The gilded Jinbi Tower, a place where Ah Xin’s aspirations were ensnared, was under the dominion of Xuan Chi Chi, the ninth son of the patriarch of the Xuan family—a formidable lineage among the world’s top 500 enterprises.
Should Ah Xin be asked for an appraisal, he would unequivocally declare Xuan Chi Chi a man solely devoted to hedonism. His corpulent, bloated frame was matched only by his extravagant tastes, having transformed the uppermost twenty floors of the company building into his personal pleasure palace.
Helipads, sky gardens, indoor hot springs, artificial snowfields, simulated shooting ranges, grand cinemas, intricate entertainment labyrinths, and even private banquet halls—the amenities were a lavish amalgamation, akin to several luxury cruise liners fused into one. Practically every conceivable form of entertainment could be found within. These ten floors alone were serviced by a retinue of 150 chefs from across the globe and 80 dedicated maids.
He indulged in this relentless revelry daily, utterly neglecting proper business. All company affairs were delegated to his subordinates, and even the arrival of esteemed guests was left for the vice president to manage. Consequently, in all his time working there, Ah Xin had only encountered Xuan Chi Chi a scant few times, and never once had the man been engaged in anything resembling actual work.
For example, Xuan Chi Chi harbored a peculiar fondness for Magical Girl Xiaoxin. He would routinely command attractive male employees to cosplay as her, batting their eyelashes while addressing him as ‘Emperor.’ Other times, he would have them perform bewildering acts to elicit his amusement, or even pit employees against each other in his office, treating them like fighting pets; the victor earned a raise, while the loser faced immediate termination.
Such capriciousness, born of immense wealth, was utterly preposterous. Yet, Ah Xin’s mother had once held this very company in high esteem, even wishing for him to join its ranks one day. But even after his enrollment, it seemed he had failed to become her source of pride.
‘For anyone with a modicum of sense understood that scaling the heights of this particular tower was an impossibility. No matter how formidable one’s abilities, they would ultimately be reduced to little more than a favored pet, eager to please their master.’
But all of that was inconsequential now. Through the good graces of Miss Zhou Danxia, Ah Xin had secured a temporary transfer, shedding his humble cleaner’s uniform for a fresh start at this new workplace.
The agency itself exuded an air of lavishness. Walls and floors, smooth and pristine as polished jade, reflected the dazzling brilliance of crystal chandeliers, creating an ambiance reminiscent of a grand hotel lobby. Only the rows of recruitment advertisements lining one wall served to detract from the opulent scene.
Throughout his journey, he had been preoccupied with thoughts of acclimating to this new environment and making a favorable impression on his prospective colleagues. Oddly, however, apart from a handful of cleaning robots, the expansive agency was eerily silent, save for the gentle hum of a promotional jingle. No human voices could be discerned, and even the reception desk stood deserted.
‘Given that this agency caters to idols and heroes,’ he mused, ‘perhaps everyone is currently out on location scouting or filming.’
Ah Xin, lost in thought, trailed behind Zhou Danxia as they ascended to the third floor via elevator. After passing through a series of vacant rooms, they halted before a formidable door.
“This is the President’s office,” she announced.
“Woof!” Ah Xin yelped, a cautious reply born of his dread at another bout of stomach-churning magic.
“Oh, you truly commit to the role,” she sighed, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “If only those other fellows were half as dedicated as you. At any rate, this tedious master-servant charade is concluded. From now on, a simple ‘yes’ or ‘understood’ will suffice.”
“Got it!”
A dull thud resonated.
“Ow!” he cried out, clutching his stomach. Fortunately, the impact hadn’t been overly forceful, but it still smarted.
“Don’t get too big for your britches,” she retorted, before pushing open the door and stepping into the room.
Within, a man and a woman comprised the sole living souls Ah Xin had encountered since his arrival. One, a tall woman adorned with glasses; the other, a perpetually smiling man with narrowed eyes. Behind them, the characters for ‘Mirror Flower Water Moon’ were emblazoned with striking clarity.
“Ah, the Young Miss has returned,” the man greeted, his eyes still mere slits. “And with a new friend! Good afternoon, indeed.”
