Chu Qianli realized that in her youthful arrogance, she truly needed others to help screen jobs for her. Whenever she took on work herself, she would inevitably run into some tricky problems.
After watching the boy band’s practice, Chu Qianli felt her scalp tingle. She tried to sneak away, but Qiu Qingkong grabbed her backpack strap.
Qiu Qingkong held onto the strap tightly and asked ominously, “Teacher, where do you think you’re going?”
Chu Qianli gave an awkward laugh, “Haha, I just thought, with finals coming up, students should really focus on studying.”
Tan Muxing chimed in, “This is the most enthusiastic I’ve ever seen her about studying.”
Qiu Qingkong protested, “Is it really that bad? It’s just a practice session. Does it warrant running away in fear?”
Chu Qianli nodded vigorously, “Yes, really! You can scold me for being bad at studying, but you didn’t have to show me this. I don’t deserve such punishment.”
Qiu Qingkong coaxed, “Just watch a little longer, just a little longer, and you’ll get used to it!”
“No matter how much you try to eat a rock, it’s still a rock. It’s just inedible by nature.” Chu Qianli hid behind Tan Muxing, trying to escape Qiu Qingkong’s grip. “Help! Save me!”
Hearing Chu Qianli’s cries reminiscent of a Lu Xun-style lament, Tan Muxing sighed and tried to mediate, “She doesn’t understand the entertainment industry, so maybe she’s not suited for this kind of work.”
Chu Qianli, entirely focused on astrology, barely even watched anime, let alone followed the entertainment industry. She didn’t understand the mechanics of talent shows and therefore was quick to conclude that these people couldn’t succeed.
Qiu Qingkong said earnestly, “Teacher, you don’t need to worry too much. Nowadays, success doesn’t necessarily correlate with skill…”
Chu Qianli replied, “So, you guys in the entertainment industry are more straightforward about scamming people than I am?”
“Hey now, that’s such an unpleasant way to put it…” Qiu Qingkong tugged Chu Qianli back, sighing in resignation. “Unpleasant but true!”
After much back-and-forth, Chu Qianli and Qiu Qingkong finally reached a compromise: Chu Qianli could help analyze and plan, but success would ultimately depend on personal fortune.
The company originally intended to hold a debut ceremony for the trainees, but the plan somehow morphed into career planning sessions. The trainees were informed to enter the room one by one for consultations.
Debuting as a boy band involved a lot of work, and the trainees were used to regular meetings with leadership. They didn’t find the arrangement unusual.
Inside the room, Chu Qianli had taken off her school uniform jacket and was now fidgeting in casual clothes. She hesitated and said, “Luck is just an amplifier. If someone has no ability, no amount of amplification will help. You must understand that I can’t control others’ fates—I can only offer suggestions.”
Qiu Qingkong nodded profusely, “Got it, got it. No problem. Teacher, just give them advice. My future money-making trees depend on you to find them!”
“But can’t you screen the saplings before planting the trees?” Chu Qianli whimpered. “Is my impeccable reputation really going to crumble like this? I always knew this day would come, but not for this…”
She regretted ever owing Qiu Qingkong a favor, finding herself pushed to the brink by an idol boy band.
Tan Muxing consoled her, “…My condolences.”
The trainees had submitted their birth charts in advance. Some only knew their birth dates, not the exact time, but it was enough. Qiu Qingkong had printed out their details and placed the documents neatly by Chu Qianli’s side, waiting for the consultations to begin.
One trainee entered the room and sat properly in front of the trio, his posture upright.
As she browsed the star chart, Chu Qianli asked curiously, “Why do you want to be an idol?”
The male trainee responded earnestly, passionately sharing, “I’ve dreamed of being on stage since I was a child. I loved singing and dancing for people. Coming to this company to train was all about being seen by more people. I hope one day I can make the company and my fans proud…”
Chu Qianli listened to the rehearsed speech and blinked. “?”
