votes. Do you remember how many votes you received then?"
Jin Yuan held his breath. "Eight million."
Those eight million votes had been the peak of his life.
In Country P, they represented eight million people supporting him—a key reason he had risen to the top.
Why was An Baixing asking this?
The contestants’ profiles were public. He had to know about the eight million.
The only likely reason was… this time, Jin Yuan had surpassed it.
"Alright, now let me announce—Contestant Jin Yuan’s total live audience votes!"
With a wave of An Baixing’s hand, a massive vote counter materialized midair.
The numbers skyrocketed at blinding speed before finally settling on one figure.
An Baixing’s voice rang out, clear and powerful:
"Thirteen million, six hundred fifty thousand!"
Jin Yuan: !!!
His eyes widened in shock.
Live votes?!
Thirteen million six hundred fifty thousand?!
This was just the live audience count—already surpassing his all-time high from online voting back home.
"Don’t celebrate just yet."
An Baixing waved again, and another counter appeared to the right:
"As of this moment, Contestant Jin Yuan, your global online vote total is—!"
The newly appeared timer began moving rapidly once more, this time even faster than before.
In just a dozen seconds, it froze on a number.
Jin Yuan stared blankly at the string of digits, his mind utterly blank.
Beside him, An Baixing announced:
"Two hundred twenty-four million, six hundred twenty thousand!!!! Congratulations to contestant Jin Yuan!"
—Whoosh!!!
The entire venue erupted in deafening gasps.
"Two hundred million?"
"Million???"
"Two hundred million?! Oh my god!!"
"That many votes?!?"
Faced with a number so unimaginable, the contestants on stage could barely control their voices.
As for Jin Yuan himself, his mind went completely numb, his vision blurring.
Two hundred million… two hundred million…
That was more than the entire population of P Country combined.
Even the staggering audience votes he had just marveled at were merely a fraction of this online tally.
He… he had actually received this many votes.
Jin Yuan had undergone rigorous training and was usually excellent at managing his expressions, but under the overwhelming shock of two hundred million votes, he completely forgot about composure.
The contestant, who usually seemed to glow with charisma, felt his eyes redden instantly—whether from excitement, joy, or fear, he couldn’t tell.
He was terrified that this might all be a hallucination.
"H-how much? Could you say it again?"
"Two hundred twenty-four million, six hundred twenty thousand!" An Baixing understood the P Country contestant’s excitement perfectly.
After all, these were real-name votes.
This number directly meant that two hundred million people liked and supported Jin Yuan.
Compared to past idol fan counts, this data alone could have propelled him straight to the throne of idol kings.
Of course, that wasn’t possible now.
Because Jin Yuan wasn’t the champion.
"Next, Wu Xiangwang."
Still reeling from Jin Yuan’s two hundred million votes, Wu Xiangwang stepped onto the stage with an expression of lingering shock.
Before he could even steady himself, An Baixing dropped another bombshell.
"Contestant Wu Xiangwang, your live audience vote count is fifteen million, three hundred thousand."
"Your total online vote count is… two hundred fifty-nine million, seven hundred twenty thousand!"
Wu Xiangwang: "……"
"M-me? How much??"
This eloquent, talented singer from Huaxia was so stunned he became a stuttering mess.
An Baixing patiently repeated the numbers.
Above them, two massive vote counters served as a glaring reminder of the honor Wu Xiangwang had just received.
Soon enough, the dazed Jin Yuan was joined by an equally dazed Wu Xiangwang.
The contestants on stage had completely forgotten they were live on air.
They huddled together, whispering and gasping in disbelief.
"Looks like first and second place are locked in."
"Who’s third?"
"Two hundred million votes! Insane!"
"Though Wu Xiangwang’s stage presence was slightly better than Jin Yuan’s."
"Is Tu Zhu third?"
"But Tu Zhu performed incredibly well too."
"Maybe he’s first? The order seems to be from lowest to highest."
