Chapter 74: Crescent Moon
Originally, because of Guan Heng’s withdrawal from the competition, everyone had been busy gossiping for the past two days.
Guan Heng was a contestant from Shenghong. Xie Xizhao and his group had seen things clearly and knew that Guan Heng had almost no hope left. However, many naive fans of the show didn’t realize this, especially those experiencing their first fandom crush.
They still foolishly believed that Shenghong would debut two contestants.
Over the past two days, public opinion had been in chaos, and marketing accounts had seized this opportunity, spreading all kinds of false rumors. One of them was that Guan Heng and Ai Qingyuan were privately at odds and that Ai Qingyuan was the next Xia Ruiyan.
This inevitably brought up the unfounded black material that had previously been pinned on Xie Xizhao.
At first, Xie Xizhao had only found it sudden, but now, thinking back and recalling what Guan Heng had said, he realized that Guan Heng had truly gone easy on his former childhood friend.
After all, Ai Qingyuan had never guarded himself against Guan Heng.
If Guan Heng had intended to harm him, then Song Yong would likely have taken advantage of the situation and struck Ai Qingyuan down completely.
But because Guan Heng had softened his heart, this matter ultimately remained at the level of mere rumors. Of course, the fans were unaware of the truth. Over the past two days, fueled by these rumors, Ai Qingyuan’s fans had come to see Guan Heng as their enemy, and he was just as unrelenting in return.
The battle between the two fandoms raged on, leaving only CP fans caught in the crossfire, getting attacked from both sides while shedding tears and casting votes.
The direct result of this conflict was that Ai Qingyuan’s fan base had been brutally suppressed. However, with the concentrated efforts of the CP fans, Ai Qingyuan’s votes eventually far surpassed Qiao Ye, whose votes had been cleared. This finally reassured his supporters.
That night, Qiao Ye did not come to the cafeteria.
Meanwhile, Ai Qingyuan generously treated Xie Xizhao and Fu Wenze to a great meal, nearly ruining their grand fitness plans.
Both Xie Xizhao and Fu Wenze basked in their steady happiness.
As for Xie Xizhao, there was no doubt—his votes ended up being fifty times higher, while Ye Yiyang, on the other hand, seemed quite at peace with it.
There might have been some regret if the gap had been small, but with such a huge difference…
He figured it was best to just step back and stay out of the way.
As for Fu Wenze, Qi Hang’s team had completely miscalculated this time. Not only did they lose a large number of fans, but even those who remained felt that the decision to switch songs and throw votes at this point was downright foolish. They had tried, sure, but it hadn’t been much of an effort.
With that, the C-positions for three of the groups had been settled.
Dance A Group, “Palace in the Clouds”: Xie Xizhao
Rap Group, “Tide”: Fu Wenze
Dance B Group, “One by One”: Ai Qingyuan
As for the two remaining vocal groups, compared to these three—where two groups had been relatively peaceful and one had seen a head-to-head battle—their situation was much more dramatic.
In the “Pause” group, Lu Xing and Yun Pan’s fandoms clashed heavily. Not only did they have a similar style, but they had also chosen the same song, making the competition as explosive as a head-on collision. However, something rather troublesome happened within Lu Xing’s fandom.
Lu Xing’s fans had taken their anti-Yun Pan sentiment offline.
Right at the front gate, someone held up a sign with some rather unpleasant words. Yun Pan happened to pass by and saw it, but he didn’t say anything—just glanced at it and turned away.
He was fine, but his fans were not.
That same night, Yun Pan’s supporters flooded the show’s official Weibo with over ten thousand comments, forcing the production team to issue a statement condemning such behavior.
Lu Xing’s fans insisted it was just an individual’s actions and shouldn’t reflect on the whole fandom, but deep down, they were nervous. After all, arguing online was one thing—but taking it offline? And with Yun Pan being someone who had actually experienced b*llying before? It just didn’t sit right…
In the end, it was hard to say whether this incident had affected the final voting results.
