Chapter 60: Preparation for the Third Performance (2)
A staff member walked in from outside, holding four cards in different colors. After handing them to Xue Yi, they left.
Xue Yi glanced at the names of the trainees listed under each song title and then spoke: “Song selection is complete. Now we’ll announce the group lineups.”
A few minutes later, Xue Yi scanned the contents of the cards onto the big screen.
Members of the “Lemon Hawthorn” group: Ning Sinian, Jiang Yanxi…
Members of the “Collapse” group: Xiang Yueting, Xia Wenhao…
Members of the “Delusion” group: Mu Zhenchu, Rong Cheng…
Members of the “Heaven” group: Shen Xiu, Shang Yu, Song Chengwang, Zhuang Yi, Lu Fei…
After the group lineups were revealed, the silence among the trainees was deafening.
There was no doubt—the “Heaven” group had the most top-tier trainees. No, saying they had the “most top-tier” wasn’t even enough. To be precise, all the trainees most likely to debut in the top three were in the “Heaven” group!
The “Heaven” group already had so many people—why couldn’t they just take one more? No, why didn’t we choose “Heaven” when we had the chance?
“I regret it now. I really, really regret it.”
“Heh, the moment I saw the list, my heart died.”
“Thanks for asking. I’m at the training camp, the lineup was just announced, and I’ve gone full emo.”
[Ah, seriously…? All the top dogs ended up in one group?!]
[Well, not all—Xiang Yueting, Ning Sinian, and the others are in different groups too… Never mind, I can’t keep pretending. Compared to the ‘Heaven’ group, the other groups are just too tragic. The moment the results were announced, I saw the light go out in their eyes.]
[Is this… a battle royale?]
[No, to be accurate, it’s a comfort zone for the “Heaven” group—and a battlefield of suffering for the rest.]
[As expected, free song selection is full of uncertainty and drama. In the end, only the “Heaven” group gets to enjoy their accomplishment.]
After giving the trainees five minutes to process this reality, Xue Yi spoke again: “There’s one question—when you all chose your songs, what was the reason behind your choice?”
“Every trainee must answer. We’ll start with the trainee on the far left of the first row.”
Xue Yi gestured to the first row. “Come up and take the mic.”
The trainees were well aware that not all of their answers would make it into the edited broadcast due to time constraints. The production team would pick a few responses—likely from the front row or the more interesting ones—to include.
So, even though they felt emotionally crushed, no one slacked off. Their attitude remained sincere, and they answered earnestly.
“I chose Lemon Hawthorn because I’d heard it before coming here. It has a sour sadness with a hint of sweetness—I really love that kind of feeling.”
“I picked Delusion simply because it sounds cool. Doesn’t matter if I’ve heard it or not—as long as the name sounds cool, that’s all that counts.”
“When picking songs, I ruled out Heaven right away. It’s not just that my English is bad—I flat-out don’t speak English. Collapse gave me this sickly vibe the moment I heard it, which totally matches my style. And no, I don’t mean some cringey edgy kind of crazy—I mean the yandere kind.”
“It’s all because I lacked confidence. My English isn’t great, and my pronunciation is worse. But hey, I can at least read the words—well, I don’t know what they mean, but I can read them out loud. Still, none of that matters. What matters is, if I’d had just a little more confidence when choosing, I might’ve slipped into the big-shot circle.”
When it was Xiang Yueting’s turn, he spoke bluntly:
“Sigh, I don’t understand a word of English. Collapse just fit my vibe better—y’know, that kind of chaotic freedom. You get me, right?”
Song Chengwang said in a wistful tone:
“Would you believe me if I said I picked randomly?”
Shang Yu was even more direct:
“I like the way Heaven blends a sense of healing with this undercurrent of lifeless melancholy.”
As he finished, Shang Yu handed the mic to Shen Xiu.
“What about you, Shen Xiu? Why did you choose Heaven?”
Why?
Of course, it was because based on everyone’s song preferences during training, their skill level when singing English lyrics, and how crucial this third performance was, most trainees would instinctively choose the safest option.
After weighing it all, he came to a conclusion: Heaven would likely have the fewest people choosing it.
As the last to pick, in order to avoid a battle round as much as possible, his only real choice was Heaven.
Shen Xiu took the mic from Shang Yu and replied:
“Because it had the fewest people choosing it—no battle round.”
As soon as he answered, Shen Xiu sighed internally.
