Chapter 17: The noobs are fighting each other

For the trainees on Super Rookie, this past week had been exhausting and full of “surprises.” But for the online audience, it had been far from pleasant.

The show hadn’t aired yet, and there was no official content to consume. The leakers who had previously spilled details had vanished, and the usual PR teams and fan armies were eerily silent. With nothing else to do, fans resorted to arguing.

When the show finally premiered, everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

At the same time, the curiosity that had been building up for an entire week reached its peak.

At 8 PM sharp, the episode went live. Within seconds, the video had barely finished loading when the screen was already flooded with bullet comments:

[Here we go, time to see the First Center!]

[Brother Qingyuan, I’m here for you! So excited! ❤]

[Just a casual viewer checking out the First Center. I heard the choice was insane.]

[Who is it?? I’m dying of curiosity! If it’s not Ai Qingyuan, then who else could it be?!]

[If he’s good, I’m investing my time in him. Don’t let me down, First Center!]

The bullet comments flooded the screen, densely packed, only gradually quieting down when the opening preview began.

The first thing to appear on screen was a vast expanse of blue sky.

The deep blue stretched out, clear as if freshly washed, with soft clouds clustered together. Occasionally, a bird would sweep across the sky.

The camera slowly panned downward to reveal a boy standing on the beach, arms outstretched toward the ocean. His figure was slender, his back facing the viewer.

Then, a young boy’s clear voice rang out.

“I want to…”

“Try living a different kind of life.”

[!! Ji Yan baby!]

[Such a beautiful scene, so youthful—I’m crying.]

In the next second, the scene abruptly shifted to a bustling cityscape—streets packed with cars, neon lights flickering, an urban world full of noise and movement.

A rapid montage of young faces flashed across the screen, each distinct yet blending together, forming countless different frames. Within each frame was a clip from their initial auditions.

At the same time, overlapping voices played—a mix of responses from their interviews.

“Why did you come here?”

“Ah… just thought I’d give it a shot.” Someone spoke casually, though their eyes revealed nervousness.

“For the dream of the stage.” Another answered simply. “This is my last chance.”

Then came a firm, excited voice brimming with anticipation:

“I want to challenge the impossible.”

The voices grew faster and louder, layering upon each other until they reached a chaotic crescendo—then, all at once, they cut to silence.

The Super Rookie logo emerged.

Large, bold letters appeared against the black screen:

Episode 1

Beneath it, a subtitle:

“Those Boys.”

One had to admit that although the production team of Super Rookie had been widely criticized and faced some controversy, the fact that the show had made it to its third season proved its undeniable excellence in terms of entertainment value.

The opening was clean and crisp while effectively setting the mood, instantly drawing the audience into the atmosphere the production team had intended.

[This is why fans of survival shows are forever young and forever moved to tears—what a scam by the production team!]

[Damn, T.T, I feel like crying again. It reminds me that my bias already debuted…]

As the bullet comments scrolled rapidly across the screen, they had become significantly more friendly than at the start. By this time, the show had already reached the part where the trainees made their entrance.

Sticking to Super Rookie’s usual style, this segment was presented in a lighthearted and humorous way.

The bullet comments hit a small peak when Xie Xizhao appeared.

[Whoa, who is this? So good-looking!]

[Seriously, oh my god, he looks so refined and beautiful.]

[Xie Xizhao? You mean that comatose internet celebrity? This is unbelievable. He actually woke up and even joined a survival show? His family must be so happy.]

Many comments came from viewers in City A, who vividly remembered the news from back then and started posting explanations.

But all that discussion came to an abrupt stop when Xie Xizhao took the center seat.

For a brief moment, the comments went silent—then they exploded.

[Sh*t, that’s bold.]

[Brother, you???]

[I was just saying how gentle he looked, and now he’s proving me wrong.]

[Holy crap!! He actually sat there?!]

Xie Xizhao proved with his actions that he had truly taken the center seat.

This quickly became the show’s first major talking point.

The bullet comments were a mix of shock, discussion, and people leaving to search for information on who Xie Xizhao was.

