NOVPUBTu Zhu and the others were stunned the moment they stepped off the plane.
Ultra-modern, mechanized architecture, robotic patrol dogs lining the streets, and colorful banners floating in the sky with concert guidelines written on them.
And then, the bustling crowds of travelers flooding the airport.
The airport had even prepared a special passageway for them to avoid overexcited fans rushing toward the contestants.
If the journey so far had already left the contestants awestruck, standing beneath the colossal hive-like structure they were about to move into—gazing up at the towering, seemingly endless building—turned that awe into sheer amazement.
"If I remember correctly, the production team said this island was bought by Chairman Sheng. So… everything we’ve seen along the way… belongs to her???"
Every contestant, including the production crew and staff, was utterly shocked.
Among them was Ji Shan, who had recently switched companies.
Competent and experienced, Ji Shan had joined mid-project, but Wu Ying, following Sheng Quan’s principle of "trust those you employ and employ those you trust," quickly began relying on him after confirming his diligence.
Ji Shan didn’t disappoint her either. During this period, the entire Xingmang team had been working under immense pressure, and he was no exception.
Yet, strangely, despite the long hours and overtime, he felt an odd sense of fulfillment.
Ji Shan wasn’t young anymore—he was a seasoned veteran in the industry. Before joining Xingmang, he had never believed in so-called "company loyalty."
In this line of work, the only things that kept employees tied to a company were high salaries or the crushing weight of mortgages and car loans that made quitting impossible.
He had come to Xingmang because he’d been scapegoated at his previous job, and Xingmang offered better pay. He believed Guoxinghai would be an unprecedented project, but he never imagined he’d end up like those he once mocked—working with genuine pride and loyalty for the company he served.
What was the reason?
Was it Xingmang’s generous bonuses? The infectious enthusiasm of his colleagues, all chanting "our Guoxinghai"? Or the overwhelming pride of watching this program go global?
Ji Shan pondered it once or twice before letting it go. He simply found himself relishing the rare unity of a company striving toward a shared goal.
Superiors didn’t push blame onto subordinates, colleagues didn’t snipe at each other, juniors eagerly learned instead of slacking, and bonuses were always paid on time—hard work was always rewarded…
If Ji Shan’s impression of Sheng Quan before joining had been "a deep-pocketed tycoon," now, like every Xingmang employee, he deeply admired and respected their chairwoman.
Only those who’ve worked in the industry know how rare it is for a leader to maintain such a company.
And now, Ji Shan’s perception of Sheng Quan was rewritten once again.
Most people’s idea of wealth revolves around "how expensive her house is," "how big her company is," or "how high her social status is."
Sheng Quan had always fit that classic image of a wealthy elite—until now. She shattered that stereotype, showing the world just how vast true wealth could be.
The Hive’s floors were staggeringly high, stacked layer upon layer. Without advanced construction materials, such a structure would have been impossible.
The elevator shot straight to the top floor. As Ji Shan ascended, the view below grew clearer—the tiny dots of cars and people, the sprawling buildings.
"Chairman Sheng… has built her own city."
At that moment, his gaze drifted to the elevator’s display, where the number for the top floor blinked.
There, Sheng Quan was waiting for them.
Ji Shan had met her before, and he’d already resolved to work for her for life. Yet, inexplicably, his heart pounded at the thought of seeing her again, his blood surging as if set aflame.
Was it the sight of this "miracle city"? Or the realization of what a private island with such a metropolis meant for Xingmang—for the world? Ji Shan couldn’t say.
All he knew was that he might truly spend the rest of his career at Xingmang.
In truth, Sheng Quan was swamped.
Meeting Ji Shan and other key staff was just one item on her packed schedule. There was still so much to do.
But she didn’t feel the slightest bit weary—instead, she was energized, even exhilarated. Whenever she had a spare moment, she’d scroll through social media, checking trending topics and videos for amusement.
Naturally, nearly every country with internet access was buzzing about Guoxinghai’s Hive concert.
When the concert officially began, the sheer flood of viewers crashing into livestream platforms nearly broke them.
Fortunately, the companies behind those platforms had prepared—within two minutes, the lag was fixed.
[OMG!!! The inside of the Hive is insane! It really is a hive!!!]
[Are those tiny dots in the distance the audience seats?! There are THAT many?!]
[No way… a million people actually fit in there.]
[I heard they used some next-gen tech—every room in the Hive was designed at a precise angle so everyone can see the stage.]
[They’re coming out now!!!!]
Admittedly, the concert had to rely on technology. Even if the venue could hold a million people, the highest seats nearly touched the clouds. Without enhancements, the performers would look like ants from that distance.
Many who hadn’t snagged tickets had sourly commented:
"Watching the holographic stage would be better—you can see every detail up close."
"Yeah, why pay to see it live if you’re just watching a screen?"
