Chapter 86: Debut Night (3) (Final Stage)
Discussions about which group Xie Xizhao’s solo performance would belong to had been ongoing online for quite some time.
However, there had been no conclusion.
Unlike the other contestants, whose strengths and weaknesses were more obvious, Xie Xizhao was too versatile. He had even managed to squeeze in a rap performance, let alone the other, more conventional categories.
He could have gone anywhere. As his fans put it, “Might as well roll a die and decide.”
So, even his most devoted fans had no idea which group he would be in until today. Fortunately, this mystery was bound to be solved sooner or later. When all the vocal performances concluded, everyone realized that he was most likely in the dance group.
But even within the dance category, there were different styles, and the audience in the livestream chat was buzzing with excitement during the preparation time.
[Traditional Chinese dance, please! The last time he did it, the response was amazing! A Chinese dance solo can really exude power, and most importantly—I want to see it!]
[I want to see Xizhao sing something emotional… Xizhao… ballads…]
[Give up on that dream, hahaha. It’s already impossible. How about a street dance performance?]
[Ahhh, I feel like Xizhao is definitely going to do something unexpected again. Haven’t you noticed? He’s really good at planning his exposure. First round: fresh and youthful campus style. Second round: wild rock band. Third round: traditional Chinese aesthetic. What’s left? What’s left?!]
—What was missing was a proper boy group concept.
The lights turned on, shining brighter than ever before, illuminating a face that remained calm and composed.
And the moment that face appeared on the giant screen, the entire venue erupted in screams.
[Holy—battle damage!]
[Battle-damaged makeup?! Ahhh, this bloodstain looks so stunning—I’m dead!]
The young man had completely abandoned his usual delicate and natural makeup. His originally neat and obedient black hair had been deliberately styled into a slightly messy look, with a few strands falling over his forehead, partially concealing his once-gentle brows and eyes.
And the most striking feature on his face was the uneven streaks of blood.
The marks ran across his nose bridge and chin—areas that didn’t obscure his features. They stripped away some of his usual innocence, replacing it with an air of sharp, effortless aggression.
With that very presence, he strode to the center of the stage, nodding toward the staff member beside him.
By the time the camera zoomed in on his face again, his gaze had already dropped, his posture set in a state of readiness.
Some had analyzed Xie Xizhao’s stage expressions before and discovered a distinct pattern: every moment that drew the audience in was precisely what he wanted them to see.
Like that intense, deliberate eye contact with the camera just now.
And now, with the performance about to begin, he deliberately concealed his expression, signaling that the focus should shift elsewhere.
Of course, that moment lasted only a breath.
The next instant, as the fierce beat of the music exploded through the venue, he snapped his head up.
Just before raising his hand for the first move, he flashed a fleeting smile at the camera. By then, the audience’s attention had already been captured by the familiar intro.
Excited murmurs spread through the crowd, while on stage, Xie Xizhao had already launched into his performance.
This was the quintessential boy group song. The background pulsed with heavy drumbeats, layered electronic effects, and striking percussion. The rhythm was sharp and dynamic—if this had been a group performance, the adjectives “explosive” and “electrifying” would have undoubtedly applied.
For a group, the key to such an impactful performance was synchronized, knife-sharp choreography. But what about a solo performer? How could a single person command the entire stage?
Xie Xizhao gave his answer.
Absolute precision in hitting every beat.
Every beat corresponded to a movement—down to the fingertips, up to the lower legs. Each shift and transition matched the subtle pulses hidden within the melody. Given that this was already a high-tempo dance track, the ability to hit the beats precisely was crucial for its visual impact.
And Xie Xizhao executed it with near-perfect accuracy.
Even amid such rapid sequences, every one of his movements remained precise. If an angle needed to be 90 degrees, it was exactly 90 degrees—so precise that even if someone measured it with a ruler on the spot, they would find no deviation.
Coupled with his rock-solid core control, the entire performance was effortlessly smooth and visually satisfying.
…But.
It wasn’t over yet.
To the audience, this flawlessly executed boy group choreography was already a feast for the eyes. But to Xie Xizhao, it seemed to be nothing more than the bare minimum. He didn’t appear to take it seriously at all. His expression, caught in fleeting moments during his movements, carried an air of effortless ease—almost casual, as if he weren’t delivering a breathtaking solo performance but merely eating a meal or taking a sip of water.
Then came the dance break.
This was a remixed song.
It had skipped straight to the climax—the soaring chorus—just to reserve a full 45-second dance break.
It began with a sudden, dazzling smile at the camera.
