Withdrawal

The clamor of the finals hadn't died down yet, but Yun Heng was already on the long-distance bus back to the county seat. The scenery outside the car window changed from a bustling city to rolling fields. His phone vibrated in his pocket, with calls from the production team, private messages from fans, and dozens of messages from Yu Xiao's assistant. He had muted all of them.

Only after the car entered the county town did he pull out his phone and open the Weibo account he almost never used. His follower count was still in the triple digits, and the latest update was a repost of the official Weibo account he had shared when he signed up for "Making a Star." The comment section contained only two "Keep Running!" messages.

Yun Heng took a deep breath and clicked on the long article editing box. Her fingertips tapped on the screen, and every word felt like it was squeezed out of her throat, with a rusty pain.

To All Those Who Follow Me

"Hello everyone, I'm Yunheng.

At this moment, I am sitting in the car on my way home. Outside the window is the golden wheat field, and there is the fragrance of wheat in the wind - this is a smell that makes me feel more at ease than the spotlight.

Today, I want to announce one thing: I am withdrawing from "Everyone Creates a Star" and giving up the so-called "C-position debut".

It's not a fit of anger, nor is it hype.

The huge vote count in the third public performance was a joke orchestrated by capital; the center position in the finals was a script arranged by others. I was like a puppet, pushed into the spotlight, receiving cheers and insults that did not belong to me.

Some people say that I "rely on the prince to get to the top", and some people call me a "money-worshiping green tea girl", and I accept all of this - after all, in the game of capital, explanations are the most useless things.

But I must make it clear: I, Yunheng, am no one's property, nor am I a puppet to be manipulated by others.

My original intention for joining this show was to earn 3,000 yuan in lost wages to buy fertilizer for my grandma. Later, I wanted to win, to prove that even amateurs can stand on stage with their voices. But now I realize that some performances aren't purely driven by passion from the start.

Those original works written by staying up late, those bruised knees, those voices practiced until hoarse in front of the mirror... in the face of capital, they are as light as a feather.

Thank you to everyone who truly likes my singing. Your light signs are bright, but they cannot illuminate the web woven by capital.

I'm sorry to disappoint you.

From now on, we will go back to my home and you will continue to chase your stars.

No more in the Jianghu."

The moment she clicked send, Yunheng turned off her phone and stuffed it deep into her backpack.

After a while he fell asleep. In his dream he saw his grandmother waiting for him at the intersection with a cane, the corner of her blue shirt fluttering in the wind like a stubborn reed.

"Heng, it's time to go home." The old man smiled with wrinkles on his face and reached out to take his backpack. "Are you hungry? There's chicken soup in the pot."

Yunheng shook her head, squatted down, hugged her grandmother's waist, and buried her face in the corner of her clothes, like a wronged child.

Meanwhile, at the Yu Group headquarters, Yu Xiao was signing a multi-billion dollar film and television investment contract. The pen glided smoothly between his fingers, and as he signed the last word, his phone suddenly lit up, displaying entertainment headlines as dazzling as fire.

#Yunheng issued a long article to withdraw from the competition, exposing the manipulation of capital#

His fingertips trembled violently, and the tip of the pen drew a hideous ink mark on the smooth contract paper, spreading out a dark patch.

"Mr. Yu?" The assistant standing nearby was so frightened that he dared not breathe.

Yu Xiao said nothing as he clicked on the long article. Yun Heng's handwriting was elegant, yet laced with a resolute intensity. Each word was like a needle, piercing his most painful spot. "Marionette," "The Game of Capital," "Return to My Home"… These words were like heavy hammers, making his temples throb.

He stood up suddenly, the chair legs scraping against the floor. "Get the car ready! Go to the training base!"

Cars were whizzing across the overpass. Yu Xiao's fingers swiped across the screen of his phone. The long article had been forwarded over 100,000 times, and the comment section was abuzz with activity:

[I'm crying! It's really capital manipulation! Yun Heng is too tough!]

[Support withdrawal! It's better not to stay in this dirty circle! ]

[Yu Xiao came out to get beaten! What did you do to him?]

[No wonder he smashed the mic on finals night! Turns out he knew it all along...]

[I feel so sorry for Yunheng. His voice is truly a gift from God...]

Yu Xiao's heart felt like it was being clenched by an invisible hand, the pain choking him. He thought revoking resources and a public apology would make amends, but he forgot that Yun Heng never wanted these things—he wanted respect, fairness, and an untainted dream. And these were precisely the things he had destroyed in the first place.

The training base's dormitories were mostly empty, with only a few undebuted trainees packing their belongings. Yu Xiao rushed to Yun Heng's bed and saw a crumpled piece of paper sticking out from under the pillow. It was a crumpled withdrawal application form. The signature, "Yun Heng," was written with such force that it practically ripped through the paper.

"When did he leave?" Yu Xiao grabbed a passing trainee and said in a trembling voice.