Someone suggested this, but others quickly disagreed: "No way, the votes already total five hundred million. Didn’t they say each person could only cast two votes—one for a male contestant and one for a female?"
"With five hundred million votes already cast, there probably aren’t many left."
The other contestants considered this and grew even more excited:
"Our show has five hundred million viewers?! I’ve never heard of any talent show pulling numbers like this!"
Tu Zhu stood beside his roommate, the tall, wheat-skinned Jing Tiangao, who gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
On stage, An Baixing called the next name—as expected, it was Tu Zhu.
"Tu Zhu, please step forward."
Tu Zhu took a deep breath and, under the supportive gazes of his friends, strode confidently to the front.
An Baixing asked him, "Did you ever imagine how many votes you’d get?"
Tu Zhu paused for a second before shaking his head slightly.
He hadn’t dared to imagine.
He didn’t dare to hope.
Where there were expectations, there would inevitably be disappointment.
Having suffered setbacks before, this eighteen-year-old boy couldn’t afford to let himself hope.
"Alright, then let me announce—contestant Tu Zhu, your live audience vote count is thirty-seven million, five hundred twenty thousand!"
"Your online vote count is…"
"—Six hundred thirty-four million, nine hundred ninety thousand!!"
"Congratulations to Tu Zhu for taking the championship!!!"
Tu Zhu: "!!!"
Contestants: "!!!!"
After a few seconds of stunned silence, the stage erupted in deafening cheers.
"Holy cow!!! That’s insane!!!"
"Six hundred million votes!!! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!!!"
"What the—wait, can I swear? Will they censor this live?!"
"Six hundred million votes for one person!!! That’s six hundred million! Unbelievable!"
Cheers, exclamations, and excited chatter filled the air as every gaze locked onto Tu Zhu.
A spotlight shone down on him.
He looked up, his eyes shimmering like starlight.
The barrage of comments during the live stream had gone completely wild, entirely flooded with screams of 【Ahhhh so gorgeous so gorgeous】.
"The stage lights do make him shine brilliantly, but I doubt his tears were just from the glare."
This was President Sheng's remark on the matter.
Jin Jiu turned his head with a smile. On stage, he carried himself like a seasoned mentor, but in front of Sheng Quan, he still seemed like that slightly shy young man from before.
"You were even more dazzling back then."
Sheng Quan stared at Tu Zhu, who was practically radiating brilliance on stage, unable to imagine how she could have outshone someone so perfect.
So she could only conclude that this was Jin Jiu’s "boss filter" at work.
The stars of Xingmang had always viewed Sheng Quan through rose-tinted glasses.
What followed was a frenzy of vote counts.
The girl group that lost at rock-paper-scissors began announcing the results.
Lan He secured the championship with 730 million votes.
Qing Tian and PD took second and third place respectively.
Even the lowest-ranked contestants had amassed an impressive number of votes.
None of them seemed disheartened by their standings—in fact, it was a scene of collective euphoria.
Because these votes could translate into real, living fans!
While their numbers might be at the bottom in Guoxinghai, they could easily rank in the top three in a mid-sized talent show!
The contestants had a fairly realistic understanding of their own abilities. Those who were comparatively weaker had already braced themselves for defeat against the more exceptional competitors.
But they never expected that even in last place, they’d still get so many votes!
Amid the excitement, they frantically tallied and recounted, only to be stunned by the realization—Guoxinghai’s total vote count had reached a staggering 2.4 billion!
Considering each viewer could cast one vote for both male and female contestants…
1.2 billion! Over 1.2 billion people had watched Guoxinghai!
Was this even real?!
Live stream viewers, hearing the contestants actually questioning this, burst into laughter.
【Of course it’s real, I’m alive and voting!】
【LMAO, first time seeing contestants doubt if their voters are real people】
【Hahahaha this iconic moment is worth replaying a dozen times】
【Alive and kicking here—I put serious thought into my votes!】
The comment section was full of playful banter, while those who hadn’t participated in Guoxinghai were once again consumed by regret.
