Chapter 46.2: Fairness
To be fair.
Xi Kai thought.
These were indeed some of the most beautifully written lyrics he had ever seen.
But still, but still…
He sneaked a glance at Yang Yinping beside him. Sure enough, the other’s expression had already turned unpleasant.
Among everyone, his part ranked second to last.
The last place? Xia Xize.
Xia Xize had a naturally impatient temperament, and he almost blurted something out immediately. But perhaps because he remembered that this was a song written entirely by Xie Xizhao, and with the cameras still rolling, he barely managed to control his tone:
“Can I ask what criteria were used for this ranking?”
As if waiting for this question, Xie Xizhao responded, “It was based on effectiveness.”
“I asked the production team for your stage data last night,” he explained. “The parts were assigned according to your vocal tones and comfortable vocal ranges.”
“Of course,” he paused for a moment, “it’s not entirely balanced, which is why I’m bringing it up now to hear everyone’s opinions.”
His tone was calm and open.
Yet, no one present said a word.
Had Xie Xizhao assigned the parts fairly?
If personal emotions were put aside and judged purely from an objective standpoint—yes, it was quite fair.
Even Xia Xize himself had to admit this.
But…
He thought again.
A survival show wasn’t just about skill alone, so why did he have to get the worst part?
His ranking wasn’t that high, but he wasn’t the lowest in the group either.
Xia Xize was unwilling to accept it.
And on the other side, Yang Yinping shared the same unwillingness.
His discontent was even more justified.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t sing, and his ranking wasn’t the lowest either.
So why was he given the second-to-last part?
At that moment, both of them had a sudden realization—they thought of Xie Xizhao’s usual approach. Just moments ago, this approach had been criticized, but right now, it almost felt like a lifeline.
“How about we vote on it?”
“Can we decide by voting?”
Two voices rang out at the same time. A brief moment later, they exchanged a somewhat awkward glance but, inexplicably, felt a little more confident.
Just as Yang Yinping was about to argue his case, Xie Xizhao spoke.
“We can,” he said.
—
The moment those two words left Xie Xizhao’s mouth, everyone present was stunned.
His tone remained calm, and he even smiled. “I was already asking for everyone’s opinions. If there are disagreements, then naturally, the minority should follow the majority.”
He turned to Yun Pan. “Panpan, could you prepare some paper?”
Hearing this, the people in the room looked slightly awkward.
The truth was—
Xia Xize and Yang Yinping weren’t the only ones who had been secretly grumbling.
Aside from Zou Yi, Yun Pan, and Xi Kai, the others had all felt a bit uneasy inside. Xie Xizhao had indeed prepared thoroughly. And precisely because his preparation was so meticulous, it was hard not to wonder if there was something fishy going on.
For example, had Xie Xizhao been biased, giving himself the most attention-grabbing part? After all, this was his song—only he knew the full picture of it.
However, their assigned parts were actually fairly reasonable.
So, they had swallowed their doubts.
Now, with Xie Xizhao’s words, their suspicions seemed petty in hindsight, making some of them feel a little ashamed.
Xia Xize’s companion murmured, “Thanks for your hard work.”
Xie Xizhao glanced up at him, then smiled. “It’s nothing.”
The papers were handed out.
Everyone lowered their heads, writing on their slips of paper, though this time, there was some hesitation in their strokes.
Only Zou Yi finished quickly and walked over to Xie Xizhao.
“What time did you sleep last night?” he asked in a low voice.
Xie Xizhao was briefly stunned. “You already finished writing?”
Zou Yi pressed his lips together, uncharacteristically choosing not to banter with him.
He was rarely someone who got angry.
But right now, the disapproval on his face was obvious.
Xie Xizhao blinked.
“…” Zou Yi’s expression remained tense. “Don’t think you can get away with acting cute.”
“Alright,” Xie Xizhao answered briskly. “Twelve-thirty.”
It wasn’t actually that late.
Besides, for him, this was already routine work.
