Big Shot Ch.20.1

Chapter 20.1: Theme Song Evaluation (2)

As the host’s voice fell, Shen Xiu and Xia Wenhao on stage, along with the other trainees present, couldn’t help but hold their breath due to the intense discussion among the mentors just now. All eyes nervously turned to He Youna.

He Youna stood up and turned the score board toward the live broadcast camera and the audience at the venue.

Under Shen Xiu’s name was a large A, while under Xia Wenhao’s name, an A had been crossed out and replaced with a newly written B.

Seeing this result, Shen Xiu finally let out a sigh of relief.

He knew it—his performance had no problems!

After countless rehearsals, the moment he heard the music, muscle memory kicked in. Shen Xiu still had that much confidence in himself.

As for Xia Wenhao, during Shen Xiu’s performance, he had deliberately avoided looking across the stage so he wouldn’t get distracted by anyone’s nervousness. So he had no idea how Xia Wenhao did.

When the results were revealed, everyone couldn’t help but start whispering among themselves.

“Scared me to death. The mentors were so serious just now—I thought Shen Xiu had messed up. But I knew it, no way! That was perfect. If the original performer of Wind and Waves came, they’d probably give him an A too.”

“So the one they were actually debating over was Xia Wenhao? But I thought he danced pretty well, way better than me. And I’m in Class B. Xia Wenhao should be in Class A, right?”

“Hmm… when you think about it, Shen Xiu being in Class A and Xia Wenhao in Class B actually feels kind of fitting.”

“Damn, now I get it. Compared to us, Xia Wenhao is definitely Class A. But since he was being compared to Shen Xiu, and Shen Xiu single-handedly raised the bar for the evaluation, the mentors unconsciously set higher standards for Xia Wenhao.”

“All I can say is… Shen Xiu really lives up to his reputation. Thank god I’m not in the same group as him.”

“Just how reckless was Xia Wenhao earlier, insisting on provoking Shen Xiu in front of Mentor Xue and challenging him to a competition? He could’ve gotten an A, but now he’s stuck with a B. So tragic.”

Although the voice was low, the surrounding trainees all heard it, and many nodded in agreement.

Shen Xiu had single-handedly raised the standard for the entire performance track.

“Mentors.”

Staring at the crossed-out A under his name, leaving only a B, Xia Wenhao clenched his fists tightly at his sides, his throat dry from nervousness.

“Can I ask… where exactly did I lose compared to Shen Xiu?”

The crossed-out A meant he had a chance to get into Class A. So where did he fall short?

He had poured everything into Wind and Waves, sacrificing sleep and food for the performance. During it, he even kept an eye on Shen Xiu’s version. He knew Shen Xiu did incredibly well, which put him under immense pressure. In the second half, he nearly lost his composure and almost made a basic dance mistake—but in the end, he didn’t. He held on.

Xia Wenhao wasn’t willing to accept the result. He wanted to hear from the mentors, from their professional perspective, why he got a B.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.

He Youna, seeing that both trainees were still on stage, realized it might be even more awkward for Xia Wenhao once they began the discussion. To ease his psychological pressure, she decided to send Shen Xiu offstage first.

So she said to him, “Shen Xiu, you can step down now.”

Hearing the mentor dismiss him, Shen Xiu’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and the dryness in his throat from nerves instantly eased.

He cast a sympathetic glance at Xia Wenhao.

Having to face the heat of so many eyes all alone up there—poor Xia Wenhao.

‘Forgive me for not being able to share the burden with you. Hang in there!’

“Alright,” he replied.

Under everyone’s gaze, Shen Xiu composed himself and walked back to his original seat.

Once he reached the safe zone, Shen Xiu’s tense body finally relaxed completely.

Xia Wenhao: “…”

Wait a minute—what was with that chilly look Shen Xiu gave him before stepping down?

All he did was ask where he had lost compared to Shen Xiu. He just wanted an answer!

Was Shen Xiu trying to say with his eyes, ‘Do you really need to ask? Can’t you tell?’

Ugh, but he really couldn’t tell!

Damn it—did Shen Xiu think everyone had the same high-level skill as him?

Xia Wenhao, frustrated and ashamed by his own lack of ability, turned red at the ears on the spot. His eyes were also growing red, as if he was about to cry.

Modern-day netizens were all like Leeuwenhoek, watching livestreams with built-in microscopes—nothing escaped their sharp eyes.

[Ahh, Brother Shen only gave Xia Wenhao a casual glance before stepping down, and Xia Wenhao’s ears and eyes are already red? Is he upset about losing?]

[Very likely. I noticed it earlier—Xia Wenhao may be hot-tempered, but he’s not like Song Chengwang. That guy is just a sarcastic fire-breathing dragon. Xia Wenhao’s more like a tsundere with a straightforward streak. He can’t hide his feelings—if something’s bothering him, he blurts it out. So it’s totally possible he’s about to explode from frustration.]

