Superstar Ch.27

Chapter 27: Something Good Happened

The morning after the fan meeting, all groups gathered on the indoor stage for the performance rehearsal, following the assigned order. Among the mentors, Dou Yu took the lead in providing guidance.

Xie Xizhao had a good impression of Dou Yu.

As a popular idol, being an MC for this kind of show was certainly a great way to attract fans, but it was ultimately exhausting.

Most people would just put on a show for the cameras, but from both the advice he gave and the time he invested, Dou Yu seemed genuinely sincere.

Each group rehearsed individually. When Xie Xizhao’s group finished their rehearsal, Dou Yu was quite satisfied.

Since most other groups had their initial center take on the role of captain, he turned to Ai Qingyuan with a smile and said, “Junior, you’re doing a great job as captain.”

After all, they were from the same company, so he naturally seemed a bit more familiar with him.

Xie Xizhao lowered his gaze and took small sips of water from the side, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead.

With the back-to-back fan meeting and rehearsal, along with mentoring his group members, he had slightly overexerted himself and lost another two pounds on the scale.

Ai Qingyuan’s mouth twitched a few times before correcting him, “Senior, our group’s captain is Xie Xizhao.”

Dou Yu was slightly surprised.

However, he quickly adjusted his expression and smiled at Xie Xizhao. “Not bad.”

Then, he told Ai Qingyuan, “You should learn from him.”

Ai Qingyuan’s expression darkened a little, but surprisingly, he didn’t argue back for once.

Dou Yu gave them a few more suggestions on the details and then said, “Your group should be quite the highlight when the time comes.”

Ai Qingyuan was taken aback.

Dou Yu only gave a mysterious smile before waving them off.

As they stepped out, the other trainees each returned to their dorms. Xie Xizhao said, “Let’s go.”

He was genuinely exhausted.

Ai Qingyuan was still processing everything. “What did Teacher Dou mean just now?”

Xie Xizhao was silent for a moment before saying, “Did you forget that the first public performance is a group battle?”

Ai Qingyuan: “……”

He really had forgotten.

Only after Xie Xizhao mentioned it did he recall that the first public performance’s format required Group A and Group B to perform the same song. He had originally planned to be in a different group from Xie Xizhao while choosing the same song, but the program team had changed the rules at the last minute, forcing him to adapt.

And the center of his opposing team happened to be his fellow senior trainee, Guan Heng.

—

Xie Xizhao had known from the start that Guan Heng’s group had also been training well.

He never underestimated any opponent, no matter their current standing. What’s more, Guan Heng had strong overall skills and high emotional intelligence.

“High emotional intelligence” was an abstract term, but it played a crucial role. At the very least, Guan Heng’s team would never end up like some other teams, where tensions had already escalated to the point that their superficial harmony was barely holding together.

Survival shows were all about competition, and competition inevitably led to conflicts of interest. If these conflicts weren’t handled properly, they could become obstacles to the team’s success.

That was precisely why having a good captain was so important.

It was also the reason Xie Xizhao had initially wanted to join Zou Yi’s team.

…He had just wanted to slack off.

He said, “Haven’t you noticed that your brother has been coming back to the dorm at two or three in the morning every night?”

Ai Qingyuan: “……”

He had noticed.

But that was all—he hadn’t thought much about it.

His expression turned odd. “How do you know that?”

Xie Xizhao was always the first to leave every day. Even though everyone knew it was for health reasons, watching his retreating figure still unsettled Ai Qingyuan.

Xie Xizhao said, “I’ve been sleeping lightly these past few days.”

It wasn’t because he had anything on his mind—his health had simply declined. Plus, living in a shared dorm made him a bit more sensitive to his surroundings.

Once he realized this, he made some adjustments. Lately, he had started drinking a cup of warm milk before bed and listening to white noise, which had helped him get back on track.

During the two nights before he had adjusted, he had run into Guan Heng returning from the practice room.

