Superstars of Tomorrow

News that Fang Zhao was taking HuangArt’s Twelve Tones exam spread online quickly.

The name "HuangArt’s Twelve Tones" was a novelty to many folks hearing it for the first time.

"What the heck is HuangArt’s Twelve Tones? Sounds like our school, Qi’an No. 12 Secondary School."

"Hahaha! There’s a No. 12 Primary School by my house."

Every city had primary and secondary schools that had numbers in their names. Names like XX City No. XX Primary School or Secondary School were too common, so the name "HuangArt’s Twelve Tones" didn’t stand out initially. But what did "Tones" refer to? Why 12 tones?

After a quick internet search, folks had the utmost respect for Fang Zhao.

"On my knees! Too high class. All I can do is admire from a distance."

"Folks who can simply graduate from this course have major bragging rights, huh?"

"My adviser’s adviser graduated from that program. A real badass! Word has it that all the graduates become industry giants!"

"Outsiders might not know much about this program. HuangArt’s Twelve Tones is somewhat independent from the school itself. The instructors for the program are far, far superior to the other teachers at HuangArt and their colleagues at HuangMu!"

"Right! Most of the Twelve Tones instructors have won Galaxy World Medals. Folks who don’t care for academic types can look up the actors and singers who have won Galaxy medals."

The Galaxy World Medal was the highest honor in the arts world. The actors or singers who won the prize were true superstars with global renown, not local celebrities with self-proclaimed stature.

"Oi, our teacher sat for the admission exam for 10 straight years to no avail. Eventually, he just applied to a regular graduate school. He said that it’s too hard to aim for the stars. Only the cream of the crop can complete the program."

"You need to prepare for at least two years before sitting for the admission exam. The preparation time is too long and the exam is too difficult. Only about a dozen students are admitted. Only a handful of students take the exam, maybe some 100,000 each year. How long has Fang Zhao been preparing? He’s been filming for the past year or so."

"Some 100,000 people sit for the exam? Why the ’only’? That’s way more than a handful of folks!"

"Friend from upstairs, isn’t the point that Fang Zhao hasn’t had enough prep time?"

"I’m aware that Fang Zhao is very talented, but to try for HuangArt’s Twelve Tones program now is making an outrageous claim. Fans have to calm down sometimes. You have to have rational expectations and not blindly follow your idol. There’s something called setting someone up to fail. Don’t kill your own idol."

"It’s not that I have no respect for Fang Zhao’s abilities but that you can’t wing it for programs on the level of HuangArt’s Twelve Tones by composing a few songs, starring in a TV series, or cramming for the exam. Experience and talent are equally important."

The topic quickly trended online. Some folks even started a bet to see how far Fang Zhao could advance in the exam.

Something like this hadn’t been that big of a deal to begin with, but certain folks were fanning the flames. All Silver Wing could do was contain the situation as best they could.

Fang Zhao had gotten in the way of too many people. There were always folks who wanted to take him down when the opportunity presented itself.

The internet chatter would undoubtedly influence Fang Zhao. All the attention meant more pressure. If someone was overly sensitive, this kind of pressure could be deadly.

Passing the first hurdle would give Fang Zhao some breathing room. If he didn’t, then he would have to face more ridicule and naysayers. Even though he had some outstanding pieces of work under his belt, this was how the industry operated. When someone was doing well no one would bother them, but once they screwed up, everyone would show up to tear them down.

The first round of the preliminary exams had been held. Countless candidates were eagerly waiting for the results so they could plan their next moves.

Fang Zhao was aware of the online discussion. He could handle this much pressure. If he broke under such little pressure, how could he have survived the Period of Destruction?

As soon as he got home, Fang Zhao got a call from Xue Jing.

Xue Jing was mighty worried.

"Ignore all the outside comments—just focus on your prep. The results for the first round should be out at 8 p.m. tonight. Considering your level, I don’t think the first round will be a problem. If you advance to the next round, you’ll receive a pass for round two. Regardless of whether you pass, just take it easy."

"Thank you. I know."

After hanging up on Xue Jing, Fang Zhao responded to messages from concerned friends and family, then starting prepping for the second-round exam.

In stark contrast to Fang Zhao’s calm, Xue Jing was restless. Even though Xue Jing had consoled Fang Zhao, in reality, he was so nervous that he couldn’t eat his dinner. He just sat there waiting for the results.

At the retirement home for former government officials in Yanbei.

Great-Grandfather Fang was so furious he trashed his own walking stick.

"I can’t rest easy! Can’t rest easy at all!"

On one hand, Great-Grandfather Fang wanted to call Fang Zhao, but he was also worried he might say the wrong thing and put even more pressure on Fang Zhao. All he could do was quietly fume at home.

Great-Grandmother Fang sighed and tried to comfort her spouse. "Silver Wing will handle things," she said.

"My ass! How can we count on self-interested corporations like that? Hell will freeze over before they lift a finger."

