Ch 21: The Cannon Fodder Won’t Play Along Anymore [QT]

“Now, let’s welcome the popular group, MRC, to the stage!”

A small county town, a shabby, low-quality outdoor stage, a gaudy red-and-gold banner, the sparse applause from the audience, and passersby holding up their phones to film the “big stars.”

Chang Yiming and his two expressionless teammates walked up from one side of the stage.

He was no longer young, and his popularity had long faded to the point that young people nowadays would only look blank if they heard his name.

The three of them picked up microphones, put on forced smiles to greet the audience, sang two songs, and quickly left the stage.

Backstage, Chang Yiming looked at his two old teammates he hadn’t seen in a long time.

All three of them had gained quite a bit of weight, their appearances changed from what they once were. They exchanged brief greetings, then each sat off to the side, absorbed in their own phones—MRC had disbanded many years ago. After the group broke up, they each went their own way and had long since lost touch.

The only reason they hadn’t left yet was because there was still a banquet later. According to the contract, they had to show up, take a picture with the boss.

This kind of “side gig” was a common way for washed-up entertainers to make money.

Usually, Chang Yiming worked solo. At his age and with almost no popularity left, one such commercial performance could pay him twenty to thirty thousand yuan.

But this newly opened shop’s owner might have once been their fan; he invited all three and said that if they performed together, he would double the payment.

Now that they were all middle-aged with families to support, no one was going to turn down money.

They weren’t sitting in a hidden spot, and people passed by constantly, but few recognized them, and no one came up to take a photo.

After sitting for about half an hour, a young girl walked in. She looked at the three, hesitated for a moment, then walked over.

“Hello, are you MRC’s Chang Yiming?” the girl asked tentatively.

Today, she had seen people in her group chat saying there were celebrities performing in this mall—apparently a member of some long-ago group called MRC.

Her classmates hadn’t paid much attention, but she thought of something and rushed over.

Chang Yiming looked at the girl—she seemed about fourteen or fifteen, about the same age as his daughter.

With a gentle smile, he said, “I am.”

The girl’s eyes lit up instantly, and she said happily, “I’ve watched a lot of your videos online, and I’ve seen many of your performances.”

Chang Yiming was a little surprised, but also warmed: Did he actually still have such young fans?

The other two came over to greet her and even offered to take a photo with her.

She agreed.

After the photo, she cautiously asked, “I wanted to ask… do you have any contact with Brother Mu Xing?”

Looking at these three men clearly in their uncles’ age group, it was hard for her to believe they were of the same generation as Mu Xing.

The atmosphere went quiet.

Chang Yiming thought to himself, As expected.

He shook his head helplessly. “No, we haven’t been in touch for a long time.”

Hearing the answer, the girl’s expression was clearly disappointed, but she still politely thanked them before leaving.

Xu Zijia suddenly gave a cold laugh. “Mu Xing this, Mu Xing that—everyone only remembers Mu Xing. Even when people remember us a little, it’s thanks to him!”

He clearly hadn’t been doing well these past years, the wrinkles between his brows deep, his demeanor a little dark.

Chang Yiming, on the other hand, was much more at peace. His family life was happy, and years of commercial gigs had earned him a decent living. Though not as glamorous as in his peak, it was still better than most.

He said, “But you and I both have to admit—he really is someone worth young people liking.”

Xu Zijia shot him a glare but said nothing, kicked a chair, and walked off to the other room.

Xu Wen came over and said quietly, “You know, these past years I’ve often wondered… if Mu Xing hadn’t left MRC back then, what would things be like for us now?”

Chang Yiming was silent for a moment.

In the early years, he had wondered the same thing—often.

He imagined that if Mu Xing hadn’t quit, maybe they would have gone on to a dazzling, glorious path.

But now…

He shook his head. “Don’t think about it. It’s all in the past. Just live the life you have now.”

Xu Wen sighed. “Yeah.”

Then, in a lower voice, he said, “Actually, I’ve been using a secret account to watch his livestreams.”

Chang Yiming laughed. “What a coincidence, so do I. My daughter’s even a fan of his. She once asked me if I bullied her ‘Brother Xing’ when I was young. She doesn’t even believe we’re from the same generation.”

Xu Wen glanced at him, and seeing his calm and easy expression, he let go of his own awkwardness.

“I really envy him. His life looks like a fairy tale. And he looks like one too—you can just tell he has no worries.”

Chang Yiming said, “Yeah, he’s not like us.”

*

After that performance, Chang Yiming added Xu Wen on WeChat. They would chat from time to time and actually became pretty good friends.

Then one day, Mu Xing suddenly announced he would stop livestreaming—just like that, disappearing from the public eye.

That time, many people who didn’t know him well got their first taste of his terrifying influence.

No one had expected that an older streamer’s retirement would cause a bigger stir than even a top-tier idol quitting the industry.

Weibo crashed for hours, and the news stayed on the trending list for several days in a row.

And then, a year passed. Two years.

From time to time, a few netizens would happen to run into Mu Xing at some scenic spot, or see someone who looked like him. Whenever such news appeared, it would always shoot straight to the trending list.

Some fans pieced together from his past remarks and these scattered sightings that he seemed to be traveling long-term. They would wait at various famous spots, hoping to meet him just once.

It even became a running joke, called “Finding Mu Xing.”

Many more years passed.

Chang Yiming became a great-grandfather. His great-granddaughter could already speak.

One day, the official account of Xincheng County—by now with quite a large following—suddenly posted a message.

Mu Xing had passed away.

The post said he had no illness, passed peacefully, and seemed to have a premonition shortly before his death—returning home to put his affairs in order and donating all his assets to his hometown for its development.

The account also revealed a Weibo handle Mu Xing had never made public, filled with his records of life over the years—his final gift to his fans.

Many fans wept uncontrollably. When Chang Yiming heard the news, he sat silently by the window for a long time.

“Great-grandpa, what’s wrong?” came a gentle push on his knee.

He looked down. It was his two-year-old great-granddaughter.

The little girl’s big eyes blinked as she asked in her soft, milky voice, “Why aren’t you talking? Are you not feeling well?”

With slightly trembling hands, Chang Yiming patted her head and smiled. “I’m fine. I just remembered something from a long time ago, and got a little sentimental.”

The little girl didn’t really understand, but instinctively felt that her great-grandpa wasn’t very happy. She leaned against him and whispered, “Don’t think about it. Look at Niuniu.”

“Alright, alright. Great-grandpa won’t think about it. I’ll look at my sweet Niuniu.”

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