Chapter 5: Bet
The moment Xie Xizhao sat down, the entire venue fell into an eerie silence.
The boy who had enthusiastically invited him to sit together grabbed his teammate’s arm, dazed. “Am I hallucinating?”
And he wasn’t the only one. Even the production team was momentarily speechless.
The assistant director turned to an aide. “Who is that again?”
The assistant dutifully replied, “The really good-looking medical miracle. From the internet celebrity zone.”
Internally, the production team had divided the contestants into different categories. There was the ‘specially favored by investors’ group, the ‘camera-time-worthy but not contestant slot-worthy’ group, and the ‘self-sustaining hype-seekers’ group.
The internet celebrity zone fell into the last category. With the idol industry booming but high-quality trainees in short supply, filling a lineup of a hundred skilled contestants wasn’t easy.
The assistant director let out an “Oh.”
“Pretty solid nerves,” he remarked.
In an instant, he labeled Xie Xizhao as the type who would do anything for clout, even if it killed him.
However, while the director had seen his fair share of shocking moments (even if they were often the wrong kind of shocking), the rest of the room hadn’t.
Before Super Rookie even began recording its initial stage, everyone had already reached an unspoken consensus—
The center position belonged to Ai Qingyuan.
Whether it was the freely chosen entrance seating, the center spot for the theme song, or even, barring any surprises, the final debut lineup—Ai Qingyuan was the inevitable choice.
The direct result of this assumption was that every trainee who entered, upon seeing the highest seat, would unconsciously hesitate mid-introduction.
This strange atmosphere lingered until the screen transitioned.
As the screen lit up once more, a black company logo appeared—a roaring lion, outlined in sharp, striking lines.
And just like the beast it represented, this company was a symbol of power and dominance in the minds of everyone present.
Shenghong.
A company that had produced countless renowned artists and remained the industry’s reigning giant.
This time, as a show of goodwill toward Super Rookie, Shenghong had sent five trainees. Among them was none other than the Ai family’s young master—Ai Qingyuan.
The moment the logo appeared on screen, a wave of murmurs spread through the venue.
The small commotion naturally reached the Shenghong trainees, who were waiting in the prep area not far away.
“How enthusiastic,” someone commented with a chuckle.
The tone, however, carried the expected confidence and pride of a Shenghong artist—something that came as naturally as breathing.
There was another reason for their measured words: even in the prep area, they were still miked. Naturally, they wouldn’t say anything out of line.
Just before heading in, someone casually said to Ai Qingyuan, “So, Qingyuan, we’re not sitting with you later. You can go be a lone wolf by yourself.”
The implication was clear, but Ai Qingyuan didn’t refute it. He simply gave a composed “Mm.”
Then, the group stepped through the entrance into the main hall.
And just like that—
The air went still.
The boy who had spoken earlier barely managed to swallow back an instinctive “Holy sh*t.”
Beside him, Ai Qingyuan narrowed his eyes and came to a halt.
—
When Shenghong’s trainees stood on stage to greet the audience, Xie Xizhao finally lifted his gaze from his daze.
From the top of the pyramid, the view was excellent—he could take in the entire stage at a glance. His gaze lazily swept over the rest of Shenghong’s trainees, paused for half a second on Ni Xin, who looked like he had seen a ghost, and finally settled on the person standing at the far right.
Sharp brows and eyes, an air of defiance—a classic bad-boy look that some naive young girls would be particularly fond of.
In terms of appearance alone, he was among the top-tier trainees.
As Xie Xizhao sized up Ai Qingyuan, the latter seemed to sense something and lifted his head to look at him as well.
Then, with his teammates following behind, Ai Qingyuan walked toward the seating area.
As they ascended the steps, the people behind him gradually picked their seats one by one.
Yet Ai Qingyuan didn’t even spare them a glance and continued walking straight to the very top.
Xie Xizhao raised an eyebrow.
No way.
Ai Qingyuan stopped in front of him.
“Nice spot,” he remarked. “Did you pick it yourself?”
He didn’t ask for Xie Xizhao’s name, as if they were already familiar with each other. But only Xie Xizhao knew that they had never spoken before.
‘Looks like he was the sociable type,’ Xie Xizhao thought.