But what could they say now?
They could only console themselves: "Vote counts don’t mean much anyway. A lot of people just vote casually—it doesn’t necessarily translate into real fans."
Right, thinking like that eased the sting of missing out on Guoxinghai.
"Contestants from talent shows often have inflated fanbases that don’t hold up. Even Guoxinghai can’t escape this flaw."
No sooner had this person spoken than An Baixing suddenly chimed in during the live broadcast:
"You’ve all worked hard and achieved great results. Of course, we should celebrate—and there should be rewards too."
"President Sheng has arranged some special incentives from the company. The top ten contestants will all receive them."
The fourth-place contestants, who thought they were out of the running, looked up in surprise.
An Baixing announced directly:
—"The top ten contestants will appear as guests on the next episode of Entertainment Flight!"
The contestants were floored.
"Entertainment Flight?! That’s the hottest variety show right now!"
"Ahhhh getting a guest spot on Entertainment Flight is insanely competitive!!!"
—"The top five contestants will each receive a brand endorsement opportunity. The brands include Yuya, Gio…"
These were major labels—ones the contestants wouldn’t have dared dream of representing before. Another wave of excitement swept through them.
—"The top three contestants will make special appearances in upcoming films like Carnival Night, Starry Sea, My Mom, and over a dozen others, playing idol groups and performing on stage for one or several scenes."
The contestants: "!!!!"
If the first two rewards were enough to spark gasps of envy, the last one was on a whole other level.
Why did agencies push idols into acting? Because screen time meant maximum exposure!
But most idols were terrible actors, so many ended up getting roasted while trying.
Yet Guoxinghai’s reward for the top three was letting them perform as idols—on the big screen!
Not only would this showcase their strongest skills to audiences, but it would also massively boost their real-world fame.
It could even drive fans who loved their performances to support them offline after seeing them in theaters.
And given that just the first few films listed were already confirmed as big-budget productions starring A-listers—how could the viewership possibly be low?!
What’s most remarkable about Guoxinghai is this:
Their rewards for the contestants aren’t just simple prizes.
Each one is essentially an opportunity to push the contestants further forward. If they seize it, their future in the entertainment industry will undoubtedly be smooth sailing.
Instantly, the remaining contestants were fired up with determination. While envious, they also silently resolved to work even harder from now on.
Of course, much of this motivation was thanks to An Baixing’s embellished encouragement.
He didn’t forget to add one more thing:
“Ah, right, before taking the stage, Chairman Sheng Quan quietly told me something.”
The cameras and lights immediately shifted to Sheng Quan, who smiled and waved in greeting.
An Baixing continued:
“The next holographic stage performance will be in a month, and by then, half of you will be eliminated again.”
“But the remaining half will get the chance to perform on an open, real-world holographic projection stage—one that will be broadcast to live audiences.”
“The estimated audience size? Ten million.”
—Thud!
The director of a competing talent show, who had been watching the livestream from his chair, fell right off his seat.
“Ten million?!!!”
“Is she joking?! Does she even know how many people that is?! A typical concert holds maybe a few thousand, ten thousand at most. Ten million viewers?! How would anyone even see the stage?! And where would they even host it?!”
After his frantic outburst, the poor director—who had the misfortune of competing against a powerhouse—was helped up by a friend and muttered uncertainly:
“…But then again, this is Sheng Quan we’re talking about. She might actually find a venue that can hold ten million people.”
Still, he couldn’t shake his disbelief:
“But ten million?! Even if that many people showed up, where would she put them?! There isn’t a concert venue in the country—no, the entire world—big enough for that!!!”
His friend stayed silent the whole time, quietly pulling out his phone.
—A truly dedicated spectator.
Once the director steadied himself, his friend handed him the phone. “I think I know where she plans to fit ten million people.”
The director: “?”
Skeptical, he took the phone, glanced at the screen, and nearly fell over again.
#Sheng Quan Purchases World’s Largest Private Island#