“Right, let me introduce them,” Zhou Danxia began, ignoring the president’s overture. “This four-eyed, long-legged woman is the company secretary. And that terrifying, squinting-eyed man, who bears no resemblance to a decent human being, is the company president.”
“Haha… allow me to introduce myself,” the squinting man chuckled. “I am Yu Wangxin. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and I look forward to working with you.”
“Heh, don’t mind my casualness,” Yu Wangxin continued, his smile unchanging. “Once you join our company, we’re family, practically brothers. So, how about I call you Little Brother Ah Xin?”
“That’s perfectly fine. Bro?” Ah Xin replied, a touch hesitantly.
“Hahahahaha! Excellent, you catch on quickly! Hahahahaha!” Yu Wangxin boomed, clearly pleased.
“Haha… haha,” Ah Xin echoed, forcing a laugh. He had certainly never encountered a boss quite like this before.
“I truly didn’t expect anyone to choose to join us at a time like this. It’s quite a joyous occasion,” Yu Wangxin remarked. “Beer or cola?”
“President, it is currently working hours,” the secretary interjected, her tone firm.
“Ah, indeed it is!” Yu Wangxin exclaimed, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “My apologies. I’ll go fetch some cola. Ah Xiao, please take Little Brother Ah Xin on a tour of our facilities. And Miss,” he added, turning to Zhou Danxia, “here are the lyrics for the new song. The accompaniment is already on the terminal; you can go try it out.”
“Understood.” Zhou Danxia acknowledged, taking the sheet music. She then turned and departed, seemingly assenting to entrust Ah Xin to the secretary, Ah Xiao. Without a backward glance, she proceeded with her own agenda.
‘This child likely doesn’t have many friends,’ Ah Xin thought.
As Ah Xin’s thoughts drifted, a hand clapped him on the shoulder. It was the president, his eyes still narrowed in a smile as he regarded Ah Xin. What should have been a friendly gesture, however, sent a shiver down Ah Xin’s spine, for he had grown accustomed to the unsettling implication of such perpetually squinting eyes in fiction.
“Keep up the good work, brother,” Yu Wangxin said, his smile unwavering. “Survive this month, and your salary is guaranteed to rise.”
Ah Xin sensed an unspoken meaning behind the words, yet Yu Wangxin offered no further explanation, simply turning and walking away, leaving behind an inscrutable figure.
‘A riddler?’ Ah Xin wondered aloud.
“Ah Xin, is that right?” the secretary began, her voice crisp. “At any rate, I shall now lead you on a tour to familiarize you with the company’s various facilities and the functions of each room.” The tall, poised woman, clad in a crisp uniform that accentuated her long, black-stockinged legs, possessed an air of undeniable authority, further amplified by her reflective glasses, commanding an involuntary reverence.
Undoubtedly, she was a woman of striking beauty. With such an elegant presence within the company, it seemed improbable that this place could ever suffer from a shortage of personnel. Her professional acumen, too, was undeniably impressive; she efficiently guided Ah Xin through the dance studios, recording rooms, photo booths, equipment storage, office areas, and the various instrument repositories.
Upon completing their circuit, the office remained eerily deserted. Only Zhou Danxia was visible, a solitary figure in the recording studio, headphones clamped over her ears as she sang along to a backing track. No other soul was to be found.
“Ah Xin,” the secretary suddenly said, her voice dropping, “if you’re considering escape, now would be your prime opportunity.”
“Huh?” Ah Xin blinked.
“You’ve noticed something unusual, haven’t you?” she pressed.
“Are you referring to the lack of people?”
“Precisely. Most of our former employees, along with the heroes and idols under our wing, have departed. Were it not for the Young Miss’s unwavering support, this company might well have already become another corporate storefront.”
“That bad? It doesn’t seem right.”
‘Though her personality isn’t exactly stellar,’ Ah Xin mused, ‘it shouldn’t be enough to scare everyone away.’
‘Unless she has a magic bullet in every colleague’s stomach? No, that can’t be! If so, they wouldn’t just be scared away; they wouldn’t dare run at all.’
“That expression of yours… don’t tell me? You didn’t join our company without knowing anything, did you?”
