Chapter 47.2: Second Performance (2)
After Shen Xiu said “good luck,” the host didn’t immediately tell them to return to their places.
And since Ning Sinian was also still standing there, Shen Xiu felt too awkward to leave.
A new worry crept into Shen Xiu’s mind — Was what I said too short? Were the host and Ning Sinian not satisfied with it?
After a few seconds of reflection, Shen Xiu opened his mouth again and added, “Everyone, work hard.”
Forgive him — he really didn’t know what else to say.
Trash talk… was just not his thing.
Encouraging each other was way easier.
Ning Sinian: “You guys… work hard too?”
He Ting: “…”
Well, the tension was completely gone now.
But somehow, things were heading in a very strange direction.
And why, why could he clearly see a trace of helplessness in Shen Xiu’s cold face — as if saying: Your program is so childish, but fine, I’ll humor you.
He Ting coughed awkwardly and announced, “Ahem, this segment is over.”
If they kept dragging it out any longer, Shen Xiu was probably going to be thinking he had never seen a program this childish in his entire life.
Hearing the host’s voice, both Shen Xiu and Ning Sinian felt like they had been granted amnesty.
They both secretly breathed a sigh of relief while looking at each other, and without daring to linger for even a second — afraid the show would make them stay longer — they immediately turned and left.
Shen Xiu moved with such speed, it was like he feared that if he were even a second slower, the production team would cook up more nonsense.
In his rush, when he passed the host, he stirred up a brief gust of wind.
Watching Shen Xiu’s brisk, decisive movement, He Ting couldn’t help but think, ‘As expected of a true big shot — even the wind he leaves behind is full of decisive energy.’
Back at their original positions, Ning Sinian finally let out the breath he’d been holding.
Someone from Ning Sinian’s team whispered praise: “Captain Ning, you were seriously so brave just now.”
“Exactly! I admire you so much. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at Captain Xiu’s icy, terrifying eyes — I could only stare at Ke Zi’an instead.”
Hearing the compliments, Ning Sinian sneered inwardly.
Brave? There was no such thing as bravery just now!
It was pure stubbornness — all for the sake of saving their team’s face!
If he had a choice, next time he would definitely hope someone else would be the unlucky one — someone else could take the fall for once!
—
Meanwhile, backstage, after watching the final trash-talking showdown between Shen Xiu’s and Ning Sinian’s teams, the assistant director wiped away tears of emotion: “Wuwuwu, this finally feels right! Once it’s edited, it’s definitely going to have that intense vibe!”
The previous three groups — what was with them?
Since when did trash-talking segments turn into comedy shows?
And they even coordinated their lines ahead of time? Seriously?
Hmph, thank goodness for Shen Xiu’s team for staying reliable!
[Did anyone get a screenshot of that stare-off just now? Ahhhh I regret it so much, I was too stunned by Shen Xiu’s fierce gaze and forgot to screenshot!]
[Even through the screen, I instinctively held my breath!]
[Good thing I had the foresight to start screen recording in advance! Honestly, the tension between those last two teams was so intense — it really felt like they were about to throw down any second. It’s just that the multiple camera cranes circling them for live shots looked kind of hilarious, haha.]
Feeling proud that he had successfully diffused the tension, He Ting returned to his original spot and said, “Now, would each group please follow the staff to the rooms we’ve prepared, to get ready for this afternoon’s team battle.”
The production team had arranged a separate room for each group — partly to prevent any accidental leaks of the teams’ strategies before the second performance, and partly to give each team a private space for pre-battle discussions or morale boosting.
Led by the staff, the trainees left the stage.
Although the audience felt a bit reluctant to see them go, the thought of the second round of performances starting at 2 PM quickly washed away any lingering sadness.
After the trainees left, it was time for the mentors’ special stages — a little bonus for the audience.
All four mentors were fairly famous in the industry, and many people in the audience were actually their fans.
Even for those who weren’t die-hard fans, the deal was pretty amazing — spending a small amount of money not only to watch the trainees’ second performances, but also to enjoy concert-level shows from top-tier mentors.
No matter how you looked at it, it was a win for the audience.
The mentors all had strong stage presence and control, and after four spectacular performances, the audience was treated to a perfect audiovisual feast, leaving the atmosphere electric and buzzing.
At noon, around twelve o’clock, the morning session ended, and the audience left their seats to grab lunch.
—
At 2 PM, amidst great anticipation, the second performance officially began.
The audience, who had returned to their seats after a two-hour meal break, looked at the newly erected black drapes surrounding the venue with curiosity.
“What is the production team up to?”
“Whatever it is, it’s impressive. They’ve suspended drapes from above, built steel frames around the venue, and essentially turned the open-air site into an indoor arena. There’s air-conditioning all around, exhaust vents overhead — it’s not hot at all. The production team really went all out.”
“The audience area is obviously much larger than it was for the first performance. At first, I thought the open-air setup would limit the lighting effects, but now there’s nothing to worry about. I officially declare that the ticket price for Youth Unstoppable is the best money I’ve ever spent for a live show!”
…
On the stage:
He Ting, dressed in a flamboyant outfit, loudly announced, “In fifteen minutes, we will have our first group battle! Shang Yu’s team, please get ready!”