Then, as the wildly distorted instrumental kicked in, different dance styles began unfolding one after another.
A breaking move—spinning effortlessly with one hand against the floor.
Locking—sharp, fluid, commanding hand movements.
Hip-hop—street-born, rhythmic, grounded in pure groove.
Each genre’s signature moves weren’t just displayed in isolation. Xie Xizhao seamlessly wove them into a single, uninterrupted sequence—silky smooth, flowing like water, yet bursting with energy. It was dazzling, almost overwhelming.
This was showboating, pure and simple.
The layering of techniques was almost aggressively excessive—recklessly bold to the point of defying logic. And yet, what would have been a disastrous misstep for anyone else felt utterly effortless when executed by Xie Xizhao.
Once again, it was the same story.
To him, these intricate, borderline-excessive high-difficulty moves weren’t an overwhelming display of technique. They were just steps in a simple, ordinary routine.
Rather than saying he mastered the song, it felt more accurate to say that the song itself had been made for him.
In those short forty-five seconds, he had made one thing abundantly clear: whether as the group’s main vocalist or lead dancer, if he so desired, he could take on any position within a team.
At the very last beat, his final movement locked into place—sharp, decisive, and clean.
Then, as if none of it had happened, he turned to the camera and smiled, returning to his usual soft and harmless demeanor.
—
Xie Xizhao stepped off the stage amid deafening screams, brushing past Ai Qingyuan.
The latter clenched his teeth. “You motherfu—”
He had asked Xie Xizhao about his solo song earlier, only to get nothing in response. So this was what he had been keeping under wraps.
Xie Xizhao cut him off. “Your mic’s still on.”
Ai Qingyuan: ?
He immediately looked down, only to realize—he wasn’t even wearing a mic.
He let out a frustrated laugh.
“I’ll deal with you later,” he said.
His solo was third in line. Up next was him.
Xie Xizhao replied, “I’ll be waiting.”
Though his tone was casual, Ai Qingyuan could still sense the lingering sharpness from the stage. He paused for a moment, then shot Xie Xizhao what he thought was a fierce glare before hurrying off to the waiting area.
Meanwhile, in the audience, Ji Yan and Guan Heng were just beginning to recover from what they had witnessed.
Amid the lingering cheers, Ji Yan murmured blankly, “The first time I saw him… I thought he was just a pretty face trying to coast by.”
Why had Xie Xizhao’s solo ignited such an explosive reaction?
His performance was part of it.
But the other reason lay in his song choice.
The song he had chosen was Victory—the debut track of the legendary boy group Victory, the first-generation talent show idols who had once taken the industry by storm.
They had debuted to instant fame, rising step by step until they reached their peak—only to disband at the height of their success. To this day, they remained an irreplaceable “white moonlight” in the hearts of many talent show fans.
Back then, contract terms weren’t as long as they are now, and the entertainment industry had yet to recognize the full value of survival show groups. In many ways, Victory had been the key that unlocked the idol market.
After them, countless talent show groups emerged in their wake, including their direct junior group, yet none had ever recreated the golden era that Victory had once ushered in.
Some believed that their group name itself carried a kind of fated mysticism.
“Victory”—a prophecy, a declaration. Many had covered their songs before, but rarely this one.
Not just because of its high level of difficulty, but because the name itself felt untouchable, as if it had long since been claimed. Victory had been buried alongside their own triumphs, fading into history.
But tonight, Xie Xizhao brought that song back onto the stage.
A tribute.
A battle anthem.
His battle anthem.
The excitement in the venue refused to die down, and the livestream chat had completely erupted into an emotional frenzy.
—
[WHO UNDERSTANDS ME RIGHT NOW AAAAAAH MY V-GROUP 😭😭 I’m literally shaking… I’ve always felt that Xizhao has that classic first-gen idol aura—dedicated, radiant, the very definition of an idol. I’m actually crying.]
[This solo was everything. The perfect finale. My bias will never let me down. T^T]
[He was never some delicate flower, nor was he ever a laid-back, passive idol. This is a confident, ambitious, all-rounder idol determined to shake up the industry. I’m not even a fan, but I feel so emotional right now.]
[Be bolder—he’s here to shake up the entertainment industry.]
[Lead the debut group straight down the path to success. I have never been this confident before. The debut group will blow up. Xie Xizhao will blow up. Mark my words!!]
An outpouring of blessings, reflections, and sheer excitement.
At that moment, Xie Xizhao had the entire audience in the palm of his hand. Never before had they been this eager for a group to debut.
