Chapter 24.1: Preparations for the First Performance (4)
“A good show?” Zhuang Yi asked in confusion. “What good show?”
Shen Xiu was so cold and aloof—he never even watched other people’s performances. How would they get to see a good show from him? Zhuang Yi was skeptical.
“Tsk tsk, that just shows how ignorant you are,” Song Chengwang said.
Before Song Chengwang could keep up the suspense, Shang Yu exposed him: “He got the info out of Xiang Yueting—Shen Xiu’s team drew ‘Blood Romance’ for their stage performance.”
Zhuang Yi hadn’t heard of that song before. “The name sounds a bit… like it belongs to an edgy teenager, but still within the bounds of normal.”
What was so interesting about it?
“Tsk, Zhuang Yi, it hurts me to see you this clueless!”
A vein popped on Zhuang Yi’s forehead. He forced a smile and gritted his teeth. “Song Chengwang, don’t make me show you the hammer of love.”
Jiang Yanxi squeezed in front of Zhuang Yi at the multimedia station, searched for the song’s MV, and hit play. “Come on, let’s enjoy this ‘absolutely beautiful’ performance piece that Shen Xiu’s team got stuck with!”
[LOL you’ve taken all the bamboo shoots off the mountain!]
[I don’t know about the rest of Shen Xiu’s team, but once Xiang Yueting and Xia Wenhao find out, they’re definitely forming an Avengers squad to beat up you bunch of gloaters.]
[Shen Xiu: I used to be a respected king… until I drew ‘Blood Romance’ with my cursed hand. Now everyone’s just waiting to see me crash and burn…]
Three and a half minutes later, the members of Zhuang Yi’s team all wore expressions like old people on the subway looking at their phones—stunned and horrified, like they wanted to scrub their eyes clean at the nearest faucet.
Zhuang Yi rubbed his arm and shivered.
From the lyrics to the stage vibe to the idols in the MV—it was all so cringey, it gave him goosebumps. “Humans actually made this? Man, they really work hard for their money.”
After filming that MV, they probably all ended up with workplace injuries.
Song Chengwang: “So, are we going to watch Shen Xiu?”
Zhuang Yi: “Of course! Let’s go!”
A whole group of trainees surged after a few of the team leaders, heading straight for Shen Xiu’s practice room.
Someone noticed Lin Jiashi standing still and called out to him: “You’re not coming?”
Lin Jiashi gave a sincere smile, eyes steady: “Nah, you guys go ahead. My basics are still weak, so I’ll stay here and use the time to practice and get more familiar with things before you come back.”
…Was this Shen Xiu’s “karma”?
Even the heavens seemed to be helping him.
Shen Xiu, who had just embarrassed him earlier, ended up drawing the worst possible song for his stage performance. He was the uncontested favorite for the top spot, but now he might take his first loss in the upcoming show. The buzz was going to be huge. And Lin Jiashi, who’d been rejected by Shen Xiu but then pulled off a comeback win in the team match under Zhuang Yi, would definitely get noticed by viewers.
What would people say then?
‘Wow, lucky Shen Xiu didn’t pick Lin Jiashi. Otherwise, poor guy would’ve gone down with the ship. Feel bad for Shen Xiu’s teammates—they got dragged into this mess.’
‘Even the universe is helping him. He’s like a walking good luck charm.’
Lin Jiashi walked over to the media station, switched to the track that Zhuang Yi’s team had drawn, and hit play.
When everyone watched it the first time, he had spaced out and hadn’t paid attention. Now was the time to make up for that. From this moment on, he had to give it his all. At the very least, during Shen Xiu’s unlucky streak, he was going to make sure he came out looking damn good.
[Wuwuwu ruarua soft and sweet lil pink-haired baby, everyone else went to gawk but you stayed behind to work so hard—we’re rooting for you!]
[“Baby”? Don’t tell me you mean Lin Jiashi? Can’t believe people are into that act. Seriously didn’t see that coming.]
