Chapter 23: The Iconic Figures of Chinese Young Adult Literature

From that day on, Fang Xinghe's fan count and Starlight points entered their first period of explosive growth.

Within a month, sales of the April issue of *Mengya* soared from the usual 10,000 copies to 250,000. Meanwhile, Fang Xinghe’s fan base skyrocketed to one million.

In this era, a single book would typically circulate among at least ten students—not everyone had the money to buy one, but many would borrow it for a look. Sales of 250,000 meant that roughly three million people had likely seen his face. The significance of top-tier aesthetics was dramatically amplified at this moment. Ninety-nine percent of the girls who saw the magazine cover felt at least some interest in learning more, subsequently building a preliminary sense of affinity through the writing inside.

Converting three million viewers into one million casual fans—such a high conversion rate could be called a myth. In the later golden age of entertainment, if a marketing campaign used a single professional portrait to reach three million people, any company boss would call you "Daddy" on the spot if you managed to convert even 100,000 casual fans.

"Godfather, you are truly a celestial star descended to earth!"

Really, it was that exaggerated. In the post-traffic era, no aspiring star could achieve a 1% conversion rate through simple exposure like "portraits, GIFs, or style lookbooks." Before the age of mass traffic, the first amateur to go viral because of a single photo was Cheng Lin, followed by Milk Tea, and then Nazha. In terms of reach, Milk Tea > Cheng Lin > Nazha. Their conversion rates were hard to track, but none were high; they were certainly less than one in a thousand.

But what about Fang Xinghe? At his peak this month, he had 1.2 million casual fans, and even after settling down to around one million, his conversion rate stood at 30%! It was exaggerated, terrifying, and utterly monstrous.

Although the number of his loyal, steadfast fans wasn't huge—only amounting to 4.7 million Starlight points—that was because he hadn't yet published any major works, and the emotional resonance wasn't deep enough, not because of any deficiency in his potential. Regardless, he was personally very satisfied.

First, he had the era to thank; second, the decision to maximize his aesthetic appeal; and third, the effort put into his styling and persona. Without these, there would certainly be no such result today. Good looks are the primary productive force in the entertainment industry; that is the truth. The saying "Start with the looks, get trapped by the talent" also holds true. Fang Xinghe had only taken the first, simple step of attracting fans, so his Starlight points weren't massive yet, but when he supplemented this with actual works, there would surely be a brand-new atmosphere.

...

With a little bit of money in his pocket, naturally, it had to be spent. After a long period of training, development, and accumulation, Fang Xinghe’s panel data was already quite impressive, though the growth rate of his attributes had clearly slowed down. At the physical development level of a middle school student, his current physique was likely at its limit; hard training might increase it a bit more, but it wasn't necessary.

Better to just add points~~~

Unfortunately, attributes already over 70 could no longer be boosted; he could only bring those below 70 up to 69. After a splurge of point-spending, his new stats were so handsome they defied friendship.

[Attribute Panel]
Appearance Attributes: Looks 99, Physique 75
Physical Attributes: Strength 69, Speed 80, Stamina 69, Agility 75, Flexibility 73
Hidden Attributes: Coordination 72, Perception 69, Recovery 74, Immunity 69, Health 73
Artistic Attributes: Writing 79

[Skill Panel]
Wudang Taiji Stance: 60
Wudang Taiji Thirteen Postures: 60
Basic Swordsmanship: 60
Basic Footwork: 60
Basic Legwork: 60
Mengcun New-Style Baji: 60
Six-Harmony Great Spear: 60

[Starlight Panel]
[Fan Count: 1.01 Million]
[Starlight Points: 10,222]
[Star Glory Points: 0]

After the comprehensive upgrade, he moved around a bit, set his stance, and performed a set of Taiji. He immediately felt the difference. His movements had more power, his core was steadier, his control was tighter, and everything felt more rhythmic and natural. Every point spent was worth it; as the hardware improved, the software immediately became smoother. It was just a pity that the software level wasn't high yet—if he could hit an average of 80, how handsome would that be?