“Ahaha, something like that, haha,” Ah Xin chuckled awkwardly, forcing a smile. Of course, he hadn’t joined voluntarily; if not for that magic orb within him, he wouldn’t want to be manipulated so freely.
“Oh, well. Consider me doing a good deed by explaining the situation. Our company’s establishment and continued existence are entirely due to the financial backing of the Zhou family. Because of this, we started with substantial capital and funding, and we once recruited a significant number of new talents, nurturing them and actively securing more opportunities for them to shine.”
‘Indeed, wealth can certainly provide idols and heroes with greater exposure,’ Ah Xin mused. ‘Sometimes, even individuals with less outstanding talent can secure better resources and training opportunities by joining a reputable company than many truly gifted individuals.’
Ah Xin found himself recalling his days of following virtual streamers. Most corporate-backed streamers far outshone independent ones. Many independent streamers offered repetitive content, whereas with corporate management and assistance, exposure to more diverse experiences and participation in professional commercial activities broadened their horizons and enhanced their capabilities, quickly creating a vast disparity between individuals of similar initial talent.
One, through collective effort, could rapidly produce a plethora of merchandise, becoming a sought-after commodity with constantly soaring fanbases and endless collaborative events. The other, however, could only perform solo in their own live stream, their fanbase dwindling rather than growing.
“However, in many instances, the Young Miss has been both our making and our undoing. As a formidable presence within the association, she naturally garnered immense popularity. Yet, she isn’t particularly adept at collaboration, and some of her demands can be rather excessive… Both the President and I are merely her subordinates, able only to offer indirect counsel.” Her gaze softened considerably as she looked towards the enclosed recording studio, observing the girl’s solitary figure through the soundproof glass. “But…”
“But what?”
“The Young Miss is actually a good child. She has always been a responsible person. She despises failure, and if she loses due to insufficient strength, she will control her emotions and accept it. But if someone with ability fails to perform well, she will lose her temper. It’s one of her most troublesome habits.”
‘Are you sure?’ Ah Xin thought. ‘This ‘good child’ has an undigestible ticking time bomb in my stomach, ready to torment me at any moment!’
“So, Secretary, do you believe it’s her personality that’s the problem?” Ah Xin inquired.
“Not the direct cause. Her personality issues don’t directly impact the company. It’s true that some people are dissatisfied with her behavior. But for good work, a beloved industry, and a decent salary, most people are willing to persevere. As I said, both our success and our failure stem from her existence. And the root of our failure is her ideal—to be both a powerful hero and an idol.”
“Hmm, that’s pretty good, I think it’s a fine idea,” Ah Xin nodded in agreement. It was like the combination of a magical girl and a transforming warrior, possessing both the glamorous cuteness of a beautiful girl and the sleek, dazzling aesthetics of armored adornments.
“Ideals are always beautiful, but the more beautiful something is, the greater the effort required and the higher the price to pay. And the Young Miss… she once provoked an entity she shouldn’t have.”
‘A rich uncle?’ Ah Xin mused. ‘No, that can’t be right. Would anyone truly dare to cross the heiress of a top 500 global enterprise family? They’d be practically forfeiting their life.’
“She provoked the anti-hero organization, the Raven Corps (mentioned in episode 11). She participated in multiple operations, capturing some of their cadres and even harming their ‘God.’ Undoubtedly, the Young Miss’s actions were correct for a hero. However, for her identity as an idol, this was simply inviting trouble.”
“So, to retaliate against Miss Zhou Danxia, they intimidated and threatened the people around her?”
“That’s right, but not everyone possesses power. In the past two years, incidents targeting Miss Zhou’s subordinates have increased significantly. Strange individuals constantly appear to cause her trouble. Just this year, up to October, 82 people have faced physical threats, and 34 have been maliciously slandered. Without exception, all of them chose to resign.”
‘Good heavens, then as a driver, am I not in extreme danger?’ Ah Xin thought.
Having always faced overt bullying and covert retaliation, Ah Xin felt a degree of unease. This was perhaps why no one was willing to join, for even with a good salary, living 24 hours a day for a month in a situation comparable to a midnight harem without safety gates—no normal person would accept that.
