Superstars of Tomorrow

Great-Grandfather Fang was so caught off-guard by his wife’s paparazzi-style filming that he burped.

The burp instantly erased all the simmering emotions that had built up inside him.

But he was done crying, which had taken a toll on him. Devoid of emotion, Great-Grandfather Fang felt refreshed. He sent out eight generous virtual red packets in his various chat groups and bragged away.

"In celebration of our Xiao Zhao winning the Galaxy Supernova Award! [red packet]"

Every time the former officials in the retirement home heard Great-Grandfather Fang tout Fang Zhao’s latest song or acting role, they adopted the mindset of watching someone make a fool of himself. Even though they ostensibly congratulated Great-Grandfather Fang, in their hearts they were contemptuous.

The retirement home was quite big. Besides Great-Grandfather Fang, there were bound to be other retired officials whose descendants were doing well, especially those who were part of the establishment. But these fellow residents were much more low-key about their descendants’ accomplishments. There was no way they would put these milestones front and center and brag about them like Great-Grandfather Fang.

But this time around, when they found out that Fang Zhao had won the Galaxy Supernova Award, Great-Grandfather Fang’s fellow retirees offered their heartfelt congratulations.

Firstly, it was because the Galaxy Supernova Award was the real deal. Fang Zhao was the only person from Yanzhou among the winners—and he was only in his 20s. He had tremendous potential. The prize cemented Fang Zhao’s transition from an entertainment celebrity to a genuine artist.

The second reason Great-Grandfather Fang’s fellow retirees changed their minds about Fang Zhao was his role in the curing of the Hull virus. Regardless of whether or not it was serendipitous, Fang Zhao’s contribution couldn’t be disputed. It was worthy of respect.

"Congrats, Old Fang! Your family has produced another stalwart!"

"Your Xiao Zhao is only in his 20s. The sky’s the limit for him!"

"This kid Fang Zhao is quite something."

Great-Grandfather Fang couldn’t contain his delight. "Yes, yes, yes. Xiao Zhao takes after me the most!"

Great-Grandfather Fang wanted to speak to Fang Zhao via videoconference, but he decided to wait another two days because he figured his great-grandson was very busy. After sending a text message offering his congratulations and urging Fang Zhao to pay attention to his health and eat well, Great-Grandfather Fang, donning his new artsy outfit and with his immaculately polished walking stick in hand, went out for a chat with his friends. He wanted to see if his friends thought his new outfit was artistic enough. Should he get a new hairdo too?

In Huangzhou, after completing his second lecture, Fang Zhao had a huge backlog of messages to go through.

First, Fang Zhao read the email from the Galaxy Awards organizing committee and confirmed that it was a notification of his win. The email also asked Fang Zhao to respond with his address. The invitation to the prize ceremony would be delivered within 12 hours of organizers receiving his address.

After responding with the address of his dorm room at HuangArt, Fang Zhao responded to some of the other messages. While he was doing so, he got a call from Huangcheng TV’s Channel Nine.

Huangcheng TV’s programming wasn’t heavy on commercial and entertainment content, and its Channel Nine specialized in high-brow documentaries. A small portion of its best work ended up in government archives and labeled with a golden sticker.

Channel Nine was making a documentary about the curing of the Hull virus. It was a gold-sticker production.

As the composer of the music that paved the way for a cure to the Hull virus, Fang Zhao was naturally one of the key interviewees.

"We’ve already dispatched a team to shoot in Yanzhou. We’re wondering when would be a good time for Mr. Fang? It’s just going to be a straightforward interview and some additional filming. Half an hour will suffice. We’ll also film you going about your day, but our cameraman won’t be intrusive," the producer from Channel Nine said.

Crews had already been dispatched to all 12 continents. There were people involved in the project to cure the Hull virus on every single continent who needed to be filmed, but the team sent to Yanzhou had a heavier workload. When Fang Zhao had composed the "100-Year Period of Destruction" series, he had been working for an entertainment company in Yanzhou. The Yanzhou crew also had to film Fang Zhao’s fellow team members who had helped create the virtual idol Polar Light.

