Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry]-Chapter 113

【Sheng Quan Appears at the Guoxinghai Holographic Stage Auditions!】

This headline shot to the top of trending searches almost instantly.

Just how popular Sheng Quan is can be gauged by the flood of comments that appeared under the trending topic within seconds.

【Ahhhh! It's our Chairwoman Sheng! Is she also judging the auditions?!】

【I can't believe Chairwoman Sheng is actually there in person! I should've signed up!!!】

【I was there, but I didn’t get to see her. Rumor has it she doesn’t stay in one room—she watches a performance and then randomly moves to the next. Ugh, my luck wasn’t good enough to catch her.】

【No wonder Chairwoman Sheng suddenly posted on Weibo about today being an "appreciation day"! She was there to watch the auditioning contestants!!】

【I didn’t get in either, but I heard one contestant who got eliminated still received a recommendation from Chairwoman Sheng. They left crying tears of joy.】

【I can confirm—that girl was laughing and sobbing as she walked past me.】

【OMG, have you seen the latest news?! VN from P Nation is competing too! They’re one of P Nation’s most famous groups!!!】

【No way! Even Tuti, the boy group from K Nation, is here! I’d heard international contestants might join, but no one said they’d be this huge!!!】

【Wait, seriously?! Holy crap, I’m checking this out right now!】

As reporters, paparazzi, and influencers posted their hard-earned photos of the event online, the already buzzing internet exploded like oil meeting water.

Even from a distance, these professionals managed to capture crystal-clear shots of every notable celebrity with their high-powered lenses.

Fans didn’t just get recognizable facial features—they could even spot the faintest fine lines near the eyes that would normally go unnoticed in real life.

In no time, the photos from the Guoxinghai auditions turned into a game of "spot the star."

Screenshots flooded social media with captions like:

【That’s Song Zhen! AHHHH, my Zhen Zhen!】

【That’s Hai Hai—see the mole near his eye? It’s definitely him! He actually showed up? Wow, didn’t he say he hated the entertainment scene in China? Talk about a reversal.】

【Kano! I studied in G Nation, and he’s pretty famous there too. I can’t believe he came. Guoxinghai’s lineup is stacked with legends!】

And it truly was a legendary lineup. Even before filming began, contestants from nearly every major country had gathered, along with a few from smaller nations with hard-to-pronounce names.

Chinese netizens had high expectations for Guoxinghai, a talent competition show, for two reasons: first, it was produced by Starlight Entertainment, and second, everyone was eager to see the holographic stage in action.

While many had speculated about international contestants joining, no one expected this many—or this level of fame.

Watching the footage of foreign stars—some masked, others openly smiling—politely greeting staff backstage left many netizens stunned.

Some, still stuck in the mindset of "China’s entertainment industry used to lag behind," couldn’t quite process it.

Since when did China’s entertainment scene become this powerful?

One office worker, sneaking a peek at these photos during work hours, recognized several foreign celebrities who had once visited China with an air of superiority.

Now, they were humbly auditioning for a Chinese talent show.

Baffled, the worker posted on a gossip forum:

【Am I daydreaming at work? This feels too surreal—can’t tell if it’s a good dream or just plain weird.】

The post immediately drew a crowd of amused onlookers.

【How is this a dream? Have you been living under a rock? China’s entertainment industry has been killing it lately.】

【Should I list the overseas box office numbers for our recent films and the global buzz around our dramas?】

【Seconded!】

【LOL, is OP stuck in the past? Too much overtime frying your brain?】

【Need I remind you? "Stellar Wars" was just praised by U Nation media to shame their own sci-fi flops. "The Cultivators" took the world by storm, and even "Polar—The Ultimate Player," jokingly called a hologram ad, smashed box office records.

When that film was casting, foreign actors flocked to China for auditions, begging for even a non-speaking role.】

It’s only natural for a talent show to have some foreign contestants, especially since this is the world’s first holographic stage, meticulously crafted by Sheng Quan. OP, if you were a foreign contestant, wouldn’t you want to participate?

The office worker had always kept up with entertainment gossip. He’d seen every movie mentioned by netizens in the thread and had even passionately left glowing reviews online.

With each cinematic triumph and its ripple effects, he’d followed along, only now realizing that, through these works, China was no longer the "entertainment underdog" it once was. Unconsciously, it had become a magnet for artists from other countries.

