Chapter 42.1: Preparation for the Second Performance (5)
Duan Mingfei closed his eyes to rest and said no more.
Sitting in the front passenger seat, Du Heng opened his social media account and used his connections to obtain the contact information for the show’s director or assistant director.
Before long, someone sent him the contact details of the assistant director of Youth Unstoppable.
Du Heng added the assistant director and repackaged Duan Mingfei’s message before sending it over.
Upon recalling Shi Buwen’s “like,” the assistant director didn’t reply directly but instead went to find Shi Buwen right away.
“Director Shi, take a look at this. It’s from Duan Mingfei’s agent, Du Heng.” The assistant director handed his phone to Shi Buwen.
Shi Buwen frowned. “What is this? Trash like this wants to get involved and corrupt my lovely trainees? No way!”
As expected, the assistant director said, “So, I’ll politely decline then?”
“‘Politely decline’?” Shi Buwen turned his head and gave the assistant director a sinister look. “Of course not. The rejection needs to be sharp and direct. Got it?”
Assistant Director: “…Got it.”
He typed a few words, sent the message, and promptly turned off his phone. “Done. I’ve declined them just the way you wanted.”
Shi Buwen, sounding self-righteous despite his pettiness, said, “Of course. Don’t get me wrong. I’m all about professionalism. I’m not the kind of petty person who lets personal grudges get in the way of work.”
Assistant Director: “…”
He sure made it sound convincing. If the assistant director hadn’t seen Shi Buwen’s grudge-filled diary and all those passive-aggressive likes on those posts about Duan Mingfei, he might’ve actually believed it.
“Director Shi, since you’re saying you’re not the vengeful type,” the assistant director asked curiously, “aside from the personal grudges, is there any other reason we’re rejecting Duan Mingfei’s involvement in the show?”
Shi Buwen: “Of course it’s about the money.”
Assistant Director: “Hm? But Du Heng said the price…”
Shi Buwen: “He won’t get a single cent out of us. Not unless he pays to be here!”
Wait… is that even reasonable?
The assistant director rubbed his forehead. “Director Shi, forgive me, but I’ve really never seen a situation like this.”
Though Director Shi clearly disliked Duan Mingfei, the truth was that Duan Mingfei—who had debuted through a talent show and then successfully transitioned into acting—was currently quite popular. While he wasn’t at the very top of the industry, he was definitely a first-tier celebrity.
There was no denying Duan Mingfei’s fame. Whether it was genuine or not, at least on the surface, his fans were extremely enthusiastic, and his appearance fees were naturally high. Many production teams were willing to pay a premium to invite him.
The fact that Duan Mingfei had offered a discounted rate to join Youth Unstoppable was already a huge concession on his part. The assistant director still couldn’t figure out why he’d do that.
Pay to join? No way. That was absolutely impossible!
Unless… The assistant director glanced subtly at Shi Buwen.
Could it be… that Duan Mingfei knew Shi Buwen was the chief director of the show and was deliberately trying to mess with him?
But as far as he knew, back when Director Shi had competed in a boy group talent show, he hadn’t used the name “Shi Buwen.”
The assistant director felt like his brain was overheating. None of this made sense.
“You’re still young,” Shi Buwen said as he got up and patted the assistant director on the shoulder. “Give it time—you’ll see things for what they are eventually.”
“Besides, working with a slacker on stage? And he calls it some kind of ‘benefit stage’? Like anyone would be honored to be on stage with him. After the second performance, I’m going to make him open his eyes wide and really see what a benefit stage for the trainees is supposed to look like.”
The assistant director could practically smell the drama brewing. Curiosity piqued, he tried probing: “Ahem… Director Shi, would you be willing to…”
Shi Buwen: “No!”
“Oh, and don’t forget to block his agent. Don’t worry—with me around, you’ll never be out of work. Don’t be afraid of offending them.”
“…Alright then.” The assistant director sighed—trying to read the mind of his superior was a losing game.
