Start by Spending One Billion [Entertainment Industry]-Chapter 119
Sheng Quan, who had been secretly photographed by Wu Ying, was currently reviewing the contestants' medical reports.
In talent shows, health check-ups are crucial. Contestants practicing dance aren’t like her, who casually entertains herself with just two hours of practice a day.
Excessive sweating, intense physical activity, and low-oil, low-salt meals mean the contestants' daily energy expenditure far exceeds what most viewers could imagine.
The program’s responsibility is to ensure these contestants maintain their health despite such high-intensity training.
After a thorough review, Sheng Quan—who was all too familiar with "stomach ailments and gastritis"—was relieved. Perhaps because the contestants were generally young and resilient, most appeared to be in good health.
Tu Zhu, as expected, had a mild stomach condition.
Sheng Quan, the self-proclaimed stomach ailment researcher, assessed it with experience: "Not too severe, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to gain weight so quickly."
It wasn’t that Sheng Quan had some "100% of sponsored talents must have stomach issues" bug. The real culprit was the entertainment industry’s toxic environment—any artist with even a hint of fame could forget about eating properly.
Those with little fame, once in work mode, rarely had the right to decide when they could eat. The more famous ones were only busier.
At Xingmang, as the boss, Sheng Quan paid the most attention to her employees' eating and resting habits.
Hua Qing, Yan Hui, and others had suffered physically in the past, so they took great care of their health now. Jin Jiu, Yu Xiangwan, and the like followed Sheng Quan’s instructions to the letter—if she told them to eat properly, they did.
Jiang Zhen and Gu Zhao were cut from the same cloth—once they started working, they forgot everything else, as if they could transcend mortal needs like eating for three days straight. That’s when the assistants Sheng Quan assigned to them proved their worth.
As for Lin Aike, she didn’t need an assistant to remind her.
—If she didn’t plan to stay in the entertainment industry for a few more years, she’d happily eat her way from one end of Shanghai to the other.
With extensive (albeit oddly phrased) experience in handling subordinates’ stomach issues, Chairwoman Sheng smoothly issued her directives.
The instructions soon reached the nutritionists finalizing the meal plans, followed by the cafeteria manager and the chefs.
That night, while the exhausted contestants slept soundly, the cafeteria—usually on the periphery of the "manor"—was brightly lit and bustling with activity.
Don’t assume healthy meals are easy to prepare. The chefs meticulously controlled the heat, while the chef dispatched by Xingmang demonstrated how to make low-oil, low-salt, sugar-free dishes that were at least somewhat palatable.
Though this chef was barely thirty, the Guoxinghai cafeteria staff listened attentively, eager to learn.
After all, she had been cooking at Xingmang almost since its inception.
From newly signed rookies to international superstar Jiang Zhen, nearly everyone had eaten her food at some point.
Over time, she had risen from being the "sole cook in the small cafeteria" to "head chef," and eventually to the person in charge of Xingmang’s entire dining operations.
Her rapid climb in rank and salary was enough to earn the Guoxinghai chefs’ admiration and envy.
As they studied diligently, they secretly calculated: even if Xingmang signed only one-tenth of the 600 contestants, that would still be 60 new talents.
With Xingmang’s continuous growth, the once-small "internal cafeteria" was expanding. If they performed well, they might even get recruited into the headquarters.
Motivated by this thought, the chefs worked even harder.
A little awkward and somewhat shy in front of the camera, they declared resolutely:
"We’ll definitely make the best food possible!"
The next day, the contestants sat in the cafeteria, staring at the bizarrely plated dishes before them, lost in thought.
[HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!]
The live chat was in hysterics.
[I tuned in last night and saw the camera filming the chefs hard at work—only for this to be the result after a whole night’s effort!]
[Lan He’s "Is this for real?" expression is killing me!]
[Ge Ling is a legend, eating it without batting an eye.]
[Stop laughing, everyone! When you’re trying to maintain a camera-ready figure, the best you can hope for is "not disgusting," LOL!]
[The girls are even holding up slices of sweet potato to check if they’re translucent—I can’t!]
[I’m touched they even get carbs, even if it’s just one slice of sweet potato.]
[This contrast is hilarious. The production team really knows how to stir things up!]
Some viewers noticed something unusual:
[Why is Tu Zhu’s meal different from everyone else’s?]
[Yeah, completely different.]
[Not just the contents—even the tray is a different style.]
The audience wasn’t the only one who noticed. Tu Zhu couldn’t help but stand up, clearly intending to ask the cafeteria staff.
But the staff were busy cleaning, bustling about in a flurry of activity. He approached, lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out.