It wasn’t until Ai Qingyuan appeared that the audience’s attention was pulled back.

[Xiao Ai!!! So handsome!]

[Ahhhhh Brother Qingyuan, I love you!]

[He’s so damn cool, I’m in awe.]

[He’s seriously so good-looking, I’m dizzy. Who stole your center seat, hubby? Say something, hubby!]

[Wait, someone took the center seat? Hahaha, what’s Ai Qingyuan going to do now?]

Under everyone’s watchful eyes, Ai Qingyuan walked up the steps.

And the moment Xie Xizhao pulled out a die, everyone burst into laughter.

[I give up, bro.]

[The most ridiculous reason for sitting in the center seat in history—this guy is hilarious.]

[Xie Xizhao is actually so fun. I thought he’d be the fragile, decorative type, but now I’m interested.]

[Pfft… Didn’t expect Ai Qingyuan to not only miss out on being the debut center but to also have his self-evaluation C position snatched. Xie Xizhao, my friend, good luck—you’re about to get torn apart.]

[Chill, don’t stir things up. It’s just a self-evaluation, and everyone’s joking around. Ai’s fans aren’t that bored to go after a newcomer.]

And that was the truth.

Even though Xie Xizhao taking the center seat surprised many people, it was ultimately just a spot with no real significance.

In fact, since the production team had slightly edited their conversation, the interaction between the two seemed quite friendly throughout. So while some of Ai Qingyuan’s fans were momentarily taken aback, they didn’t dwell on it.

This whole scene made quite a few people remember Xie Xizhao’s name.

However, their attention was soon diverted by the performances that followed.

[What the hell is this?]

[I give up. It gets worse every season—just a bunch of rookies flailing at each other.]

[Ahhh, our domestic entertainment industry is really doomed.]

If the initial performances every year served as the production team’s go-to material for stirring up discussion, then this season’s editing had clearly been centered around the theme of high standards and strict evaluations.

With the way the footage was cut, every trainee’s performance seemed lacking in some way. The mentors’ mix of praise and criticism had also been selectively edited into harsh critiques.

Most viewers weren’t professionals, so as they kept watching, they found themselves frowning more and more.

Fortunately, the production team understood psychology well. After showing several unremarkable “rookie-level” performances, they quickly skimmed over a few more stages and then strategically highlighted two groups with relatively solid performances.

[Feels like my ears have been saved.]

[Honestly, it’s just okay. This season’s quality is really lacking.]

[Be grateful. Look at the earlier performances. I’m getting more and more excited for Shenghong’s stage.]

[+1]

[It’s all ballads. Can we get some real boy group choreography? I want to see powerful dancing.]

[Shenghong is definitely going to do a dance performance, but since their group is popular, the show will probably place them at the end of the first episode to boost ratings for the next one.]

[Damn, this production team… No, seriously, I’m about to fall asleep. This is so boring.]

To be fair, compared to some of the truly disastrous performances from earlier seasons, the ones airing now weren’t that bad. In fact, the trainee currently performing had an especially beautiful voice.

But after too many ballads in a row, the stage—and time itself—felt like it was stretching endlessly, making it easy for the audience to lose interest.

As the song ended, the bullet comments gave a perfunctory round of applause.

[Nice. Next.]

[It was actually pretty good. I think I’ll pick him—I like vocals.]

[The song choice wasn’t great, but his tone and technique are solid. He should pick something more impressive next time.]

[Next, next—damn, another guitar?]

[Wait… is that Xie Xizhao? Is he singing?]

[What else would he be doing? A dance break? He looks so pale, but he’s really good-looking.]

With yet another ballad coming up and considering Xie Xizhao’s background, the audience had zero expectations.

By the time he adjusted the mic, the bullet comments had started joking around.

[Brother, why do you look kinda badass?]

[Ahhh, I’m laughing so hard.]

[That guitar looks so cheap… wait, what song is he singing again?]

This comment drifted quietly across the nearly empty screen.

And then, in the very next second, the strum of a guitar rang out.

The bullet comments jolted.

Everyone was awake now.

<< _ >>

Related Posts

Leave a Reply