Only then did Zou Yi’s expression ease a little.
He wanted to say something but ultimately held back, his gaze complicated.
He hadn’t spoken earlier—not because he thought Xie Xizhao was being overbearing, but because he felt it was unfair to him.
Even with the way the parts were distributed, Xie Xizhao’s share wasn’t the largest.
They hadn’t even chosen the center yet.
Based on this part allocation, he, Xie Xizhao, and Yun Pan would likely rotate as the center.
He could tell that Xie Xizhao wasn’t being selfish at all.
Which only made him feel even more that Xie Xizhao wasn’t getting the recognition he deserved.
At the same time, he felt a bit puzzled.
Why had Xie Xizhao assigned the parts himself and presented them directly? Normally, the vocal coach would do a rough division first, and then everyone would pick their own sections.
As if sensing his doubts, Xie Xizhao suddenly smiled. “Brother, are you free tonight? Let me treat you to dinner.”
Zou Yi: “…”
“So sudden?” He sighed helplessly. “Feeling guilty doesn’t mean you have to buy me a meal.”
“I’ve been meaning to for a while,” Xie Xizhao explained. “I didn’t end up in your group for the first public performance—I always felt a little bad about that.”
Although Zou Yi felt that Xie Xizhao was not only trying to get away with acting cute but also attempting to buy his compromise with a meal, in the end, he still agreed.
He was different from the others.
He was four years older than Xie Xizhao and saw him as a younger brother.
He also had a younger sister—not exactly sickly, but with a naturally weak constitution, which had been a constant worry for their family since childhood.
Because of this, he sometimes felt a pang of sympathy for Xie Xizhao’s resilience.
While they were chatting, the voting results were announced.
Two votes supported keeping the original plan, three votes opposed it, and one vote was an abstention.
When Yun Pan read out the abstention, he paused for a moment before immediately flaring up and turning to Xie Xizhao in protest. “It wasn’t me this time!”
Everyone: “…”
Alright.
Now they knew it was him last time.
Not far away, Xi Kai guiltily turned his head away.
Yang Yinping gave him a bland glance but didn’t say anything.
With the results decided, there was nothing more to argue about. Xie Xizhao said, “Alright, let’s redistribute the parts.”
He sang through the song once a cappella while Yun Pan marked down the sections. Then, everyone took turns choosing their parts. If two people wanted the same section, they either discussed it or put it to a vote.
Perhaps because the original part distribution had subtly split the group into two factions, there weren’t many instances of overlapping choices.
In the end, the seven members divided the parts as evenly as possible.
But to everyone’s surprise, when all was said and done, they had unintentionally left the largest portion of the song to Xie Xizhao. Originally, under his first distribution, he hadn’t taken this much.
Xie Xizhao blinked. “Then… I’ll thank everyone for their trust?”
Several people awkwardly looked away.
Xie Xizhao stood up. “That’s it for today, then.”
“Oh, right,” Xie Xizhao said. “Since time is tight, I asked the production team to schedule our vocal lessons right after the vocal group’s sessions. Over the next two days, I’ll rush out the individual recording room versions, so I’ll have to trouble everyone to work a little harder. The day before the vocal lesson, we’ll practice together again so we can present our progress to the teacher properly.”
Everyone was momentarily stunned.
Normally, the creative group’s vocal lessons were scheduled last.
This was a consideration from the production team—after all, songwriting wasn’t easy, so they usually gave them as much time as possible.
However, since the song was already finished,
It actually seemed reasonable.
So, everyone simply agreed, marking the end of the day’s recording.
—
That evening, Zou Yi went to knock on Xie Xizhao’s dormitory door.
From inside, a voice called out, “Coming! Brother, you can just come in.”
Zou Yi pushed the door open just in time to see Xie Xizhao stepping out of the bathroom, having just changed into a fresh outfit. A realization struck him. “The clothes you wore during the recording—did you prepare them yourself?”
“Yeah.” Xie Xizhao had once again turned into a t-shirt enthusiast. “We’re on camera, gotta pay attention to these things.”