Great. Now everyone knows he’s afraid of battle rounds. But what could he do? He really was that kind of person—scared of trouble and a bit of a coward.
Jiang Yanxi spoke up quietly:
“Shen Xiu, I’m really curious—how were you so sure Heaven would have the fewest people?”
Shen Xiu knew that many people didn’t like being secretly analyzed, but now, with the camera on and everyone looking at him so sincerely, he couldn’t bring himself to lie.
He scratched his head and mumbled an awkward explanation:
“Well… aside from me, there were 35 trainees left. Everyone has different preferences when it comes to singing and dancing, especially when it comes to English songs… so it wasn’t hard to figure out who might avoid choosing Heaven.”
“……”
As Shen Xiu finished speaking, an odd silence fell over the room.
A simple song selection process—and Shen Xiu had actually run data analysis?!
Today’s Shen Xiu… was Demon King Xiu!
Xia Wenhao gasped:
“What about personal preference? Or… did you choose Heaven because your English is good?”
He didn’t choose based on liking the song at all—just to avoid a battle, he analyzed the preferences and English ability of the other 35 trainees and accurately picked the one song with a single empty spot left. Was Shen Xiu a robot with no human emotions?
Shen Xiu blinked. That angle had never even occurred to him.
He responded meekly:
“No… all the songs feel the same to me.”
He hadn’t heard any of them, so of course they all felt exactly the same.
Hearing Shen Xiu’s light, breezy response, both the audience and the other trainees could clearly feel his utter indifference.
For someone as strong and self-assured as Shen Xiu, personal preference didn’t matter at all.
In his eyes, it wasn’t just about those four songs—you could throw a dozen more at him, and it wouldn’t make any difference. Shen Xiu simply didn’t want to waste time on a battle round.
This… was the sheer power and confidence of a clear-cut top ranker.
[Equal-opportunity indifference to all songs—so bold. I love it!]
[Another gold quote from Boss Shen: “All the same.”]
[Demon King Xiu: I don’t want to waste time on a battle. Just doing a little casual analysis, then picking a song that doesn’t require battling. Whatever, they’re all the same anyway.]
Xia Wenhao took a deep breath: “Shen Xiu… you really are that guy!”
Shen Xiu: “……”
He didn’t quite understand what that was supposed to mean.
Xue Yi turned to the staff: “Alright, speeches are over. Go get the mic back.”
Once the staff retrieved the microphone from Shen Xiu, Xue Yi continued, “Next, please enjoy the reward video for Shang Yu, the popularity king of the second performance.”
Recalling his own reward video from last time, Shen Xiu instinctively glanced at Shang Yu. But before Shang Yu could look back, Shen Xiu quickly shifted his gaze to the big screen.
A black suit that highlighted his build and radiated presence, paired with gold-rimmed glasses. A soft, cozy sweater with rimless lenses. Long, defined fingers adjusting a tie over a crisp white shirt as the silver chain of his glasses swayed gently…
Whoever shot the ad clearly understood Shang Yu’s strengths. The entire video exuded an air of refined luxury and elegance, a complete contrast to Shen Xiu’s previous reward video—where, despite being shirtless and showing abs, the tone remained cold, restrained, and ascetic.
Whether it was Shen Xiu’s last ad or Shang Yu’s current one, anyone watching would agree: the person behind the camera nailed it.
[Everyone says Brother Wang is the “bait” type, but come on—President Shang is so good at this too!]
[I confess—when I saw Shen Xiu shirtless last time, looking cold and ascetic even with abs on full display, I wanted to see him lose control. Now seeing President Shang all gentle and refined but lowkey seductive—I want to see him get teased while trying to stay composed…]
[Sister, be bold. We’re adults—we obviously choose both!]
[Ah… my glasses just broke. I really needed a new pair anyway. Anyone know where to buy the brand President Shang is endorsing? Do they come with Shang Yu? Asking for a friend. Very urgent.]
[My broken glasses say: “Hah, such a devious trick! I see right through your schemes!”]
[After Shen Xiu endorsed that insanely popular new kiwi drink, it’s been sold out on shelves nonstop. I can already feel how Shang Yu’s glasses brand is going to sell.]
The ad had been personally chosen by Shang Yu, who clearly understood what suited him best—and what his fans wanted. After watching it attentively, he was very satisfied.
As he’d always thought, compared to the cutthroat schemes of the entertainment industry, Shi Buwen’s personality was better suited to the wild creativity and unrestrained freedom found behind the scenes.
