Who Needs a CEO? I Choose Stardom

The night passed quietly.

Ni Bingyan was up bright and early the next day. She put a few of the soup dumplings she’d made in her spare time into the steamer to thaw and cook. Next, she added the soybeans she soaked the night before to the soy milk maker, then turned and headed into her home gym to start a happy jog.

After her run, she ate her dumplings and drank her soy milk while checking WeChat. Once she confirmed there were no new work notifications from Sister Wei, she cleaned up, got ready, and drove straight to the CCTV "Big Pants" Building.

She was the type of person who was great at making her own fun. She never liked to be idle, and every one of her days was packed.

She arrived at the building at 7:30 sharp. Holding her number card, she went inside, where someone was already waiting to lead the way.

After a night of research, she had figured it out. This was a large-scale, cultural, in-studio quiz show being produced by the Science and Education Channel called the *Chinese Poetry Conference*. Its main theme was "Appreciate Chinese poetry, seek our cultural roots, and savor the beauty of life."

She felt the show was incredibly meaningful.

Most importantly, she had gotten in through round after round of auditions, purely on her own merit. That was way more thrilling than the variety shows Sister Wei arranged for her!

If she got the chance to participate in the final taping, a little maneuvering from Sister Wei would absolutely get her trending—and for something genuinely positive, at that.

’To have the backing of Mother CCTV... just the thought is a thrill!’

Ni Bingyan rubbed her hands together in anticipation, silently vowing to do her absolute best.

Holding her number card, she followed her guide into the building and to a large, tiered conference room, where she found her seat according to her number.

She wasn’t the earliest one there, and people continued to file in over the next half hour.

The arrivals were a mix of young and old, men and women. There were construction workers with cement dust under their fingernails, elementary school students with rosy cheeks, bus drivers in their work uniforms, teachers wearing glasses, and a young man in a suit who might have sold insurance or cars. There was even a middle-aged woman from a hot pot restaurant, its name still printed on her down jacket.

Everyone had gotten in through the open auditions, but no one knew each other. They followed the guides, found their seats, and sat down. Some looked around, some stared blankly at their desks, and others nervously spun their pens.

It was truly a slice of life.

The atmosphere made Ni Bingyan nervous too, and she ended up making several trips to the bathroom.

Fortunately, eight o’clock arrived quickly.

As soon as it hit eight, someone on the stage explained the nature of the day’s exam, and then proctors began distributing test booklets and pencils.

"Use a number 2B pencil to fill in your answers on the answer card. We have ten minutes before the exam begins. Please watch the video carefully to see how to fill in the bubbles correctly..."

After carefully watching the video, Ni Bingyan received her answer card and test booklet. A quick inspection was all it took for her nerves to settle.

After all, as a child raised under China’s exam-oriented education system, the experience of taking tests was etched into her very genes. Sitting there, with the atmosphere just right, she quickly found her rhythm.

This was a traditional paper test, not administered on tablets, because in addition to the multiple-choice questions like the ones from yesterday, it also included sections on poetry translation, literary analysis, and historical allusions.

The test was worth a total of 150 points and had a three-hour time limit, starting at 8:10 and ending at 11:10.

Just like before, Ni Bingyan breezed through the questions.

And because she wrote by hand often, her penmanship was beautiful.

After the tests were turned in, the station provided lunch and then told everyone to go home and wait for news.

The next day, Ni Bingyan received a one-thousand-yuan transfer, along with an invitation to the show’s taping.

Only then, barely containing her excitement, did Ni Bingyan call Wei Shuojie to have her coordinate the schedule.

"What did you say?"

Wei Shuojie, who had been busy digging up dirt on Li Yi and Han Feifan for the past few days, was completely floored by the news.

’What in the world was wrong with her artist? Every time she got a break, she’d stir up some kind of trouble!’

’What celebrity would dare to go on a serious academic competition like this? And which ones are even qualified?’

’If you don’t actually have the knowledge, the moment you slip up, you’ll get absolutely dragged online!’

’Do you have some kind of professional death wish?’

Wei Shuojie felt her vision swimming.

She thought, ’I need to get my hands on some emergency heart medication. I’ll have to start carrying it everywhere. Who knows when I’ll get a call with even more shocking news? What if I don’t make it through?’

Her son hadn’t even started college yet!

"It’s the *Chinese Poetry Conference*! You’ve probably never heard of it..."