Zou Yi: “…”
“You’re the most self-aware idol I’ve ever met,” he said sincerely.
Xie Xizhao chuckled and followed him out the door.
The night breeze was cool as they walked. Xie Xizhao reached out as if to catch a handful of wind, his face tilted up toward the sunset, adding a youthful touch to his expression.
He seemed to be in a great mood.
In contrast, Zou Yi’s mind was still occupied with the events of the afternoon.
Noticing this, Xie Xizhao asked, “Brother, are you wondering why I was in such a hurry to bring out the part distribution?”
Since he’d been seen through, Zou Yi didn’t bother being subtle. “Yeah.”
“You, like this,” Zou Yi chose his words carefully, “it’s pretty easy to offend people.”
Xie Xizhao paused. “And?”
Zou Yi was momentarily speechless.
…That was true.
Even if people were offended, there weren’t any real consequences.
After all, no matter what conflicts arose offstage, the performance was an opportunity for everyone to gain fans. No one would treat it as a joke—they would all still do their best.
Thinking about it that way, it really didn’t matter.
“I distributed the parts,” Xie Xizhao said, “because this is my song. I’m the person in this world who understands it best.”
Zou Yi was taken aback.
Then, he realized that Xie Xizhao was explaining himself.
Explaining why.
“Did you notice the part I originally assigned to you?” Xie Xizhao smiled. “The highest note in that line is exactly at the upper limit of your comfortable range. Any higher, and there’s a fifty percent chance you’d crack on stage.”
Zou Yi froze.
Unconsciously, he stopped walking, and then he heard Xie Xizhao ask, “Brother, do you think the teacher could divide the parts this precisely?”
‘…Impossible,’ Zou Yi thought.
Not to mention that their vocal coach didn’t fully understand each of their vocal characteristics, even if they did, it was impossible to be this meticulous—let alone divide the parts down to individual lines.
“The lyrics I assigned to them,” Xie Xizhao said calmly, “were indeed the ones that suited them best.”
Zou Yi remained silent.
At this point, what was there not to understand?
But…
He pressed his lips together, feeling a bit dry and slightly regretful. “I should’ve tried to convince them.”
Xie Xizhao blinked. “Convince them of what?”
Catching the implication in his tone, Zou Yi was stunned. “You already knew they wouldn’t agree?”
Xie Xizhao was equally surprised. “Brother, you actually thought they would agree?”
Zou Yi: “…”
He felt a little embarrassed and frustrated. “I just…”
Xie Xizhao sighed.
“Brother,” he said seriously, “having a self-sacrificing personality is not a good thing.”
Looking directly at Zou Yi, he continued, “Aside from me, if anyone ever tries to br*inwash you into accepting the smallest part, you must refuse. At the very least, you should try fighting for it before making a decision.”
After all, in a survival show like this, people who could actually distribute parts fairly were rare.
Most of the time, leaders simply abused their authority.
Zou Yi fell silent.
Xie Xizhao turned back to look at him, meeting his eyes. With a sincere tone, he said, “Brother, in a competitive program, fighting for yourself is never shameful. Every person’s dream is a dream. When a fan loves their idol, they do so with all their heart, seeing only that one person in their eyes, no matter how talented someone else may be.”
He paused before adding, “I have my own selfish motives too. I want the best stage effect for the song I wrote. But that inevitably means sacrificing some people’s interests.
“So, I gave them a chance to try.”
Sometimes, people had to hit a wall before they could turn back.
For everyone who made it this far, none of them would willingly give up without trying.
No one wanted to be just a stepping stone for others their whole life.
“If they can truly do it well,” Xie Xizhao said, “then that’s their ability. If they can’t, they’ll come to me. And the only guarantee I can give them is—”
He paused, then calmly spoke three words.
“Winning first place.”
The group that placed first overall would receive an extra 200,000 votes.
That was Xie Xizhao’s reward.
He was a fair person.
He never owed anyone anything.
