Chapter 85: Debut Night (2)
Half an hour before the opening, the live broadcast of Debut Night had already begun.
Despite adding several extra streaming lines, the platform had nearly crashed due to the overwhelming traffic. At that moment, the number of real-time online viewers in the backend had already reached hundreds of thousands.
As soon as the show started, the number of live comments skyrocketed.
[Ahhh! Mentor performance! I thought I wouldn’t be able to see Idol Yu!]
[I was really hoping for a collaboration stage in the third public performance. I really wanted to see Teacher Lan and Zhaozhao perform together… Will there be a chance after debut?]
[Why do I feel like crying the moment the opening music starts? Time has passed so fast… T^T I can’t bear to part with my youthful self, with everyone, and with the mentors. Ahhh, can we slow this down a little?]
Various comments flew across the screen.
On stage, as the narration played, a beam of light suddenly illuminated the scene.
Standing under the spotlight was none other than the rap mentor, Qiu Xuerui, dressed in a red top and black pants.
During daily training, she had always gone without makeup and maintained a cold and strict demeanor, earning her the image of a “queen” in the hearts of both trainees and fans.
Now, the queen had put on exquisite makeup. Her short hair framed her face, and her red lips stood out. She wore a deep V-neck, halter-style red silk blouse paired with matching black silk trousers, giving her a sharp and polished appearance.
Almost the moment the camera focused on her, both the live audience and online viewers were stunned by her pure and untamed beauty.
[Xuerui is so gorgeous!]
[I suddenly remembered when she first debuted—such a proud little girl, and now she’s a mentor! T^T Our Xiao Qiu is amazing!]
Qiu Xuerui performed an impromptu rap. At the beginning, her tone carried a lazy drawl, but as the lyrics progressed, her tempo gradually increased. However, her expression remained effortlessly composed and resilient.
During the punchline section, she playfully teased Lan Yezhou, who was next to take the stage, eliciting good-natured laughter from the audience.
As the rap ended, Qiu Xuerui took off her top hat and bowed in thanks. Lan Yezhou, who was holding a guitar, adjusted his glasses calmly, then casually exchanged a high-five with the very person who had just called him a “composition maniac.” After that, he sat down in front of the prepared microphone.
The moment he started singing, the only word that came to everyone’s mind was “steady.”
Lan Yezhou had professional vocal training. Beyond just having a great vocal tone and impeccable pitch, even his breathing control was frighteningly precise—so smooth that it was almost unsettling.
[Why do I love Lan Yezhou’s mix of calmness and mischief so much?]
[Here he comes—the man who sounds like he eats CDs for breakfast, once again walking in with his guitar. I swear, these newbies from Super Rookie really need to expand their horizons and see what real top-tier vocals sound like. [tactical lean-back.jpg]]
[It won’t be long now, hahaha. Once they debut, the show’s protective shield will be gone. The idol market is brutal—let’s see if the debut group will dominate the industry’s top boy bands or if they’ll get crushed instead.]
[Good, I love drama. Bring it on.]
Lan Yezhou performed his newly released single—a song with abstract, stream-of-consciousness lyrics and a melody that was both odd yet surprisingly catchy. By the time he finished singing, the previously soft stage lighting had been rearranged, now casting a dreamy pink-and-white glow.
Dressed in a matching pastel dress and boots, Li Lin stepped gracefully through the now-open stage doors, her face adorned with a sweet smile. The next moment, the energetic instrumental of a bubbly girl group song began to play.
The day before Debut Night, discussions across major forums were still filled with endless speculation and conspiracy theories.
This was the inevitable reality of a survival show nearing its end—constantly shifting rankings, baseless rumors spreading like wildfire, and a brief period of uncertainty that made time feel unbearably slow.
But all of that would vanish on the day of Debut Night.
One by one, the mentors took the stage. After Li Lin’s performance, it was Dou Yu’s turn. The moment he returned to the stage as an idol and danced to his own song for the first time in this competition, everyone finally realized—it was over.