The rounder-faced young man took another step forward, his lips moving slightly. One hand clutched at his clothes anxiously, as if trying to muster courage.
Three seconds later, he still couldn’t bring himself to speak.
He looked pitiful, yet somehow, this instantly struck a chord with some viewers.
[Socially awkward Tu Zhu.]
[His face is all red! He looks so helpless, but somehow that just makes him even more attractive?!]
[Who wouldn’t love a soft, flustered beauty with teary eyes?]
[HELP! I just want to pinch his cheeks and watch him cry big fat tears!]
[The internet isn’t lawless! Watch your words!]
[I see Tu Zhu’s three roommates standing up—oh no, the huskies are coming to rescue their samoyed friend!]
Just as Jing Tiangao and the others started making their way over, a clear, pleasant voice rang out:
"Excuse me, miss—why is our food different from everyone else’s?"
Tu Zhu froze, instinctively turning to look behind him.
A tall, radiant girl spotted him and cheerfully waved, stepping closer to peek at his tray:
"Tu Zhu, yours is different too! Look, mine’s the same."
[OMG LAN HE LAN HE!!]
[Wait, don’t they usually have no interaction? Why do they seem so familiar?]
[Lan He and Tu Zhu worked together before—like two years ago on some show.]
[The entertainment industry is a small world. Everyone knows everyone eventually.]
Tu Zhu’s eyes remained slightly downcast as he greeted her softly: "Hello, Lan He."
The girl grinned breezily. "Hey, hey!"
[AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!]
A screaming, hysterical comment flashed by, but most viewers barely noticed—except for its eye-catching golden VIP effect.
——Then, with disinterest, she continued watching the live stream.
Who isn’t a premium VIP member these days?
At this moment, the sender of this barrage comment, Sheng Quan, was internally screaming with excitement alongside System 006.
[They’ve met!!! They’ve met!!!]
[My Lan He!! She’s still as radiant and confident as ever!!]
[Ahhhh!!! In the novel, even in death, she was still thinking about Tu Zhu. Now they’ve finally met safely—this proud mama is crying!!]
Though 006 couldn’t fully empathize, seeing its host so thrilled, it happily joined in the celebration, showering virtual confetti and fireworks. The pair reveled as if commemorating a grand occasion.
Sheng Quan was genuinely overjoyed.
In the original story, Lan He appeared much later, and her circumstances were never easy. As an idol who debuted through a survival show, she was inevitably discarded by her company as she aged.
But Lan He never gave up. She was like a stubborn weed, repeatedly trampled yet persistently pushing through the soil to bask in the sunlight.
And she succeeded. No matter how many setbacks she faced, she always found a way to rise again.
This had been a tremendous source of inspiration for Sheng Quan back then. While other characters carried an air of tragedy, Lan He was like a little sun, forever fighting against life’s adversities.
Sheng Quan tried to emulate her.
Whenever work grew exhausting and stress weighed her down, she’d channel her inner sun by… furiously cursing her boss on her way to overtime.
After transmigrating into the novel, Sheng Quan initially lacked the resources to organize stages or promote idols. But she was delighted to discover that, thanks to Xingmang’s influence in the industry, Lan He now had far more opportunities than before.
She once assigned a company advertisement to Lan He and, during the shoot, maintained a calm façade while secretly bursting with excitement—"Hahaha, I’m going to see Lan He!"—pretending to just pass by.
And when Xingmang finally gained the capability to host holographic stages, Sheng Quan wasn’t surprised to see Lan He participate.
—She would never let slip any chance to move forward.
Yet, even such a resilient Lan He, in her final moments, had thought: "What a shame I couldn’t uncover how Tu Zhu died."
In his last breath, he had given her a warning.
In her last breath, she regretted never learning the truth behind his death.
Now, she witnessed the boy and girl, in the most peaceful and untroubled years of their lives, sharing a smile.
Sheng Quan: AHHHH, I’M DEAD!!!!
——Under the cafeteria lights, Lan He, having received an answer from the staff, suddenly understood:
"Oh… so it’s a special meal for those with health issues? Right, I do have stomach problems. Wow, they’re this considerate? They even prepared meals for us?"
Her face lit up with joy. "It must be Chairwoman Sheng!! Chairwoman Sheng is the best!!"
This reflexive "praise Chairwoman Sheng no matter what" reaction was unmistakably that of a Sheng Quan fan.
Tu Zhu, who had initially planned to take his tray and leave after getting his answer, paused upon hearing Lan He’s words. Softly, he added his agreement:
"I think it’s Chairwoman Sheng too."
"Right?! I’ve seen interviews with Hua Qing and the others—Chairwoman Sheng cares so much about artists’ health! She’s truly the best."