“And recently, due to the incident with Dark Warrior Gast, upon learning of the Young Miss’s injury, they even began targeting the idols and employees of this agency. Coupled with the fact that this company has never really achieved any substantial success, despite possessing certain resources, everyone chose to leave—either for their future ideals or for their personal safety.”
“Shouldn’t this be reported to the police? And with the Young Miss’s status, finding someone to investigate and search for evidence should be easy.”
“If only it were that simple,” the secretary sighed, a bitter smile on her face, her eyes filled with helplessness. “Many people look unfavorably upon both heroes and idols. While these figures in the spotlight are loved, they are also destined to be hated by others. It’s the same for everyone. Spending vast amounts of manpower and resources, even if you catch one or two anti-fans, it proves nothing and achieves nothing. And the Zhou family has already given the Young Miss too much.”
“I suppose so,” Ah Xin mused. Sometimes, to defeat a hero, one doesn’t need to overpower them physically; often, stripping them of their place to belong is the most effective method.
If a hero were privately retaliated against, even if they couldn’t handle it alone, they could at least seek help from other colleagues; there would never be a shortage of combat power. But with another identity as an idol, the cyberbullying and verbal attacks they faced were not something a hero could resolve. They could only rely on themselves and their team.
‘Perhaps I could ask for help to eradicate the Raven Corps?’ But unfortunately, that was impossible. He had seen them mentioned in newspapers; many heroes wished for their complete extinction. Yet, as an anti-hero group, while extreme, they hadn’t caused severe incidents. Many investigations showed their organizational activities mostly consisted of propaganda and protests, and often they exposed the chaotic private lives of corrupt heroes, earning them support from many. Even when members committed misdeeds, it was usually personal retaliation, with crimes mostly involving defamation, spreading false rumors, rescuing ‘monsters’ they deemed not evil from being eliminated, or damaging performance facilities. Even poisoning usually involved non-lethal toxins designed to damage vocal cords.
“Why are you telling me all this?”
“Frankly, because the Young Miss is a child of the Zhou family. She shouldn’t be confined to these trivial hero games her entire life. She needs to acknowledge and learn to understand failure. Some things can’t be solved by effort alone, and some actions, even if not ‘wrong,’ can lead to consequences far more severe than committing an ‘error.’”
“Haha… so you’re all cooperating in a charade to help her grow?” Ah Xin let out a dry laugh. It felt a bit too serious, but if it was just a staged act to make her fail, then no amount of effort would ever be enough.
“No, we are serious. All recruited employees, everyone involved in this company’s industry, are professionals. True education isn’t about forcing one’s views onto another, but allowing them to understand through life and practice.”
“My apologies then.”
“All the arrangers, bands, supervisors, directors, and production teams we’ve found are top-tier talents. If the Young Miss could truly carve out an unexpected path, that’s what the master and his family would most want to see. But unfortunately, the reality is that our investment and returns are vastly disproportionate; we’ve consistently operated at a deficit, and it’s only growing larger now.”
“Then surely the President must have a plan?”
“The President? Negotiating appointments with various companies is already his utmost effort. Are you suggesting he debut as an idol in drag?”
‘To save the failing agency, the President decided to debut as an idol?’ While it wasn’t the path Ah Xin had envisioned, imagining it did feel rather exciting.
‘Let me show you what true idol spirit is!’
Then, with a flourish of his suit, a wig donned, and the backing track starting, he would launch into a combo of dance and song, eliciting cheers from beautiful girls.
Honestly, as an April Fool’s event for certain idol groups, it might be amusing, but in reality, it was far too absurd.
“No, I didn’t mean that. It’s just… isn’t he the squinting-eyed type? Don’t they say squinting-eyed characters are usually the masterminds who plan strategies to win a thousand miles away?”
“Huh? Who told you that? The President, his squinting eyes are just due to nearsightedness. He can’t see the road at all without his glasses. Most of the time, even traffic lights…” Suddenly, she froze, her hands, which had been busily writing submissions, stopped instantly.
Ah Xin also realized at once: the President… hadn’t worn his glasses when he left!
A crash! With lightning speed, the secretary, disregarding her image, dove towards the window.
It was the President! He was leisurely strolling across the crosswalk, completely oblivious that the green light ahead had turned red.
“President!” the secretary shrieked in panic.