—

Xie Xizhao hadn’t said anything, but Guan Heng was observant. The next day, he apologized.

“Did I wake you up last night?” he asked.

For trainees, having irregular schedules was normal. That night, Fu Wenze had still been practicing, and Ai Qingyuan had briefly woken up in the dorm as well. But Guan Heng knew Xie Xizhao’s situation was different—he needed sufficient rest.

Xie Xizhao replied, “It’s fine. It didn’t affect me much.”

Then he added, “But seeing you like this makes me nervous.”

Guan Heng paused for a moment before his eyes curved into a smile.

“We’re not even in the same group. Why would you be nervous?”

“Well, that’s an interesting way to put it,” Xie Xizhao chuckled. “Shouldn’t I be more worried about my opponent than my teammates?”

He hesitated for a moment, then mused, “How about as compensation, you give me—”

Before he could finish, Guan Heng flicked him lightly on the forehead.

“In your dreams,” Guan Heng said, both amused and exasperated.

He knew Xie Xizhao was just trying to lighten the mood, and he appreciated the gesture.

The next night, Xie Xizhao wasn’t woken up again. The whole incident ended as nothing more than a trivial episode.

Hearing Ai Qingyuan’s question, Xie Xizhao briefly explained the situation to him before adding, “Since Teacher Dou said that, it means your brother’s group’s stage performance is also pretty good. I’m actually quite curious.”

Of course, he had no intention of actually snooping around for information.

Ai Qingyuan was also intrigued by what he said, though he refused to admit it. Instead, he grumbled, “You and my brother sure get along well.”

After all, he had been woken up too, but his brother never apologized to him.

“Yeah,” Xie Xizhao agreed. “Maybe you should reflect on that.”

Ai Qingyuan: “?”

“Reflect on how you’ve known him for so long,” Xie Xizhao smiled, “and yet you still can’t compare to me, who just dropped in out of nowhere.”

Ai Qingyuan: “……”

Damn it.

He turned and marched off to find Guan Heng, while Xie Xizhao, having successfully shooed away the noisy sparrow beside him, yawned and headed back to the dorm. Finally, he got to enjoy a long, restful sleep.

—

The result of catching up on sleep was that, when Xie Xizhao woke up the next morning, the whole world felt brighter.

After washing up, the first thing he did was grab an iced Americano to reduce the swelling. He hated bitterness, so he drank it with a deep frown. The familiar makeup artist called out to him from the side, “Big star, it’s your turn.”

Xie Xizhao hesitated for a moment before setting aside the half-finished coffee. He decided to indulge himself a little—he’d work hard again later.

As he sat down, the makeup artist asked, “What style are we going for today?”

Xie Xizhao looked into the mirror. “Same as the one from the fan meeting the other day, just go heavier with it.”

Stage makeup was different from regular on-camera makeup—if it was too light, it wouldn’t have much effect under the bright lights.

The makeup artist narrowed her eyes slightly.

Meanwhile, Ji Yan suddenly caught on to something.

“Brother, your look from the fan meeting…”

Xie Xizhao closed his eyes. “Hmm?”

The makeup artist returned with her tools, dabbing product onto Xie Xizhao’s face as she lazily remarked, “Kid, watch and learn. Your brother is a scheming little white lotus. If you wanna get famous, this is how you do it.”

Xie Xizhao just laughed.

His fan meeting look had indeed been intentional.

His natural appearance was refined and delicate, but he was far from the fresh and lively type. The styling for the fan meeting had matched the vibe of the song for the first public performance. It allowed the audience time to get used to it in advance while also giving him room to make adjustments later.

After his makeup was done, he went to the dressing room to grab his stage outfit.

Today, his outfit was still in light tones.

Like the vast blue sky outside, it was a bright and refreshing shade of blue.

After changing, he headed to the stage for a final brief blocking rehearsal, then patiently waited for night to fall.

—

The moment night fell, the dismissal bell rang sharply throughout the school.