But the moment the music started and the crowd erupted, all doubts vanished.
People might question everything, but no one could deny it—this concert was revolutionary.
A private island venue.
A modern city built from scratch.
A hive holding a million spectators.
And… these radiant young performers, handpicked to shine the moment they stepped onstage.
Old Man Zhang had never been to a concert before. As a tech-savvy senior, he kept up with trends and had wondered—why not just watch it in hologram?
Wouldn’t that be a better experience?
Especially since Xingmang’s recent moves clearly pointed toward holographic development.
Why bother with a traditional concert?
But his doubts didn’t last long. After all, if Xingmang had gone the holographic route, he and his son wouldn’t have enjoyed those ten delightful days at sea.
Moreover, Old Man Zhang possessed the foresight characteristic of his age.
In the future, holographic stages would become a trend and a cultural phenomenon. Under such circumstances, real-life stages would become rare and thus increasingly precious.
Who could say that Xingmang wasn’t already planning for this future?
It wasn’t until this moment, upon hearing the singers on stage, that he saw the towering "avatars" looming behind the contestants.
Forgive Old Man Zhang for his obsession with fantasy films—when he saw the enlarged figures of the young performers, the only thing that came to mind was the awe-inspiring "Dharma Form" from mythology.
Seeing it with one’s own eyes was entirely different from watching it on TV.
At least now, after a brief moment of stunned silence, the entire audience erupted into deafening cheers and screams.
Logically, after witnessing such a breathtaking spectacle, they should have needed time to calm down. But soon, the dazzling performance swept everyone into the radiant world of Guoxinghai’s stage.
Old Man Zhang was no exception.
The performance was absolutely spectacular!!!
Especially that young man, Tu Zhu. Even as someone of the same gender, Old Man Zhang couldn’t help but be infected by his youthful energy as he danced across the stage, completely immersing himself in the moment.
The concert lasted a full ten days.
Yet those ten days felt both fulfilling and fleeting.
Even as the stage lights dimmed and the show came to an end, Old Man Zhang was left yearning for more.
Finally, all the contestants lined up on stage, bowing deeply to the audience in gratitude.
Behind them, their colossal "avatars," as tall as skyscrapers, mirrored the gesture, slowly bending in unison.
And then—the crowd erupted once more:
"AHHHHHHH!!!! SO COOL!!!!"
"Lan He, I love you!!! I want to have your babies!!!"
"Tu Zhu AHHHHHH!!!"
Some were even so overwhelmed they devolved into keyboard smashing: "I #%$#%$%!!!!"
This was Old Man Zhang’s first concert.
And for the first time, he shared joy, sorrow, laughter, and tears with so many others—screaming in unison with them.
He was acutely aware that he was part of a million-strong crowd, all listening to the same voice, watching the same performance. They came from all corners of the world, with different languages and skin tones, yet here they were, united in celebration.
Online fan wars? Debates over national entertainment dominance? The usual social barriers? None of it mattered on this island, not in this electrifying atmosphere.
He saw someone in the neighboring booth waving at him.
He heard someone below shouting hoarsely, "China rocks! Xingmang rocks!!!"
He spotted the opposite section waving a sea of colorful lights.
In an instant, the entire venue exploded with energy. People of different nationalities, speaking different languages, all raised their voting boards, casting their votes with fervor.
The audience’s hearts swelled with emotion—perhaps they themselves didn’t understand why they were so moved, why they felt on the verge of tears. But this moment would undoubtedly become one of their most cherished memories.
Tonight, this island had truly become the capital of entertainment.
Amid the chaotic excitement, the lights suddenly dimmed. A single spotlight illuminated the center of the honeycomb-shaped venue, where a long staircase had appeared unnoticed.
At its base stood a figure, now ascending step by step into the light.
"It’s Chairwoman Sheng!"
"Sheng Quan! The only award left is the championship—is she presenting it herself?!!!!"
"AHHHHH Sheng Quan, I want to have your babies!!!"
"SHENG QUAN!!!!!"
The world’s eyes were on Entertainment Island, and the audience knew exactly who to thank for this spectacular experience.
After a brief moment of confusion, the crowd recognized the figure on the stairs—and their cheers surged even louder than before.
Amid the roaring applause, Sheng Quan climbed steadily, her every step resolute.
[006]
[Host, I’m here.]
Sheng Quan smiled. [Are you ready?]
006 was puzzled. [Ready for what?]
[Ready to welcome our peak.]
She wore a fiery red gown, its train trailing behind her as the spotlight followed her unwavering ascent.
—Click!
Countless camera flashes erupted as journalists from around the world captured the moment.
—This scene would undoubtedly dominate global headlines, heralding the dawn of a new entertainment era.
Of course, those watching weren’t limited to the million spectators on the island.