Looking at his Starlight points, which had returned to a five-digit number, Fang Xinghe sighed: "So poor!" It was so hard to earn, yet so easy to spend—was this currency or what? He calculated carefully: it would take 6.3 million Starlight points to bring his seven martial arts skills to 69, and another 70 million to reach 79. Forget it, he couldn't afford it at all. If it was this difficult with only seven skills, what would happen when he had 70 in the future? He was terrified...

Clearly, it was more meaningful to use Starlight points to upgrade basic attributes. Attributes were the foundation, and skills were the application; with higher attributes, the efficiency of self-study and practice would also increase. Although he couldn't reach the heavens in one step, Fang Xinghe wasn't disappointed. The system was already powerful enough, giving him the chance to exchange normal effort for a hundredfold return; what else could he be dissatisfied with? No need to overthink, just keep working.

...

Days proceeded as scheduled until mid-May, with a little over a month left until the high school entrance exams. The highly anticipated May issue of *Mengya* was finally released. This time, no one needed a reminder; on the day it arrived, almost everyone in class had a copy.

"Fang Xinghe, could you please sign this for me..."

The girls didn't even have time to read it before they rushed over for autographs. Good students or bad, in front of Brother Fang, they were all just little girls~~~

With a flurry of dragon-and-phoenix flourishes from his ballpoint pen, he finished signing for the whole class, then kept his own copy to have the first look. This issue of *Mengya* was simple and clean; it lacked complex introductions and went straight to the full text of Fang Xinghe’s semi-final essay, along with seven whole critiques from writers.

Oh, right, the cover. The cover featured a full-length portrait of Fang Xinghe. His left hand hung naturally, his right hand nonchalantly swung his award certificate, and he was walking forward. For some reason, the photographer had blurred out all the background. In the entire image, only he was clear, vivid, and free. The final effect looked as if he were walking through an illusion, stepping toward the "audience."

"It’s shot so beautifully!"

Taodang felt from the bottom of his heart that it was handsome, but he couldn't describe it, so he pressed Lu Tingting: "Right? Boss is too handsome!"

"Mm-hmm!" Lu Tingting nodded vigorously. "It really has such a great vibe!"

"Haha, we finally found common ground!" Taodang was overjoyed. This was the first time Lu Tingting had responded so positively to him, making him so happy he felt like he was floating. He became exceptionally restless.

Fang Xinghe and his friends—Baofu, Duoyu, Little Stutterer, Sangmenxing, and the others—looked at each other. They found the scene truly indescribable. No, Brother Taodang, what exactly are you so excited about?

"Hiss..."
"Whew..."

Everyone took a sharp breath, then let out a sigh, and silently buried their heads back into their own tasks. This couldn't be helped; let the kid enjoy his last year...

Fang Xinghe looked away and opened the magazine.

At the same time, nearly 100,000 middle school students flipped the magazine to page 22 and looked immediately at that unique article. This included many future highly active actresses, singers, and screenwriters born in the 80s who were then just in elementary or middle school.

When that essay prompt—which completely didn't belong to the current era but was exclusive to that age group—caught their eyes, who knows how many people felt their hearts pounding like drums and their spirits lifted because of that feeling of "not knowing what it is, but it sounds powerful."

Unlike the simple and straightforward *Peering at People in a Cup*, this prompt was better at stirring emotions; it was more passionate, more arrogant, more flavorful, and more powerful. And upon reading the text, more differences began to emerge. *Peering at People in a Cup* had a certain threshold for appreciation—its love and hate were deeper, its various critiques were only touched upon briefly and required careful contemplation, leaning more toward stream-of-consciousness.

*Knowing Without Following* was different. It was a sharp blade—in and out, very clear, extremely decisive. You didn't have to rack your brains to figure out what the author wanted to express; just follow along. Fang Xinghe had written all the answers clearly right there. You only needed to compare it, like looking into a mirror, to see clearly whether you were a happy little idiot or a piece of trash that had been gnawed on but dared not resist.

As it turned out, there were too many pieces of trash; the 400,000 copies *Mengya* had riskily prepared weren't enough.

Later, Li Qigang described that day like this: "From the moment we published that piece, the field of youth literature in China finally had a concrete, iconic idol."