"Brother Yunheng? He left this morning, saying he was going home..." The trainee took a step back, frightened by the bloodshot eyes. "He also asked me to please give this form to the production team..."

Yu Xiao didn't listen to the whole thing. He snatched the withdrawal form and tore it into pieces without even glancing at it. The scraps of paper fell to the ground, mixed with Yun Heng's discarded guitar pick, like a messy funeral.

"You're not allowed to withdraw!" He growled, his voice echoing in the empty dormitory, tinged with hysterical despair. "Do you want to destroy yourself? Do you know what withdrawing means? Liquidated damages! Banned! You'll never step foot on stage again in your life!"

"Master Yu..." The assistant walked in cautiously, holding a document in his hand, "This was left by Brother Yunheng. He said it's for you."

It was a brown paper envelope. There was no letter inside, only three things: the plain ring engraved with "Heng Xiao", the fragments of the trophy base that he had smashed on the night of the final, and a yellowed photo - it was of Yunheng's wheat field. The golden wheat swayed in the wind like a flowing sea.

On the back of the photo was a line of small words in Yun Heng's elegant handwriting: "This is my world, you don't understand."

Yu Xiao gripped the photo, his knuckles white. He truly didn't understand. He'd grown up in a castle built by capital, believing money could buy everything. Little did he know that some things were more important than money—like the freedom of his hometown's wheat fields, the pride of not being manipulated, and the clear, untainted eyes of Yun Heng.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Yu Zhenting. "Useless!" The voice on the other end was as cold as ice. "Look at the trending searches right now! Yu's stock price has dropped three points! Come back and deal with it immediately!"

Yu Xiao didn't say anything, just hung up the phone, turned it off and threw it into the trash can.

He walked over to Yun Heng's desk and saw some crooked musical notes engraved on it. They were the melody of "Moonlight Rose." Next to it was a notebook with dance practice notes. The last page read, "If I could win once on my own, even just once, that would be great."

Yu Xiao's eyes suddenly turned red.

He remembered the first time Yun Heng wiped the water stains in the corridor, the way he stubbornly pushed away the glucose when he had low blood sugar, and the pair of eyes filled with fear when the rooftop got out of control... It turned out that what he missed was never an opportunity to "correct the mistake", but countless moments that he could choose to respect.

"Prepare the car." Yu Xiao's voice was as hoarse as sandpaper. "Go to Yun Heng's house."

The assistant was stunned: "Master Yu, are we going now? It's a mountainous area over there, the road is not easy to walk on, and... the chairman's side..."

"Don't worry about my dad." Yu Xiao interrupted him, his eyes fixed on the window, "I'll go and apologize."

It's not for redemption, it's not for making amends, I just want to say "sorry" in person - for those manipulated votes, for that forced endorsement, for the loss of control on the rooftop, and for all the moments that were hurt by his capital and paranoia.

As the car pulled out of the training base, the sun was sinking below the horizon, painting the sky a swathe of orange. Yu Xiao watched the street scenes pass by outside the window, and suddenly remembered Ye Yunheng's solo performance in the finals. The words, "I don't want to play the game of capital anymore," echoed in his ears like a mantra.

Perhaps, what he should do is not to get Yun Heng back, but to let him go.

Let him return to his own home, let him be the boy with light in his eyes when singing, let him never have to see the words "Yu Xiao" again, and never have to be shrouded in the shadow of capital.

But her fingers subconsciously clenched the plain ring, and the cold metal hurt her palm.

Yun Heng's long Weibo post is still going viral, with #Yun Heng withdrawing# and #Capital Get Out of the Entertainment Circle# firmly occupying the top two search terms. Fans protested with signs outside the Yu Group building, while media outlets dug deep into the show's dark underbelly. Even official media outlets weighed in, stating, "The talent show should return to its original purpose and avoid allowing capital to become unbalanced."

Yu Xiao's car bumped along the winding mountain road. His phone was dead, and the world was silent, with only the roar of the engine. He didn't know the meaning of his trip. Perhaps he just wanted to see the wheat fields Yun Heng had mentioned, to understand the magic hidden in the home that made him give up everything.

When the evening breeze blew through the car window, bringing with it the fragrance of grass and trees from the mountains, Yu Xiao suddenly smiled.

He remembered Yunheng's long article about "the smell of wheat in the wind", which turned out to be better than cologne.

It was just that he realized how good it smelled too late.

The scraps of paper from the dormitory were swept into the trash by the cleaners, mixed with discarded posters from other trainees, and then destined for an unknown landfill. Yu Xiao tucked Yun Heng's guitar pick into his pocket, like a piece of moonlight that would never return.

This struggle, which began with capital, finally revealed its most embarrassing undertones in the young man's resolute withdrawal. Those who pursue him are still on the road, unsure whether the road ahead will lead to salvation or a deeper abyss.