Chapter 9: Realistic Novel, Absurd Reality
“Inner Field Ticket 1980, this expensive?”
Taking advantage of the break while doing makeup before the performance, Yu Wei casually searched for the ticket price of their farewell performance.
He knew the fan circle was good at fleecing fans, but he didn’t expect it to be this ruthless. A concert with 15 programs, and the standard wasn’t that great, yet the ticket price was this high.
This is too black-hearted.
Yu Wei still had the right to speak on this. He had been to Deng Ziqi’s concert before, where she sang solo for thirty-seven songs throughout, and the inner field ticket price was just over a thousand…
Damn it, a few young fresh meats lip-syncing on stage and jumping around a bit dare to charge two thousand bucks. This isn’t just black-hearted; it’s outright fraud.
What was even more infuriating was that he was actually one of them.
“You just found out today?”
Qi Yuan, who was getting his hair done, shrugged. “Probably a lot of people bought tickets from scalpers, so their expenses would only be higher…”
Yu Wei had naturally heard about this too. Traffic stars’ performances were a disaster zone for scalper tickets, with five-figure prices being common.
People going to singers’ concerts were basically there to listen to music and feel the atmosphere, and most fans stayed rational—if they couldn’t get tickets this time, they’d wait for the next.
But fan circle fans were different. They took things like “promise” and “companionship” very seriously and wouldn’t rest until they bought tickets.
No wonder capital loved doing the fan economy. This purchasing power and loyalty really couldn’t be compared to traditional entertainment industries.
Those with well-off families or who knew their limits were fine, but the scary ones were those who spared no expense, suffering themselves and dragging family and friends down with them…
Even scarier was that the more money they spent, the more self-moved they got, thinking it was great to pay for love.
But in reality, idols didn’t care.
At least on his teammates’ faces, Yu Wei didn’t see any so-called moved or psychological burden. In their eyes, fans who spent huge sums to come on-site probably weren’t as important as a teammate in a game…
Yu Wei had even less psychological burden. These people weren’t buying tickets for him anyway.
With his roadside-level popularity, he probably couldn’t even get a share of KFC Crazy Thursday, let alone people spending thousands to come on-site to see him.
To clarify here, Yu Wei hadn’t scammed fans’ money—he was too bottom tier to scam any…
“Noisy, noisy, always noisy, so annoying.”
There were already tons of people in the ten thousand person venue, plus the fans’ fervor—even backstage, they could hear the noise and screams from the audience seats.
“What are they yelling about? I’m done.”
Zhang Lingye had a fiery temper and often cursed at fans; the others were used to it.
Compared to him, he was just putting his disgust out in the open. Who knew what the others, who stayed silent, were really thinking…
Yu Wei glanced at him but didn’t say anything.
Anyone else could curse fan circle fans, but could they, the beneficiaries being raised by the fan circle, really treat fans like that?
He was a layman; he really didn’t understand.
The entertainment industry was a big dyeing vat—no one who stayed here long could avoid being dyed. Zhang Lingye was, Qi Yuan was, and so were the others.
They weren’t bad by nature, but after being stars for too long, they subconsciously felt superior and didn’t take ordinary people seriously…
But Yu Wei was different. He was an old failure with manuscript fees of three or four thousand, an ordinary person who couldn’t be more ordinary.
He only hoped that one day in the future, he wouldn’t turn into the kind of person he hated.
The youth who slays the dragon eventually becomes the evil dragon—would someone writing entertainment novels become the big villain in his own novel?
“Get ready to go on stage.”
The staff’s call interrupted Yu Wei’s daze. They adjusted their states and went on stage one by one; according to the ranking, he was last.
Tear Group’s style focused on youthful youth vibe, so their performance costumes weren’t weird leather jackets, leather pants, or non-mainstream stuff—just redesigned color-block shirts.
This was undoubtedly a good thing for Yu Wei; he couldn’t stand those weird outfits.
Disbandment night wasn’t just performances; there were also some interactive segments mixed with awkward chats and greetings, providing fans with some emotional value.
Zhang Lingye, who had been cursing backstage moments ago, instantly switched to a beaming smile. His attitude change was so smooth that Yu Wei didn’t react for a second.