Xie Xizhao wasn’t, but after playing the role of an NPC for so long—treating every player with equal diligence—he had developed a habit of answering questions whenever asked.
So he simply replied, “Yeah.”
Then, he opened his palm. “Tossed it before going on stage.”
Lying quietly in his smooth, fair palm was a beautifully crafted die, its topmost face displaying a bright, unmistakable 1.
Ai Qingyuan: “…”
Even though he had considered many possible reasons in his mind, when the other person actually voiced his completely nonsensical reasoning, he was stunned for a second.
After a brief pause, he finally spoke.
“What a coincidence,” he said.
Xie Xizhao replied, “Yes.”
“I didn’t expect it either.” He smiled, looking easygoing and good-natured.
The air fell silent for two seconds.
Then, under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Ai Qingyuan said nothing more. He simply sat down two seats below Xie Xizhao, lifted his gaze, and stared at the stage expressionlessly.
—
“Ji Yan, Yanyan? What are you zoning out for?”
In a corner of the seating area, a boy took advantage of the moment when the cameras were all focused elsewhere and nudged his companion’s shoulder.
Ji Yan snapped back to reality.
“I thought Ai Qingyuan was going to go head-to-head with him,” his companion muttered, covering his mic. “Isn’t he the proudest one here? The type who only accepts being number one?”
Ji Yan paused for a moment.
Then he said, “Seats before the initial evaluations don’t mean anything. There’s no need to cling to a single spot—that would just make him seem petty. Ai Qingyuan may be proud, but he’s not stupid. In previous seasons, choosing seats was mostly just for fun; no one took it seriously.”
His companion suddenly understood.
That’s right.
Before coming to the competition, their company had made them watch the first two seasons together. Thinking back, there hadn’t been anyone who took the initial seat selection too seriously, let alone forced someone to switch seats.
…Of course, in the past two seasons, those who sat in the center seat were all undeniably the top pre-season favorites.
He muttered, “Still, he got a ton of screen time from this.”
And that was exactly what everyone else at the scene was thinking too.
Among the hundred trainees seated in the venue, the ratio between complete newcomers and those who had debuted or had stage experience was roughly three to seven. Even the so-called amateurs, after company training and half a month of immersion, were no longer as naive as when they first arrived.
With Xie Xizhao’s current popularity, sitting in the center position (C-position) guaranteed him camera time no matter what.
Not to mention, Ai Qingyuan had just spoken to him.
Unless there was something negative, Ai Qingyuan’s footage would almost never be cut—especially not such an important moment.
With this calculation, the initial evaluation hadn’t even begun, yet Xie Xizhao had already secured at least a few minutes of screen time.
In a survival show where camera time was a scarce resource, this was more than enough to make others envious.
Still, despite their murmuring, no one regretted not taking that seat for themselves.
Even Ji Yan, who had been spacing out earlier, unconsciously clenched his fists, a trace of worry appearing in his eyes.
一
Before long, all one hundred trainees had taken their seats.
The entrance process had taken over half an hour, but now, everyone was fully energized. As the lights dimmed, a few people stepped onto the stage, and the moment the lights came back on, the room erupted into cheers.
The main MC and mentors had arrived.
Dou Yu was wearing a light green dress shirt today, layered with a pale gray suit jacket.
At 28 years old, he was no longer considered young in the idol industry, but he had maintained himself well.
The shirt, paired with slim-fitting black casual pants, accentuated his waistline, and his makeup was polished yet subtle.
In stark contrast to him stood the vocal mentor, Lan Yezhou.
True to his surname Lan (Blue), the mentor wore a light blue casual shirt, layered under a pair of khaki-colored overalls. With his black-framed glasses and a beige knit beanie, he looked unexpectedly bookish and a little endearingly cute.
Next to them stood the two female mentors, Qiu Xuerui and Li Lin. As the rap and dance mentors, their styles were completely different as well.
One had a sleek short haircut and wore a vest with hot pants, while the other was dressed in a sweet, girl-group-style dress.
After taking their positions, the mentors first scanned the room, and then—almost instinctively—their gazes landed on the center seat.
Dou Yu was someone who had seen it all. Even though the person sitting in that seat at this moment wasn’t the one the production team had intended to highlight, he remained composed. “Welcome, everyone, to the first recording of Super Rookie! I’m Dou Yu.”