[Of course, there is. You remember before… ahem… I shouldn’t say too much. His family raises poisonous insects—it’s scary. His “effort” only exists in words, yet he relies on that “effort” label to win over fans who pity him and vote him into debut. It’s already been two years since his debut, but his skills still can’t measure up. And you can’t talk about it either—if you do, you get dragged. In his fans’ eyes, as long as he’s breathing, he’s cute and “hard-working.” Cracks me up.]
…
Backstage, in the main control room of the live broadcast, the head director Shi Buwen saw a group of trainees laughing at “Blood Romance.” He huffed in dissatisfaction:
“Overreacting. A bunch of tasteless people!”
“Still, Shen Xiu has class. After watching it, he didn’t react at all. No reaction—that’s the most normal reaction.”
No.
The assistant director, who was busy nearby, thought to himself, ‘Shen Xiu isn’t classy like you. He’s just too strong. It doesn’t matter what devilish song he draws; he’s unbothered by it.’
Only by being at the peak of strength could you remain indifferent to everything, to treat every challenge as nothing.
But the head director controlled the power of life and death for the production. The assistant director didn’t dare argue. He smiled and agreed: “Haha… whatever makes you happy.”
The assistant director had always suspected that the head director’s stubbornness about taking on the role of the show’s director was to sneak in personal interests. He had no proof before, but after reading the entire show’s plan written by the director himself, he finally had evidence.
Sure enough, all that talk about failed dreams in the entertainment industry and switching to directing was probably a load of crap!
The assistant director couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the trainees participating in the show.
…
Bang bang…
At the door to Shen Xiu’s practice room, a knock echoed. Shen Xiu saw his team members hadn’t moved, so he went to open the door.
When the door opened, Song Chengwang rushed up to Shen Xiu: “Ta-da! Surprised? Didn’t expect us, huh? We’re here!”
The moment the practice room door opened, Shen Xiu saw the hallway outside packed tight with trainees.
Seeing that it was Shen Xiu who opened the door, the trainees who weren’t that familiar with him immediately recalled the fear of being under his guidance.
One by one, they all stiffened up like quails, instantly obedient. No one dared to mention anything about the performance song.
If it had been anyone else opening the door, this definitely wouldn’t have been the scene.
Shen Xiu: “…”
Still recovering from the visual trauma and psychological pollution of the “Blood Romance” MV, now he had Song Chengwang leading a whole crowd and blocking his doorway.
In that moment, Shen Xiu truly felt the cruelty of fate.
He seriously considered: Was it too late to shut the door?
Clearly, yes. It was too late.
Song Chengwang squeezed into the practice room, and Shen Xiu immediately took two steps back, moving aside to give space.
When it came to physical contact with people—he avoided it whenever possible.
Seeing this, the other trainees all instantly understood. They automatically gave Shen Xiu a wide berth as they entered the room, walking carefully and respectfully, like obedient little schoolkids.
Shang Yu: “…”
Weren’t we all supposed to come stir up trouble together?
Now everyone’s acting way too polite.
Xiang Yueting turned his head and spotted Song Chengwang. He looked like he wanted to die on the spot.
And now he finally understood Song Chengwang’s true intentions: “You’re here to laugh at us, aren’t you?”
Song Chengwang clicked his tongue: “How could you say that? Look at how you’re accusing me. Do I look like that kind of person?”
Xiang Yueting: “You are!”
“Old Xiang, you really get me. Who told you to reject me when I asked you to join my team? Look at you now—regret it yet?”
Then Song Chengwang turned to Xia Wenhao: “And you too. Told you not to reject me either. Hmph!”
Shen Xiu gave Song Chengwang a long, dark look.
Song Chengwang was 100% throwing shade.
He was clearly mocking Shen Xiu for picking the “most terrifying” song and dragging his teammates down with him. No doubt about it.
After roasting Xiang Yueting and throwing some sarcastic shade at Xia Wenhao, Song Chengwang suddenly felt the full force of Shen Xiu’s cold, oppressive stare.
He took two steps back, visibly shivering: “Stop looking at me like that, okay? I was wrong, I admit it!”
Dang, he really protects his team. Can’t afford to mess with him.
Jiang Yanxi blinked innocently: “Ahem, Shen Xiu, be honest—what do you really think about Blood Romance?”
