Chapter 19: Rules
Ming Ling was a mid-tier internet celebrity blogger, known online as “Lingdang.”
She was a dedicated talent show fan, having followed countless auditions, big and small. Over time, she had built a loyal following of viewers who enjoyed watching reality competitions with her.
Her account was semi-personal—she took on some advertisements but mostly posted about impressive performances and did reaction videos for various shows.
When a new talent show aired, she would always host livestreams to watch it with her followers.
Naturally, Super Rookie was no exception.
She had followed the previous two seasons, and the contestants she supported had even debuted. Many of her longtime followers had started watching her content back then. On the night of the first episode’s release, she went live right on schedule.
Unlike the chaotic atmosphere in the show’s bullet comments, her livestream chat was far more composed.
Even when the production team repeatedly pushed “disastrous performances” for drama, her chat remained calm, discussing things matter-of-factly.
[Here we go again. Suppress first, then hype—it’s Super Rookie’s favorite trick.]
[LMAO, just rename it Ai Qingyuan’s Debut Showcase at this point. Not that there’s much real talent this season anyway.]
[Sister Lingdang, do you have a pick yet, or are you choosing on the spot?]
At the time, Ming Ling had no idea what was coming. She turned on her mic and responded:
“Nope.”
“I don’t have a particular favorite yet,” she said with a smile. “I saw a few trainees who looked good in the promo photos, but I like strong competitors—I admire talent as well as looks.”
She paused for a moment, then added quickly, as if to cover her bases, “Xiao Ai is great, but his style isn’t really my type.”
[Hahaha! Knew it.]
[I know, Sister Lingdang likes contestants who can command the stage without being pretentious or over-the-top. Xiao Ai is too childish for her.]
[Getting picked by Sister Lingdang is a blessing—almost everyone she supports ends up debuting.]
[Her taste is sharp as ever.]
Ming Ling only chuckled at the barrage of compliments, but inwardly, she sighed.
Only she knew that, with her personality, if she couldn’t find a contestant she genuinely liked in a show, she’d struggle to stay interested enough to gather materials or do reaction videos.
And sincerity—true emotional investment—was precisely what allowed her to build an audience.
Xie Xizhao appeared just when she was about to give up.
—
The moment the young man’s voice came through her headphones, she jolted upright, eyes snapping to the screen.
The bullet comments responded in kind, instantly flooding with shocked exclamations.
[Original song???]
[Holy crap, this melody is really good—super catchy.]
[Help, this is too good!]
Ming Ling pressed her headphones tighter and locked her gaze onto the performer on-screen.
The voice continued flowing through her ears, and at that moment, she took a good look at his face.
It was a face she had already noticed back when the official promo photos dropped.
Delicate and striking, gentle yet refined—a boy with an effortlessly elegant aura. Almost immediately, she had looked him up, but the results back then had left her feeling a little disappointed.
But now…
She didn’t feel that way at all.
“The melody is beautiful,” she murmured, drawing a deep breath. “And the lyrics… they’re really well-written.”
[Right?? It feels so intellectual somehow…]
[I heard he studies math.]
[Uh?]
[This seriously sounds unedited—what the hell? It’s just a guitar backing, and yet he’s this steady? Plus, it’s an original song? My god, has Super Rookie finally found its purple star?]
[Honestly, if this song gets released as a single, I’d pay for it.]
[Ahhh, I think I’m in love—what do I do?!]
The bullet comments scrolled faster and faster as the song reached its chorus.
His voice wasn’t particularly unique, yet the slight huskiness and nasal tone added an unexpected depth, lending the song a sense of storytelling. Almost everyone found themselves pulled into the emotion of his performance.
When the song ended, the entire screen fell into momentary silence—on both ends of the stream.
It took a while before a single comment finally floated past.
[Sister Lingdang hasn’t spoken in a while… Did she just find her pick?]
Ming Ling took a deep breath.
This time, she didn’t hesitate. She turned on her mic and answered simply:
“Yes.”
Then, without a second thought, she opened the voting platform, found Xie Xizhao’s name, and cast her very first vote in Super Rookie.
—
The flood of private messages snapped Ming Ling back to reality.
She clicked on an unread one, realizing it was from a mutual follower.
User: Sister Lingdang, does this draft for the fan club management recruitment look okay?
She skimmed through it and replied.
Ming Ling: Looks good.
The other party responded almost immediately.
User: Thank you, Sister Lingdang! QAQ Our fandom has so many first-time stans, you’ve been a huge help!
Ming Ling sighed, a little helpless.
It was only after she had finished streaming and cast her vote that she checked out Xie Xizhao’s fan forum, only to find that his supporters were still in a state of complete confusion—scrambling around with no idea what they were doing.