She hurriedly interrupted, “Stop, stop, stop. Sorry, you might have misunderstood. We’re not doing a mock program audition here. I don’t even understand your talent show stuff. I’m just simply asking, ‘Why do you want to be an idol?’”
The trainee averted his gaze, looking somewhere distant. He said resolutely, “Because it’s my dream.”
Chu Qianli looked at the star chart, then back at him, surprised. “Huh? Did I grab the wrong chart? But according to this, you’re more of a laid-back person who isn’t particularly interested in studying. You tend to go with the flow. Actually, you’re not… or rather, you don’t seem all that passionate about the stage?”
The trainee immediately countered, “No, I’m absolutely not lying. The stage is my greatest dream!”
Chu Qianli shook her head. “No, the star chart isn’t lying. Your greatest dream is to make easy money.”
The trainee was heartbroken. “You can’t deny my dream!”
Chu Qianli pretended to wipe away tears. “And you can’t deny my professionalism!”
Seeing the dramatic back-and-forth, Qiu Qingkong quickly intervened to stop the farce, saying, “Alright, alright, enough of this. Next person! If you can’t even tell the truth…”
The male trainee clearly treated Chu Qianli as a leader or audience member to fool. Since he wasn’t honest, continuing the consultation was pointless.
Soon, the next trainee entered the room, starting a new round of consultation.
Chu Qianli cross-checked the star chart, scrolling her phone to refine the analysis. She curiously asked, “So, have you already broken up with your girlfriend?”
The new trainee nearly jumped out of his chair, panicking. “I don’t have a girlfriend! I’ve been single for over two years!”
Chu Qianli blinked. “?”
She stared at the star chart, puzzled. “Huh? Then who’s the woman you’ve been frequently in contact with? I don’t know what you city folks call it—maybe you refer to them as your significant other? Or partner? Wife?”
“…”
“It’s just that times have changed, and the meanings of words have evolved. Like how in ancient times, marriage had to involve a ceremony to count as a union. But nowadays, there are lots of people who don’t marry yet live together with the opposite sex long-term. That also falls under a strong marriage period…”
Chu Qianli smiled and said, “Get the gist of it. Anyway, you’ve got someone in a close relationship with you. Call it whatever you want, but you haven’t broken up yet, have you?”
“………”
Qiu Qingkong, hearing this revelation, covered her face in anguish and waved her hand, saying, “Next! Next!”
The trainee hesitated for a long time, unsure how to respond. Embarrassed, he quickly left the room without daring to look back.
Qiu Qingkong was on the verge of collapse and practically fell beside Chu Qianli’s chair. In despair, she cried out, “Teacher, what do I do? Am I going bankrupt in the second half of my life? Is my company doomed?”
Chu Qianli calmly reassured her, “There’s still hope if you turn back now. From now on, study astrology with me properly. Scamming people here or there is the same thing, but I’m a little more ethical than you media folks.”
Tan Muxing hesitated and said, “… You actually sound a little proud of that.”
In the hallway, trainees kept leaving the room, looking utterly defeated. They appeared shaken and dispirited from the interviews, their spirits visibly crushed.
Even Shi Cheng and the others began to sense something was off and grew increasingly uneasy.
Outside, the trainees waiting in line saw those leaving and immediately asked, “How was it? What did they ask you about? What’s the company looking to discuss?”
The ones who had already been interviewed were reluctant to talk about their embarrassing moments and vaguely replied, “Everyone’s interview is different…”
“What do you mean different? What did they ask you? Don’t keep it from us, man!”
“Ugh, it’s basically like a background check. I heard the company even asks if you have a girlfriend—sensitive stuff like that. They’ll ask about everything.” The interviewee glanced around nervously, his face filled with mystery. He added cautiously, “I even heard someone stubbornly refused to admit the truth, but the company somehow dug up the exact date and time they met their partner.”
Some trainees had stubbornly argued against Chu Qianli’s insights, forcing her to cast divinations and expose the truth.
The trainees listening were filled with dread. One nervously asked, “How do they dig that up? Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”
Shi Cheng replied, “Signing a contract with the company is basically a sell-your-soul deal. What’s the point of discussing rights now?”