The squinting President seemed to hear her, waving a bag of drinks towards the two of them, and then—
A collision! The car struck, and he went flying.
Don’t cry, my love, tears don’t suit you~🎵
“Pres—i—dent!” Shoving open the third-floor window, the secretary, still in her high heels, leaped out without a second thought, sprinting directly towards the President’s location.
‘It seems it’s true love.’
The car quickly screeched to a halt. Before the driver could even step out, the secretary embraced the squinting President, who had been knocked to the ground.
“Shrimp dumpling! Shrimp dumpling!” the secretary frantically shook his body. For context, ‘shrimp dumpling’ was a homophone for President in Chinese.
“Oh, no… everything’s red. I’m afraid I’m beyond saving.”
“Don’t be silly! That’s cherry soda! Why would you buy soda in glass bottles when you’re hurt? Hello? Don’t sleep! Open your eyes! Wait, you don’t seem to have been opening your eyes much anyway.”
“The company’s operations are in your hands. You must bring… smiles to everyone… rua.”
“Shrimp dumpling!”
‘Hmm, they seem quite spirited. No need for me to worry.’
Soon, caution tape was set up, and an ambulance quickly arrived to take him away. Witnessing such a comical scene on his first day of work, while also learning the company’s current predicament, left Ah Xin with a mix of emotions.
Looking back at Zhou Danxia, unaware of the situation outside, she simply wore headphones with a troubled expression, repeatedly attempting to sing.
Feeling like he should do something, Ah Xin glanced at the trash can, which was densely packed with crumpled sheets of paper. Curious, Ah Xin couldn’t help but pull some out and read them.
[Wasting resources, ruining the song!]
[Go listen to XX’s cover of this song! What garbage are you singing?]
[Wasting other people’s money! Spoiled brat!]
[Is being rich so great? Why didn’t XX get this opportunity? Just because you’re the Zhou family’s heiress?]
[Retire early! You’re a has-been idol, it’s not your era anymore.]
“They really have nothing better to do, bothering to mail such pointless letters? How extravagant.” He mused that postage was about 12 yuan per letter these days, enough for a bowl of noodles or two meals of tomato and eggs.
He figured that even if the President and others had discarded such things beforehand, Zhou Danxia herself probably had some idea of her situation. He thought back to his own sixteen or seventeen-year-old self. Although ten years had passed, the feeling of aimless wandering still lingered within him.
A knock sounded.
“Excuse me,” Ah Xin said, stepping in. The girl glanced at him, then continued her vocal attempts.
With no one to help or offer reminders, she constantly faltered and expressed dissatisfaction, having to shake her head, cancel, and restart. She was alone, trying again and again, searching for the right feeling after each mistake.
The headphones on the side could also connect to the music she was listening to. Ah Xin couldn’t help but put them on, and the moment the high-tech headphones were worn, a small projection screen activated, allowing Ah Xin to freely control the volume and progress with his hands. The rhythmic wave patterns of the drum beats also appeared vividly before his eyes.
“Oh, so it’s this kind of song.” Following the melody, Ah Xin instinctively tapped his foot to the beat, pulled up the sheet music, quickly scanned it, and hummed softly.
“Why did you barge in?” Zhou Danxia, quickly noticing Ah Xin’s actions, pushed him away impatiently.
“Ah, I wanted to hear what kind of song it was too. You seem quite troubled, so I thought I might be able to help.”
“Don’t meddle. Just do your own job. When you’re not needed to drive, you can go clean or something.”
“Haha, but the robots have already handled that.”
“You have nothing better to do, do you?” she said, beginning to channel the magic in her hands.
“Wait! I genuinely want to help you! Mercy!”
“What do you intend to do?”
“Just… just play the piano! Don’t you have an instrument room here?”
“Yes, we do… You’re not thinking of playing this song for me to sing along to, are you?”
“Yes, exactly,” Ah Xin nodded quickly. “Think about it, singing alone to a backing track, it’s always hard to find the tune and the feeling. It’s like karaoke; having a companion makes it more motivating to sing.”
“You must be bored out of your mind,” the girl said with a disdainful expression, and Ah Xin felt offended.
‘This brat! Not only is she ungrateful!’