Tu Zhu nodded. "Yeah."
Lan He: "Let me tell you, when I auditioned, Chairwoman Sheng came to watch me! She even praised my dancing!"
Tu Zhu’s eyes brightened slightly, and he replied with a hint of pride, "Me too. Chairwoman Sheng watched me as well."
"Wow! What a coincidence!!"
Lan He grew even more excited, slapping Tu Zhu’s shoulder. "We’re both people Chairwoman Sheng picked! We’re definitely going to make it big!! Let’s do this!"
Tu Zhu, usually averse to physical contact, didn’t recoil this time—after living with his three roommates in the program, he’d grown accustomed to being patted.
Unconsciously, the boy lifted his head, his bright eyes meeting the girl’s across from him. A spark of determination flickered in his expression as he nodded firmly.
"Yeah!"
After this mutual pep talk, the two parted ways, returning to their seats with renewed vigor, devouring the specially prepared meals with the air of people fueling up to train hard, climb the ranks, and conquer the world.
Sheng Quan, who had been eagerly waiting in the live stream to see what heartfelt reunion conversation they’d have: "…"
This wasn’t quite what she’d imagined.
The Lan He who had stubbornly fought against fate, and the Tu Zhu whose every mention in the novel carried a quiet sorrow—
Now, they were just two young people, naive yet full of hope, striving toward their dreams.
Chairwoman Sheng slowly stretched into a newly learned yoga pose on her mat, her expression relaxed and content.
Different… but not bad at all.
…Ow, this pose is brutal. Wasn’t yoga supposed to be soothing?
Of course, stomach issues weren’t exclusive to those two. Many of the debuted contestants had similar problems, though, as they were still young, none were severe.
Neither their companies nor they themselves paid much attention—until the pain struck.
None of them had expected that joining this show would come with such meticulous care.
They ate with gratitude, and their fans, watching from the sidelines, showered the program with praise.
[First time seeing a survival show prepare special meals for contestants with health issues.]
[For some reason, seeing them happily eating these meals makes me happy too.]
[My Jin Yuan has stomach problems?? Thank you, program team, for taking such good care of them. So touched.]
[Lan He’s always so cheerful—I had no idea she suffered from this too. Lan He, please take care of yourself!]
[Don’t cry, lol. Lan He just admitted she got stomach problems from eating insane levels of spicy food.]
[Tu Zhu looks so adorable eating his meal obediently. This show is a goldmine of visuals—my eyes are overwhelmed.]
Fans were moved by the care their idols received, casual viewers applauded the program’s thoughtfulness, and a dedicated "study group" even attempted to recreate the "Guoxinghai-approved diet meal" by referencing yesterday’s footage.
The hype never died down.
Following the earlier trending topics like [#GuoxinghaiFoodTooGoodContestantsGainingWeight] and [#GuoxinghaiCafeteriaRevampsMenu], the evening saw [#GuoxinghaiSpecialMealsForContestantsWithStomachIssues] climb the charts, with comments flooding in to praise the show’s attentiveness.
Though most of the effusive, essay-length compliments came from the affected contestants’ fans, the sheer volume left an impression.
Even passersby scrolling past couldn’t help but develop a favorable curiosity about the show.
With fans passionately driving the momentum, Guoxinghai’s viewership numbers soared without pause.
The competing shows watched helplessly as it skyrocketed in popularity. Just when they thought it had hit the ceiling—enough to make them sneer, "That's it?"—the show smashed right through and shot into space like a rocket.
The competing teams: "..."
The most infuriating part? Not only did they have to seethe with envy over Guoxinghai's success, but they also had to worry about their own staff getting the idea of "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em."
They couldn’t even blame their subordinates for low ratings like they used to. Now that Guoxinghai was aggressively poaching talent, if they dared to shift blame onto their teams, those employees wouldn’t hesitate to quit on the spot and defect to Guoxinghai overnight.
The executives of rival shows: "..."
They couldn’t compete. They couldn’t win.
All they could do was console themselves: "Popularity rises and falls. Guoxinghai is at its peak now—it’ll come down eventually."
And then, just as the show’s hype showed the slightest sign of dipping, it suddenly surged even higher.
The rival executives: "..."
Are you cheating?!
Who even plays like this?!
Though they grumbled internally, their hands betrayed them as they opened Weibo—only to find the entire platform flooded with Guoxinghai.
The reason for the sudden spike was obvious.
The contestants had finished their training, and it was time to showcase their progress.
Most viewers had initially tuned into Guoxinghai for one thing: the holographic stage.
And now, Guoxinghai had officially announced—
The world’s first holographic stage would debut tomorrow night.