She had managed fan clubs before and had even been a fansite manager once. Offline work was far more exhausting than online tasks, which was why she had long since switched lanes. But for some inexplicable reason, this time, she still ended up helping out.
Over the past week, she had not only been promoting Xie Xizhao online, sharing his performances, and helping organize his fan forum, but she had even signed up to be an audience member for the first public performance recording.
Falling into this rabbit hole was inevitable—there was no point in denying it.
What Ming Ling cared about now was Xie Xizhao’s popularity.
She was certain that he had the potential to blow up. Even if he was completely useless at dancing, his sheer talent alone was enough to sustain him for a lifetime.
From the show’s early promotion, she could already tell that Xie Xizhao probably wasn’t part of the production team’s script. But what she hadn’t expected was that, even when she was promoting him organically, his popularity seemed to be deliberately suppressed.
Ming Ling pursed her lips.
A long-lost sense of stubbornness flared up within her.
After a moment of thought, she reopened the chat window and typed:
“No problem. By the way, do you still have any open positions for fan club management? If you don’t mind, I can take one.”
—
Xie Xizhao had no idea that his scattered, overwhelmed fans were about to be whipped into shape.
He had been busy with other things these past couple of days.
Ever since the show started airing, there had been more things to do. While he didn’t have any official media appearances, there were still extra content shoots to complete. In his free time, he holed up in the composing room, scribbling down melodies.
Nothing complete—sometimes just a few bars.
But many of his songs had started exactly this way, bit by bit.
By keeping himself occupied, time passed quickly. In the blink of an eye, it was time to record the song selection for the first public performance.
That day, the recording location finally changed to the practice hall. Everyone sat on the tiered steps, facing ten display boards already set up in front of them.
Twenty groups, ten songs. For most people here, this first public performance was their final chance to fight for survival, so everyone’s faces were filled with tension.
The process began with a song preview.
Each song played for 30 seconds. Xie Xizhao sat in the corner of Class A, listening while absentmindedly twirling the die in his pocket.
All ten songs were popular hits from active idol groups, but the selection was trickier than he had expected.
Idol songs varied in their suitability for the stage. Among these ten, two were cutesy concepts that Xie Xizhao immediately ruled out. Of the remaining eight, half were fast-paced, high-difficulty dance tracks with little visual appeal—originally performed by powerhouse groups that were hard to surpass.
As he listened, he quickly analyzed his options in his mind and finally settled on two songs.
One was a new release from a currently trending boy group. It had ranked eighth on the annual charts last year, featuring a fresh and vibrant boy group style. The choreography wasn’t too difficult, but most importantly, the song itself was excellent.
The other was a ballad. It was a more forgiving choice, considering Xie Xizhao’s current physical condition, but he had already decided that he wouldn’t let the “fragile and unwell” label stick to him any longer.
Choosing one out of ten was a challenge, but Xie Xizhao remained relaxed.
As per the usual rules from past seasons, song selection followed the re-evaluation ranking order. Class A members automatically became the center of their group, and if there were two Class A members in the same group, they would vote for the center position.
As the first center, he was first in line.
Everyone else was already prepared for him to step onto the stage.
As soon as the last song finished playing, Ai Qingyuan—who had purposely sat next to Xie Xizhao today—turned to him and asked,
“Which one are you choosing?”
Xie Xizhao smiled. “Do you want to be in the same group as me?”
“Of course not. I’m going to be in the group opposite you.” Ai Qingyuan huffed. “What are you even thinking?”
Xie Xizhao replied, “Alright.”
Ai Qingyuan suddenly felt that something was off about Xie Xizhao’s tone.
He thought about it for a moment, then his expression darkened as he recalled a previous recording session. That time, this guy had used the exact same tone to trick a seven- or eight-year-old girl into completing a task.
Ai Qingyuan: “……”
Heh. 🙂
Deciding not to waste any more words, he turned his attention back to the stage. At that moment, Dou Yu’s voice rang out again.
“Has everyone made their decision?” There was a hint of amusement in his tone. “I listened just now—some of these songs are quite a challenge.”
The trainees stretched out their reply in unison: “We——have——chosen——!”
“Alright then.” Dou Yu didn’t drag it out any longer. Instead, he casually switched to a new cue card.
“Since everyone has made their choice, it’s time to announce the official song selection rules.”
He paused for a moment before continuing, “Because the number of Class A trainees exceeds the number of available groups, this time, song selection will be determined by the first-week ranking. The top ten trainees will automatically become the center of their respective groups.”
The moment his words fell, Ai Qingyuan’s head shot up.
Next to him, Xie Xizhao’s fingers, which had been lightly tapping the die in his palm, also stilled. His gaze lifted.
A wave of murmurs spread across the room.