Watching Shang Yu’s ad, Shen Xiu felt a deep pang of envy.
Shang Yu actually got to wear clothes!
Why hadn’t he been given clothes?!
The envy passed quickly, leaving Shen Xiu in a heavy bout of self-loathing.
Seeing the expressions on the trainees’ faces, Xue Yi chuckled and asked, “Feeling a little envious?”
“Envious as hell, okay?!”
“When will it be my turn to shoot such a high-quality ad? Who wouldn’t want that?”
“I’m not even nearsighted and I suddenly want to buy a pair of glasses.”
“Wake up. That’s just because Shang Yu’s good-looking—it has nothing to do with the glasses.”
As the trainees teased each other, Xue Yi said, “If you’re envious, then keep working hard. Until debut night, anything is possible.”
Although he said that, the trainees knew the truth: there were too many talented people here. When it came time to push someone off the track, it probably wouldn’t be the top ones.
Still, none of them looked discouraged. The room buzzed with cheerful responses.
“Okay~”
“Anything is possible!”
There was envy, and even some jealousy—but no hatred. In other survival shows, that might not always be true. But in this one, everything had always come down to skill.
And when it came to being beaten by skill—they had no complaints.
“Alright,” Xue Yi continued. “Next, please join me in watching the MVs for the four songs.”
At his cue, the trainees turned their eyes to the massive screen in front of them…
Fifteen minutes later, all four music videos had finished playing.
After watching all four MVs, the trainees began quietly discussing among themselves.
“Did you notice? All four songs have very few dance moves. The main focus is clearly on the singing.”
“I noticed ages ago. It’s not just ‘few’ dance moves—it’s basically none. Just some simple body movements, no difficulty at all.”
“In that case, no matter which group we go up against, it might not matter—since everyone’s song focuses on vocals.”
“Don’t be so optimistic. Did you forget? Even if the songs are all vocally focused, it’s actually harder to stand out. And in a setup where it’s harder to shine, the Heaven group has all the power players. What are the chances we win?”
“Don’t be so pessimistic—there are still two other groups. We’re not that unlucky, right…?”
Ning Sinian glanced at the teammate who picked the same song and said quietly, “I suggest you don’t go around jinxing us like that.”
Xue Yi turned off the playback screen and looked toward the trainees.
“I know everyone’s curious—why did the show assign songs that focus on vocals this time, instead of choreography?”
“It’s because after the second performance and all the training that followed, the producers believe everyone’s idol fundamentals are solid now. Given that, the ability to convey emotion through vocals—to move the audience—is more important.”
“In simpler terms: the production team doesn’t want you to be stiff mannequins who can only sing mechanically.”
Upon hearing that, Shen Xiu silently nodded to himself.
This point he understood well. In his film analysis class, his professor had once said: “There is meaning in the character, and meaning in the story.” The same logic applied here—if there’s someone in the song, there’s meaning in the song.
Whether it’s acting or singing, the performer’s emotional delivery plays a critical role.
From the earlier viewing of the Heaven MV, it was clear that the performers were all using stationary microphones placed on the ground. The singers held the mics and delivered their performance with emotion relying entirely on their vocals and facial expressions to reach the audience.
“Wait—‘stiff singers’? I thought that was only a problem for actors.”
“Of course it applies to singing too. If someone just sings the lyrics correctly but with no emotion, it feels completely different.”
“Exactly. Why do people listen to sad songs when they’re heartbroken—and even cry while doing it? That just shows how important emotional delivery really is.”
…
Once the trainees had finished discussing, Xue Yi spoke again: “There’s one more thing I need to tell everyone.”
“Of course, this news may sound like bad news to you.”
The trainees: “?”
In an instant, all the trainees turned to look at him expectantly.
“Don’t panic—it’s just that the training time for the third performance, starting tomorrow, will only last three days.”
“What?!”
“That’s way too tight!”
“Even if there’s no complex choreography this time, isn’t that cutting it a bit close?”
“The production team really is brutal…”
Xue Yi ignored the groans and protests and continued mercilessly: “Please do your best—on the fourth day, the third performance will begin. Just a kind reminder: this time, the production team won’t assign a group leader or center. You’ll have to figure that out yourselves.”
“The matchups for group battles will be announced the morning of the performance. As for how the matchups are decided… you’ll find out then.”
The trainees: “……”
They weren’t sure if they were just being paranoid, or if past experience had made them overly cautious—but something about that last sentence felt suspicious. Like a trap. They had no evidence… but their instincts were screaming.