It wasn’t just the end of Dou Yu’s short-lived career as an MC. It was the end of the entire show.
[Honestly, I feel a little reluctant to say goodbye. There were plenty of frustrating moments, but this show was truly amazing.]
[Aside from a few oddballs, I think everyone got along really well. Just now, when Linlin and Teacher Dou high-fived, they were both smiling. Over these past few months, both the mentors and trainees have grown close.]
[Can’t they all just stay together forever? Can’t this show keep running forever? T.T]
Of course, the answer was no.
After finishing his dance, Dou Yu briefly left the stage to change outfits. During that time, last season’s senior group performed. Once they finished, Dou Yu returned, this time wearing an unprecedentedly formal white suit as he stepped onto the stage once more.
He glanced around the venue, then smiled as he picked up the cue card.
“Did you all enjoy the show?” he asked.
The audience responded in unison: “YES——!”
“There are still some amazing performances coming up,” Dou Yu said with a grin. “I’ve already watched the last two stages—they were all carefully prepared. But before we begin, let’s take a look at the current real-time votes for our trainees.”
“So, who is currently in fifth place?”
Both the live audience and the comment section perked up.
[It’s here! The rank-cutoff vote rush is happening!]
In the final week, rankings were updated in real time.
Aside from Xie Xizhao, who had never budged from first place, the spots from second to fifth had been constantly shifting—especially the crucial fifth place.
At that moment, fans hovering around the cutoff line held their breath.
A few seconds later, the big screen revealed the result.
Yun Pan.
[6]
[Holy—!!]
[I’m off to vote, family, goodbye!]
The venue erupted in noise, and even the trainees backstage exchanged surprised glances. However, in the audience, Ji Yan and Guan Heng remained completely composed.
“Panpan is holding steady,” Ji Yan said, popping a milk candy into his mouth.
Guan Heng nodded. “Not bad at all.”
The votes had fluctuated a lot in the final week. Yun Pan had gained most of his fans in the middle of the competition, but his late-stage fan engagement had started to weaken. Even so, he was still sitting in fifth. With how tight the voting pool was around the cutoff, a little extra push from his fans could secure his spot.
“Wanna bet on who’ll end up in fifth place, Teacher Guan?” Ji Yan suggested. “Loser pays for dinner tonight.”
“You’re not eating with Xizhao?” Guan Heng asked with a chuckle.
“If I wait for him, I’ll starve,” Ji Yan said. “They’ve got a celebration banquet later. We can grab something first to hold us over. Hurry up, pick a name.”
Guan Heng thought for a moment, then traced a character on his palm.
Ji Yan glanced at him. “You really believe in this guy, huh? You two close?”
“No,” Guan Heng replied calmly. “Just an objective guess.”
“Alright then.” Ji Yan shrugged.
After a short pause, he sighed. “Well, that’s that. No one’s paying for dinner.”
“We picked the same person.”
Guan Heng: “…”
Seeing Ji Yan’s sly, triumphant expression, Guan Heng sighed. “Then should we switch to a different bet?”
“Let’s guess which group your CP is doing their solo in,” Guan Heng suggested.
Ji Yan hesitated. “…Are you looking down on me?”
On stage, Dou Yu had somehow slipped away without anyone noticing. After a short VCR segment showcasing dorm life, the first solo performer was ready in the darkness.
To be honest, while most of the contestants on Super Rookie had great relationships behind the scenes, the group dynamic that the show initially tried to promote never really came to fruition.
First of all, by the third season, the influence of capital had fully matured, meaning the production team always prioritized contestants from major entertainment companies. The smaller, lesser-known trainees had little to no chance of standing out—let alone getting much screen time. Secondly, there was a massive popularity gap.
By the latter half of the competition, the audience’s attention was either fixated on various scandals or completely centered on Xie Xizhao.