But ultimately, the C-position for this group went to Yun Pan.
And for the final group, “A Fleeting Glance”, the winner was:
Zou Yi.
—
When the results had just been announced that night, Xie Xizhao ran into Shi Song in the hallway.
He had just filled his water bottle and was heading back, his beautiful face clouded with gloom.
The “stay away from me” aura was so strong that Xie Xizhao instinctively took a detour—only to be stopped.
Shi Song, holding his little rabbit-themed water cup, asked, “Guan Heng left?”
Xie Xizhao replied, “Yeah.”
Sometimes, he truly admired how naturally familiar some people could act.
Shi Song let out a cold laugh.
Xie Xizhao: “…”
That was some serious hostility.
He said, “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be heading back.”
Now that the voting had ended, each group naturally had to start practicing together. Xie Xizhao had already taken the initiative earlier in the day, gathering his group for a meeting. Fortunately, progress had been good, everyone was cooperative, and part assignments had gone smoothly.
The price for all that effort was that he could barely keep his eyes open now—and he definitely wasn’t in the mood to discuss life in the hallway.
Shi Song said, “Wait.”
After a moment’s thought, he asked, “You’re pretty close with Zou Yi?”
Xie Xizhao replied, “He’s alright.”
Shi Song pressed his lips together tightly.
After a while, he simply said, “Forget it. You can go.”
Xie Xizhao: “…”
And so, he made his way back to the dorm without further incident. On the way, he ran into Fu Wenze, who casually asked, “What were you and Shi Song talking about in the hallway?”
Xie Xizhao replied, “He wanted me to help convince Zou Yi to give up the C-position.”
If Shi Song had been there, he would have immediately rushed over to cover Xie Xizhao’s mouth while internally screaming SOS.
But he wasn’t there.
Only Fu Wenze, who remained unfazed no matter what happened, was present.
So he simply responded, just as calmly:
“Oh?”
Xie Xizhao chuckled. “But in the end, he didn’t say it out loud.”
Fu Wenze assessed, “That means his skin isn’t thick enough.”
Xie Xizhao nodded in deep agreement.
Xie Xizhao actually understood that Shi Song was struggling right now.
He was the only androgynous male idol in the top twenty—beautiful, with a striking personality—but he lacked a stage that could truly showcase him. People always said that as long as you were talented, you could shine anywhere. But when two people were of similar skill levels, the high-impact moments and spotlight that came with the C-position made a huge difference.
That was why Zou Yi’s fans had fought so hard in the end.
Fandoms thrived on momentum. Zou Yi’s fan base had been stagnant before, but during the second public performance, being in the same group as Xie Xizhao had helped him attract a surge of passionate new fans—enough to push him into the C-position.
Of course, Shi Song’s fans had always had an easy ride, and they had let their guard down when Guan Heng withdrew. That had also contributed to the current situation.
All in all, things were incredibly awkward now.
Even though Zou Yi had secured the top spot, 90% of the show’s fans—even Zou Yi himself, Xie Xizhao suspected—probably felt the same way:
It was a position that was somewhat wasted on him.
Meanwhile, for another member of the group, that same position would have been the perfect solution to an urgent problem. If it were anyone else, this wouldn’t even be a question. But this was Zou Yi.
There was no way he could outright give up the C-position, but the distribution of key parts? That was still negotiable.
At the very least, Xie Xizhao knew that Shi Song was already scheming.
That didn’t mean he should have come to him about it, though.
Lately, Xie Xizhao had started to feel like he must seem way too approachable—people kept dragging him into things that had nothing to do with him. Thankfully, Shi Song wasn’t completely brainless, and in the end, he hadn’t actually said it out loud.
But even leaving it unsaid was enough to show how anxious he was.
In the days that followed, rumors started circulating among the trainees that someone in the “A Fleeting Glance” group was fighting over the C-position.
