Chapter 151: Free Ride
Although he sighed, Xie Xizhao didn’t say anything to the trainees on stage. He scored them as usual — even let them do a re-test.
In fact, if a trainee requested a re-test, Xie Xizhao always gave them a chance. Backed by the power of his iced Americano and a production team that didn’t dare complain, he had the authority to do so. But it was clear that few trainees could actually seize that opportunity.
This group was no exception.
After the main vocalist, who had completely lost control during the solo a cappella, stepped down with a face full of shame, Xie Xizhao raised a hand toward the production crew, signaling for a pause.
Then, he turned to look at the group of completely silent trainees behind him and said, “Earlier, I looked through your profiles. I remember that a few of you listed The Phoenix as the idol you want to become. Who were those people?”
His tone was calm and gentle.
The trainees — who had expected to get scolded, just like every dramatic variety show would do — looked at each other in confusion.
A moment later, a few people slowly raised their hands.
Among them were two groups who had already performed earlier. They raised their hands guiltily, like they were hoping to melt into the crowd.
But Xie Xizhao didn’t embarrass them. He turned to the remaining groups and said, “You guys go first.”
This was a sudden change to the lineup — but it didn’t really affect anything.
They followed a production schedule, and in the final cut, the performance order wouldn’t necessarily match the filming order.
The production team quietly accepted Xie Xizhao’s decision. Even Ma Hongping, who usually had a lot to say, surprisingly agreed.
He whispered to Lu Yan with a sigh, “This season’s batch really is lacking in talent.”
Lu Yan shrugged. “It’s already season four of our show.”
Super Rookie alone had made it to season four — not to mention all the other talent shows out there, same formula with a different face.
The first ones to “eat the crab” are usually the most serious. They approach the unknown with both fear and anticipation, and all they can do is give their best. Most of those who come after, stepping on the achievements of their predecessors, are really just here to enjoy the fruits that have already been harvested.
TP was an exception.
But exceptions are rare and not easily replicated. Most of the time, being average and unremarkable is the norm.
Both Ma Hongping and Lu Yan watched the stage with a mixture of melancholy and concern on their faces.
But Xie Xizhao didn’t notice their expressions.
—
He waited for a bit, and when there was no voice in his earpiece, he knew the production team had silently approved of his actions. So he nodded and motioned for the trainees on stage to begin when ready. Before long, a group cautiously stepped forward.
This group was dressed in red and black—a combination clearly styled by their company.
Usually, trainees who received that level of attention weren’t lacking in skill. Sure enough, after a high-energy performance full of powerful dancing, the atmosphere in the studio started to lift again.
The trainees on stage were visibly excited. They looked at Xie Xizhao with hopeful eyes.
And Xie Xizhao didn’t let them down. The first thing he said was, “That was pretty good.”
“A solo song by senior Qi Lin,” he noted. “Nicely rearranged, and the synchronization was on point.”
He paused, his tone still gentle, “This choreography is difficult, so it wasn’t possible to sing and dance at the same time—is that right?”
During the entire performance just now, the group hadn’t had their mics on—it was all lip-syncing.
Whether or not the production team would dub vocals in later didn’t matter; they’d instructed Xie Xizhao to speak honestly, so he asked directly. The trainees on stage flushed red with embarrassment.
The second group was from Wenyao, direct juniors of Yun Pan.
Xie Xizhao straightened up a bit, watching their performance more attentively.
A light and refreshing boy group track—one that fit well with the company’s overall concept. Their visuals matched, too: delicate, pretty boys.
After the performance ended, Xie Xizhao picked up the mic and paused for two seconds. “Did you contact your senior before coming here?”
The team leader nervously picked up his mic. “…He came to see us practice when he got back.”
Xie Xizhao hummed in acknowledgment. “And what did he say?”
“Just…” The team leader’s voice grew quieter. “He told us not to be nervous, and to do our best.”
That sounded exactly like something Yun Pan would say.
Xie Xizhao could practically picture the look on his face, struggling to come up with even that one sentence.
No wonder Yun Pan had looked a little guilty every time he saw him these past couple days.
Xie was brief and to the point: “Your breath control isn’t there, and your dancing isn’t tight. This song isn’t difficult—go back and study the original performance again.”
After several groups had finished performing, the last trainee stepped onto the stage, adjusting his earpiece and lowering his eyes.
And almost the moment he appeared, whispers rippled through the audience.
—
Every talent show has one or two trainees like this.
From the very first evaluation, they become the center of everyone’s attention. Most of the time, they debut in high ranks. In simple terms, they’re what people call “debut hot picks.”
Liang Yi was one of those.
Xie Xizhao remembered him—because he was now sitting in the spot he had once occupied.
That piqued his interest a little. He gave a small nod to signal him to begin.
The next moment, a familiar instrumental kicked in. The crowd gasped in surprise, and Xie Xizhao’s hand, mid-flip through the profile sheet, paused. He looked up—just in time to meet the boy’s gaze: cold, sharp, and brimming with quiet intensity.
The backing track blared on, intense and familiar. The boy began to sing, his first line landing squarely in everyone’s ears. Beside him, Lin Ying raised her head with interest and murmured softly, “Very stable.”
His voice had a slightly hoarse texture, clearly trained in technique. Just from the way it sounded, he outclassed 90% of the previous trainees.
But what Xie Xizhao was watching was his dancing.
Excellent sense of rhythm—whether it was the beat or the flow of movement, the boy executed everything beautifully.
As the song built toward its climax, hushed whispers of excitement began to spread behind him, impossible to suppress.
Xie Xizhao listened closely. Only when the final note faded out did his knuckles, which had been lightly tapping along with the beat, finally still.