After reading the replies in the thread, the office worker couldn’t help but smirk.

Honestly, watching contestants who once looked down on China now scrambling to prove themselves just for a chance to stay—how satisfying was that?

Of ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‍course, not everyone shared his enthusiasm. Some netizens were unhappy about foreign contestants stealing spots from local talent.

The holographic stage was a passion project pushed by Chairman Sheng, guaranteed to dazzle. How could they let outsiders snatch such a grand opportunity?

The internet erupted in chaos. Some saw it as proof of China’s entertainment industry’s growing appeal. Others, upon discovering their favorite idols were competing, immediately switched sides, digging up dirt on rival contestants to thin the competition.

Some were simply xenophobic. Some egged on the drama with chants of "Fight! Fight!" And then there were those, like mischievous melon-eating onlookers, hopping around gleefully to savor the chaos.

Amidst the uproar, the news that "Tu Zhu had joined the auditions"—which would normally be headline-worthy—barely made a splash.

Only fans and antis stubbornly held their ground, still bickering despite the flood of drama.

"LOL, Tu Zhu hasn’t been on stage in ages. He’d probably get booed off."

"Bamboo (Tu Zhu’s nickname) debuted as the center of Love Me Fly! The stage is his home turf! Go Bamboo! We’re rooting for you!"

"Home turf? He’s been busy acting in trash films—when would he even have time to practice? I bet he won’t even pass the first round. Center debut? More like a nepo baby with no skills."

The moment this hater’s comment dropped, fans erupted in fury. The usual cycle ensued: arguments, receipts, and outright insults—nothing was spared.

Lurking bystanders could easily spot the lack of confidence in Tu Zhu’s fans.

While other contestants’ supporters boldly declared, "My idol’s gonna take first place!" Tu Zhu’s fans meekly chirped, "Looking forward to his performance."

Not even a "Tu Zhu will definitely make it!" could be mustered.

But it made sense. Tu Zhu had been a rising star at debut, yet every step afterward seemed like self-sabotage. His acting was so notoriously bad even casual bystanders knew about it.

"Incompetent"—that label had clung to him for years.

Even his fans dared not oversell him, fearing backlash.

A bystander left a poignant comment:

"Kinda sad. Even his fans don’t believe he can win."

The remark quickly shot to the top, proving many silent onlookers shared the sentiment. Most wouldn’t comment, but a quick upvote? That was effortless.

——In a damp, cramped room, Tu Zhu stared at the top comment for a few seconds before setting his phone down.

He turned to face the mirror, his reflection dull and weary.

It wasn’t just his mood—his savings had been drained by his exploitative company, and what little remained was spent breaking free from Shenhua.

Then, to join Guoxinghai, he turned down every offer, dedicating every ounce of energy to this stage.

Now, this tiny room was all he could afford.

The air reeked of mildew. Noise from next door seeped through his headphones. Yet, undisturbed, Tu Zhu raised his arms and began to move, his steps light across the soundproofed floor.

Under the dim light, his figure seemed shadowed—but his eyes burned clear and bright.

It didn’t matter if no one believed in him.

At least Chairman Sheng saw his worth.

Mid-spin, he paused, locking gazes with his reflection.

He would make it to the end.

No matter what.

——"We’re doomed."

In a hotel room, a silver-haired, ethereally beautiful young man groaned in broken Mandarin, turning to his teammate.

"They... don’t want foreigners... to join."

The young man’s looks were so striking it was as if an anime character had stepped right out of the screen. Combined with his endearingly clueless demeanor and exceptional talent, he had gained considerable fame in his home country.

But right now, he was utterly stressed.

“We barely made it through the auditions. This opportunity is too important.”

There was a reason he was speaking Mandarin—his teammate was from China.

“Don’t worry. Since we passed the auditions, the production team won’t disqualify us just because of some online chatter.”

His teammate, with his eye-catching red hair and a face that radiated sunshine and confidence, flashed a bold, self-assured grin:

“Talented people never have to fear being left behind, no matter where they go.”

“Pack your bags. This championship is ours.”

——Next door, in another hotel, the members of P-country’s top girl group were holding a strategy meeting. As the nation’s leading ensemble, each member boasted striking beauty and unique charm.

The girls huddled together, listening to their blonde leader’s instructions:

“Once we’re on-site, we need to seize every second to practice.”