Ai Qingyuan asked Xie Xizhao, “Aren’t you pretty close with Zou Yi?”
Xie Xizhao chuckled. “He’s an adult.”
Besides, when it came to this, Xie Xizhao had already given Zou Yi a hand back in the second public performance. But Zou Yi had turned it down.
Zou Yi wasn’t like Yun Pan—he already had the maturity to judge situations for himself.
At most, he and Xie Xizhao simply had different views. He didn’t need Xie Xizhao’s guidance.
Ai Qingyuan thought about it for a moment and found that reasonable. He had changed a lot recently, mellowed out in many ways, but that deep-seated pride was still there. Someone like Zou Yi—he would never truly understand.
Then, something suddenly dawned on him. His expression shifted as he asked sharply,
“Wait. Aren’t I an adult too?”
Xie Xizhao silently lowered his head and took a sip of water.
Yun Pan, all innocence, poked through the thin veil of silence and said, “But you look like you haven’t grown up.”
Ai Qingyuan: “……”
He swore he was really about to throw hands with this kid.
—
Ai Qingyuan’s “b*at up a child” plan never came to fruition, but Xie Xizhao’s rehabilitation plan finally reached its conclusion.
That day, after practice ended, the temporary dance instructor specifically asked for his contact information. She looked at him seriously and asked, “Have you ever considered going professional?”
This wasn’t even a subtle hint—it was as clear as it could get.
The instructor came from a professional dance team. If she was saying this, it meant she had real connections.
Xie Xizhao politely declined. The instructor looked heartbroken, glancing back at him multiple times as she left, as if she had just lost eight million dollars.
His teammates, meanwhile, all kept their heads down, their expressions blank, pretending not to have seen anything.
After the instructor left, Xie Xizhao coughed and, in an utterly unconvincing attempt at casualness, said, “…I actually practiced in secret for a few years.”
Mhm.
Everything could be blamed on secret practice.
At this rate, with all the new skills he had “secretly” developed, Xie Xizhao’s life was starting to sound more eventful than ten lifetimes put together.
Naturally, not everyone believed him.
But the truth was right in front of them—when faced with choosing between “born gifted” and “actual octopus,” there was no winning. The team members silently wiped their tears. They didn’t want to pick either option. Both were too discouraging.
What could they do?
No choice.
If they couldn’t beat him, they had to join him.
Every single member of Palace in the Clouds ended up obediently following Xie Xizhao’s lead in dance practice. By the end, they had all made significant progress.
Out of everyone, Ye Yiyang—who had some prior foundation—benefited the most from training with Xie Xizhao.
He hadn’t expected to debut, but now that his biggest competitor, Qi Hang, was showing signs of slipping, he was starting to feel hopeful again. Over the past couple of days, Xie Xizhao had basically become his long-lost brother.
Like a little tail, he followed him everywhere.
Around the practice room, in the cafeteria, even during makeup sessions.
At one point, the makeup artist gave Xie Xizhao a knowing look and asked, “Do you usually attract small animals?”
The small animal in question blinked.
Didn’t get it.
Xie Xizhao cleared his throat. “Sister, calm down.”
…She was making it sound like he had some peculiar hobby.
The makeup artist pouted slightly, looking a little disappointed.
“Well then, what face do you want today?” she asked.
At this very moment, it was the afternoon of the public performance.
Xie Xizhao had just finished the final rehearsal.
Tonight, he would be facing his third stage performance.
And this would be their last show before the finals.
He looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes curving slightly in amusement at the makeup artist’s words. Playing along, he joked, “Today? Today, I’m cosplaying as a big, bright moon.”
The sweet summer slush,
The flames burning in the ocean—
Those had all become things of the past, fading away with the closing of previous stages.
This time, Xie Xizhao was becoming the crescent moon hanging high in the sky.
A cold and distant moon, hidden among the clouds, yet casting its light evenly upon the world below.
People gazed up at it, yearning for it.
But they could never quite reach it.
