Chapter 44.1: Preparation for the Second Performance (7)
The cringey, awkward performance had put the entire team in a precarious position. Mere verbal explanations sounded too weak — especially since it would require him to say a lot.
Shen Xiu decided to use a more direct method to make everyone realize how serious the problem was.
Glancing at his teammates, Shen Xiu spent a few seconds organizing his thoughts before speaking heavily, “Pair up. Don’t look at the mirror. Imagine your partner as an audience member sitting below the stage. When it’s your part in the music, perform directly toward them. When it’s my part, skip it automatically.”
“Don’t forget to sing. And remember — during your partner’s part, you must fully regard yourself as just an audience member.”
Only by putting themselves in the audience’s shoes would they truly understand how unbearable the performance had become.
It was like watching a terrible movie: as an actor, you might want to defend your dignity, but as a viewer, you just wanted to call it trash.
Once they finished the exercise, hopefully, everyone would understand exactly where the problem lay.
The team members: Uh… how should we put it… we don’t really understand what Captain Xiu means.
But Captain Xiu’s expression was so serious and a little terrifying.
Although confused, everyone felt that if Shen Xiu asked them to do this, there must be a good reason, so they didn’t question it. The eight people quickly paired up into four groups and found their positions in front of the mirror.
After standing in place, everyone flashed an OK sign and locked eyes with their partner, taking a deep breath.
The group tacitly appointed a representative — Xia Wenhao — to shout out loudly, “We’re ready, Captain Xiu! Please play the music!”
“Alright.”
Standing at the multimedia station, Shen Xiu responded while clicking play.
As the music started, the members followed the timeline and began performing along with the accompaniment…
The first to open his mouth was Ke Zi’an, whose voice carried a unique ethereal clarity, making him stand out among the many trainees.
Ke Zi’an’s part ended without anyone noticing anything unusual — until it was Gao Yongshi’s turn.
Gao Yongshi faced Yuan Jiafei directly. As soon as Gao Yongshi’s singing started, Yuan Jiafei saw him spring up from the ground with a dance move and tilt his head up, giving him a bewildered look.
As Gao Yongshi continued performing, his gaze never left Yuan Jiafei, and his movements twisted in a way that didn’t resemble a tender sprout winding its way through thorns, as the lyrics described — it looked more like he was wringing dough.
At this moment… from the perspective of an “audience member,” Yuan Jiafei felt like his eyes were burning.
But… Gao Yongshi didn’t seem to realize it. He appeared to think that his movements were super cool and his singing was deep and charming.
Yuan Jiafei admitted that the dance moves they had choreographed were indeed pretty cool — but… why was it so unbearable when actually performed?!
It must be Gao Yongshi’s fault, right? It had to be!
The choreography was definitely fine! To prove himself right, he decided he would secretly watch Song Junying’s performance in a bit.
After Gao Yongshi finished, it was Song Junying’s turn…
Eight seconds later, Song Junying was done.
Yuan Jiafei: “……”
Why… did Song Junying’s singing and dancing also make him feel… nauseous?
Across from Song Junying, Zhou Tong had the exact same puzzled expression.
The performance, which should have been just three and a half minutes long, now felt painfully long and torturous to everyone.
Everyone in Shen Xiu’s team: Please let it end soon — our eyes are about to be burned out!
As the final notes faded, even without Shen Xiu needing to say a word, the team members couldn’t help but start complaining to each other.
After spending so long together at the training camp, everyone was already very close. Now that they were in the same team, for the sake of collective improvement, the roasting came even more unfiltered.
“Blergh…”
“Ahhh, Xia Wenhao, what are you doing?! Your expression just gave me a full-body case of goosebumps!”
“I should be asking you! How did I never notice before that the way you look at people is so disgusting?!”
“Workplace injury, this is definitely a workplace injury!”
“I want to gouge out my own eyeballs! What did I do wrong to have to watch you twisting and writhing like that?!”
“Help, how did such a cool move end up looking so awful when you did it?!”
“Pfft, you’re actually making fun of me? Do you think you looked cool? It’s the move that’s cool, okay, not you! Kid, you’re already acting like an idiot at your young age. I’m dying over here.”
…
Meanwhile, Shen Xiu silently watched the motion analysis on the multimedia screen, planning to give everyone five minutes to bicker.
Pointing out each other’s flaws would help them better understand where the problems were, so Shen Xiu had no intention of stopping them.
After five full minutes of chaotic arguing, everyone suddenly realized — Shen Xiu hadn’t said a single word the whole time. Remembering what Shen Xiu had said before, one by one, they all couldn’t help but look toward him in unison.
Shen Xiu was bowing his head slightly, his eyes lowered, and they couldn’t see what expression he had on his face. But since the moment the paired dance ended, he hadn’t spoken once — and everyone just assumed he must be furious.
After all, they’d been shouting and fighting for minutes, and Shen Xiu hadn’t even made a peep. He had to be extremely angry.
The team members looked at each other nervously, guilt written all over their faces.
At that moment, they finally understood: Shen Xiu had asked them to role-play as the audience watching each other dance so they could recognize their own ugly sides.
All they could say was — Shen Xiu was truly Shen Xiu. When it came to matters that concerned the fate of their stage performance, he was always dead serious and ruthlessly sharp.