In Country A, countless people sat before their TVs, engrossed in the live broadcast.
In Country B, someone sipped expensive wine with a sour expression, muttering enviously, "We’re both in entertainment—how come she never loses hair?"
In Country C, young girls huddled around a computer screen, eyes shining. "She’s so cool."
"I want to be like her when I grow up!!!"
Countries D, E, F, and beyond—the same scene played out worldwide.
Meanwhile, Sheng Quan took another step forward.
One step.
006’s voice chimed:
[Ding! Host’s career progress: 83%]
Two steps.
[Ding! Host’s career progress: 87%]
Three steps.
[Ding! Host’s career progress: 91%]
[Ding! Host’s career progress: 94%]
[Ding! Host’s career progress: 96%]
[Ding! Host’s career progress: 99%!!!!]
Finally, she reached the summit.
On this stage that had birthed countless rising stars, she stood as the presenter.
Behind her, the giant screen began its countdown.
The audience chanted along in unison.
"Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four!"
"Three!! Two!!"
"ONE!!!!!"
The screen instantly displayed the final vote counts—Lan He and Tu Zhu tied for first place.
Then, Sheng Quan personally placed the championship trophies in their hands.
She gave them a playful wink.
"Go seize your future."
Though they’d anticipated this moment, the two young winners clutched their trophies, eyes glistening as the crowd’s cheers washed over them like tidal waves.
"I feel... something indescribable," Lan He whispered to Tu Zhu. "Like I’ve been waiting for this day forever."
Tu Zhu nodded quietly. "Me too."
Standing beside them, Sheng Quan watched as their youthful faces, bathed in the adoration of millions, seemed to merge with the future she’d once only read about.
But this time, everything was different.
They’d seized their brightest future in the prime of their lives.
Her gaze shifted to the mentors’ seats—Yan Hui applauding with a smile, Xu Man whooping excitedly, Lin Aike shaking An Baixing’s arm in exhilaration, and Jin Jiu clapping while wearing a hesitant "Should I stop them?" expression.
Jiang Zhen maintained a solemn expression, forming a stark contrast with Wan Bao beside him, who was clapping enthusiastically like a seal. Hua Qing wore a gentle smile, seemingly lost in nostalgic memories, while Ming Qi, cheeks slightly puffed from whatever she was munching on, sweetly waved at Sheng Quan when their eyes met.
Further back, Yuan Zixin was deep in conversation with Gu Shuyue, and Ning Zhou, who had rarely gotten time off, sat quietly observing the scene, occasionally glancing back at Gu Zhao, who had his notebook resting on the table.
This time, Gu Zhao wasn’t working, but he wasn’t clapping either—his gaze remained fixed on Sheng Quan. Beside him, Yu Xiangwan clapped earnestly, while Tan Hongguang sat with an expression that clearly said, Why is a special effects subsidiary CEO even here?
As Sheng Quan took it all in, a smile naturally spread across her face.
Still smiling, she pulled down the hanging "rope" on the stage.
"With this, I declare tonight’s concert a complete success!"
—Whoosh!
Like something out of a holographic game, dazzling starlight cascaded down, resembling a meteor shower—slow yet radiant.
Amid the cheers of thousands, the voice of 006 blended seamlessly into the excitement.
[Ding! Host career completion: 100%]
Sheng Quan looked up at the starry sky.
She had done it.
—A flawless, regret-free conclusion.
[Congratulations, Host. Is there anything you’d like to do now?]
Sheng Quan thought for a few seconds.
Actually, yes. There was.
—A short while later, the bustling streets were packed with shops and stalls, all poised for action.
With the concert just ended, waves of attendees would soon flood the streets, ready to spend.
These vendors had secured permits from Starlight to set up shop on Kara Island, where a guaranteed million visitors meant easy profits. Though they’d already made a fortune over the past ten days, Starlight’s projections suggested a post-concert spending surge was imminent.
Soon, the first customer stepped into the street. The vendors kept their expressions neutral, but secretly, every one of them watched her movements, hoping she’d choose their stall first.
Under their collective gaze, the first customer, sipping a milk tea, leisurely strolled up to a modest-looking stall.
The others couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment—what was this stall even selling?
…A jianbing guozi (Chinese savory crepe).
Eating a jianbing right after a concert? Was this some new trend?
The stall owner, a middle-aged woman, eagerly wiped her hands, about to ask for the order—until the customer in the cap lifted her head.
Her eyes widened. "Sheng… Chairman Sheng?"
It wasn’t that she had sharp eyes—practically everyone on the island knew Starlight’s CEO, Sheng Quan.
"Shh." Sheng Quan raised a finger to her lips.
Once the woman nodded in understanding, Sheng Quan grinned and handed over the cash:
—"Auntie, one jianbing guozi, please."
—"With an extra egg."
