Chapter 4

The Basic Qualities of a Fangirl

A trip that could be taken on a whim, a love that one throws themselves into without hesitation—these are things fangirls have mastered.

When Hu Xiu said these words, she was absolutely furious, filled with the usual resentment and frustration of a girl suffering from heartbreak. After changing back into her real-life clothes, she stood facing Qin Shaoyi, about to brush past him, waiting for him to say “it’s okay.”

Qin Shaoyi, wearing a denim shirt, had his hair covering half of his ear. Without turning around, she could still see his strong nose and beautiful lips. She waited as if expecting the gentle Qin Shaoyi from the drama to bend down, pick up the box, and chat with her for a few more minutes. After all, the next scene started at 10:00, and there was still half an hour before the stage.

However, Qin Shaoyi bent down, placed the costume back into the box, and picked it up without looking back. His posture and expression suggested that he was probably—dismissive.

The back of him, leaving Hu Xiu, was elegant and noble, completely unrelated to her. Even Ning Zechen, standing nearby, didn’t turn his head. The two of them quietly chatted while Qin Shaoyi’s low voice spread through the lobby, slowly fading into the corner.

With an extra observer present, Hu Xiu felt even more embarrassed as she looked at her reflection in the elevator, feeling her humiliation double.

She calculated the time it would take to get home; there were no more buses to Xu Jingdong from here. Even if she took a taxi, she feared the power might be out in her apartment complex. She decided to get off at Yuyuan Road instead, learning from past experience. After unlocking the door, she slipped into Li Ai’s café through the back.

Li Ai, ever considerate, seemed to provide her with endless reassurance. The key felt like a refuge for Hu Xiu, a sanctuary for someone with nowhere else to go in the city. There was a small room in the back of the café’s kitchen where she could sleep. Li Ai also allowed her to drink beverages and cook pasta there.

Hu Xiu never touched the coffee machine that had been cleaned before closing, nor did she fiddle with the pre-ground coffee beans. This was something they understood without saying.

She wouldn’t go to Zhao Xiaorou for help in the middle of the night. After all, Zhao Xiaorou had a sharp tongue, and her home also had Wang Guangming.

Friendships with women in relationships were fragile, like aluminum foil. Not only could they not be touched, but even the slightest friction could cause them to lose their color.

Li Ai seemed to notice this delicate sense of self-respect. A few days ago, when he handed her the key, he simply said, “I’ve added a lounge chair to the small room. If you can’t make it home tonight, you can stay here for a while.”

With music playing, Hu Xiu sat in front of her computer, waiting for client feedback. She thought to herself: celebrities have a sacred aura, surrounded by adoring fans. Qin Shaoyi wasn’t a celebrity, but he was still at the top of the pyramid of handsome, ordinary-looking people, so it was normal for him to ignore her.

It could also be that he had just woken up from a nap before his night shift and had a bit of “wake-up crankiness.” Being bumped into and having his box spilled might have been an awkward situation that could damage a handsome man’s pride.

As she thought about this, the speaker played “La Esperanza,” the BGM from the second season finale of Sex and the City, where Carrie receives Mr. Big’s wavering response. The sorrowful and lonely melody plays as she wraps herself in a coat and walks away from him.

Though her feelings weren’t as intense as Carrie’s, the emotions and atmosphere arrived first. Hu Xiu thought about Qin Shaoyi’s figure, and the music repeated over and over. In her mind, it was as if she had fallen in love with him in the drama and then broken up, a girl from humble beginnings who was secretly loved by a top-tier handsome man but too afraid to admit it.

Suddenly, the roller shutter door slammed down with a loud bang, shaking Hu Xiu out of her daydream. Zhao Xiaorou stormed in, wearing high-heeled boots.

She was startled to see Hu Xiu and took a step back. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m editing a client’s copy. I didn’t have time to go home.”