In the crowded hallways, a girl with a delicate, stylish appearance and vibrant makeup hurriedly weaved through the sea of students, her face filled with urgency. “Excuse me, let me through, I have something important!”

She clutched a bunny-shaped bag tightly in her arms, its contents bulging.

Only after she broke free from the crowd and made it to the subway station did she finally let out a breath of relief.

Her phone buzzed. She quickly answered. “Hello, sister!”

“Hey, Xiao Jin,” a lively female voice came from the other end. “Are you out of class yet?”

Jing Jin hurried through security, balancing her bag in one hand and her phone in the other. “Yeah, yeah! I’m on the subway now, almost there! Ten minutes!”

Ten minutes later, she rushed toward the venue.

In the bustling square packed with people, her eyes instantly landed on a familiar, massive poster.

She walked over, and the girls in front of the poster, who were holding a pile of support items, immediately lit up when they saw her. They waved enthusiastically. “Xiao Jin, over here!”

Jing Jin ran over and greeted them one by one.

“Perfect timing,” one of the girls said. “We still have some support items left to distribute. Xiao Jin, I’ll give you some—we started handing them out earlier so we could line up sooner.”

Jing Jin agreed and took the items from her hands.

They were all small things—cute photo-printed support fans, delicate keychains, and most notably, a thick stack of brightly colored banners.

The banners fluttered in the breeze, with the bold characters “Ai Qingyuan” printed across them.

As Jing Jin took them, an inexplicable sense of guilt suddenly welled up inside her. She coughed to cover it up, then nonchalantly grabbed the banners and started passing them out.

—

There was one thing Jing Jin hadn’t confessed to her brother: Not only was she a fan of Ai Qingyuan, but she was also a core member of his official fan club.

—Of course, last month, she had already submitted her resignation to the fan club president, citing academic pressure as the reason.

The real reason was something only she knew.

Fan clubs required loyalty to a single idol, but her heart had disgracefully split into two halves—one for her beloved Brother Xiao Ai, and the other for her very own cousin.

She was convinced her cousin had cast some kind of spell on her.

Otherwise, why did her hands automatically type out her resignation letter right after watching the re-evaluation? And why did she submit it in one go without a single revision?

Oh, right.

She had also voted for her cousin.

The votes she had originally saved for her dear Brother Xiao Ai had all been transferred to her cousin the moment she saw the fan meeting news. Not only that, but she had even created an alternate account, joined her cousin’s fan club, and started claiming numbers to participate in organized voting.

…God knew how guilty she felt when her aunt asked her when her cousin would finally be eliminated and come home!

Oh, and facing the fan club was another ordeal.

In short—

She couldn’t stay in that fan club for even one more day.

But she still really liked Ai Qingyuan. Jing Jin made up her mind—she would be a solo fan from now on, officially becoming the most balanced dual-supporter in history.

Of course, before that, she had to finish handling the last of her responsibilities for the fan club. She couldn’t just ghost them entirely. This time, the fan club was short on staff for the first public performance’s support efforts, and since she was in the same city, she had come to help after class.

She convinced herself that being a dual-supporter wasn’t the same as quitting, so she had full confidence in keeping her secret under wraps.

She had even carefully planned it all out—she would vote for her dear Brother Xiao Ai in the first performance, for her cousin in the second, and for the third and final rounds, she would let the stage performances decide.

Jing Jin felt like she was the smartest genius in the world.

After distributing the support items and carefully allocating her precious votes, she took her ticket and entered the venue with the rest of the fan club, happily preparing to embark on her perfectly balanced fan journey.

At that moment, Xie Xizhao was already prepared, sitting in the waiting room with his teammates.

His expression was calm, his palms dry. The dice had already been sealed in his pocket. Before leaving, he had rolled one last time—a six.

He believed it was a sign that something good was about to happen.

At 8:00 PM, the audience had settled in. The lights dimmed, then brightened again as the mentors stepped onto the stage.

Amid the sudden eruption of cheers, Super Rookie’s first public performance officially began.

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