Because of that, when the show played its sentimental VCR segment, hardly anyone in the comment section was actually paying attention. Most were still caught up in the ranking drama from earlier.
But solo performances were different.
Solo stages had always been known as the ultimate test.
Since the performances were broadcast live, vocals couldn’t be autotuned, dancers couldn’t redo mistakes, and with the added pressure of the finals, every season had its fair share of stage mishaps.
Aside from the final ranking reveal, this segment was arguably the most real and intense part of Debut Night.
As the first contestant stepped onto the stage, the arguments in the comment section dwindled. Those who wanted to vote had already gone off to do so, while those who enjoyed the spectacle were now brimming with anticipation.
[It’s here! My favorite part!]
[The truth-revealing stage is here~ Let’s see which top vocal or main dancer gets exposed this year!]
[Why is the grouping so tightly sealed this time? Ahhh, I just want to know which group my bias is in, sobbing!]
As the flood of comments scrolled past, the first contestant stepped onto the stage.
The first soloist from the vocal group was Shi Song.
[! Song baby!]
[Ahhh, Xiao Song is in the vocal group! He looks so beautiful!]
Shi Song truly looked stunning that night.
His beauty had always been androgynous, and today, he wore a pair of wide-leg flared pants resembling a long skirt. His entire outfit followed a black-and-red color scheme, but compared to the earlier rap mentor, Qiu Xuerui, he had a much softer and more delicate aura.
His ranking had been steadily dropping. As of the previous day, he was in ninth place.
Unless a miracle happened, his chances of debuting were slim.
Perhaps because of this, his expression remained exceptionally calm.
He had chosen a slow, soothing English song. His husky voice paired with the unhurried melody created an immersive atmosphere.
Of course, his skills weren’t quite strong enough to fully support a live performance. However, thanks to his well-chosen song, the overall result was neither remarkable nor disastrous.
Amidst the applause, he stepped off the stage.
The moment he exited, his expression returned to a blank state.
Lu Xing passed by him, originally intending to offer a few polite words of praise, when he suddenly overheard Shi Song muttering to himself, “Damn it, if this doesn’t make me the most stunning one tonight, I don’t know what will. If I can’t debut, I’ll at least be the best-looking one on debut night.”
As a result, the compliments Lu Xing had planned to say got stuck in his throat.
Outside, the crowd buzzed with excitement.
He took a deep breath, adjusted his earpiece, and stepped onto the stage.
The second contestant from the vocal group: Lu Xing.
—
Lu Xing had chosen a ballad this time.
His ranking had hovered around seventh or eighth place for a while, but he knew deep down that it wasn’t because he was exceptionally talented—it was because his company had been working relentlessly behind the scenes.
In the past few days, they had tried everything—emotional manipulation to retain fans, manufactured drama, every trick in the book, ethical or not.
Yet despite all that, he had only managed to reach seventh place.
The frustration weighed heavily on him, and he held back a deep sense of resentment.
For the first time, he truly understood the importance of skill. That was why he had chosen a technically demanding song, one that would showcase his vocal ability.
He had practiced relentlessly for this performance.
What he wanted was simple: even if he didn’t make the final lineup, he needed to give his fans—those who had waited for him and supported him—one last answer, proof that they had not chosen the wrong person to believe in.
…But.
Perhaps he was too eager to prove himself.
The moment he stepped onto the stage, he suddenly realized that his hands were shaking.
And where his hands trembled, so did his voice.
The moment he sang the first note, he knew something was wrong.
The live chat had already picked up on it instantly.
[He’s shaking.]
[Did he come in offbeat? What’s going on?]
[Xingxing… I really don’t know what to say. When will I get to see the confident, energetic boy from the start of the competition again?]
On screen, the boy gripping the microphone had panic written all over his eyes. He was almost unrecognizable from the person who had first stepped onto the stage.