“Oh. I had a fight with Wang Guangming. I’m out to cool off for a bit.” Zhao Xiaorou shut the roller door, leaned a chair against the table, and made herself a cup of coffee. Without hesitation, she grabbed things from the fridge, treating the place as her own. When the last piece of cake was pulled out, Hu Xiu felt completely defeated. The café owner had not only given her the key, but Zhao Xiaorou even dared to mess up his things. Li Ai, it seemed, was like central air conditioning—always providing warmth but lacking in energy.

The cake was placed on the table, and the two of them leisurely scraped it clean while Zhao Xiaorou continued to rant about Wang Guangming.

The complaints of a married woman about her partner came pouring out like a rapid fire, drawing from everyday life: “Wang Guangming is such a jerk! If it weren’t for my popularity, how could he have 20,000 followers? He acts so high and mighty and pretends to be loving on camera, but when the cameras are off, he says I’m not a good wife—what kind of ‘wife’ does he think I am?

His instant noodles blocked the drain, but he didn’t call for cleaning, and instead blamed me! What kind of attitude is that?”

Hu Xiu didn’t dare to respond, quietly continuing her editing. The camera suddenly came to life, and someone spoke. It was Li Ai: “How many times have you been here?”

The unexpected voice startled Hu Xiu. Zhao Xiaorou, unfazed, replied, “Li Ai, this Black Forest cake isn’t that great.”

“Of course not, it’s been in the fridge for a few hours.”

“I’m thinking of divorcing Wang Guangming.”

“Think it over.”

“I suspect he’s seeing someone else.”

The camera fell silent. Occasionally, Hu Xiu felt that even though Li Ai and Zhao Xiaorou were not in the same space, just a few simple words felt like they had created a world she couldn’t enter.

Looking at Zhao Xiaorou’s teary expression, Hu Xiu took out a peppermint candy from her bag—green packaging, made in Korea—and quietly pushed it toward her with her finger, as if offering the perfect remedy to cheer Zhao Xiaorou up.

Zhao Xiaorou shoved the candy into her mouth without speaking, but then shouted, “Li Ai, who else did you give the café key to?”

“To the barista. That’s all.”

“That’s more like it. If you gave it to anyone else behind our backs, I’ll cut ties with you.”

Zhao Xiaorou rolled the candy around her mouth, poking Hu Xiu’s cheek with her finger. “You’ve got something going on, haven’t you? Who have you been liking recently? Tell me and Li Ai about it.”

Nothing escaped Zhao Xiaorou’s eyes. Even among close friends, a little bit of self-interest made the bond stronger. After all these years, they shared a deeper, unbreakable relationship.

Back in 2010, both Hu Xiu and Zhao Xiaorou were long-time Super Junior fans, and they both liked the same member—Lee Donghae.

At the time, the largest fan forum had Hu Xiu as the image section moderator and Zhao Xiaorou as an administrator. They were both core members and, at the peak of their fandom, had even invited one of the members’ mothers to visit Beijing.

It wasn’t until later that Hu Xiu realized Zhao Xiaorou wasn’t rich, but instead was making money off the fans—by reselling merchandise. The towels sold at the forum cost 7.5 RMB each, but they were sold to fans for 118 RMB; keychains that cost 3.35 RMB were sold for 88 RMB. Not to mention the fans at 38 RMB each, whistles at 78 RMB, and the 218 RMB light sticks...

The self-made fan merchandise earned hundreds of thousands. The member’s mother hugged Zhao Xiaorou, speaking in Korean, saying that Zhao Xiaorou looked like a Korean actress and would surely become a star in China in the future.

Hu Xiu, who didn’t understand Korean, was excitedly buying makeup invested in by Zhao Xiaorou’s aunt. The fan meet-up with the member’s mother and aunt ended up giving Zhao Xiaorou respect, without her spending a dime. Meanwhile, Hu Xiu spent 5,000 RMB on flights, hotel stays, and supporting the Korean wave (through her aunt’s business), which left her financially strained when she returned to school.