"No problem," Fang Zhao said.

"Then when might you be free, Mr. Fang? Let’s set up a time. We can conduct the interview at HuangArt. We’ll send our team over."

"How about tomorrow at 4 p.m.? I have class in the morning and a one-hour lecture in the afternoon that’s being broadcast live. The lecture ends at 3:30. I can start filming at 4."

"Great, let’s make it tomorrow at 4 p.m., then."

After making the appointment with Channel Nine, Fang Zhao called Nanfeng to brief him so he could start getting ready.

Already ecstatic about Fang Zhao’s Supernova win, when Nanfeng learned about the Channel Nine interview, he profusely promised his boss that he would be on his best behavior and not reflect poorly on Fang Zhao.

After hanging up, Nanfeng also secretly commended himself, See, what a great eye for employers I have!

He also reminded himself to perform on the job so he could keep it for as long as he could. He was going to attend the Galaxy Awards presentation ceremony with his boss! How many award-winning actors and actresses coveted an invitation? The entertainment industry figures who could attend were a minority who had accumulated a critical mass of works and gained sufficient status.

As a newly hired assistant, Nanfeng was already feeling the trickle-down effect of his boss’s success.

The day after Fang Zhao was awarded the Supernova, he had class in the morning and gave his third live lecture in the afternoon. As soon as the lecture started, the viewership skyrocketed to 100 million people and kept growing rapidly.

Yanzhou’s entertainment media put its ability to judge where the winds were blowing and to bullsh*t accordingly on full display. Once word that Fang Zhao had won a Galaxy Supernova award got out, they started putting him on a pedestal. Most of the viewers for the final lecture were from Yanzhou, folks who were curious and eager to witness the spectacle.

The 10 winners of the Supernova prize hailed from nine of the world’s 12 continents. There were two winners from Huangzhou.

Media outlets from those nine continents went all out in their self-promotion, eager not to be outdone by their competitors.

The comments section for Fang Zhao’s live webcast was flooded with congratulatory messages, but Fang Zhao didn’t study them carefully. Instead, he completed his lecture series according to his lesson plan before smiling at the camera and thanking viewers for their good wishes.

After going offline, Fang Zhao got a video call from Xue Jing.

"Fang Zhao, have you received your invitation to the awards ceremony?" asked Xue Jing.

"I have. It was delivered to my dorm room last night," said Fang Zhao.

"Good. Remember to be humble when you attend the presentation ceremony. You carried yourself well during today’s lecture. Keep it up."

Xue Jing was worried, having read all the inflated coverage by the shameless media. He was concerned that Fang Zhao might be swayed and get a swollen head. He figured if he had won the Supernova at such a young age, he would have felt like he was God. Many senior artists who had won Galaxy awards in the past would be attending the presentation ceremony, and Xue Jing didn’t want Fang Zhao to leave a bad impression.

Fang Zhao knew what Xue Jing was thinking. He was about to respond when an alert popped up on his bracelet and caught his attention.

"Teacher Xue..." Fang Zhao said.

"Listen to me, don’t dress like a rock star at the awards ceremony. Just pick something simple and elegant."

"I understand. Teacher Xue, I wanted to..."

"I’m not done yet. Listen, kid. The venue will be filled with senior artists. Regardless of whether they are award winners, their presence means they have made significant contributions and racked up accomplishments in their respective fields. Watch your behavior before them," Xue Jing continued.

"I understand, Teacher Xue..."

"Let me finish first!" Xue Jing scolded before realizing he might have been too harsh. He paused and asked, "What was it you wanted to say?"

"Teacher Xue, you’ve won the Galaxy World Medal. It was announced two minutes ago," Fang Zhao said.

The Galaxy World Medal wasn’t awarded every year. It wasn’t uncommon for there to be a three- to five-year gap between winners.

The reason that Xue Jing worked so hard at his age to accumulate even more accomplishments and make greater contributions to his field was to win a Galaxy World Medal, which was the pinnacle of any artist’s career.

