Chapter One: The Termination Incident

Yanjing—amid the city’s soaring skyline, one tower stood apart, an unmissable presence even among a forest of high-rises. For here resided the headquarters of Huayi, the largest talent agency in all of China’s entertainment world. The company boasted a galaxy of superstars, an endless stream of solid performers, and each year, dazzling new talent appeared under its banner. Most remarkable of all, Huayi laid claim to both a king and a queen—the two colossal superstars whose influence reached far and wide.

Inside one of the building’s training studios, five young men were drenched in sweat, relentlessly rehearsing under their coach’s direction. They moved in sync, shifting positions and executing intricate routines—energy and harmony radiated from every step.

“Stop. Ten-minute break,” called the trainer after a grueling sequence.

At once, relief washed over the boys. Three sank to the floor, gasping for breath, while the other two bent over, hands on knees, sweat dripping steadily to the ground.

“Is that all you’ve got?” taunted the boy at the front, smirking at another. “Your stamina’s not what it used to be.”

“Don’t worry, this is nothing,” replied the other, straightening and drawing deep, measured breaths to ease his fatigue.

“Lin Qihua,” the first youth retorted, standing tall, “we’ve trained together three years now, debuted for one. We all know who’s got it and who doesn’t. You should be self-aware.”

Lin Qihua shook his head ever so slightly, dispelling a stabbing pain in his temples. “Liu Feng, who’s got it and who doesn’t isn’t for you or me to decide.”

The other three boys exchanged helpless glances. They’d joined the group later, and these scenes had played out countless times before. No matter how united a group might appear, internal strife was inevitable.

Almost ten minutes had passed when the trainer returned, two people in tow. One was Long Gang, deputy head of the Artist Management Department, a familiar face. The other was a strikingly handsome boy—his skin paler than most girls’, his training suit lending him an almost ethereal allure.

“Gather up, everyone. Director Long has an announcement,” the trainer called, clapping his hands. His gaze lingered on the five as they fell in line, pausing with an unreadable look as he passed Lin Qihua.

“I’m here to announce something,” Long Gang began, his face breaking into a well-known smile. “Xiao Rong is one of our camp’s most outstanding trainees. After careful consideration, he’ll be joining your group, Tianyin, as a new member. I hope you’ll help him integrate quickly. It’s been nearly a year since your debut, and your results haven’t met expectations. Management is dissatisfied, so this decision was made. Focus, train hard, and become a competitive unit quickly. The company is sourcing new songs for you—let’s aim for a hit album.”

The handsome boy, Xiao Rong, stepped forward, shaking hands with each of the five. When he reached Lin Qihua, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Lin Qihua recovered instantly, flashing a bright smile. “Congratulations. Do your best.”

“Thanks,” Xiao Rong replied softly, then took his place among them. From this moment, he belonged to the group. For newcomers, breaking into the industry was tough; joining a debuting group offered a far greater chance at success, provided one could stand out. That was the reality of the entertainment industry: with so many aspiring singers, only relentless effort and perseverance led to success. This had made boy and girl groups the mainstream, and groups often reinvented themselves by adding new members to spark fresh buzz. Still, it was rare to see a group reshuffled before they’d even made a mark.

“There’s another matter—Qihua, come with me,” Long Gang said, fixing Lin Qihua with a steady gaze.

“Yes.” Lin Qihua stepped out of line and followed the deputy director.

“Let’s go,” Long Gang said, leading the way.

“Who said it’s not up to me or you?” Liu Feng’s voice rang out, dripping with glee. “Well, the one who decides is here now—good luck.”

Lin Qihua paused briefly, a slight smirk playing at his lips, then continued after Long Gang.

“All right, enough chatter. Back to training!” barked the trainer, shooting an irate glare at Liu Feng’s smug face. “With a new member, you’ll need to relearn every routine and coordinate fast.”

A chorus of groans rose up.

“Qihua,” Long Gang said as they walked toward the Artist Management offices, “you’ve been here three years now, haven’t you?”

“Yes. Three years and twenty-five days,” Lin Qihua replied.

“Right. You set our record for fastest debut—you were our rising star.” Long Gang sighed. “What a pity.”

“Thank you for your concern, Uncle Long. But this is on me, no one else,” Lin Qihua answered quietly, his emotions in check.

“All right, we’re here.” Long Gang led him to the director’s office, knocked, and pushed open the door. “Director, he’s here.”

“Come in,” a calm male voice called from within.

Long Gang gestured for Lin Qihua to enter.

Nodding, Lin Qihua stepped inside. Long Gang closed the door behind him.

“Good afternoon, Director.” Lin Qihua stood before the desk.

The director was a stern-faced middle-aged man. Behind gold-rimmed glasses, his demeanor radiated principle and determination.

“You have one last chance now,” the director said, setting aside his documents and folding his hands on the desk. “You were not easy to train, and your debut was hard-won. If you admit your mistake and change, we still recognize your talent and will offer you other opportunities. Keep a low profile, work hard, and your future is promising.”

“Director Lin,” Lin Qihua replied, massaging the dull ache at the back of his head and meeting the director’s gaze without fear, “I admit I was impulsive and should have communicated more tactfully, even accepted the company’s terms. But today, even if I apologize and bow my head, it’s too late. There’s no place for me here anymore, is there?”

The director sighed. “If you keep your head down and learn for a while, things could turn around.”

“Director,” Lin Qihua’s lips curled in a wry smile, “I appreciate your kindness, but I can’t live the rest of my life with my tail between my legs. Besides, certain people would rather not see me, would they?”

“Very well,” the director’s regret faded, replaced by unyielding resolve. “Since you can’t meet our requirements, I regret to say our negotiations are over. You have two options.”

“I’m listening,” Lin Qihua replied calmly.

“First, as per company policy, you will receive no assignments for the remainder of your contract.”

“I understand—that’s what they call being ‘put on ice,’ isn’t it?”

“Second,” the director raised two fingers, “if you request to terminate your contract yourself, we will end it. Given your circumstances, we won’t seek damages or training reimbursement. However, you must agree to two conditions: First, you may not reveal anything that happened here. Second, for one year, you may not sign with any agency. After that, you’re free.”

“Do I really have a choice?” Lin Qihua gave a bitter laugh. “Our contract still has three years left. Letting me walk away penalty-free is already a great favor, isn’t it?”

“Qihua, I hope you choose what’s best for you.” The director’s tone softened. “Every one of you was scouted and trained with care. We don’t wish to see your potential wasted, so we gave you this second path.”

“As long as I keep my mouth shut, right?”

“You understand.”

“Fine,” Lin Qihua nodded. “I’ll take the second option—not that I have much choice, do I? Three years in limbo, and I’d never surface again in this ever-changing industry.”

“Congratulations on making the right decision,” the director said, a rare smile flickering across his face. “And congratulations on your new beginning.”

“Thank you. It does feel like a rebirth,” Lin Qihua replied with a small smile.

“The contract is ready.” The director slid a folder across the desk. “Sign here, and our agreement will be officially terminated. You must, of course, abide by the terms.”

Lin Qihua picked up the file—the stipulations were exactly as the director had outlined, the rest mere formalities.

He took the pen, hand trembling slightly as he reached the signature line. In that moment, three years of memories flooded his mind. To say he felt nothing at this ending would be a lie. Here, he had poured out his sweat and dreams; here were the stern leaders, the dedicated trainers, the brothers and sisters who’d laughed and cried with him. There had been joy and regret—so much that now had to end.

He paused, then resolutely signed his name, bold and flourishing. In that instant, Lin Qihua felt a weight lift from his heart. He had made the right choice. The company was good, but it was no longer his home.