“Just…”
“Let’s go, to the instrument room.”
“Huh?”
“What are you gawking at? I’m thirsty and planning to rest anyway. If you’re going, hurry up. I still plan to record later.”
“Oh, thank you,” Ah Xin replied with a smile.
‘Wait, how did this turn into me needing to ask her for help?’
But it no longer mattered.
There were three instrument rooms, labeled Rock, Western, and Eastern. It was easy to guess they would enter the Western room. The spacious interior was brightly lit, with a massive grand piano standing in the center. Along the walls, a row of cases, judging by their size and scale, held trumpets, tubas, French horns, saxophones, accordions, violins, and cellos. The glass cabinets mainly contained smaller instruments like flutes and clarinets.
“How nostalgic,” Ah Xin murmured, looking at the instruments. He had tried and learned all of them. His youthful days seemed to resurface at the sight of them, everything vividly clear.
“Gulp, hah…” Zhou Danxia took a sip of water, then looked at Ah Xin. “You, you haven’t practiced these in a long time, have you?”
“Ahaha, it has been a while, indeed.”
“Don’t beat around the bush. How long?”
“Six years.”
The girl pressed a hand to her forehead, shaking her head with a hint of exasperation, then offered an awkward smile.
‘Six years, you must be rusty by now,’ the unspoken sentiment clearly reached Ah Xin.
He probably would be severely chastised if he played poorly. Though his initial intention was to help, he always seemed to push himself into the fire. Still, Ah Xin wanted to explore this possibility.
A soft chord resonated.
“The tone seems fine,” Ah Xin remarked, relieved. “It feels like it hasn’t been used in a while, but it’s been regularly cleaned.” He relaxed his body and shoulders, taking a deep breath before exhaling.
Zhou Danxia, who had initially assumed Ah Xin possessed only rudimentary skill and was foolishly trying to curry favor, quickly found her expression changing.
For in that moment, Ah Xin seemed like a different person entirely. His gaze sharpened, becoming serious and focused. Without needing a score, his fingers, as if imbued with a life of their own, remembered every key, dancing across the piano. The melodious song echoed throughout the room, and his body swayed unconsciously with the music. As the song gradually reached its climax, entering a more intricate passage, Ah Xin closed his eyes. He no longer needed to see the keyboard; it was as if everything before had been merely a warm-up, all leading to this moment of explosive expression.
He moved with the freedom of instinct, his body becoming one with the instrument.
It was unfathomable that the hands usually used for sweeping and mopping could possess such unimaginable magic. The girl instinctively placed her hands over her chest, her heartbeat quickening uncontrollably.
‘How amazing, he’s truly incredible.’
In today’s society, learning piano was not difficult. With enough money, knowledge and memories could be implanted directly into one’s mind, thereby mastering a skill. Zhou Danxia had encountered many so-called piano masters who played correctly, yet with an indescribable mechanical and dull quality. But this man, seemingly chosen at random, played with such natural grace and beauty that it felt as if she had been transported to a fairytale forest.
Six years without playing the piano? No, she would sooner believe he had dedicated all twenty-six years of his life to it, for such masterly technique was beyond the reach of ordinary individuals.
Her body began to react instinctively. She opened her mouth, joining the enchanting piano melody in song. It felt as though the burdens in her heart were gradually turning to dust, the weight on her shoulders lessening, becoming light. Memories from the past began to surface in her mind.
She danced and sang with a radiant smile, not out of a forced sense of idol responsibility, but with a natural, heartfelt spontaneity, allowing her body and soul to unite with the music, singing without a single distracting thought.
As twilight fell, illuminated by the glow of the sunset, the song concluded, yet the lingering euphoria remained. Ah Xin bowed slightly to the girl, then smiled and applauded.
“That was the best you’ve ever sung. You still have a lot of talent.”
“Too chatty.” With that, she flicked a finger.
“Oof!” A sharp pain shot through him. Ah Xin, who just a second ago had worn the gentle face of an elder, instantly broke character, clutching his stomach and crying out.
‘Damn it, if this keeps up, I’ll have a perforated stomach one day!’
It must have been a shy gesture. He finally understood why people said not to fall for a tsundere in real life; he truly understood now.