Judging simply from how many outstanding pieces he had and his influence as a composer, Xue Jing paled in comparison to musicians like Mo Lang. In contrast, his range was also limited. There were other competent composers who specialized in the same genre. He fell just short in terms of artistic achievement. But all these years, he had kept toiling away.

Xue Jing applied for a Galaxy World Medal every three years. He had applied this year as well. That was why he wasn’t a member of the organizing committee for this year’s Galaxy Awards and hadn’t joined the selection panel for the Supernova award.

News had not been forthcoming, so Xue Jing figured he had been passed on again. Little did he know...

Xue Jing froze when he heard what Fang Zhao had said.

Xue Jing’s assistant looked on with concern. He had just received official word of the prize, but Xue Jing was on the phone with Fang Zhao, so he hadn’t interrupted.

The assistant handed him a glass of warm water. "Venerable Xue, calm down! Have a sip of water first!"

Xue Jing’s eye gradually focused on the glass. He accepted it, but his hands kept shivering. The glass was only half full. By the time it had reached his mouth, another half had been lost to the trembling.

He also accidentally hung up on Fang Zhao at some point.

When Fang Zhao called back, it was Xue Jing’s assistant who answered.

"Venerable Xue is just in shock. He needs some time to recover," the assistant said as he cast a glance at his boss, still paralyzed in his chair.

"Good to know." Fang Zhao had been worried that Xue Jing was so emotional he had collapsed or something.

Nanfeng was already waiting when Fang Zhao emerged from the classroom.

"Boss, the folks from Channel Nine are here."

The crew from Channel Nine was standing by. The venue for the interview was a quiet park within the HuangArt campus. The questions posed to Fang Zhao weren’t as pointed as the ones he had learned to expect from entertainment journalists; they mainly revolved around his creative process and the Hull virus.

Fang Zhao answered in detail.

A giddy Nanfeng delivered tea to his boss and the interviewer.

After the interview, most of the crew left. "If we need additional footage, we’ll reach out ahead of time. Does that work for you, Mr. Fang?" the producer asked.

"No problem." Fang Zhao was willing to work with the crew on minor details like that.

One cameraman remained to tail Fang Zhao and shoot him as he went about his daily routine.

"Fang Zhao, just go about your business as usual. Pretend that I don’t exist. If you think something is off-limits, just let me know."

The cameraman followed Fang Zhao back to his dorm room. The first thing he noticed was the Fiery Bird gaming helmet.

To prepare for the Channel Nine shoot, Nanfeng had wiped many of Fang Zhao’s personal items repeatedly, especially the gaming helmet.

"Wow! Fiery Bird’s limited-edition souped-up eighth-gen gaming helmet! It’s no longer available for sale!" The cameraman was a Fiery Bird fan as well. His gaze became fixated on the helmet.

"Nowadays, only celebrities like you who work with Fiery Bird can get one. Can I take a look?" the cameraman asked, looking at Fang Zhao expectantly.

"Of course," Fang Zhao said, nodding.

"Can I take a picture of it?"

"Sure."

"Thanks so much! Oh, Mr. Fang, just do your own thing. I’ve set up the camera already. It will follow you automatically. I’m just going to sit here and not interrupt your work."

The cameraman cradled the gaming helmet like a baby. He was giddily taking a selfie with it when he felt something was off. He scanned the room and his gaze met that of the curly-haired dog lying next to Fang Zhao’s feet.

"That dog is looking at me. I feel like it wants to bite me," the cameraman whispered to Nanfeng.

Nanfeng, who had been pondering what to wear to the Galaxy Awards presentation ceremony, glanced at Curly Hair and said, "Little Curly Hair is such a good boy. Why would you think that?"

"No, I really think it has something against me. Look, it’s still staring at me."

"Why don’t you switch places?" Nanfeng suggested.

The cameraman broke his promise of sitting still and moved to another chair, still cradling the gaming helmet. Yet Curly Hair’s gaze lingered.

The cameraman poked Nanfeng and whispered, "It’s staring at me again."

Curly Hair kept on staring, snorting every few minutes or so.

The cameraman panicked. What did I do wrong? Why do you keep staring at me?