Even though he was technically the assistant director, it often felt like he only found out about the director’s plans a mere hour or two before the trainees did!
But thankfully, Director Shi was generous… and well-connected.
—
Du Heng stared at the reply on his phone that simply said “Not suitable,” and rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
Was he hallucinating?
Ever since he became Duan Mingfei’s manager, this kind of thing—forget seeing it with his own eyes—was unheard of!
Du Heng figured maybe he hadn’t explained things clearly enough, or that their proactive price cut had made the other side suspicious, like they were being scammed. He decided to call them directly.
Thirty seconds later, Du Heng’s expression turned dark.
Both on WeChat and by phone, he had been blocked.
“Brother Du, Brother Ming is calling you.”
Hearing the assistant’s voice, Du Heng put his phone away and turned toward the mall. “Got it.”
At the very least, he couldn’t let Duan Mingfei know about this before the event ended.
——
At 1:50 PM, Shen Xiu looked at the lyrics on the page—revised and restructured—and silently wrote one word at the top.
《Madness》
Only by casting everything aside can one break free and see the light beyond the clouds.
Shen Xiu scanned the finalized lyrics into the multimedia system and projected them onto the large screen.
After finishing, he picked up his lunchbox from the table and returned to the dorm to clean it.
Later, after lunch and a short rest, the members of Shen Xiu’s team quietly agreed—none of them wanted to enter the practice room alone and face the sharp, intense energy of Shen Xiu by themselves. So, they all went in together.
When they stepped into the practice room and saw that Shen Xiu wasn’t there, they instinctively relaxed. But in the very next moment, their eyes landed on the giant screen—displaying the completely reworked lyrics in full.
“Damn, it’s out this fast?!”
Everyone gathered in front of the big screen, carefully studying the lyrics from beginning to end.
After reading through them, Xia Wenhao said, “The song, after Shen Xiu’s revisions and restructuring, has a much clearer sense of layering.”
Ke Zi’an added, “The emotional flow is way more natural and smooth now.”
Zhou Tong said, “When I first saw the lyrics Wenhao wrote, I was blown away. The ones Zi’an, Jiafei, and I wrote were a bit too gentle, and I was worried they wouldn’t mesh well. But now, after Captain Xiu’s editing—wow—it all fits together perfectly.”
Yuan Jiafei chimed in, “Have you guys noticed? Most of the lyrics are still the same at their core, but with just a few tweaks here and there, the entire structure and message of the song have been elevated. Brother Shen’s literary talent is off the charts.”
Zhou Tong: “I totally get it now—this is exactly what our teachers meant back in school when they said ‘changing one word can be worth a thousand gold pieces’!”
Ye Cheng: “Just looking at the lyrics makes my blood boil. What is this feeling like something’s about to burst out of my chest?!”
Xia Wenhao looked over at Zhao Mingwei and the other three. “Whether Shen Xiu’s upgraded version lives up to its full potential is up to you guys now—go all in on the arrangement and choreography!”
Ke Zi’an quickly reassured them, “Don’t stress too much. Just go with what feels right in your heart. Remember, when we wrote the lyrics this morning, we didn’t even like our own stuff. But after Brother Shen’s edits, it’s like a totally different song now.”
Zhou Tong added, “Let’s just do our best. As long as we don’t drag Captain Xiu down, we’ll be fine.”
Everyone was well aware—none of them were on the same level as Shen Xiu. Holding themselves to his standards was honestly asking a bit much.
Xia Wenhao nodded, “Yeah, let loose and go for it. Shen Xiu is our safety net. Even if things get out of hand, he’ll reel it back in.”
Song Junying looked distressed. “Even after all that… I’m still super nervous!”
Gao Yongshi nodded in deep agreement. “We’re talking about Shen Xiu here. Even though we know handing him a rough draft means he’ll polish it into a final masterpiece, we still can’t stop feeling nervous!”