Qiu Qingkong’s family ran one of the largest media companies in the country. Naturally, some trainees in her company carried a sense of superiority—like mediocre students proud to be admitted to a prestigious school. They basked in the company’s reputation, forgetting that its fame was built by senior artists and had little to do with the current batch of trainees.
Just because the company had succeeded with actors or artists in the past didn’t mean it could replicate that success with boy band trainees. But young, naïve trainees didn’t understand this. They blindly believed that leaning on a big name guaranteed success.
Shi Cheng, one of the trainees himself, had always thought the boy band was destined to flop. He never expected pre-debut background checks, which suggested the higher-ups might have some sense. Perhaps it wouldn’t flop entirely.
Trainees kept leaving the room, all with equally unpleasant expressions. Shi Cheng grew more anxious with every passing minute.
Finally, it was his turn. After knocking on the door, he entered and immediately bowed politely. “Hello, teachers.”
Raising his head, he found the people inside weren’t much older than him. They looked drained, sorting through piles of materials with tired, mechanical movements, occasionally stifling yawns.
Chu Qianli rubbed her eyes, quickly straightened her back, and tried to look lively. “It’s fine. Sit down. We’ll start shortly.”
Shi Cheng nervously took a seat and noticed the table covered in trainee profiles. Someone nearby was grimly sorting through the documents. He couldn’t help but wonder, What’s all this about?
Chu Qianli glanced at Qiu Qingkong’s actions, immediately understanding. She explained, “Oh, she’s sorting through the debris of her collapsing empire. Don’t worry about it!”
Qiu Qingkong was utterly heartbroken. She had begun categorizing the trainees based on potential scandals, planning to have her PR team prepare responses in advance. At this point, she didn’t care whether the boy band succeeded or not; she just didn’t want her family to end up destitute and starving.
Shi Cheng instantly tensed up, uncertain about the tricky questions awaiting him.
“Why do you want to become an idol?”
“Uh… to work and earn money?”
“But your singing and dancing skills aren’t great. From your chart, your talent doesn’t seem to lie in this field.”
“Honestly, I know that too. I’m probably not suited for the stage. I’m better at communication. It’s just that the current trend is all about talent shows…” Shi Cheng replied reluctantly. He was well aware of his shortcomings and had always doubted the boy band’s prospects. But as a newcomer, he wasn’t in a position to question the higher-ups’ decisions.
The company was determined to send the boy band into talent shows. Shi Cheng couldn’t possibly walk up to the executives and offer advice—he neither had the qualifications nor the standing.
Chu Qianli looked up at him, surprised. She said, “Wow.”
Shi Cheng, unsure what her reaction meant, asked nervously, “Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”
“No, no, you’re fine!” Chu Qianli hurriedly asked Tan Muxing to jot down his name. She then nudged the despondent Qiu Qingkong and exclaimed, “Wake up! Wake up! This seedling has potential! You’ll finally have someone to exploit in the future!”
Shi Cheng: “?”
Interviewing the earlier trainees had been pointless since they refused to acknowledge their issues. Astrology consultations are a two-way process. If the client isn’t honest, the astrologer can’t offer meaningful advice.
People tend to accept only what they want to hear, denying uncomfortable truths and coming up with excuses. While subjective judgments might be flawed, the astrology chart doesn’t need to flatter or belittle anyone—it provides objective insights, as long as the interpretation is accurate.
At least Shi Cheng was honest and self-aware, which meant he had a chance.
Qiu Qingkong finally perked up, squinting to remember Shi Cheng’s face. But his appearance wasn’t among the most striking of the trainees, leaving her unsure where his success might lie.
Chu Qianli, thrilled to encounter someone reasonable, quickly began calculating his transits. She mused, “From the looks of it, you’ll have a breakout year soon. But with Mars and Uranus in play, it feels fleeting—like smoke and mirrors. If you don’t seize the chance to innovate, your career might stagnate, making it hard to climb back up…”
Shi Cheng exclaimed, “That’s so tragic!”
