Chapter 37.1: Second Group Assessment
If it wasn’t absolutely necessary, Shang Yu preferred not to stand out.
He figured that Shen Xiu, who liked controlling things from the shadows, probably felt the same way.
But there was no helping it—Shen Xiu was just too outstanding. Every aspect of his performance was nearly flawless. He was the perfect teaching prop. The teachers couldn’t help but notice him.
Every time Shen Xiu was called up, he’d always maintain a calm and indifferent look—but deep down, he must feel so helpless.
And today… Shang Yu himself had become part of the helpless crowd.
At the root of it all… Song Chengwang and Xiang Yueting really should’ve kept their mouths shut!
After hearing what Xue Yi said:
Song Chengwang: “?”
Xiang Yueting: “???”
Shen Xiu: “!”
Teacher Xue is such a kind person… now I’ve got company—so happy!
There’s no pain without comparison.
After being dragged up as a “teaching prop” six days in a row, today, for the first time, Shen Xiu wasn’t thinking “maybe death wouldn’t be so bad”.
Instead, with his friends accompanying him, he practically skipped up to the stage, light-footed and cheerful.
The other trainees: Casual Quadra Kill—Teacher Xue never disappoints!
Shang Yu cast a silent, haunted glance at Xiang Yueting and Song Chengwang, then followed behind Shen Xiu, leaving the back row with the others.
At the very rear, Song Chengwang and Xiang Yueting exchanged a look.
And in that moment, they understood a hard truth—
Maybe… just maybe… you shouldn’t gloat right in front of someone.
Once the four were on stage, Xue Yi stood from his chair, looked down at the rest of the trainees, and made an announcement:
“To speed up the assessment results, we’ll now divide the evaluations between the two sides of the stage—vocals on the left, dance on the right.”
The four on stage: …For some reason, a bad feeling suddenly washed over them.
In the very next moment, the four’s ominous feeling came true.
Xue Yi: “Shen Xiu and Shang Yu will be in charge of the vocal assessments. Song Chengwang and Xiang Yueting will handle the dance assessments.”
“Each person gets one minute to perform. Three minutes for scoring. Everything must be finished by 6:30 p.m.”
The four of them: “?”
The trainees: “???”
At that moment, in the entire practice room—aside from Xue Yi—everyone simultaneously experienced what it truly meant to have “a tiny head full of huge question marks.”
Xue Yi: “Alright, that’s the announcement. You guys can begin.”
Shen Xiu: …So this was the “important task” Teacher Xue mentioned?
It kind of felt like he just threw the four of them under the bus without a second thought.
And it wasn’t just the trainees in the room who were stunned—the livestream viewers were equally shocked.
[Damn. Teacher Xue just straight-up changed their roles mid-show!]
[But doing this kind of thing… won’t it attract a lot of criticism?]
The four standing on stage understood this very well.
There was no denying it—this was a task that, if not done well, would be hard to justify and easy to offend others.
No matter how capable they were, they were still just trainees.
And now, they were being asked to judge fellow trainees?
Would the others even accept that?
Shang Yu: “Teacher Xue, I don’t think this is a good idea…”
Xiang Yueting: “Yeah, Teacher Xue, what is this even supposed to be?”
Dragging enemies down with them?
This wasn’t how it’s supposed to work!
Xue Yi: “I think it’s a great idea. Anyway, don’t talk to me—I need to score your songwriting from this morning. Don’t distract me. If I mess up a score because my hand slips, it’s on you.”
The trainees: “……”
Brother, this is just an outright threat to get them to accept the role, isn’t it?!
After saying his piece, Xue Yi glanced at the unmoving four and raised a brow: “Why are you still standing there? Get started.”
“Ah! Got it!”
Xue Yi looked down and handed four notebooks to the group: “Almost forgot to give you the scorebooks and comment sheets. Here, take them—get started.”
The four: “……”
Is the issue really about the notebooks?
Clearly, Teacher Xue wasn’t just sharp-tongued—he was also domineering and completely unilateral in his decisions.
Resigned to their fate, the four took the notebooks. Pens were clipped to the covers.
They glanced at one another, and from the “equipment” in their hands, it was obvious—Teacher Xue hadn’t just decided this on a whim. He had planned it all along.
Aside from the four of them, there were 74 trainees who needed to undergo vocal and dance evaluations.
Not daring to waste any time, they huddled up to quickly figure out a scoring strategy.
Xiang Yueting: “This is my first time doing something like this—I have no idea how to even score anyone.”