The song, originally meant to be a powerful and deeply emotional ballad, came out uneven and uncertain. By the time he reached the final note, his face had gone deathly pale.
But this time, at least, he held back his tears.
Just as the lights were about to dim, he suddenly turned toward the camera and bowed deeply.
The entire venue erupted in an uproar.
And on the livestream chat, all that remained were sighs and murmurs of regret.
There were many contestants in the entertainment industry like Lu Xing.
They floated high above the ground, propped up by certain advantages—whether it was company backing, powerful connections, or simply the exaggerated praise of their fans.
But none of those things were truly earned by their own abilities.
These advantages could carry them for a while, but they could never carry them all the way to the end. That was the reality of it. A reality that was sometimes cruel and sometimes brutally honest.
Hard work is always rewarded, sooner or later.
For example—
The next contestant to take the stage, Zou Yi.
Before stepping onto the stage, Zou Yi had specifically sought out Xie Xizhao.
Half-jokingly, he said, “Xizhao, talk to me. I’m so nervous right now.”
Xie Xizhao didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he simply pulled Zou Yi into a hug.
Then, he finally said, “This is the last hurdle. Once you get past it, it’s over. Just focus on that, and you won’t be nervous anymore.”
That was what he said, but he understood Zou Yi completely.
Over the past week, Zou Yi’s votes had skyrocketed. In the final week’s real-time rankings, he had broken into the debut lineup for three out of the five days, even reaching as high as fourth place at one point.
It was the momentum from the third public performance. More importantly, it was the sudden ambition Zou Yi had shown after that stage that had ignited his fans’ enthusiasm.
That performance had been the last official content released by Super Rookie.
For the final week, the remaining fifteen contestants had gone on a wilderness retreat—a team-building event, but also a way to wrap up the show’s supplementary variety segments.
The contestants had grilled meat together, set up tents, and played games like truth or dare.
After dinner, during the heart-to-heart session, Zou Yi and Xie Xizhao went up to the mountain peak together.
Under the evening sunset, they looked down at the vast land stretching beneath their feet, feeling completely enveloped by the gentle wind.
The on-site cameraman was filming them—this was the final recording for each contestant, where everyone had to state the one wish they most wanted to come true.
Xie Xizhao said, “I hope the people I love and the people who love me will always have smooth and happy lives.”
Meanwhile, Zou Yi gazed at the sun dipping below the horizon. For the first time, he gathered his courage and said, with absolute sincerity, “I want to debut.”
Four simple words, spoken with clarity and determination.
He wanted to debut.
Not as someone else’s supporting role, not as the selfless leader who would send his teammates to the top while quietly stepping aside, and certainly not as anyone’s backup option.
With this thought in his heart, he finally made his fans understand what he truly wanted.
But at the same time, this very desire made him afraid of losing.
Still, in the end, he took a deep breath and remembered Xie Xizhao’s words.
“This is the last hurdle.”
That’s right.
This was already the last step—what reason did he have not to give it his all?
In the waiting room, Xie Xizhao watched as Zou Yi stepped onto the stage in a crisp white suit.
A more composed and beautiful opening than ever before, a chorus that practically tore through the stage with its powerful high notes, and transitions as smooth as melted chocolate—his strength as the main vocalist was finally, unmistakably displayed in this live broadcast.
As the last note rang out, the livestream chat erupted with excitement.
[Ahhh! I just got chills…]
[It’s like he’s singing with his whole soul. Our Zouzou, the best leader in the world, you’ve really worked so hard.]
[Tonight’s best performance so far—our main vocal is incredible!]
It turned out that this wasn’t just the best performance of the night so far—it was the best among all the vocal team members.
As the final solo stage ended, the atmosphere both at the venue and in the livestream chat had reached its peak. But as the electronic voice announced the opening lineup for the next group, this so-called “peak” was pushed to an entirely new level.
First solo performer of the dance group: Xie Xizhao.
