Leaving first is the choice that spares everyone from awkwardness. After walking out of the assembly hall, Eric Carter finally breathed a sigh of relief and casually tossed the button from his pocket into the trash can. There was still a faint imprint in his palm—a little prop to ease the awkwardness.

“Mr. Chu, this episode will air on October 4th, mainly on Mango TV and the Mango TV app.” When the two were alone, Grace Bennett was noticeably more talkative: “And the next recording is on the 5th, so please keep an eye on your schedule.”

Today was the 27th, so there was only a week until the broadcast. This surprised Eric Carter; most variety shows are recorded half a month or even a whole month in advance, usually two or four episodes at a time. Recording just one episode ahead was rare—maybe it had to do with the nature of the show. “I Really Am a Singer” collects votes for guest challengers on its official Weibo and app, so perhaps the show is more time-sensitive?

If the new episode is recorded on the 5th, then rehearsals should be on the 2nd or 3rd. It wouldn’t make sense to return to Shanghai, and there wouldn’t be any other schedules anyway, so Eric Carter figured he might as well stay in Star City for a few days.

Grace Bennett was summoned for work, so Eric Carter retrieved his small bag from the dressing room and was about to leave the Elite Building when a voice called out behind him—

“Mr. Chu!” “Mr. Chu, please wait!”

Eric Carter turned to look and saw Henry Reed hurrying over, his curly hair fluttering in the wind. He had thin hair, so he got a perm to make it look fuller.

Henry Reed jogged up and rattled off a string of words, clearly excited from his tone and expression. Unfortunately, Shawn Carter didn’t understand Japanese—he only caught the phrase “sumimasen,” which means “sorry” or “excuse me” in Japanese.

Henry Reed also realized they weren’t speaking the same language, so he pulled out his phone, fiddled with it, and showed a translated line: [Mr. Chu, could you give me your contact information? I’d like to be good friends with you.]

Oh, Tom, that damn strong machine translation flavor—makes me want to kick you with a pointy shoe. Eric Carter more or less understood he wanted to exchange contact info, so he left his phone number. Most Japanese people don’t use WeChat.

“Arigatou gozaimasu,” Henry Reed thanked him. With the language barrier, there was no way to chat further, so he watched Eric Carter leave.

The real reason Henry Reed ran over to make friends wasn’t that he was “conquered by the voice”—that was an exaggeration. The real reason was...

“The more you hang out with good-looking people, the better your own looks get.” That’s right, Henry Reed was a true appearance fanatic. All his friends, male or female, regardless of character, were good-looking.

“Time to eat.” Henry Reed’s stomach started to protest, and the other three had already started their meal.

At the table, Sarah Clark, Emily Harris, and Nancy Foster chatted.

“Since the show credits Eric Carter as the composer, lyricist, and arranger, the registration info must be fine. But do you think ‘Wheat Waves in the Wind’ was ghostwritten? The style shift is huge.” Nancy Foster brought up a topic as they chatted.

Chapter 11: An Unexpected Blind Box

“Probably not. ‘Wheat Waves in the Wind’ is a quality song too. If they could find someone to ghostwrite like that, they would’ve released it long ago, before any scandals broke out—money and fame would’ve come early, no need to wait until now.” Sarah Clark gave his opinion.

“I thought about it quietly. In the previous albums Eric Carter released, there really weren’t any self-written songs. Maybe the company didn’t let him.” Emily Harris offered a possibility.

“Kangfei Entertainment isn’t stupid,” Nancy Foster said. “I remember Eric Carter gave up college to chase his dream. Maybe he just happened to write a good song. When people are desperate, they can do anything—except math.”

Nancy Foster added, “From my perspective, Eric Carter’s face is a menace. I caught a few glimpses in the assembly hall, and I really wanted to rush over and ask how he takes care of his skin.”

“Calm down, Sister Gu. We need to be elegant,” Emily Harris changed the subject. “Let’s not talk about right or wrong, just looks. Eric Carter sits there quietly, with a faint smile at the corner of his mouth—he’s like a character straight out of a shoujo manga. No wonder he has so many fans. What girl could resist that face?”

“Yingying, you’re joking like it’s a joke,” Sarah Clark said. “As if us guys could resist either—especially those eyes of Eric Carter, not too many, not too few, just the right two.”

Here we go again. Sarah Clark wasn’t just a chatterbox on camera; in real life, he was a master of nonsense literature. He continued, “Eric Carter’s nose is also just right, perfectly in the middle of his face. And his mouth—he only has one! What’s even more amazing is his head, which is exactly on top of his neck!”

“A conversation with you is ten years of reading wasted,” Nancy Foster rolled her eyes. She liked to roll her eyes, so her eye lines were obvious.

“Will Eric Carter make a comeback after the show airs?” The question had been on Emily Harris’s mind for hours, and she finally asked.

“No way. His reputation online is already ruined. It’s not something one or two songs, or a single variety show, can fix,” Sarah Clark answered without hesitation, then added, “After the show airs, he might gain a small wave of fans, but the overall trend won’t change. His humming today was amazing—enough to live off for a lifetime. In other words, with that face, he’ll do just fine wherever he goes.”

The implication being, aside from being a celebrity, he could do well in any other field.