Chu Qianli blinked in confusion and asked, “Is it?”
Shi Cheng replied, “If my career stalls and I can’t recover, how is that not tragic?!”
Chuyanli gently reassured him, “Hey, at least you’ve had your moment of fame. Plenty of people never even get that…”
Shi Cheng was at a loss for words, but he felt that falling from the clouds after having reached them was worse than never having climbed up in the first place. He quickly asked, “Then what should I do?”
Chu Qianli replied, “You weren’t wrong earlier—you do have a talent for communication and interpersonal skills. To reverse the downward trend in your career, you’ll have to work incredibly hard to innovate in the coming year. Singing, dancing, and acting aren’t your strong suits, so participate in activities involving interaction with others. Also, you might be good at sales…”
“I can’t quite put my finger on it. You can work in front of the camera, but it doesn’t feel like a typical artist’s career—it’s always tied to buying and selling relationships,” Chu Qianli said with a frown. “I just can’t name the specific profession.”
Qiu Qingkong froze. “A livestream sales host? No way, we’re an artist management company. If this gets out, it won’t look good for us.”
If an artist from any company started hosting livestream sales, fans would likely be outraged and flood the company with complaints.
Shi Cheng, however, wasn’t offended. Instead, he asked anxiously, “If I go in that direction, will my career still decline?”
Chu Qianli replied, “Not if you do it the right way. In fact, your finances would improve significantly—likely better than what you’d earn from singing and dancing.”
Shi Cheng nodded. “…That’s true. It seems like anything I do would be better than singing and dancing.”
Qiu Qingkong turned to Chu Qianli, troubled. “So, should we still put him in the talent show? But the company’s already made its decision; it’s too late to pull him out now.”
Having full faith in Chu Qianli, Qiu Qingkong was unsure how to handle this potential cash cow and decided to seek Chu Qianli’s advice on “tree-planting” strategies.
Shi Cheng, meanwhile, hadn’t recognized Qiu Qingkong’s identity. His eyebrows shot up as he froze in confusion. “Wait a second, which department are you guys from? Can you even decide a trainee’s career direction?”
Chu Qianli didn’t have time to answer his question. Deep in thought for a while, she finally decided, “He still needs to be put in the program. Based on his chart, he needs this opportunity. But it’s best if he adopts a stage name—it might help him a bit.”
“What kind of name would work?”
Chu Qianli pondered for a long time before handing a name to Shi Cheng, saying, “This one’s good.”
Shi Cheng looked at the name and hesitated. “This doesn’t seem right…”
Qiu Qingkong leaned over to see. “Shi Bude? ‘Unbearable’? It’s pretty catchy.”
Shi Cheng frowned. “But this doesn’t sound like a performer’s name—it’s a bit… rustic.”
Chu Qianli shrugged. “You can go with a name that sounds like an artist’s, but then you might not have the popularity or recognition of one. I’m just giving a suggestion; it’s up to you whether to change it.”
Thinking of his career slump, Shi Cheng changed his tune in an instant and declared decisively, “I’ll change it! This name screams ‘profitable!’”
“Any other advice? You said I’d be very popular in the next year, but right now I’m a total nobody. I don’t even have the faintest spark—there’s nothing to show,” Shi Cheng said skeptically. His team members attracted fans with their looks, but he had nothing going for him.
Chu Qianli encouraged him, “You need to build your confidence. When others are competing on talent shows, you’ll be selling products. To excel at sales, you have to radiate energy and spirit!”
Inspired by her motivational tone, Shi Cheng immediately felt invigorated. Suddenly, he wasn’t worried anymore. Clenching his fists, he exclaimed, “Got it!”
“Think of yourself as the spokesperson for a sponsor. Don’t miss any opportunity to pitch—you need the mindset of someone who wants to sell everything! Anything and everything can be sold!”
Shi Cheng made a bold declaration, “Forget about being a talent show sponsor spokesperson—I’m ready to sell the entire company!”
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