[Aww, pat pat, don’t cry! Xia Wenhao, stay strong! It’s not that you’re not good—it’s just that Demon King Shen is too terrifying.]

Just as Shen Xiu settled back into his seat, he looked up—and met Xia Wenhao’s teary, reddened eyes.

Shen Xiu: “…” Seriously? He’s about to cry from being watched?

So the seemingly reckless and brash personality… was just Xia Wenhao’s tough outer shell? Deep down, he was even more timid than Shen Xiu himself?

Shen Xiu began to seriously consider whether he should share his own secret for staying calm in front of a crowd with Xia Wenhao.

Crying in public like this… was just pure social death.

Just as Shen Xiu was still trying to convince himself to overcome his communication issues and generously share his secret with Xia Wenhao, a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.

“You want to know the reason?”

The door to the practice room swung open. “Alright, I’ll tell you.”

As Xue Yi stepped in and closed the door behind him, a wave of dread swept through the trainees, all reminded of the times they’d been emotionally scarred by his razor-sharp tongue. Their gazes toward Xia Wenhao were filled with even more sympathy.

Xia Wenhao was really pitiful right now. Seriously!

Xia Wenhao stiffened slightly when he saw Xue Yi enter, but driven by the question burning in his heart, he braced himself and said, “Please go ahead, Mentor Xue.”

Xue Yi wasn’t just older than the other four mentors—he was also their senior. So when he appeared, the others fell silent.

Xue Yi walked up to Xia Wenhao and asked bluntly, “You ever played a 5v5 game?”

Xia Wenhao didn’t understand what this had to do with anything, but he nodded. “Yeah, I have.”

Xue Yi said, “Then this is easy. It’s like a top-tier player creating a new account and dropping into the beginner tier to steamroll noobs. Got it now?”

Xia Wenhao: “…So you’re saying, compared to Shen Xiu, I’m the noob getting steamrolled.”

With that one sentence, every trainee who had ever been coached by Shen Xiu turned pale as memories of their own traumatic experiences with him came flooding back.

It wasn’t just Xia Wenhao who was the noob—they all were. There was no escape.

Xue Yi continued, “Xia Wenhao, you actually danced quite well in the beginning. But things started going downhill later. Why did you lose your confidence?”

“You kept looking at Shen Xiu. Did you forget that you were performing too? Didn’t you notice that Shen Xiu never once looked at you the entire time?”

Xia Wenhao: “…”

Shen Xiu was dancing like he wasn’t even in the same league—who wouldn’t lose confidence seeing that?

And besides, who could resist watching!?

During the performance, Xia Wenhao had even started wondering—was everyone’s attention focused solely on Shen Xiu? Was anyone even watching him?

And if they were watching him, were they thinking he wasn’t doing a good job?

The more he thought about it, the more unnatural his expression became.

Xue Yi sighed, walked over, and patted Xia Wenhao on the shoulder.

“You’ve made progress in your dancing. But after seeing Shen Xiu, you lost confidence. Maybe you think your moves in the second half didn’t go wrong, and your singing was fine—but they weren’t. Your voice trembled, the lyrics that should have been clear came out muffled. You did the moves, but they lacked confidence, lacked fullness. You were hesitant, holding back. The weakness inside you bled through.”

“People say ten thousand performers can give ten thousand versions of Wind and Waves, but a lack of confidence has nothing to do with the spirit of that song. You didn’t even capture the most basic sense of freedom and ease.”

“If you don’t believe in your own performance, how do you expect the audience to think it was any good?”

“Now, do you understand why some mentors think you need to spend a little more time in Class B, gaining more experience?”

Zhao Jinning: “…” Yep. The old fox still has it. Compared to Xue Yi, their evaluations were practically softballs.

Xia Wenhao hung his head in shame.

He hadn’t realized that his fear and insecurity had already seeped into his dance and vocals, quietly giving him away.

To think he always prided himself on fearing nothing—and yet, just standing on the same stage as Shen Xiu, during a re-evaluation no less, had made him this anxious and shaken.

In contrast, Shen Xiu had gone from start to finish without the slightest sign of nervousness—calm, confident, effortlessly cool. He shone so brightly.

Xia Wenhao conceded defeat.

He really was the rookie here. Whether it was mental strength or skill in singing and dancing, he simply couldn’t match Shen Xiu.

But that was okay.

He still had time to catch up!

Xia Wenhao raised his head, his gaze now firm. He bowed slightly in gratitude and said solemnly, “Thank you, Teacher. I understand now. Even if I’m in Class B right now, I’ll work hard!”

He was convinced—he wouldn’t stay in Class B forever.

Xue Yi nodded. “Good. Keep at it. You can go back down.”

“Mm.”

With a clear explanation that finally made sense to him, Xia Wenhao responded and obediently returned to his seat.