[Given how this show operates, if the matchups were going to be decided by drawing lots, they’d say so outright. But Xue Yi didn’t say that… I’m betting blind here—something’s fishy!]
[Something’s fishy +111111]
[It’s fine. Someone as strong as our Xiu has nothing to fear!]
[Great, we’re not just Xiu-ologists anymore—we’re postgraduates in “Show Production Studies.”]
“Teacher Xue, what do you mean by that last sentence?”
“Teacher Xue, just tell us straight—is there a trap or not?”
Hearing the trainees’ questions, Xue Yi smiled.
“You guys… always overthinking things.”
Xiang Yueting patted his chest in relief.
“Whew… scared me for a second. Since Teacher Xue said that, I’m relieved. I really thought—”
Before he could finish, Xue Yi’s voice rang out again: “But sometimes, overthinking a little might actually be a good idea.”
Xiang Yueting nearly choked on his breath: “?”
The trainees: “?”
[Xue Yi: Eyy~ not gonna lie, pulling that one was kinda fun.]
[I’m dying. Teacher Xue just played them all.]
“Hahaha alright, I was just teasing. Since the groups are already formed, each practice room door has the song title posted outside. From here on out, it’s up to you to manage your own time. See you all at the third performance. Good luck!”
Though Xue Yi said it was just a joke, not a single trainee took it that way. Everyone firmly believed the show had a massive trap waiting for them just ahead.
—
When Xue Yi left, it was already noon. Although none of the team members intended to discuss the song while eating, they tacitly headed to the cafeteria together.
Shen Xiu noticed that everyone walked in groups according to the songs they had chosen. Even though being around many people made him subconsciously anxious, he didn’t walk alone.
After finishing their meals in the cafeteria, each group confirmed the meeting time for the afternoon and then disbanded to rest in their respective dorms.
2 PM.
Inside the practice room for Team Heaven, there was no C-position or leader designated by the show. Everyone had either been used to leading others or being led, so now with no assigned leader or center, everything was uncertain.
As a result, once the nine members gathered, they looked at each other in silence, momentarily at a loss for words.
Without someone holding absolute authority, deciding parts and who would be the center became a real challenge.
Shang Yu cleared his throat and said, “Starting tomorrow, we only have three days of practice. I think we shouldn’t waste time fighting over the center position or leadership. It’s best if we settle the parts and center before the end of today. What do you all think?”
“I agree.”
“No objections from me.”
“To avoid wasting time, let’s all just speak up with any ideas.”
“Yeah, everyone shares their thoughts, and we’ll go with the most reasonable way to divide the parts.”
[So many talented people in one team—this is going to be tough. Who’s going to be the center? How should they decide?]
[Just realized a bunch of the top-ranked contestants are in the same group—they’ve teamed up! I thought we’d only see this kind of lineup in the finals. Is this an unexpected surprise?]
[It’s definitely a surprise, but what if they can’t agree and end up arguing?]
“I’ll start,” Song Chengwang said. “This song doesn’t have much choreography, and the stage positions are almost fixed throughout the performance. I think we should determine positions based on height—it’ll look more harmonious that way.”
As soon as Song Chengwang finished speaking, everyone’s gaze shifted neatly to Shen Xiu—the tallest person in the group.
Shen Xiu felt awkward. “Let’s decide the parts first.”
He didn’t have the face to take the center position just because of his height.
Song Chengwang shrugged. “Alright, parts first then.”
[Wait a second… Why has it gone completely silent ever since Song Chengwang spoke?]
[Damn, where did the audio go? Why did it just disappear without warning?]
[Same here! I kept messing with the volume thinking it was my phone, but now that I see a flood of comments asking where the sound went, I’m sure of it—it’s the production team messing around again.]
[Seriously, production team? Again?!]
Although the live comments were strongly criticizing the production crew, this wasn’t the first time a “silent broadcast” had happened. As people continued complaining, their attention soon shifted back to speculating on what the trainees were actually saying.
Shang Yu sighed. “So… how should we divide the parts?”
Lu Fei irritably tugged at his own hair. “You guys decide. I seriously can’t come up with anything.”
When he was the team leader, he just divided the parts however he wanted. When he was a team member, the leader assigned the parts. Now, with no one in charge but also no one to defer to, Lu Fei had no clue what to do—this was completely outside his comfort zone.
Zhuang Yi looked at Shen Xiu. “Shen Xiu, what do you think?”