Song Chengwang: “Same here. What if we give unfair scores and get flamed for it?”
Shang Yu: “You can base it on things like completion of movements or difficulty level. Both of you are strong in dance—especially you, Old Xiang. You definitely know how to tell if someone’s dancing is just passable, normal, or really good.”
After Shang Yu finished, all three turned to notice that Shen Xiu hadn’t said a word.
Come to think of it, Shen Xiu was their group’s all-round ACE.
If anyone should be giving direction right now, it was him.
Instinctively, they all looked at Shen Xiu.
Shen Xiu, seeing that everyone else had spoken and only he hadn’t, started to wonder if they thought he was slacking.
But he genuinely didn’t know what to say.
After a moment of dry hesitation, he blurted out: “…Believe in yourselves…”
Hmm. That felt kind of short.
Maybe he should add a few more words—just to avoid looking like he wasn’t contributing at all.
Under the intense stares of the other three, Shen Xiu awkwardly added: “…and your own judgment.”
After all, they didn’t have a choice either way—Teacher Xue had forced them to take this on.
All they could do now… was grit their teeth and go with it!
When Shang Yu, Song Chengwang, and Xiang Yueting saw Shen Xiu calmly and firmly say those words, a sudden realization dawned on them.
Of course.
All four of them were in debut-level positions—they were the strongest among all the trainees.
Among so many contestants, the teacher had specifically chosen them to step off the trainee track and onto the judge’s track.
This wasn’t just Teacher Xue’s recognition of their ability—it was also a challenge to their mindset and level of understanding in either vocals or dance.
In other words, it was a test of their confidence and artistic discernment.
If you can’t judge whether a song or a dance is good or bad, how can you expect to perform one well yourself?
If they misjudged, that simply meant they weren’t good enough.
And if they weren’t good enough—why would the teacher have picked them in the first place?
The fact that they were chosen wasn’t just approval. It was trust.
So really, they had no reason to feel nervous or unsure.
Just like Shen Xiu said, they not only had to believe in themselves, but also in their own judgment.
Without confidence, they’d eventually be knocked down from their debut positions.
Realizing this, the uneasiness that had gnawed at the three of them when they first heard the “bad news” now gave way to a calm, newfound confidence.
At the same time, they also came to another realization—
In terms of self-assurance, they still couldn’t compare to Shen Xiu.
At the root of it, their anxiety came from not being strong enough yet.
But Shen Xiu—from the moment he was called up by the teacher—had never once shown hesitation or panic.
He accepted the task as if it were the most natural thing in the world, something unworthy of fuss.
They weren’t as confident as Shen Xiu now, and that was okay.
Because one day, they would be.
One day, they’d become strong enough that no matter what they were faced with, they could remain calm, composed, and unshakable—just like Shen Xiu.
Song Chengwang said, “We’ll start assessing from the back of the list, you guys start from the front.”
Shang Yu nodded. “No problem.”
Song Chengwang turned to Xiang Yueting: “Let’s go, Old Xiang!”
Xiang Yueting: “You got it!”
The two of them walked toward the right-side stage.
Shang Yu looked at Shen Xiu. “Let’s head over and get started too.”
Shen Xiu responded, “Mm.” The two walked toward the left-side stage.
Shen Xiu wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but he felt that there was something… off about the other three—Xiang Yueting, Song Chengwang, and Shang Yu.
But that wasn’t the focus right now.
The real point was: how are their mindsets so stable?!
While he was still struggling to figure out how to score everyone in a way that would feel absolutely fair and objective, those three had already adjusted their mental states and were ready to start the evaluations.
Everyone was just too competent.
Shen Xiu had no choice but to force himself to quickly come up with a scoring strategy that would be both convincing and fair to the trainees being evaluated.
…
Xue Yi was watching the trainees’ performances while also observing their assessments.
Less than five minutes after he tossed out the hot potato, the four had already mentally prepared themselves for the evaluation.
They were all quite impressive—no wonder they were the top four scorers among all trainees during the boot camp, according to the mentors.
That’s right, during the training period, the mentors, as required by the production team, scored each trainee in various aspects.
Shen Xiu, Shang Yu, Xiang Yueting, and Song Chengwang each had their own scoring notebooks. After each trainee finished their performance, the four would lower their heads and jot down notes in their books.
Time was tight, and it was the first time the four had done something like this. They didn’t dare to chat casually, worried they might miss some detail in the trainee’s dance or singing performance while goofing around.
So, until the evaluations wrapped up at 6:30 PM, none of them had taken a peek at each other’s scoring books.