Xue Yi then turned to the four mentors. “I have a few things I’d like to say. You don’t mind, do you?”

He Youna replied, “Of course not. Please go ahead, Teacher Xue.”

Xue Yi addressed the trainees: “Trainees, Teacher Zheng, Teacher Ding, and I have been observing your practice over the past few days from backstage. That includes your theme song re-evaluation performance just now—we watched every second, very carefully.”

“Honestly, your progress has been tremendous. I believe you’ve felt the difference yourselves, compared to your initial assessments. It really surprised and impressed us.”

“No matter whether you’re in Class A or Class F right now, every single one of you is doing great!”

“When I came here, the director gave me a piece of paper.”

Xue Yi pulled a folded sheet from his pocket and unfolded it. “Would you all like to know who the most hardworking trainee out of all one hundred of you is?”

Now that the performance evaluation was over and they’d just been praised, the trainees were much more relaxed. Instantly, chatter broke out.

“Don’t keep us in suspense, Teacher Xue—just tell us already! Who is it?”

“It has to be Xia Wenhao, right? He’s been practicing until 3 or 4 a.m. these past few days, only heading back to sleep when it’s nearly morning.”

“Xia Wenhao.” When they heard Xue Yi mention the name, all the trainees instinctively turned to look at him.

Xue Yi asked, “Do you think it’s you?”

Xia Wenhao stood up from his seat in Class B. Thinking about his routine these past few days, and after everything that had just happened on stage, he’d already begun reflecting—and realizing where the problem lay.

With a firm tone, Xia Wenhao said, “It’s not me.”

Xue Yi asked, “Why do you think that?”

Xia Wenhao blushed. “I practice until three or four in the morning every day… but then I sleep until three or four in the afternoon.”

Basically, all those late nights were for nothing.

Xue Yi chuckled. “Well, at least you’re self-aware.”

Then he looked over at Shen Xiu and announced the real answer.

“It’s Shen Xiu. According to the director team’s statistics, during the final three-day sprint leading up to the theme song performance, Shen Xiu got up at five every morning. After lunch, he would go straight back to the practice room. Every night, he went back to the dorm at exactly nine to rest. There are twenty practice rooms, each with different functions—and Shen Xiu has been to almost every one of them.”

The trainees were momentarily stunned, then suddenly came to their senses. They realized they had subconsciously separated Shen Xiu into an entirely different category from themselves. Quiet murmurs spread as they whispered to their neighbors.

“I always thought staying up late meant someone was hardworking… guess I had the wrong idea.”

“Oh my god, people who are better than us are also working harder than us. How are we supposed to compete?!”

“Who was it that said they were gonna outwork Shen Xiu? Damn, turns out he’s the one doing the outworking!”

“This is next-level grinding. We literally can’t compete.”

Xia Wenhao: mentally shutting down.

Turns out, just pulling all-nighters doesn’t mean you’re putting in effort or making progress. His garbage sleep schedule was actually holding him back. If he were more like Shen Xiu—early to bed, early to rise, well-rested and focused—he might’ve improved even more.

With that thought, Xia Wenhao looked across several trainees to gaze at Shen Xiu.

No wonder Shen Xiu was so exceptional. Even his routine was tightly managed. It was this level of precision that made him both powerful and relentless. Everyone was thinking the same thing in that moment.

Shen Xiu: “?”

Why does Xia Wenhao keep looking at me? And why are the other trainees doing it too? Did he infect them or something?

‘My head hurts!’

Xue Yi added, “Now do you understand why the director specifically asked me to bring this up?”

Everyone nodded.

“We get it now.”

“Understood.”

From now on, they wouldn’t just work hard—they’d work smart, too. Like Shen Xiu, they’d pay attention to things like a healthy schedule and staying well-rested, so they could become even stronger during training.

…

Shen Xiu, meanwhile, was completely bewildered inside.

He had only changed his routine to avoid being caught slacking and getting ridiculed—that’s all. And this is what they ended up “understanding”?

Wait a second. What exactly do you guys think you’ve understood?

Not wanting to stand out or draw attention by looking clueless, Shen Xiu resorted to subtly glancing around at the people next to him, ears perked up, trying to eavesdrop and figure out what exactly they were all “understanding.”

But everyone was sitting upright and serious-faced—nobody said a word.

Seeing how serious everyone else looked, Shen Xiu instinctively straightened his own posture to fit in, even though he remained utterly lost on the inside.

And so, once again, Shen Xiu found himself completely out of sync with everyone else… because he just couldn’t understand how their brains worked.

Shen · Secretly Tired Sighing · Socially Awkward · Xiu.jpg

…

Having completed his task, Xue Yi addressed the trainees: “That’s all from me. As for tomorrow’s battle for center position—do your best!”

“Goodbye, Teacher Xue!”

“See you!”

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