Superstar Ch.4

Chapter 4: Inconvenience

Saying they had “entered the venue” was a bit of an exaggeration—there was still a long time before the official recording began.

Beyond the entrance was another large hall where the trainees sat in small groups, resting and waiting for the production team and the remaining participants.

Xie Xizhao and Ji Yan found a place to sit down, listening to the conversations around them about the lineup of mentors for this season.

“This time, the main MC is Dou Yu,” Ji Yan said. “Brother, do you know Dou Yu?”

Xie Xizhao didn’t disappoint his expectations. “No.”

Ji Yan sighed in resignation.

He often felt like he was a walking entertainment industry encyclopedia for his brother.

“Dou Yu debuted as a solo artist six years ago,” he explained. “He, Ai Qingyuan, and Ni Xin are all signed under Shenghong, so he’s technically their senior. At the same time, Dou Yu is also the most popular active male idol right now.”

“I heard he’s a pretty decent person,” Ji Yan added.

Xie Xizhao had been listening quite attentively up until that point. After a brief pause, he commented, “It’s best not to believe hearsay on things like this.”

Ji Yan was momentarily stunned.

But he quickly understood. “That’s true.”

You can know someone’s face, but not their heart. The entertainment industry was full of image marketing.

Casually, he asked, “Brother, have you been tricked by someone like that before?”

Xie Xizhao smiled.

Back when he used to carry out assignments, he typically played this kind of person.

Seeing him smile without answering, Ji Yan assumed he had, and a surge of sympathy welled up in his heart. He changed the topic and continued, “The dance and rap mentors are both active group idols. The vocal mentor is a bit different—he’s a young singer-songwriter.”

“Lan Yezhou,” Xie Xizhao said.

Ji Yan was a little surprised. “Brother, you know him?”

Ji Yan almost wondered if Xie Xizhao had actually time-traveled from ancient times.

Xie Xizhao opened his palm, revealing a white earphone case.

“His songs are really good,” he said.

—

Before long, everyone had arrived. What followed was a brief rehearsal for positioning.

Since no actual performances were required during the rehearsal, it didn’t take much physical effort. Even so, once it ended, Xie Xizhao popped a piece of chocolate into his mouth.

As he chewed, he tossed the wrapper into a nearby trash bin. When he turned his head, he found a golden-haired boy squatting beside him.

The boy had a round face, baby-soft skin, and big, watery eyes. Xie Xizhao couldn’t even tell if he was old enough to be here.

The face seemed unfamiliar—but truthfully, out of the hundred trainees here, Xie Xizhao had only remembered a handful. To avoid the awkwardness of forgetting someone he had already met, he simply asked, “Do you want some?”

The boy stared at the chocolate in his hand for a long time.

He hesitated for a moment.

Xie Xizhao reached into his bag and pulled out an entire container of chocolates.

The boy’s mouth formed an “O.”

Having spent so much time in the system, Xie Xizhao found that, back in the real world, even people like Ji Yan seemed like kids to him—let alone this actual kid in front of him.

He rummaged through his bag for more snacks and handed them over, adding, “Make sure to drink some water after eating, or your throat will get dry.”

The boy was already unwrapping the chocolate.

He ate fast—before Xie Xizhao even blinked, a whole piece had disappeared. Then, carefully, he tore open a strip of beef jerky. His cheeks bulged as he chewed, and only then did he seem to remember something.

He looked up and said, “Thanks.”

His voice was muffled and unclear.

Xie Xizhao chuckled and said, “It’s okay.”

Worried that the boy might feel self-conscious while eating, he stood up and left his spot.

—

To Xie Xizhao, this was nothing more than a small interlude. The only thought it left him with was that the real world was indeed more interesting than the mission worlds.

Technically, those mission worlds were also real, parallel timelines. But perhaps because he had always been an NPC within them, it had been difficult to form genuine friendships or take the time to do things purely for himself.

After the rehearsal, they had their makeup touched up, and the recording officially began.

The first segments to be filmed were the entrance scene and seat selection.

Entrances were typically grouped by company, while the order was determined by the production team. Seat selection, however, was left to the trainees, primarily to generate potential talking points.

Ji Yan’s entrance was scheduled for the middle of the lineup, while Xie Xizhao was placed third.

As they parted ways, Ji Yan looked worried. “Brother, are you sure you can manage on your own?”

Xie Xizhao remained calm. “Ji Yan, don’t start acting like an old father when you’re still so young.”

And just like that, Ji Yan was shut down and sent on his way.

Xie Xizhao sat in the waiting area. The trainee ahead of him was an independent contestant without a company, while behind him was a group of boys who had an adorable and comedic concept but only average skills. The atmosphere around them carried an unmistakable sense of being overlooked.

Sitting amidst this lively crowd, Xie Xizhao accepted a form from the staff and began filling out his self-assessment.

Once he was done, the staff member glanced at his response with a look of surprise.

However, they said nothing and quickly left with professional efficiency.

The boy sitting next to him didn’t notice anything unusual. Tired of chatting with his own teammates, he turned to Xie Xizhao with curiosity.

“Xie… Xi… Zhao… Wow, your name sounds really nice! Hi, I’m Dan Xing. What did you rate yourself?”

Xie Xizhao said, “A.”

The boy’s eyes widened in shock.

The ratings ranged from A to F. Although self-assessments were done by the trainees themselves, most wouldn’t rate themselves at the highest level unless they were extremely confident.

After all, aside from someone like Ai Qingyuan, no trainee would truly believe they were already flawless enough to debut without any need for improvement.

Even if they did think so, a survival show wasn’t the place to say it out loud.

“…I gave myself a D.” The boy looked down at his form, suddenly questioning everything. “Did I rate myself too low?”

His teammate responded dryly, “Would you have dared to rate yourself any higher?”

Recognizing Xie Xizhao, the teammate was surprised by his self-assessment but refrained from commenting, assuming Xie Xizhao was just trying to give himself a confidence boost. Instead, he casually pulled his group’s youngest member closer and said, “Why are you prying into someone else’s business? You’ll find out soon enough anyway.”

But the boy didn’t catch the underlying hint.

He studied Xie Xizhao carefully and realized that he was… really, really good-looking.

“Which company are you from? How long have you been training? Do you want to debut?” he asked curiously.

His teammate resigned himself to fate and looked away.

This kid…

So annoying.

What surprised him, though, was that the usually distant Xie Xizhao actually answered patiently:

“Yaoxin. Not long. And yes, I do.”

Then, he turned the question back on the boy. “Don’t you?”

The boy hesitated. “I…”

Of course he wanted to.

But that wasn’t something he could decide on his own.

With a sigh, he admitted, “I do, but… I’m just not good enough.”

The boy blinked. “Where do you plan to sit later? Want to sit together?”

He had taken a liking to Xie Xizhao. Seeing him all alone, he felt a little bad for him.

But this time, the seemingly good-natured Xie Xizhao turned him down.

“Sorry,” he said. “That might be a bit inconvenient.”

Forty minutes later, everyone understood why.

After a brief round of self-introductions, the thin, pale-looking young man adjusted his earpiece slightly and started walking toward the stairs.

As he walked, he acknowledged every greeting along the way. Step by step, he ascended.

All the way to the very top.

Then, under the watchful eyes of the entire room and the cameras, he calmly took a seat—at the highest position of the pyramid.

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