The only undisputed top-tier trainee out of a hundred had drawn what the internet called the most awkward, cringiest, try-hard song.
The comedy potential was off the charts.
It meant that, finally, after all these days in the show, they might actually get to see Shen Xiu lose.
Song Chengwang pushed forward: “Ugh, weak sauce. Step aside—let me handle this.”
He rolled up the white card he’d drawn into a pretend microphone and began mock-interviewing Shen Xiu while sneakily flexing: “Shen Xiu, how do you feel after watching Blood Romance?”
“…”
Shen Xiu pressed his lips into a thin line, saying nothing. His eyes were fixed darkly on Song Chengwang.
His soul had already died of secondhand embarrassment.
“Tsk.”
Shen Xiu looked way too composed. It was suspicious. He didn’t look like someone who had just watched that MV.
“You didn’t actually watch it yet, did you?” Song Chengwang asked.
His question was immediately met with unanimous support from the other trainees.
Anyone who had suffered through Blood Romance would, upon hearing its name again, instinctively make the classic subway old man watching phone face.
Suddenly, Jiang Yanxi lit up with excitement: “It’s okay if you haven’t seen it before. Because now…”
Jiang Yuheng spoke in a haunted voice: “No need. Before you guys got here, Shen Xiu already watched it with us. Eight times.”
One more viewing, and he might lose his composure entirely and start yelling unhinged things at the production team.
Song Chengwang was stunned: “What?! Eight times?!”
Back when he watched it just once, he’d spent the whole day drowning in secondhand embarrassment.
Zhuang Yi: “Hahahaha no wonder you all looked like you’d just eaten shit—hahahaha…”
Wait, but then why did Shen Xiu still look so calm, like he hadn’t just had his soul annihilated?
Zhuang Yi and Song Chengwang exchanged glances. Without a word, they immediately began reenacting classic scenes from Blood Romance.
Song Chengwang rolled up his white card again and held it like a mic just under his chin. He dashed to a table, planted one foot on it, then struck the werewolf’s iconic ripping-shirt-with-both-hands pose from the MV.
Stretching his neck dramatically, he howled, “Awooooo…”
Then launched into the lyrics:
“Oh wild hare in the moonlit forest, tonight I shall tear through your fragile neck with my razor-sharp fangs…”
The lyrics were so cringe and the moves so extra—yet Song Chengwang was clearly having the time of his life.
Shen Xiu looked genuinely concerned for Song Chengwang’s mental health. He even glanced briefly at the man’s skull, as if wondering if something was off inside.
Then Zhuang Yi licked his lips, swaggered a few seductive steps forward like the vampire from the MV, turned to Shen Xiu, and flipped his (nonexistent) long hair behind his ear.
He sang, in his best sultry voice:
“The crimson moon swirls the warm, sweet wine in my goblet—let us feast upon a banquet of blood~”
Shen Xiu: “…”
The moves were so greasy, and yet… credit where it’s due—Zhuang Yi’s commitment to the bit was unshakable.
The reenactment was so awkward it made Shen Xiu’s scalp start tingling all over again, and for a moment, his brain just shut down.
The two of them nailed the werewolf and vampire personas from the MV—cringe to perfection—and the surrounding trainees couldn’t hold back their laughter any longer.
“I can’t—my tears are coming out, hahahaha…”
“I’m gonna throw up, seriously, you two need to stop—hahaha!”
“Help, what ancient crime did I commit to deserve seeing this live?!”
Shang Yu, still managing to laugh with a touch of restraint, sighed: “Even though we’re allowed to adapt the song to fit our team’s style, Blood Romance… it’s just built like this. No matter how you tweak it, there’s no saving it.”
At first, the members of Shen Xiu’s team also wanted to laugh.
But then they remembered: this—the disaster unfolding before their eyes—was what they were going to have to perform in front of a live audience for their very first public stage.
Suddenly, the laughter died in their throats.
Not only did they stop laughing—they kind of wanted to cry.
[Look at the expressions on Shen Xiu’s team—LMAO]
[Only Team Shen Xiu suffers. The prophecy is fulfilled.]