To Hu Xiu, Zhao Xiaorou was the embodiment of a savvy businesswoman. When Weibo had just started, Zhao Xiaorou, in her early twenties, registered first and even opened a Taobao shop to sell official Korean merchandise. She quickly gained 200,000 followers, opened a physical store in Xi’an, and later transitioned to being an emotional blogger. Now, with 2 million followers, she earned five-digit sums from advertisements, all the while profiting from her fanbase.

Hu Xiu also had a Weibo account and wrote many love letters to Lee Donghae, which got quite a few shares. Occasionally, her jokes would be reposted thousands of times.

But in the early years, if someone wasn’t a Super Junior fan, Hu Xiu would manually remove them from her followers, in an effort to maintain her “purity.” Now, with only 3,750 followers, that number was dwindling.

People really shouldn’t compare themselves to others. Both of them were equally capable, but while Zhao Xiaorou had become a rising star in the fashion and beauty industry, Hu Xiu had abandoned her main job and now worked as a low-paid freelancer, struggling to make ends meet.

After hearing Hu Xiu’s unsuccessful attempts to gain any progress in the Snowpiercer event—where even Qin Shaoyi hadn’t come close to her—Zhao Xiaorou slammed the table. “Damn, Hu Xiu, I can’t believe you’re such a big fan of Lee Donghae, yet you can’t even manage to meet an NPC up close!”

“I’m not really into chasing stars…”

“Then what were you doing? You paid to go but couldn’t even see him, let alone touch him. That’s what chasing stars is—like those otaku guys in Japan who obsessively follow female idols. Li Ai, you agree, don’t you?”

Laughter came from the camera, followed by a couple of coughs: “Well, yes, but it’s not quite like that.”

Hu Xiu responded with a sigh: “Yeah, I guess…”

“Oh. So you’re not trying to get closer to him?” Zhao Xiaorou laughed out loud. “Really, Hu Xiu, you’ve already bought the tickets, and you still couldn’t meet him after three attempts? You’re just hopeless.”

“You have no idea how hard it is to get his character! I’ve already memorized the entire bag from three rounds, finally got into his group, but Qin Shaoyi wasn’t working that day!”

Zhao Xiaorou cleared her throat, completely unsurprised. “The murder mystery games always have customer service. With your level of multiple-round play, you could easily ask about the actor’s schedule, then get customer service to slip you a role with more interactions with him. You could go just to tease him.”

“If you keep going back, you might even get a photo after the show or, if you’re lucky, get his contact info when no one’s watching.”

“Oh my god, a true hardcore fangirl, and you’ve been in society for two or three years. How can you not know how to play the game in a new way?”

After hearing Zhao Xiaorou’s advice, Hu Xiu leaned her head on her hand, feeling utterly exhausted. “Don’t talk about it anymore…”

“You’ve already spent the money. They’re service staff, and you’re the customer. Don’t you understand that customers are kings?”

“Actually, I did see Qin Shaoyi today. I even purposely bumped into him.”

“And then?”

“The box fell to the ground, with all the costumes spilling out. He just picked it up and walked away without saying a word.”

If she really thought about it, Qin Shaoyi had a certain fragrance—something like blackcurrant in its middle notes.

Recognizing even his scent was just like back then when she zoomed in on Lee Donghae’s airport photos to see what brand of underwear he was wearing—equally creepy.

Zhao Xiaorou picked up her phone. “You can’t help it when you’re a fan, we’re all just stalkers, flies buzzing around. But with these handsome guys in the theater, that’s a different story.”

Hu Xiu quickly responded, “No way, Zhao Xiaorou, are you seriously planning to stalk him downstairs?”

“What are you thinking? This guy clearly has two faces—one on stage and one off. If you want him to smile at you, you’d have to go to the theater.”

