The Three-Year Deal
Lin Yining (formerly Ren Yining), 16-year-old heiress of the Ren family in Beijing.
---
The grand dining room of the Ren estate in Beijing was cold despite the sunlight streaming through its tall French windows. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, yet the silence was so tense it felt like even the air didn't dare to move.
Sixteen-year-old Ren Yining sat stiffly at the long marble table, her fingers clenched under the tablecloth.
At the head of the table sat her grandfather, Ren Shiqiang — the chairman of Ren Group, a name that made CEOs bow and politicians pause. His deep-set eyes fixed on her like a hawk watching a trembling rabbit.
"You want to become a singer?" His voice was low, calm — but deadly.
"Not just a singer," Yining said, forcing herself to sit straight. "I want to debut as an idol. In music. On my own terms."
Across from her, her eldest brother Ren Haoxuan scoffed, clearly disgusted. "Are you serious? You think prancing around on stage is worth throwing away your future?"
"You've had your future decided since you were born," Yining shot back. "Let me decide mine."
Her middle brother, Ren Haoyu ,leaned back in his chair, watching with mild amusement. "Yining, you've never even taken the subway. What makes you think you can survive out there? This isn't a drama."
Their grandfather raised a hand to silence them.
"You have three years," Ren Shiqiang said at last, his voice final and firm like a judge's verdict. "Three years to debut. Without using the Ren name. Without our money. If you succeed, you are free. If not—"
"I'll come back," Yining interrupted, her voice trembling. "And I'll give up music. Forever."
"And take your place in the boardroom," Haoxuan added, arms crossed.
She nodded. "Yes."
Her auntie, Zhou Guanjie , stepped forward. She had raised Yining since she was three, but there was no warmth in her expression now.
"You are walking into a world where people will tear you apart," she said coldly. "You have never faced rejection. Or hunger. Or betrayal. People bowed to you because of your surname. Out there, you are nothing."
Yining met her gaze. "Then I'll become someone."
---
Two days later
Beijing's winter wind slapped her face as she stepped out of the estate gates — alone.
No limo. No security.
Only a suitcase and a prepaid phone with ¥300 loaded onto it.
She had dyed her jet-black hair into a soft brown and tied it into a messy ponytail. Her school uniform was replaced by worn jeans, a secondhand jacket, and old white sneakers. Everything about her now said ordinary.
She took a deep breath and whispered her new name aloud:
"Lin Yining."
The name had no power. No reputation. Just her.
Her first stop was a tiny boarding house near Dongzhimen — the cheapest place she could find online.
The landlady, a grumpy woman in her fifties, eyed her up and down.
"Rent's ¥1200 a month. Shared bathroom. No parties. No noise after 9. Clean your own hallway."
"Understood," Yining said.
Her room was barely the size of her former walk-in closet. The paint peeled off the walls, and the heater made weird noises. But to Yining, it felt like the beginning of everything.
She sat on the bed — if a thin mattress on wooden boards could be called that — and pulled out a notebook.
On the first page, she wrote in large block characters:
> "三年内出道.没有借口."
"Debut in 3 years. No excuses."
---
Day 3 – First Audition
Yining found a small entertainment company's poster online:
"Looking for trainees – vocal, dance, rap. No experience needed. Passion required."
She showed up early, nerves jumping in her stomach.
About 40 other hopefuls crowded the hallway — some stretching, some humming warm-ups. Most were younger than her. Most were better prepared.
One girl stood out — confident, tall, sharp eyes, short hair dyed silver-blue. She noticed Yining and smirked. "Didn't know they were accepting middle schoolers now."
Yining didn't respond.
She was too busy trying to calm her shaking hands.
When her number was called, she walked into a small room with two judges and a boombox.
She bowed.
"Name?" asked the female judge.
"Lin Yining."
"Song?"
"'Because of You' by Zhang Liangying."
The music began.
Yining opened her mouth — and sang.
The first few notes were shaky. But then something clicked. Her voice, though unpolished, had depth. Emotion. Pain. Hope.
