Chapter 50: Far from Superficial Fame

Chapter 50: Chapter 50: Far from Superficial Fame

Miles Yates thought that when he looked back on these experiences, he would be overwhelmed with emotion, but to his surprise, he felt a calm serenity. With a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, he looked at Renee Morgan and said, "If it weren’t for her, I might have quit filming the show halfway through. I don’t think I could have kept going, because my mental state had already started to affect my body, making it impossible to complete the intensive physical training."

"The amazing thing is, now I no longer have to rely on medication, I can control my emotions well, and I can finally close my eyes and sleep peacefully. It was discovering this that made me notice the changes in my body—I realized I really could finish the instructors’ physical training assignments."

"All of this is thanks to my teammate Renee Morgan. As an artist, she’s full of energy, burning so bright that she lit up my darkness, making me understand what it means to stand on stage. I hope I’ll have the honor to illuminate many, many people who are just as ordinary as me but still dare to dream."

The night was quiet, and Miles Yates’ voice was clear and steady, ringing in everyone’s ears. One by one their eyes turned red, and then the room erupted into thunderous applause.

Julian Prescott and Lynn Miller sat beside Miles, got up, and hugged him—not out of pity, but out of the heartfelt joy of being his teammate.

Renee Morgan knew Miles Yates suffered from depression—in her dreams, it was this depression that led to his suicide a few years down the line. She hadn’t expected his illness to be this serious even before joining the show. Thank goodness, though—everything was still in time.

The female fans who had just been furiously spamming the livestream immediately fell silent. They stared in a daze for a long while before realizing—was he... was he confessing to depression on air?

The answer was unmistakable, because the bullet screen had exploded—the surging wave of attacks seemed intent on drowning him:

[Damn, is Miles Yates actually admitting to being depressed? No wonder I’ve always felt his behavior was so odd—turns out he’s really sick.]

[Told you he was sick! His fans kept denying it, insisting their idol was perfect. Hah, well, I’ve never seen a "quality idol" who’s actually sick before.]

[Depression is a mental illness, right? How does someone perfectly healthy end up mentally ill? It sounds pretty serious too. The company hid it so well, and now he’s outing himself—aren’t they afraid he’ll lose fans?]

His fans rushed in to defend him, but the fact that Miles had depression was a hard blow—and with him admitting it himself during the livestream, their defense only intensified the backlash, blowing the ordeal up onto the trending topics list.

Almost all the top headlines across the internet carried the story. Media clipped the video, rebroadcasted it everywhere, and major sites were flooded by the news.

This variety show was the hottest work at present, with such high buzz that it detonated the stagnant waters of the entertainment industry like a bomb.

It’s not uncommon for celebrities to confess to illnesses, but it’s rare for those who admit to depression to get any sympathy—more often, they face overwhelming attacks.

But in the midst of all this raging controversy, another camp blazed a new trail, starkly contrasting the criticism and attacks—they were Renee Morgan’s fans.

No one had to rally them—they formed almost instinctively. With kindness and reason, they spoke out for Miles Yates:

[As a former depression patient, maybe I’m qualified to answer this. I got depression my freshman year, my mental state was a mess and I couldn’t keep up with my studies. My teacher told my parents and asked them to cooperate with my treatment. My strict dad scolded me for being useless, not strong enough, a coward, told me to just die. Back then, it was so painful—I didn’t even know why I was sick. I suffered insomnia, just wanted escape, and took a lot of meds that didn’t work—only sleeping pills helped, I guess, because at least I could sleep... Until one day, I went hiking with friends. My phone died, and when I got back to my dorm that evening, my mom had called over ten times, left a lot of messages all day, always worrying over me. Suddenly, I realized I had to climb out of it. I started looking for everything meaningful, saw so many lights shining on me—and with these amazing people as my guide, I finally stood up again and got rid of the pills. Now I’ve been reborn. I’m really grateful—and grateful to all the warm and exceptional people I met on the way.]

[I don’t know what makes a person strong, but to me, Miles Yates is a brave one. He beat the darkness and found hope.]

[This has probably been my lowest point lately, and I happened to catch the livestream. I don’t even stan idols, but Miles Yates is outstanding. Everyone has flaws, though most people never face them. He keeps worrying he isn’t good enough—this self-reflection, humility, insecurity, is so much better than the thousands of celebrities arrogant to the bone. And, by the way, I like Renee Morgan too!]

[...]

The tide of cyberbullying slowly shifted direction, and under the company’s PR efforts, things began to quiet down. Miles Yates’ fame firmly secured him the top spot among male idols in the scene.

Because of all this, everyone became deeply aware that Renee Morgan’s influence was far from superficial hype.

They chatted late into the night. Before bed, just as they’d agreed, they all took turns keeping watch in shifts of half an hour each. Sixteen people, eight hours in total—just right till dawn.

Wendy Aldridge and Zara Chapman both requested to take the final hour before morning, explaining that they didn’t sleep well, and if they were woken up in the middle of the night, they’d lose an entire night’s sleep.

No one else objected—after all, it was only half an hour, not too long. When one person’s watch ends, the next goes on duty and the others can go back to sleep.

What they didn’t know was that Wendy Aldridge and Zara Chapman were both certain something was bound to go wrong at night, and didn’t dare take the night shifts.

The boys and girls each had their own tent. On Renee Morgan’s side, there were only four girls—the space was generous, except that they had to sleep stretched out on dry grass, which was a bit uncomfortable for all of them.

What surprised Renee Morgan was that the usually finicky Zara Chapman actually didn’t complain at all. She lay down beside Renee, calm and silent.

Wendy Aldridge laid down next to Lynn Miller, also quietly.

Renee shifted her gaze away, folding her hands behind her head, staring at the foliage drooping inside the tent for a while before finally closing her eyes gently.

Maybe it was just being unused to sharing a tent, but Renee Morgan slept lightly; every little sound outside reached her ears with clarity. When she heard something strange, she instantly sat up.

Zara Chapman beside her rolled over, but lay perfectly still.

Renee glanced at the others—all sound asleep. Lynn Miller, probably too tired, was even snoring.

Renee wondered if she’d misheard, but she pricked up her ears, listening intently for noises outside. This time, the sound was much clearer—most distinct among them was a mess of footsteps?

The realization sent a cold sweat down her spine—there was only one person on night watch outside, so where were all those footsteps coming from?

Worried she might be mistaken, Renee quietly rose and slipped out of the tent alone.

In front of the tent, the campfire glowed—the blazing coals heating a thick log, flames flickering brightly.

Sitting in front of the fire was a figure, probably too tired—his head rested on his arms, curled up around his knees, fast asleep.

Renee took a closer look and finally recognized that it was Lionel Lincoln on night watch.