Chapter 55: Celebration (Approximately 30% of this chapter is in forum format)
No one had expected the highly anticipated second public performance to begin in such a way.
Just like how the Creative Group A had unexpectedly set off an explosion within three seconds, the atmosphere outside the venue had been completely ignited by this legendary vote count.
However, unlike the stage of Boundless Sea—
If Boundless Sea had stunned everyone at the beginning, climbed steadily throughout, and reached a new peak by the end, then the second public performance of Super Rookie could only be described as starting strong but ending weak.
This didn’t mean that the other stages were terrible.
In fact, after the first public performance had honed their skills, the remaining trainees had all shown noticeable improvement in their stage presence.
Some even delivered quite decent performances.
For example, the groups led by Ai Qingyuan and Fu Wenze both had strong, distinctive styles. Every member of these two groups performed solidly, and purely in terms of stage effect, they could be considered an audiovisual feast.
Another example was the dance group that incorporated Chinese aesthetics. Although it didn’t have any particularly popular contestants, the center position was held by a professional dancer with excellent fundamentals, who carried the entire stage, making it appear ethereal and graceful.
…But still.
The audience on-site all had the same thought in mind.
When the difference in skill level was insurmountable, the contrast became painfully obvious.
It was one thing if the styles were different—at least then, people could praise the novelty. But when stages with similar styles were placed next to Boundless Sea, they were completely overshadowed, leaving nothing but scraps. They felt dull and uninspiring, yet not even worth discarding.
By the end of the performance, the voting pattern had shifted in an unprecedented way.
Among the eight major groups—
The first-place ranking naturally belonged to Boundless Sea.
Following that was the Chinese aesthetics group, whose style was vastly different from Boundless Sea. They secured a total of 318 votes.
Next in the rankings was Ai Qingyuan’s group with Click, earning 316 votes—securing third place by a narrow margin of just two votes. Close behind was Fu Wenze’s group in fourth place, with a total of 297 votes.
Beyond that…
Things became downright disastrous.
Among all the groups, the one that suffered the most was the vocal group.
There were two songs in the vocal category.
The first was Deaf Leaf Butterfly in the Rain by Lan Yezhou, a song featuring two popular contestants. The final center was Lu Xing, but the arrangement was utterly unremarkable, and sentimental ballads weren’t well-received in a live setting. As a result, both the center and the group as a whole ended up with dismal vote counts.
The other song, meant to showcase vocal technique, had performers who sang with great emotion but almost no technical skill.
As Xie Xizhao had once said, the most suitable contestant for this song was Zou Yi. But since Zou Yi had already joined another group, this performance became the night’s one true train wreck.
Meanwhile, the group that suffered the most from direct competition with Boundless Sea in terms of style was the Rap Group B—where Qiao Ye was a member. They ended up ranking second to last.
The only group worth mentioning was the Creative Group B.
Technically, the Creative Group B was the best among the underperforming groups, managing to scrape together just over 200 votes.
From Xie Xizhao’s perspective, their song was actually quite good. Unfortunately, the stage direction was an absolute mess—it became more of a personal showcase for Xia Ruiyan than a group performance. To make matters worse, he made a mistake during his highlight section.
With the key performer slipping up, the entire stage collapsed.
In the end—
No one had expected that simply having Boundless Sea as the opening performance would trigger a butterfly effect, completely altering the voting landscape for the entire event.
As soon as the second public performance wrapped up, Ma Hongping returned to the waiting room with a grim expression.
He paced back and forth, opening his mouth several times as if to speak but stopping himself each time.
Beside him, Lu Yan sat at the table watching a video. After a while, Ma Hongping leaned over, only to find that she was watching Xie Xizhao’s stage performance.
His heart nearly stopped, but Lu Yan remained perfectly calm.
She said, “What are you expecting?”
Ma Hongping: “……”
“We’ve known for a long time that Xie Xizhao thrives on stage,” Lu Yan continued. “That kid is undeniably talented. From his songwriting ability to his skills and stage presence, there’s nothing to criticize. That’s exactly why we never planned to compete with him on the stage itself, isn’t it?”
Ma Hongping finally calmed down.
…She was right.
He thought back to the internal meetings they’d held to discuss what to do about Xie Xizhao.