"They have still made a difference." Great-Grandmother Fang browsed the online chatter and took screenshots of some of the comments for Great-Grandfather Fang. "You can tell that Silver Wing has intervened to steer the conversation in a positive direction."

"What good does that do? The situation has still blown out of control. Can you imagine how much pressure Xiao Zhao is under? Why is it so hard for Xiao Zhao to sit for the exams peacefully?" Great-Grandfather Fang was feeling Fang Zhao’s pain.

"Being a celebrity means that whatever you do, you have to cope with more pressure than the average Joe," Great-Grandmother Fang said.

After pondering the matter some more, Great-Grandfather Fang still couldn’t let go. He called Fang Zhao via videoconference.

When the call went through, Fang Zhao was in his study. Books were scattered on his desk. He was also reading a document on his tablet.

Great-Grandfather Fang stuttered, "You’re st-studying?"

"Yeah, I’m preparing for the second-round. Regardless of whether or not I pass the first round, it’s good to be ready."

"That’s the spirit! Maintain your composure. Ignore what other people have to say. Just try your best. Also, make sure you get plenty of rest, and don’t forget to eat."

After he was done nagging, Great-Grandfather Fang didn’t want to intrude anymore. He hung up and resumed fuming on his own. He hadn’t taken a close look during the video call, but from what Great-Grandfather Fang could remember, he thought Fang Zhao had lost weight. "Xiao Zhao seemed skinnier! He’s under so much pressure. Who knows if he’s eating regularly?"

Great-Grandfather Fang sat restlessly until 8 p.m., nervously fidgeting with his truncated walking stick.

At 8 p.m., Fang Zhao received an email notifying him he had passed the first-round exam. The email also included his exam pass for the second round.

Just as Xue Jing had predicted, the first round hadn’t posed a major challenge. As long as he’d been careful and had nailed the questions he was supposed to, clearing the first round of screening wasn’t an issue.

After notifying Xue Jing, his great-grandparents in Yanbei, and Silver Wing, Fang Zhao went back to his prep.

As far as the rest of the world was concerned, Fang Zhao didn’t have enough prep time, but from the moment of his rebirth, Fang Zhao had never stopped absorbing information and knowledge about the New Era, even when he’d been filming. The reason he could race through Ming Cang’s notes and Xue Jing’s mock exam wasn’t just because he was cramming.

Xue Jing had described to Fang Zhao the types of questions that appeared in the second-round exam and other things to pay attention to. Fang Zhao didn’t leave his apartment the next two days, nor did he go online.

He would leave the public relations battle to the professionals at Silver Wing. All he had to do was focus on his exam prep.

The second round took place just two days after the first round. A new venue was assigned—a different university.

Fang Zhao kept a low profile as usual when he arrived at the exam venue. The university was in a secluded location. By the time Fang Zhao finished his exam, word that he was there had already leaked. There were quite a few entertainment journalists staking him out. Fang Zhao was determined to avoid them. None of the entertainment journalists managed to snap a picture of him. All they could do was buy some of the surveillance footage from the university.

Access to the surveillance footage was heavily restricted. There was only so much footage one could buy, but it was better than nothing. For entertainment journalists, a single frame was enough fodder for several stories.

Only some 20,000 candidates passed the first-round exam. After the second round, only 5,000 were left.

So many folks were hoping that Fang Zhao would fumble during his exams, cave under the pressure, or underperform due to jitters, yet against all the expectations, well-intentioned or not, Fang Zhao passed the second-round exam with a solid showing.

After clearing the second round, Silver Wing felt it could speak with more confidence. They didn’t have high hopes for Fang Zhao. Clearing the second round was enough. Passing the third exam was even better, but it was no big deal if he didn’t. For someone Fang Zhao’s age, passing the first two rounds was a terrific result already.

Only 1,000 candidates would remain after the third exam. Among the people sitting for the third exam were some of Yanzhou’s more famous artists. They were mostly in their 60s and 70s. The number of artists who were 30 or younger could be counted on one hand.

The day before the third exam, Great-Grandfather Fang sent Fang Zhao a package. He said he and Great-Grandmother Fang had gotten it at the Cemetery for Martyrs.

The two elders had made a quiet trip to Qi’an, but they hadn’t bothered Fang Zhao. They’d just visited the Cemetery for Martyrs, gotten what they needed, and left. They had sent the gift to Fang Zhao by courier before they’d left.

"Your great-grandmother and I said a sincere prayer for this. Word is that it’s quite effective. Remember to wear it during your third exam. I’ve already checked—they’re allowed at the exam venue. Remember to wear it!" Great-Grandfather Fang said in the voicemail he sent Fang Zhao.

Fang Zhao opened the package. It was a necklace similar to the good-luck charms of the Old Era.

Out of curiosity, Fang Zhao removed the slip of paper inside the pouch attached to the necklace. It had been folded multiple times.

After carefully unfolding the piece of paper, a portrait emerged—Fang Zhao, the inaugural leader of the resistance’s Fifth Battalion during the Period of Destruction.

Fang Zhao: "..."