Whether it was toward Lin Jiashi or toward them, anyone who dragged down the stage would be mercilessly “destroyed” by him — all in the name of fairness and justice.
Zhao Mingwei now deeply understood why Shen Xiu had fallen silent when he asked, “How did everyone’s dancing look?” earlier.
Perhaps… that moment of silence had already been the greatest mercy Shen Xiu could offer them.
After finishing their performance, they had even been a little smug about it. Now, looking back, everyone’s faces burned with shame, and they wished they could find a crack in the ground to crawl into.
“Captain Xiu…”
Hearing Zhou Tong’s voice, Shen Xiu pulled himself out of his thoughts and lifted his gaze toward the team.
Seeing everyone staring at him, Shen Xiu glanced at the time, slightly surprised.
It hadn’t even been five minutes — and they were already done arguing!
As Shen Xiu straightened up and silently looked at them for a few seconds, everyone grew even more anxious inside.
Sure enough, they had guessed right: the look Shen Xiu gave them was icy cold, and his tightly pressed lips said it all — he was definitely angry.
Shen Xiu pulled his gaze back from the wall clock behind the team and said, “Now, you all understand where the problem lies, right?”
Even though they felt humiliated, everyone still nodded earnestly and admitted, “Y-Yes, we understand.”
Shen Xiu exhaled quietly — he had known it. Experience is the best teacher!
Look — without him having to risk social death by stumbling through a long speech, just one round of this exercise was enough for them to find the root of the problem themselves.
Shen Xiu nodded in approval. “Good.”
The team members: Wait… was he… mocking us?
Wuwuwu — they truly knew they were wrong!
Then Shen Xiu shared his observations with the group: “I’m sure you noticed as well — although Ke Zi’an and Zhou Tong didn’t have the most technically perfect moves, their performances felt the least awkward to watch and were the most comfortable for the audience.”
Ke Zi’an hadn’t expected that someone like him — practically a “dance disaster” — would one day be praised for his dancing. He couldn’t help but give a shy, small smile, looking a little embarrassed by the compliment.
Zhou Tong, who was also suddenly called out by Shen Xiu, froze for a moment but quickly figured out why. He quietly glanced at Ke Zi’an.
After spending so much time together, Zhou Tong knew: both he and Ke Zi’an naturally had softer, less angular facial features, making them appear more gentle and refreshing compared to the other trainees.
More importantly, because of their personalities — Zhou Tong being a bit of a crybaby, and Ke Zi’an being soft-hearted and afraid of being criticized — neither of them was good at saying no. They would just go along with whatever others said.
To put it plainly, both of them carried a certain amount of insecurity and lacked strong self-confidence.
Under those circumstances, their insecurity showed through their singing and dancing.
Whatever lyrics they sang, whatever moves they did, they would naturally be cautious and meticulous, afraid of doing something wrong — leaving them no room to worry about whether their moves looked cool or whether their expressions were striking.
As the saying goes: ‘Looking good without realizing it makes people feel comfortable;
but looking good while trying hard to look good only makes people feel secondhand embarrassment.’
While everyone else was busy being “radiantly confident” and thinking “I’m the coolest one here,” Ke Zi’an and Zhou Tong’s cautious, self-effacing manner stood out sharply by contrast.
That’s why Captain Xiu praised them.
Not because their dancing was truly better — but because their presence felt clean and refreshing.
Zhou Tong originally wanted to quietly warn Ke Zi’an not to get cocky…
But when he turned and saw Ke Zi’an’s shy, tentative smile, he swallowed the words back down.
Just looking at Ke Zi’an’s eyes — lit up with happiness but still tinged with timidity — how could this guy possibly get cocky? Impossible. Absolutely impossible!
Aside from Ke Zi’an and Zhou Tong, the rest of the group lowered their heads in shame, staring at the floor.
During their first practice, each of them had been busy showing off, focused only on themselves — thinking about which angles would make them look coolest when facing the stage, which poses and moves would grab the most attention.
Paying attention to others?
That concept didn’t even exist for them back then.
At that time, all they could see was themselves.
Shen Xiu must have been so exasperated with them.
[Another day of not understanding what’s going on in these practice rooms, huh.]
[Judging by how humble everyone looks now, is Boss Shen sharing some secret techniques?]
[Heh, honestly, all I can picture now is a bunch of cats waving their paws around in weird mechanical dance moves — kudos to the production team for burning this into my brain!]
[Not just that! Don’t forget the haunting chorus of ‘happy happy’… it’s cursed!]
Seeing everyone’s expressions, Shen Xiu assumed they had truly grasped the key problems.
If they danced again, there shouldn’t be any major issues.
So he said, “Alright, let’s start the third round of practice.”
After going through Shen Xiu’s silent discipline session, everyone was clearly a lot more grounded than before.
With serious looks on their faces, they nodded.
“Okay!”
…
Five minutes later, the third practice ended.
Standing at the front, Shen Xiu heard the final notes fade out.
He eased out of his pose, stood straight, and stared at the floor, his half-lowered eyes full of doubt.
Was there a problem with my method?
Or… was the ‘watch each other while dancing’ exercise still not direct enough?
As he thought about it, Shen Xiu internally scolded himself: I knew it! I should have explained it properly from the start instead of trying to take the easy way out!
Shen Xiu reflected deeply.