This wasn’t some star-studded variety show. Even as a CCTV production, its popularity was questionable. Ni Bingyan worried she wouldn’t agree to let her participate and was just about to explain how great the program was when the person on the other end of the line shouted, sounding on the verge of a breakdown:

"How could I not have heard of it? The auditions took ten months! They’ve been selecting poetry lovers from every walk of life to compete! It’s CCTV’s biggest project this year! How in the world did you manage to get in? How dare you get mixed up in a show like this?"

It was no wonder she was so anxious. In showbiz, of all the personas to adopt, why insist on the ’genius scholar’ one? Wasn’t that just asking for a spectacular failure?

Everyone knew that even professionally trained artists got into their schools through specialized arts exams, not academics.

Arts-track students spend more time on their craft, so their academic scores are generally lower. In the eyes of the public, the entertainment industry was basically a camp for academic failures.

Going head-to-head with a bunch of actual scholars... if you won, that’s one thing. But if you lost, you’d become an absolute laughingstock!

What would the haters say then?

That her ambition was sky-high, but her talent was paper-thin?

’My own agent doesn’t believe in my abilities!’

Ni Bingyan retorted indignantly, "I got in by passing several rounds of exams! This isn’t some small local station. You know exactly what kind of connections I have—or don’t have. How could I have possibly ’managed to get in?’ By bribing them with two cases of spicy hot pot seasoning? Seriously! Sister Wei, get a grip!"

Wei Shuojie thought about it and realized it was true. Her artist didn’t have that kind of pull.

’If she really got in on her own merit, then this is huge!’

Her mind was already churning, developing follow-up publicity strategies, but Wei Shuojie still couldn’t quite believe it. "You really got in on your own?"

Sensing the shift in her tone, Ni Bingyan couldn’t help but laugh.

"Hehe, remember I told you about my cousin the other day? I was in a bad mood afterward, so I went on a shopping spree. On the way home, I had to pass through the east side of the city, right? I just happened to be walking by the ’Big Pants’ Building when I saw a huge, lively crowd. I thought it was some kind of event, and since I had nothing better to do..."

Ni Bingyan wanted to go into detail about how she’d overcome every obstacle to succeed, but Wei Shuojie cut her off with a long sigh.

"Ay... please, don’t ever be ’idle’ again! A few more idle days like this and you’re going to give me a heart attack! Last time your people-watching landed you in a police station, and this time is even more incredible—you gawked your way onto a TV show! After the New Year, you’re supposed to be in the Northeast filming *Demon Suppression Tower*. Aren’t you worried you’ll be exhausted running back and forth to tape this show?"

"Hehe, what if I get eliminated in the first round?"

"Don’t even think about it! Let me tell you, since you had the chops to get in, you’d better fight tooth and nail to stay on that show for as long as you possibly can! Got it?"

’Damn it. A chance to be on CCTV is rare. I’m going all in!’

’My artist is working this hard to create an opportunity; I can’t be the one to drop the ball!’

"I’ll take on as much as I can handle. I can only promise to try my best!"

"Not ’try’! It’s a ’must’! For the next few days, you are not to go anywhere. Just stay home and memorize poems! You should at least have the *Three Hundred Tang Poems* and the *Three Hundred Songs of Song Dynasty* memorized, right?"

Ni Bingyan gave a dry laugh. "In that case, you’d better solve my cousin’s problem quickly, so I can focus!"

"That’s simple. Just a couple of days ago, President Sang asked me to find him a reliable paparazzo. We’ll just pay them a little extra to handle this on the side."

"President Sang? He’s a big shot in the financial world. What would he need a paparazzo for?"

Remembering Mrs. Sang’s strange behavior a few days ago, Ni Bingyan’s curiosity was piqued.

Wei Shuojie said with exasperation, "Worry about yourself first! What do other people’s affairs have to do with you? I was planning on arranging a few interviews for you, but now you’ve gone and filled up your own schedule without my help. I guess that saves me the trouble."

"Oh, come on, Sister Wei! How could I ever manage without you? This was just a happy accident. The show just happened to be really interesting, and I really, really want to do it."

"I know, I know. Go on. I’ll contact the production team in a bit and ask for a copy of your audition footage."

With such a capable agent, Ni Bingyan never had to worry about such matters. Seeing that she had agreed, she obediently hung up and pulled out a few poetry anthologies to start reviewing.

After returning from the exam, she found herself looking at the poetry from a new angle.

Which raised the question: Li Bai never held a job, so where did all his money come from?