This was a veteran actor…
As soon as they appeared, there was an overwhelming roar of cheers. The audience seats were a mess of colorful support sticks, dazzling Yu Wei so much he could barely open his eyes.
He even saw the teleprompter on the high platform directly opposite the stage, with the lines for the upcoming interaction written on it.
The teleprompter was huge; fans in the back could see it clearly. They knew the idols’ interactions with them were scripted, yet they still cheered excitedly.
Even before the idols spoke, the fans started shouting their names, as if competing over whose fans were more numerous or whose voices were louder.
They strained their voices, fighting for “right to speak” for their idols…
Without a doubt, Qi Yuan won. His name echoed through the stadium, overpowering Zhang Lingye and the other four.
Except for Yu Wei, because no one was shouting his name.
Honestly, he felt Qi Yuan’s name had an advantage—shouting a two-character name was definitely easier than three characters.
Zhang Lingye lost unfairly.
Yu Wei had been a bit nervous at first, but soon he got it: he shouldn’t be here; he didn’t belong on this stage.
He was someone who wrote entertainment novels—what did he know about idols?
His youth was albums and cassette tapes, ringtones and records; actors had representative works, singers had hit songs.
Back then, stars went on variety shows to promote works, but now, those without works went on variety shows instead…
People liked stars because of a work, not liking a star and then liking everything about him.
Yu Wei suddenly felt that the world of entertainment novels was much better than the real entertainment industry.
Because at least in the stories, strength was paramount.
Though the protagonist always had hacks, though the protagonist was a plagiarist, at least he produced good works and delivered high-quality content worthy of audience support.
But the real entertainment industry was like a rules-based horror story:
1. Idols sell fantasy; your personal abilities aren’t important.
2. Your personal abilities are very important; when yours exceed your teammates’, fans will attack your teammates.
3. Fans will like everything about you.
4. Fans don’t like your teammates.
5. Never let fans know you’re in a romance.
6. Fans want you to romance your teammates.
……
The entertainment industry in novels made sense, while the real one was absurd…
Yu Wei didn’t know how he finished the group dance, but it didn’t matter—no one cared about him, and he didn’t care about the dance.
Even with the photographer circling them with the camera, he never glanced at the lens.
Their live broadcast would probably only be watched by fans anyway—what meaning did such a performance have? No matter what they performed, people would buy it…
Afterward, Yu Wei stepped off the stage and appreciated his teammates’ solo performances one by one backstage.
Qi Yuan picked a light indie song—nothing technically challenging but sung decently, thanks to his clean voice.
Zhang Lingye focused more on stage effects; he picked a hype song, but the female fans’ screams ruined the atmosphere, and the venue didn’t heat up.
The other four teammates sang okay too—not bad, but forgettable after hearing, like white noise.
Yu Wei wrote novels and didn’t understand art, but he could tell what sounded good. How to put it…
He kinda got why Teacher Hong Hui was bald—the sound engineers really tried their best.
He had no interest in listening to his teammates’ second round performances—not that he wasn’t giving them face, but the process was too torturous.
Before, he’d skip videos of traffic stars singing to avoid polluting his ears. He dodged basic attacks his whole life, but this time he took a full combo.
Suggestion: when interrogating criminals, make them listen to fan circle idols singing. At first they might laugh, but eventually they’ll confess…
By the time it was almost Yu Wei’s turn to perform, he was numb.
Who am I, where am I, what am I doing?
In reality, the on-site audience didn’t care about his performance; they even thought he was wasting time…
As fans of the other members, they couldn’t like Yu Wei, the good-for-nothing dragging them down. He hadn’t made mistakes, but being bad was the original sin.
Yu Wei didn’t care about their evaluation.
In reality, a song didn’t have that much magic—even if it was great, it couldn’t wake up a group of people pretending to be asleep…
It couldn’t make people tear up with immersion and soul-shaking impact, but at least, a good song could please oneself.
It could let him immerse in the melody for a moment, forgetting this absurd world.
This song wasn’t sung for anyone on-site.
It was only sung for himself.