By the time she finished, the room was quiet.
The male judge scribbled something down. "You're raw. But… you have something."
The woman nodded slowly. "We'll put you in the B-list trainees. If you work hard, you might move up. Don't expect special treatment."
"I don't," Yining said quietly.
---
Back outside, she smiled for the first time in days.
She wasn't the heiress anymore.
She wasn't protected, or respected, or feared.
But she had one small step forward .
---
Next day
The Training Room
---
The building didn't look like much from the outside.
Faded white paint. A broken neon sign that simply said "StarBridge Ent." flickering above the door. No security. No red carpets. Nothing like the glamorous entertainment companies Yining had seen in magazines.
But this was where her dream started.
She pulled her backpack tight and stepped inside.
---
Inside the Training Hall
"Hey! B-Class report to Studio 3!" a staff member yelled from across the lobby.
Yining followed a small group of tired-looking trainees down a narrow hallway. They were all dressed in worn sneakers and oversized hoodies — far from the glitter and gloss of idols.
She clutched her file:
Name: Lin Yining
Age: 16
Assigned Class: B
When she entered the studio, a sharp voice barked, "You're late."
Yining froze. A woman in her mid-thirties stood at the front — toned, stylish, and stern, with a headset on. Her name tag read: Coach Mei (梅老师).
"I— I thought orientation was at 8:00—"
"It is 8:00. And you're 30 seconds late. That's 30 push-ups. Start."
Yining dropped to the floor, her arms shaking as she counted under her breath. Around her, other trainees didn't even look up. It was just another day to them.
By the time she finished, her chest burned.
---
"Alright," Coach Mei snapped. "Today is vocal warmups, core conditioning, and freestyle dance. If you're here to play, leave now."
No one moved.
"Good. Let's begin."
---
Training Hell
By noon, Yining's body felt like it had been hit by a truck.
She was used to private dance tutors and air-conditioned rooms. This was nothing like that.
The mirrors were foggy. The speakers crackled. The floor was slick with sweat. One girl had already thrown up in a corner.
But no one stopped.
Not even her.
---
A Friend in the Storm
During a five-minute water break, a girl plopped down beside her, panting. "Hey, you new?"
Yining turned. The girl had a messy ponytail and a bright grin. Sweat dripped from her chin.
"Yeah. I'm Yining."
"I'm Min Yuri . Been here seven months. Still stuck in B-class," she laughed. "But at least they haven't kicked me out yet."
Yining offered a small smile. "You're a great dancer."
Yuri lit up. "Thanks! You've got potential too. Just... less dying, more breathing, yeah?"
They both laughed — and just like that, Yining had her first friend.
---
First Glimpse of Her
Later that afternoon, they were called to Studio 1.
"Senior trainees will do their monthly performance test," Coach Mei announced. "Watch and learn. This is the level you need to reach."
The lights dimmed.
Then she walked in.
Jiang Ruoxi .
She moved like water — effortless and graceful. Her long black hair flowed behind her as she danced. Her voice was soft, but powerful. Mesmerizing.
The entire room fell silent.
Yining couldn't look away.
Ruoxi's performance ended. No smile. No bow. Just calm eyes that met Yining's for a split second — and moved on.
---
"She's incredible," Yining whispered.
Yuri nodded beside her. "That's Jiang Ruoxi. She's been training here for four years. Everyone says she's already got a debut offer, but she's waiting… for something. Or someone."
"She doesn't talk much?"
"Barely. But if you're serious about debuting, watch her. She's the real deal."
---
Back in the Dorm
That night, Yining collapsed onto the stiff mattress of her dorm bunk bed.
Her arms ached. Her legs felt like noodles.
But her heart — it was full.
She was finally here.
Living her dream. Even if it hurt like hell.
She opened her notebook again.
> Day 3
Trained 9 hours.
Met Yuri.
Saw Jiang Ruoxi perform.
My goal feels far away… but real.
She stared out the small window at the dim lights of Beijing.
And for the first time in a long time, she felt small — but alive.