His debut was inevitable, but there was no way they could let him take the center position. As one of the platform executives had put it—negotiations had completely broken down. If they still let him debut as the center, the entire platform and production team would become a laughingstock.
So, even if Shenghong was willing to give up the center spot, it could not go to Xie Xizhao.
The platform had simply thrown the pressure onto the production team, and Ma Hongping had sprouted a few more gray hairs trying to figure it out. In the end, after discussing with Lu Yan, they decided to give him enough screen time to appease his fans—but also attempt to edit him unfavorably.
To be honest, neither Ma Hongping nor Lu Yan had any personal grudges against Xie Xizhao. He was just a junior to them, nearly two generations younger. It was hard to feel deep resentment toward a kid.
Besides, in person, Xie Xizhao was always polite when he saw them.
But in this industry, sometimes being ruthless wasn’t a matter of personal choice.
Thinking of this, Ma Hongping shook his head helplessly.
Then he said, “Should we at least have the editors put a little extra effort into the group behind-the-scenes footage?”
Lu Yan didn’t say anything.
After a brief silence, she sighed. “We won’t make it to that point.”
She continued, “We’ll probably have to act sooner.”
“Contact Shenghong,” she said. “They’re the experts in this area. Right now, Xiao Ai’s first-place ranking still seems stable, but once the second public performance airs, that might not be the case anymore. They’ll understand the situation.”
She paused, glanced at her computer, and added, “If they don’t, just send them Xie’s performance.”
“I don’t believe they’ll be able to stay indifferent after watching it.”
—
As it turned out, Lu Yan’s words weren’t an exaggeration in the slightest.
The moment the performance ended and the audience retrieved their phones, the forums of Super Rookie were flooded with posts.
[I swear I’m taking tonight’s recording to my grave—I’m not even joking.]
[Husband… my fated husband… I’m sitting on the curb in A City, completely dazed…]
[Anyone who didn’t attend tonight’s live show will regret it for the rest of their lives. Holy sh*t, I can only say holy sh*t. Zhaozhao, my baby, I love you forever T.T]
All the gossip—rumors of scandals, suspicions of exclusion—
The controversies that had been raging for days vanished in an instant.
Because no one cared anymore.
Those who had attended the performance were flooding the forums with excitement, while everyone else was left in the dark.
[What happened…? These audience reports are so extreme—some people are calling it boring, while others are losing their minds.]
OP: Are you guys even in the same dimension???
1L: You might as well ask if the contestants in this damn show are in the same dimension.
2L: OP is just as confused as I am, but I did some research. Conclusion: Some performances were god-tier, others were complete trainwrecks, and the ones in the middle? No one cares.
Over.
3L: Let’s be precise—there was only one god-tier performance.
4L: They’re saying Xie Xizhao’s group went absolutely insane.
I’m skeptical. Isn’t he supposed to have a pure, innocent image? Feels like his fanbase just got big enough to manipulate public opinion.
By the way, has that whole exclusion controversy been cleared up yet?
5L: If this was just fan manipulation, why did the haters flee faster than the fans? I’d love to see anyone still buying into this shady editing from the production team 🙂 By your logic, he should’ve completely flopped with the rock style—after all, he was supposedly “so arrogant” he b*llied his entire group, right?
6L: I was there. I can vouch for this.
I’m not his fan—you can check my post history.
It was insanely good. The whole venue was hyped, and by the end, nearly everyone was singing along. The lyrics were beautiful and easy to learn. In the final moments, Xie just sat on the edge of the stage right in front of me and sang… I swear, I was this close to crying because it was so breathtaking.
The meaning behind his original song was incredibly touching too—I almost teared up on the spot.
Everything about it was perfect. T.T
7L: Out of 500 votes, he got 497.
Yeah, sure. Clearly, every single audience member was just a bot hired by Ma Hongping and Lu Yan.
8L: WTF?!
9L: Oh my god, that vote count—did Xie Xizhao cast some kind of spell on the audience??? And this was the opening performance? Damn, now I really want to see it!
10L: I’M DYING HERE, I CAN’T WAIT ANY LONGER.
LET ME SEE THE STAGE ALREADY. WHY WON’T THE SHOW GIVE ME ACCESS?!
11L: It’s been years since we’ve had such a talented newcomer. They’re saying he wrote both the lyrics and the music himself, and even designed the stage production… I’m calling it now—once this airs, it’ll be an instant classic.