The mic was on, and the boy’s breathing came through loud and clear.
A few seconds of silence passed, and then Xie Xizhao spoke:
“Pretty good.”
The further the show went, the more concise he became. He no longer sugarcoated anything—if he said something was good, then it truly was.
Liang Yi looked at him, eyes bright with intensity. “Thank you, teacher.”
“Teacher Dou’s ‘Chronic Illness’,” Xie Xizhao said with a small smile. “Same song your senior once performed for his first evaluation stage. It’s not easy to sing. Why’d you choose it?”
For the fourth season of Super Rookie, only one trainee came from TP’s current agency, Shenghong: Liang Yi. His song choice had surprised everyone—he chose ‘Chronic Illness’, not only a solo from Super Rookie Season 3 mentor Dou Yu, but also the same track TP’s current dance ace, Ai Qingyuan, used in his own first evaluation stage.
Ai Qingyuan had received an A back then—but two pitchy runs had led to some friction with Xie Xizhao.
It was something everyone still remembered vividly.
Liang Yi replied, “I wanted to prove myself.”
Xie Xizhao nodded.
The kid had pride—and edge.
And Xie Xizhao could see it clearly.
Liang Yi’s performance brought the energy in the room to a peak.
He was the pre-show favorite and widely seen as the top contender. Not to mention, even now, there were crowds of fans camped outside the studio gates, buying shares in his future.
Everyone was here for the thrill of watching someone earn the C-position on the show.
The mentors had already given out two A’s—one went to a trainee who got bonus points for original composition skills, and the other to a returning artist from a small company who had already debuted but faded into obscurity, now aiming for a fresh start. Everyone thought Liang Yi would be the third A of the day—the first true A earned by a singing-and-dancing trainee.
Which was exactly why, when Xie Xizhao said the letter “B,” even Liang Yi himself didn’t register it at first.
“This score was mostly my decision,” Xie Xizhao said. “Honestly, I could have given you an A. But I figured, since you chose to sit in the highest seat, you’d prefer an honest and objective assessment—not just a relatively high score.”
That same gentle, unhurried tone of voice somehow made the entire room fall silent.
Liang Yi stared at him, slowly clenching his fists.
What Xie Xizhao said was true.
But it also meant, in his eyes—Liang Yi wasn’t good enough to be his rival or teammate.
Not even a qualified trainee.
“Being an idol isn’t that simple,” Xie Xizhao said.
He was speaking to Liang Yi, but also to everyone present.
“I know everyone sitting here today came for different reasons. But I hope you all understand one thing—debuting is just the easiest beginning.”
“Survival shows are, yes, a free ride,” he said. “But if you don’t have the strength to hold your place, you’ll be pushed out. Respect the stage. Respect this profession. That’s the only way to go far. That’s my advice to all of you.”
“All right.” He lowered his eyes and continued calmly, “Next group.”
—
The recording that day went on until 1:30 in the morning. In the end, three A’s were awarded, but they couldn’t even fill all five debut group spots.
The contestants still had to go to the dorms to check in, and the mentors headed backstage. Ma Hongping came over to greet Xie Xizhao. Before he could say anything, Xie Xizhao already understood his intention and said directly, “Anything I say can be casually edited. But please don’t splice reactions from one person and give them to another.”
“Splicing” meant editing a reaction from one person to match someone else’s scene. Ma Hongping quickly nodded in agreement.
He then rubbed his nose. “These kids… their families are all quite well-off. They haven’t really experienced hardship. They all think they can become big stars just with their looks, and their fans spoil them.”
He wasn’t defending anyone, just stating the facts.
Back in the day, the five members chosen for TP had their own advantages, including good looks and wealthy backgrounds, but their situations were all rather unique—none of them had it easy. Debuting might have seemed like the result of perseverance, but with Xie Xizhao guiding them, self-discipline had already become a habit.
Xie Xizhao said, “I know.”
“So I’m just giving advice,” he continued. “Whether they take it or not depends on them.”
“Oh, I know. I just don’t want you to get upset,” Ma Hongping replied.
Xie Xizhao: “…”
He looked at Ma Hongping’s simple, unadorned face, one eye showing sincerity, the other innocence.
For a moment, he almost believed he was just an honest person.
He said, “…Thank you, Director Ma. I’m actually fine.”
He was fine.
But someone else wasn’t.
After returning, Ai Qingyuan, who had learned about the news in advance, interrogated Xie Xizhao a hundred times, asking who performed “Chronic Illness” better between him and Liang Yi.
Xie Xizhao answered without hesitation: “Teacher Dou.”
Ai Qingyuan was incredulous: “You’re going to play both sides on this? Do you know Liang Yi? Why are you so nice to him?”
Xie Xizhao, who was habitually nice, said: “…”
‘Well, I guess that’s true.’
However, the damage was already done, and Ai Qingyuan walked away, looking hurt.
Fu Wenze, who was beside them, said: “He’s your fan. I mean, Liang Yi. Xiao Ai knew about this beforehand.”
Xie Xizhao understood suddenly.
No wonder his little brother seemed a bit down after hearing that.
Liang Yi was the top pick for Shenghong this year. Shenghong had consistent tastes for the past decade—well-off families, cool and stylish types, and unexpectedly, they ended up cultivating a crown prince who matched this aesthetic.
The former crown prince failed to vie for attention, staying upset for 3 hours and 27 minutes without speaking to his teammates. The current crown prince practiced hard for a week and angrily snatched the initial C position.
When facing the other’s cool yet expectant gaze, Xie Xizhao rarely offered a few words of serious praise.
And after this week, “Super Rookie” finally premiered. On the night of the premiere, as expected, Xie Xizhao appeared on the trending list before the contestants.