And as if perfectly timed, as soon as the solo performances ended, Dou Yu announced the ranking results:
—
Aside from Xie Xizhao, the rest of the dance group performances were solid but unremarkable.
Ye Yiyang and Qi Hang leveraged their unique dance styles to make their final push, but the real surprise came from Ai Qingyuan.
As if dead set on competing with Xie Xizhao, he threw everything he had into his performance, pushing himself beyond his usual limits.
When he stepped off the stage, Xie Xizhao greeted him with applause. Ai Qingyuan scoffed but was ultimately coaxed out of his grudge with Xie Xizhao’s shamelessly generous praise.
With the dance group finished, it was time for the rap group.
Among them, Fu Wenze and Qiao Ye performed back to back, creating a stark and brutal contrast.
But for Qiao Ye, simply standing on stage and completing his performance was already a victory—he had overcome a massive psychological barrier. Having long since fallen into despair, he no longer cared whether people mocked him or not. After all, he was already the butt of the internet’s ridicule.
At this point, the audience wasn’t even focused on the performances anymore.
[THE RANKINGS. DROP THEM NOW. DON’T DRAG THIS OUT ANY LONGER!!]
[My bias literally performed Victory! Production team, do you understand what this means? Give him a top-tier lineup, got it?]
[This is so hype! 🔥]
[Honestly, I have so much confidence in this debut group now. Feels like we can take on XX and stomp on XX—fill in the blanks yourselves. If you want to curse someone, curse me, not my little underdog group.]
[Nah, be bold. Survival show groups always get targeted by company-backed groups debuting at the same time. It’s all about competing for market share. If we’re dreaming, might as well dream big—our group is gonna wipe the floor with all of them and take the crown! ❤️]
[You fake fans looking ahead to the future—wake up! They haven’t even debuted yet, I swear I’m dying of laughter.]
[I don’t care. My bias is absolutely debuting. Stardust, listen up—you better put him in as the main vocalist, no negotiations!!]
They hadn’t debuted yet, but they were close.
The positions weren’t decided by fate, but right now, the person standing in the lineup’s main vocal spot was the real deal.
Backstage, Zou Yi’s throat tightened.
This was the closest he had ever been to his dream.
With this round of ranking votes closed, the remaining fifteen trainees were set to be split into two teams for the final group performance.
The two centers were Ai Qingyuan and Xie Xizhao.
Xie Xizhao still wore his battle-damaged makeup, but compared to his solo, his aura completely shifted in the fresh, upbeat team song. If not for the faint traces of blood still visible on his face, the audience might have thought they imagined his previous performance.
The comment section had fully surrendered.
[So he’s just Chameleon Zhao now? Every day’s a blind box reveal?]
[Correction—every hour.]
[So many people.jpg]
And then, after all the performances concluded, the final moment arrived.
The fifteen trainees walked onto the stage together, standing in order according to the final rankings from the third public performance. For a moment, both the stage and the audience fell into silence.
Although everyone had come to the venue or stayed glued to their screens for this very moment, when it truly arrived, their emotions were far more complex than they had expected.
After a brief pause, Dou Yu spoke. “Now, I will announce the final rankings.”
Months of hard work, a waiting process that had felt like an endless tug-of-war—everything was about to be settled at last.
No emotions could be seen on anyone’s face.
But in each of their hearts, at this very moment, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirled.
Standing on the far left, Xie Xizhao gazed into the sea of fans beneath the stage. He saw countless support banners with his name, a sight he never could have imagined a few months ago—when he had just woken up from a hospital bed as an ordinary college student.
His gaze dropped slightly, and he let out a small, almost imperceptible smile as he watched Dou Yu take the result card from the staff.
The first position to be announced—fourth place.
Dou Yu glanced at the card, paused for two seconds, then smiled. “Hmm… This is a contestant skilled in both singing and dancing, with an especially unique vocal tone.”
[The first half was filler, but the second half… Did they finally realize there are a lot of high-ranking vocalists?]
[LMAO, it’s Yun Pan, right?]
[A band-like voice? Among the top ranks, he’s the only one whose vocal tone has been specifically praised. The ranking also matches.]
Dou Yu continued, “He is very young.”
If there had been any uncertainty before, this statement made it obvious who he was talking about.
All the trainees turned to look at him. Yun Pan’s face flushed red, and he instinctively glanced to his left.
As if sensing his gaze, Xie Xizhao also turned his head, smiling as he mouthed the words “Good luck.”
[There he goes again, looking at his big brother. Our Panpan really is like a clingy little puppy, hahaha.]
[Wait, why do I have this feeling… that a certain someone is going to get mentioned a lot tonight?]