“Since the competition separates genders, we only need to focus on the other female contestants. From what I’ve observed, there are at least a dozen strong rivals. We don’t know if the production team will reshuffle the groups, so for now, let’s keep working on our Mandarin.”

“Give it 110%—first place belongs to us!”

“Let’s go!”

“Let’s go!!”

——In the adjacent room, a short-haired girl twirled a lollipop stick between her lips as she stepped back inside from the balcony. Her sharp, almond-shaped eyes gave her an air of cool elegance, and she arched a brow with quiet amusement.

This Chinese contestant, fluent in P-language, glanced at the contestant badge in her hand—proof of her successful audition—and beneath her long lashes, her eyes burned with unwavering determination.

“It’s yours, you say?”

“Not necessarily.”

While the gorgeous contestants who had cleared the auditions were busy preparing, a sleek luxury car pulled up right in front of the audition building.

Moments later, Gu Zhao, holding documents that required Sheng Quan’s signature, strode unimpeded into the audition room where she was currently stationed.

Inside, a girl group from U-country was performing. Though it was already the third day of auditions, the competition remained fierce.

The stunning, honey-skinned women moved with flawless synchronicity to the music, exuding effortless cool. Some even playfully tossed their hair, engaging the audience with their magnetic stage presence.

Sheng Quan watched with sparkling eyes, her delighted smile making it abundantly clear how much she adored the performance.

Noticing the big boss’s enthusiasm, the performers amped up their energy, dancing even more vivaciously.

——“Doesn’t she look like a Chinese emperor being seduced by beauties, neglecting her imperial duties?”

——“I’d bet anything that if this were ancient times, our Chairwoman Sheng would’ve already made them her concubines.”

Lane’s voice sounded beside Gu Zhao, who frowned slightly and countered in his deep, resonant tone:

“Chairwoman Sheng has never neglected her responsibilities. Appreciating art is simply one of her hobbies.”

“And your analogy is both inappropriate and pointless.”

The golden-haired, blue-eyed man merely chuckled, unfazed by his usually icy cousin’s retort.

“Then why are you here? It makes sense for me to be called back from A-country to help, but you never leave your cave. What’s your excuse?”

Gu Zhao lifted the file in his hand. “Delivering documents.”

“Tch. The major tasks are already handled, and these recent files aren’t urgent. Any secretary could’ve delivered them. Yet you insisted on coming yourself.”

Gu Zhao remained expressionless. “It’s my break time. I have the right to go wherever I please.”

Lane raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine, your break time. Who knew our workaholic actually takes breaks now?”

His gaze flicked to the item in Gu Zhao’s other hand. “Is that… bubble tea?”

Ignoring him, Gu Zhao waited until the performance ended before stepping inside and handing the documents to Sheng Quan.

Unbothered, Lane watched through the glass as Gu Zhao leaned down slightly to speak to Sheng Quan, who was seated in her chair, and then offered her the drink.

Lip-reading, he caught Gu Zhao hesitating for a few seconds after Sheng Quan signed the papers before finally adding:

“They danced well. No wonder you liked it.”

Lane couldn’t help but snort in amusement, his usually flirtatious blue eyes now shimmering with genuine delight.

How could he not be happy?

His cousin, once trapped in the shadows of the past, was slowly but surely becoming more… alive.

Wait—was that an insult?

Eh, even if it was, it’s not like Gu Zhao would leap over and punch him for it.

Inside the room, Sheng Quan’s eyes lit up at Gu Zhao’s compliment about the U-country performers.

“Right? They were amazing! The stage presence was unreal. Too bad you missed the earlier group—they were even more impressive.”

“But no worries. Once Guoxinghai officially begins, you can catch their performances live.”

Gu Zhao listened quietly before replying, “Alright. I’ll be there.”

Sheng Quan blinked.

Wait—Gu Zhao, the man who notoriously turned down every social invitation, just agreed to attend?

Well, well. Progress.

This stage was Sheng Quan's biggest project, and she had long prepared to bring everyone together.

When there's excitement, it's meant to be shared.

Now with Gu Zhao joining in, the group was truly complete.

Chairman Sheng took a sip of the strawberry-flavored milk tea Gu Zhao had brought—her favorite—and watched the performance, savoring the sheer joy of life.

After enjoying the entire audition process, all the contestants had been selected and finalized.

The large-scale holographic stage competition show, Guoxinghai, officially began filming.