Click…
The door to the practice room opened. Everyone froze instinctively and turned around—only to see Shen Xiu’s tall figure appear in the doorway, prompting a wave of tense greetings.
“Captain Xiu, you’re here.”
“Good afternoon, Brother Shen.”
Shen Xiu thought to himself that he must’ve taken a bit too long returning the lunchbox to the cafeteria, and that’s why he’d walked into such an awkward scene.
Judging by their expressions, his teammates were clearly like him—not too comfortable with talking too much. For everyone’s sake, including his own, Shen Xiu simply said, “Good afternoon, everyone.”
He quickly shut the door behind him and stepped a bit farther into the room. Only after his breathing settled did he look at the team and say, “If anyone has any opinions, don’t hesitate to speak up.”
Before Shen Xiu had arrived, everyone had already gone over the lyrics several times. Hearing his words, they all shook their heads in unison.
“No—none.”
“The edits are already amazing. Nothing more needs to be changed.”
What Shen Xiu had done was flawless. Changing even a single word now would only detract from the song.
Shen Xiu let out a subtle breath of relief and looked toward the four who’d be busy that afternoon. “Thanks in advance for your hard work.”
The four quickly shook their heads. “Not hard at all—not at all.”
Thinking back to what had happened that morning, Shen Xiu realized that even though he had told everyone they could come to him with any issues, no one ever had.
Clearly, just like him, the others were the type who were both reluctant to seek help and anxious about being approached.
He reminded them again, firmly, “If anything comes up, make sure you talk to me.”
They were doing this together—and no matter how nervous they were, they had to push through it.
“Yeah, yeah, got it!” All four nodded enthusiastically.
Afraid of making things more awkward for everyone, Shen Xiu didn’t say much more. “Let’s begin.”
The team members watched as Shen Xiu returned to the multimedia equipment table, put on his noise-canceling headphones, and opened his notebook—head down, deep in thought, scribbling something they couldn’t see.
They glanced at each other uncertainly. Because of the headphones’ impressive noise-canceling effect, even though Shen Xiu couldn’t hear them, they all subconsciously lowered their voices.
“Do you think Brother Shen knows we get nervous when he looks at us, so he always avoids watching us after giving instructions?”
“Is that even a question? Of course he knows.”
“And we thought we were doing such a good job hiding how awkward we felt around a big shot like him—but he’s been seeing through it all along.”
“And he never calls us out on it, just pretends not to notice. The guy’s observant to a scary degree.”
“Alright, let’s get moving. If we don’t hand this in on time, Brother Shen will probably end up staying up late again to revise it.”
After a few whispered exchanges, everyone dove into the intense process of arranging the music and choreographing the dance.
Although their tasks were clearly divided, they still functioned as one team. A bunch of “amateurs” together could still rival a genius—like the saying goes, “Three cobblers with their heads together are better than Zhuge Liang.”
That morning, when Ke Zi’an and the others were too shy to ask Shen Xiu for input, they had sought advice from Song Junying and the rest.
Now in the afternoon, the roles reversed—when Song Junying’s group ran into uncertainty while choreographing or arranging, they went to Xia Wenhao and the others for help.
Meanwhile, in the livestream, viewers stared at the screen—where a pixelated cat face had been slapped over the footage—and questioned their very existence.
[Help, what the heck is this pixelated cat head doing on the screen?! I’ve seen censorship in edited videos, but this is the first time I’ve seen it in a livestream! Truly, the show’s production team knows how to be extra.]
[So… not only can we not hear what they’re saying, now we can’t even see what’s on the big screen either? Is that what’s happening?]
[Damn it, that cat face is so cute, I can’t even get mad! Not only that, I actually willingly accept it the more I look at it!]
[I knew the production team was up to something when they didn’t turn off the camera feed—turns out the ‘suspicious business’ was just a cat head. Suspicion turned into kitten, and all I can say is… 6.]
[Honestly, this broken little heart of mine just needed that cat head to patch it right up.]