To prevent the audience from panicking when the lights went out, He Ting thoughtfully reminded them, “The stage lights will be turned off for fifteen minutes. They’ll come back on afterward. Audience members, please don’t worry.”
As soon as He Ting finished speaking, the stage lights went dark.
Only the seating area remained lit with soft, low-warmth lights. The blackout drapes surrounding the venue were so effective that the audience felt as if it were nighttime.
Of course, to eliminate any safety risks, Shi Buwen had spent a fortune building everything with the latest fireproof materials. Fire suppression sprinklers were even installed overhead.
If any spectators had been outside at that moment, they would have seen numerous water trucks rented by the production team parked nearby — all measures taken to guarantee the audience’s safety and ensure the performance went smoothly and without a hitch.
As the first group to take the stage, Shang Yu’s team had no prior performances to reference. Naturally, the members felt anxious — but there was no time to dwell on it. While the production team provided them with any tools or props they needed, it never offered makeup or costume services. They had to complete their styling themselves within these fifteen minutes.
When the time was up, He Ting’s voice echoed through the darkness: “Dear audience, up next, please enjoy Shang Yu’s team performance — The Puppeteer.”
As the host’s words faded, the audience instinctively fell silent, their eyes fixed on the stage that remained shrouded in darkness.
Click… click… click…
From the darkness, the sharp, grating sound of an old clock’s ticking echoed.
After the third click, a cluster of warm, yellow light slowly bloomed.
A puppet, dressed in an ornate court costume, cradled a candelabrum that emitted a dim glow. Turning stiffly, it moved with mechanical, jerky motions, its voice rasping out a mechanical, hoarse song: “Hiding inside a cold, hollow shell, carrying the candlestick step by step… Master, today’s work is not yet…”
As the puppet moved, the candlelight revealed a series of display cases scattered across the stage. Inside each stood motionless, lifeless puppets, their faces blank and expressionless.
The puppet’s raspy voice roused Shang Yu, who was slumped over a black table, wearing a white silk robe.
Still drowsy, Shang Yu lifted his gaze lazily, glancing at the puppet standing like a statue before him. He rose, picked up a blood-stained lens from the table, and, as he wiped it clean with a strip of white silk, a low, languid song flowed effortlessly from his throat: “Tonight’s dolls are still as obedient as sparrows…”
After cleaning the lens, Shang Yu casually tossed the bloodied piece onto the ground. Donning a pair of rimless glasses, his pale feet moved in light, cheerful steps, weaving gracefully through the scattered limbs and broken doll parts on the floor, all the while humming a joyful tune.
One by one, he casually swung open the doors of the transparent display cases.
Shang Yu’s smooth, fluid movements contrasted sharply with the jerky, malfunctioning motions of the puppet behind him.
Once all the display cases were open, Shang Yu immediately discarded the candle. The only light on stage went out, plunging the scene into darkness once again.
In the dark, the loud click-click of joints turning echoed, the sound of puppet limbs moving.
Suddenly, the lights snapped back on, revealing Shang Yu at the front, with eight intricately dressed puppet dolls standing behind him.
Each of them had a strange makeup on their faces, their mouths twisted into identical, eerie smiles. They sang and danced along with Shang Yu.
Amid the performance, a puppet lay on the black table, while Shang Yu held tools like an axe and a long saw, methodically repairing it. As he worked, he sang in a low, cheerful tone, “With your bones, with your skin… let me show you what a true plaything is…”
From start to finish, Shang Yu’s smile never wavered, his movements smooth and fluid, while the puppets remained pale and stiff, moving slowly and awkwardly.
The lights flickered, the song growing more unsettling.
Finally, it seemed that Shang Yu had sawed through something. The saw suddenly got stuck, and the puppet on the table let out a shrill, unearthly scream—far different from anything heard before. It wailed as it sang.
A drop of blood splashed onto Shang Yu’s lens, which then fell to the floor, shattering. Shang Yu’s ever-present smile abruptly faded, his expression stiffening into one as rigid as a puppet’s. At the same time, the song he was singing abruptly cut off. An eyeball fell from his gaze, hitting the table and rolling across it, staining with the blood that splattered out.
The image froze—end of the performance.
In that final, frozen moment, the shock and eerie atmosphere reached their peak.
At that moment, the entire audience finally understood: The puppeteer was the puppet, and the puppets were human.
…
In the practice room of the Shen Xiu team.
After the first performance ended, Shen Xiu saw the expressions of his teammates and thought to himself, ‘This is bad.’
Without hesitation, he got up, walked from the last row, and tried to turn off the live stream on the screen in front of him. However, after pressing the power button, the screen remained unresponsive.
Shen Xiu: “?”
Click…
Seeing Shen Xiu’s attempt to shut down the live stream, a staff member immediately entered the room.
Shen Xiu heard the door open and instinctively looked over. Upon seeing it was a staff member, he immediately asked for help: “Could you turn off the live stream in this room?”
It was the unlucky fate of being the last group to perform, and Shen Xiu feared that after watching the performances of the previous seven groups, everyone’s mindset would be affected.
After all… it was only the first performance, yet it seemed like his teammates were already impacted. This was very concerning.
Staff member: “Sorry, we can’t do that.”
Shen Xiu: “…Thank you, I understand.”
After saying this, Shen Xiu directly went to pull the plug. Apologies to the production team, but this was the only thing he could do for his teammates.