“I can’t…” Hu Xiu shook her head rapidly. “I’m out of money…”

“I’ll pay. It’s nothing. I’ll make it back after posting a video.” The phone screen lit up, casting a cold blue glow on Zhao Xiaorou’s face. “Don’t thank me just yet. I’ve got something to ask of you, too.”

A spontaneous trip, a love one throws themselves into wholeheartedly—these are things fangirls have mastered.

From new MV GIFs, to using accelerators to grab tickets, staying up all night outside the venue, lugging a DSLR camera to pick up idols, sneaking cameras into concerts and changing memory cards in under two minutes if caught, spending money on gifts and photo verifications…

Hu Xiu had traveled to Korea, Hong Kong, Japan, and LA—all thanks to Lee Donghae’s concerts.

If she treated Qin Shaoyi like a celebrity, she wouldn’t feel so guilty about spending money. It was all part of supporting an idol’s career; her mental fortitude had already been honed.

In three days, Zhao Xiaorou gathered a collection of gifts: perfumes, ties, shirts, socks, everything, all piled on the couch. “These were all sent by the brands, worth tens of thousands. That bastard Wang Guangming doesn’t deserve to have them. If he hangs them on his dried fish stall, he’ll get cursed. Better to offer them as a gift to Qin Shaoyi.”

Seeing Hu Xiu wave her hand, Zhao Xiaorou, wearing a face mask and standing with her hands on her hips, said, “What are you shy about? Isn’t boosting presence just what this is? Do you think it’s all about sincerity? Sincerity can’t be eaten, my Miss Hu, you have to use your brain.”

It wasn’t exactly the kind of thinking Hu Xiu had in mind. Zhao Xiaorou’s logic was indeed simple: a handsome guy had no reason not to like these things.

But young men earned their pay with their acting skills. Even if Hu Xiu felt she was making money through her own efforts, her colleagues would view it as shallow, superficial transaction. Her instinct told her that the cold, aloof Qin Shaoyi would definitely be upset.

It was as if Zhao Xiaorou had read her thoughts. “Slow and steady, I’m not making you shove everything in his face. Don’t underestimate these gift boxes. If Wang Guangming found out, he’d be clutching his calculator, heartbroken.”

Hu Xiu glanced at her phone. “It’s getting late, we should head out.”

Zhao Xiaorou packed everything into the trunk and planned to drop Hu Xiu off in the suburbs after the murder mystery game ended.

The elevated highway was a bit congested, and there were red lights at the intersection for the Snowpiercer. Zhao Xiaorou wasn’t in a rush, so she played a track from Calvin Harris’s Rollin and let her fingers dance on the steering wheel. “Getting dumped isn’t your fault, don’t be so insecure. He’s just a young kid, just like chasing stars. Keep a calm mindset.”

Hu Xiu sat quietly in the passenger seat for a while, then suddenly spoke up. “Let’s leave the gifts in your trunk. I want to move back to the city and find a proper job. I can’t keep living this unsettled life.”

Zhao Xiaorou slammed on the brakes in surprise. “As expected, chasing stars makes you improve. This is just like when you angrily lost fifteen pounds back then.”

Zhao Xiaorou had indeed arranged for customer service to secretly help Hu Xiu join Qin Shaoyi’s group. The three of them entered Qin Shaoyi’s room, and Zhao Xiaorou begged Qin Shaoyi to first assign a task to the other person, leaving just her and Hu Xiu in the room.

Before Hu Xiu could react, Zhao Xiaorou pulled out a light stick from her character bag, activated it, and handed it to Hu Xiu. Waving her hands, she said, “Milk-skin Qin Shaoyi, cold and noble Qin Shaoyi, Rongcheng’s top rich guy Qin Shaoyi, rose royal Qin Shaoyi!”

Hu Xiu froze in place, and Qin Shaoyi took a step back on the couch, also stunned.

Less than a minute later, someone knocked on the door. A staff member in a purple hoodie entered. “Sorry, we saw on the monitor that players are not allowed to harass the actors during the performance...”