Anyway, I’m off to vote. Don’t stop me.
12L: I really don’t think there was any exclusion going on. Everyone performed well today. They weren’t even that familiar with each other before this, so if there had been conflicts, how could they have been this in sync?
Plus, multiple reports mentioned that at the song’s climax, Xia Xize actively approached Xie Xizhao for some close interaction.
13L: Not just that—reports say that during the interview, everyone thanked Xie Xizhao and said he worked especially hard. Of course, haters can say they were just being passive-aggressive, but if their relationship was really bad, they could’ve just avoided mentioning him altogether. Why go out of their way to bring him up?
14L: Stop talking… I CAN’T SEE IT AND I’M LOSING MY MIND. CAN WE FAST-FORWARD TO NEXT WEEK ALREADY?!
15L: Dream on. It’s the week after next.
16L: There’s no way the production team will air Zhaozhao’s performance in the first week—they’ll hold onto it to boost viewership and votes…
…
That night, no one could sleep.
Some were anxious.
Some were celebrating.
Some were deeply moved.
Some were so impatient they wished they could time travel to the future.
And somewhere in a quiet, lonely corner, someone sat in silence, finishing their last cigarette before finally standing up.
Jiang Wenhai hadn’t smoked in a long time.
He was a disciplined person.
After years of training as a trainee, he had always avoided smoking to protect his voice.
He wasn’t sure when it started, but at some point, smoking became his way of venting frustration. He tried to control himself, but tonight, all those emotions broke free.
When he finished his cigarette, he stubbed it out and tossed the butt into a trash can.
As he passed the iron gate, he saw a group of dedicated fans waiting outside.
Jiang Wenhai actually liked interacting with fans. But he didn’t have many.
Some people passed by without even turning their heads, yet their fans still called out their names outside. And some, even if they deliberately stopped to greet the crowd, couldn’t find a single fan of their own among them.
Today was different.
When Jiang Wenhai walked past the iron gate, he saw a hand banner.
The image on it was blurry in the dim night, but he had already memorized its shape.
The one waving it was a petite girl. When she saw him approaching, she quickly called out:
“Jiang Wenhai!”
“You were amazing today!” she said.
Jiang Wenhai stopped in his tracks, took a deep breath, and tried his best to smile in her direction. But then, as if unable to hold it in any longer, he averted his gaze and hurried past the gate.
Behind him, the girl’s voice drifted away with the wind.
“Wenhai, when will we get to hear a song written by you, huh?”
The voices outside faded, leaving only the sound of cicadas ringing in his ears.
Jiang Wenhai hid in the fire escape on the first floor, tears streaming down his face.
He inhaled sharply, holding back any sound, afraid of drawing the attention of familiar faces or the staff.
But just as he tilted his head back, trying to force his emotions down, the sound of approaching footsteps suddenly reached his ears.
His heart clenched.
He looked up, and the moment he saw who it was, he instinctively straightened, feeling uneasy.
“I…”
Xie Xizhao reached back and shut the door.
The moment it clicked shut, Jiang Wenhai’s pupils dilated slightly as he sensed something. His instincts kicked in, and he turned to leave—
But before he could, someone grabbed his sleeve.
“Five minutes,” Xie Xizhao said. “Let’s talk.”
His face was still somewhat pale. Jiang Wenhai had no idea why he wasn’t resting and had come here instead.
His heart pounded as he watched Xie Xizhao tilt his head and let out a low cough.
Then, as if talking to himself, Xie Xizhao muttered, “It’s a bit cold. Want to go to my dorm?”
Jiang Wenhai frowned. “Why should I—”
“Shh.” Xie Xizhao cut him off. “Don’t shout.”
Jiang Wenhai: “…”
He thought Xie Xizhao’s request was unreasonable.
But maybe it was because the other’s voice was too gentle—he couldn’t help but comply and didn’t raise his voice again.
Xie Xizhao glanced briefly outside the fire escape door. After making sure no one was approaching, he finally spoke:
“Because I know you’re willing to talk to me.
“Or—do you want to spend your whole life writing songs for Xia Ruiyan?”
Just that one sentence.
When Xie Xizhao started walking upstairs, Jiang Wenhai hesitated for a moment, then pressed his lips together and silently followed behind him.