Another wave of cheers erupted in the room.
In order to secure a few extra seconds of screen time, even those who weren’t necessarily Dou Yu’s fans gave it their all, reacting in various exaggerated ways.
Ji Yan was no exception.
As he loudly shouted, “Teacher Dou, I love you!” he couldn’t help but sneak a glance toward the center seat.
And then he saw—
His brother, sitting upright and expressionless, staring straight ahead as if he were perfectly composed… except for one hand in the corner, idly spinning a die between his fingers.
That was his telltale sign of boredom.
Ji Yan twitched the corner of his mouth, suddenly realizing how embarrassing this whole scene was.
Fortunately, the round of polite formalities soon came to an end. The mentors took their seats, and the initial evaluations officially began.
—
At first, the recording process remained fairly relaxed and enjoyable.
The first and second groups to perform were trainees from a small company. Their singing and dancing were standard—nothing exceptional, but not terrible either. They received B and C ratings, respectively.
But the third group of trainees brought something much more interesting.
This group of trainees went for a cute and quirky style. Though their overall skills were unremarkable, the rap member incorporated playful teasing about the mentors into the lyrics, which brought the atmosphere to a lively high point.
In the lyrics, the main MC, Dou Yu, was jokingly called an “old-school official” who always carried a thermos, while the rap mentor, Qiu Xuerui, was described as a “cold and unyielding iron warrior.” Both nicknames matched their usual public image.
The two took it in stride, playing along with a couple of self-deprecating remarks. After giving out the scores, Dou Yu took the microphone and said, “When the production team invited me to this show, they never mentioned I’d have to deal with this.”
Laughter erupted across the room.
Someone shouted, “Teacher Dou, this just means they love you!”
“Alright then.” Dou Yu sighed. “If you love me, then show me your best performance.”
He paused for a moment, his tone becoming more serious. “So far, I haven’t seen a single trainee or group that satisfies me.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the room fell silent.
“I know that the idol industry is thriving, and becoming an idol has become a dream for many of you,” he continued, holding the microphone in the quiet room. “But you need to understand—this is not an easy path.”
He turned to the two young female idols beside him. “Xuerui, Linlin, am I right?”
Qiu Xuerui curled her lips into a smirk. “Of course.”
Li Lin also gave a small smile.
“Everyone wants to debut, but the number of debut spots is limited,” Dou Yu said. “Why should it be you and not someone else? Only when you can confidently answer, ‘Because with my skills, I deserve this spot,’ will this position truly belong to you.”
“I don’t want to see any more average performances,” he stated firmly. “Next group.”
—
Sitting in the center seat, Xie Xizhao was intently watching the screen in front of him, contemplating a very serious question—
Should he sneak a piece of chocolate from his bag to replenish his energy while the cameras weren’t paying attention?
In the end, he dismissed the idea.
Although their appearance order had been announced beforehand, the performance sequence had been shuffled. He couldn’t guarantee that right after eating, it wouldn’t suddenly be his turn. If he had just finished something sweet, his throat would feel sticky, and it would affect his performance on stage.
So, he simply took a few sips of water instead.
Dou Yu’s “lecture” echoed in his ears. While everyone else listened intently, Xie Xizhao let the words go in one ear and out the other, eventually just smiling indifferently.
He knew Dou Yu was right.
Hmm…
Dou Yu’s tone sounded sincere, too.
Xie Xizhao believed that this idol, who had been in the industry for six years, genuinely thought that hard work and determination were key to success.
Of course, Xie Xizhao agreed. In all the missions he had completed, nearly every protagonist with great fortune possessed these invaluable qualities.
But…
Xie Xizhao thought to himself, he just suddenly felt like making a bet with his dice.
“I think the next group will be the one I have in mind,” he murmured to his dice. “If you agree, show me a six, alright?”
After whispering his little wager, he tossed the dice gently into the air. It spun in a graceful and defiant arc before obediently landing back in his palm.
The glowing number “6” appeared the moment Dou Yu’s voice rang out again—
“Next group, Shenghong Entertainment trainees.”
Xie Xizhao’s lips curved slightly as he watched the boys in front of him stand up.
