Chapter 67.1: Third Performance (5)
In this world, Shen Xiu basically had no acquaintances, so he assumed the director wanted something from him. He didn’t think much of it, gave a simple “Mm,” and followed the assistant director out.
Watching Shen Xiu’s departing figure, a trainee spoke up curiously: “The show crew is actually pretty decent. Are they calling Shen Xiu over now because they feel bad for banning him from competing for the Popularity King title, and want to make it up to him?”
“Exactly. Shen Xiu’s looks are one of a kind, and not to mention his skills are incredible. If he hadn’t been banned, it wouldn’t have been…”
The sentence wasn’t finished before a nearby trainee gave a few coughs in warning: “Ahem ahem…”
Though it was a widely acknowledged fact, saying it out loud in front of Shang Yu and Song Chengwang felt a bit tactless—like someone whose brain had been slammed in a door.
The person who said it didn’t mean any harm, just spoke too quickly. After being reminded, they quickly looked apologetically at Shang Yu and Song Chengwang: “Sorry, sorry, my mouth ran off again. I really didn’t mean anything bad…”
Before he could finish, Song Chengwang cut him off nonchalantly: “Alright, relax. I’m not taking it to heart.”
Then Song Chengwang looked at Shang Yu and said, “Besides, what you said is true, so there’s nothing wrong with saying it out loud. Don’t you agree, Shang Yu?”
Hearing this, Shang Yu nodded in agreement: “Mm.”
Then he confidently responded to the earlier question: “It’s impossible that the show crew is looking for Shen Xiu for that reason.”
He understood Shi Buwen—there would be compensation, but not right now.
Shen Xiu was still part of Youth Unstoppable, a show that was already gaining popularity, and Shen Xiu himself was trending too. There was no need to gild the lily.
It wasn’t that gilding the lily was bad, but it was far less meaningful than providing help in times of need.
Xiang Yueting asked curiously, “Huh? Why? How do you know that so clearly?”
As Shen Xiu’s figure disappeared from view, Shang Yu withdrew his gaze and answered Xiang Yueting: “Just a guess.”
Xiang Yueting: “…You sound so confident even when you’re just guessing. You’re seriously impressive—I almost believed you.”
Shang Yu simply smiled and said nothing.
Jiang Yanxi’s gaze lingered on Shang Yu for a moment before he changed the subject: “The show crew already agreed to let us go out for dinner tonight. Let’s all head back to our dorms and get ready.”
Zhuang Yi chimed in: “True that. We might get photographed while we’re out. I’ve developed a bit of an idol complex now—I need to dress up properly so my fans don’t get disillusioned.”
“I need to make my eyes look bigger. I don’t have many fans to begin with—can’t scare off my precious few!”
“For real, I’m heading back to bathe and purify myself—gotta meet my fans in peak condition!”
Everyone joked around for a bit before scattering back to their dorms.
Of course, all the trainees who had made it this far were at least above average in looks. The way they talked was just playful banter—an attempt to steer the viewers’ attention away from the earlier topic.
[Not bad, not bad—they know how to clean up and present themselves now.]
[If the looks aren’t enough, a little styling can help, LOL]
[Honestly, being clean and fresh-looking is already super pleasant to see.]
[Wait… so, where did our Boss Xiu go?]
[Damn, I almost got distracted! After Shen Xiu followed the assistant director into the crew’s working area, we totally lost sight of him. Who is he even meeting? I’m dying of curiosity!]
[Hold on, I just realized something huge—does anyone actually know who the show’s chief director is? It’s always the assistant director who appears. For such a high-budget show, the chief director’s really mysterious.]
——
In the hallway.
As the assistant director pushed open the door and entered, he immediately spotted the person inside. His face lit up with a respectful smile as he greeted:
“Teacher Jiang, sorry to keep you waiting. I’ve brought Shen Xiu as you asked.”
Outside the door, Shen Xiu froze in surprise when he heard the words “Teacher Jiang.”
After stepping into the room and seeing the person inside—a woman in a qipao, wearing glasses, radiating an aura of scholarly elegance—Shen Xiu’s entire body instantly tensed up. With a nervous and uncertain expression, he spoke: “Hello, Teacher.”
The assistant director was surprised when he heard Shen Xiu speak. He hadn’t even needed to make introductions—Shen Xiu had taken the initiative to greet her not as “Teacher Jiang,” but simply as “Teacher”—a term that suggested familiarity and deep respect.
Jiang Jinya was not only a professor at the prestigious Qinghe University, but also a renowned veteran artist. Many classic and wildly popular films and TV dramas had owed much of their brilliance to her guidance.
As expected—just like the audience had been speculating—the assistant director thought to himself: Shen Xiu’s background runs deeper than it seems. Much deeper.
“Mhm,” Jiang Jinya responded softly, then looked toward the assistant director. “Thank you, Xiao Xu.”
The assistant director instantly understood what she meant and quickly said with a cheerful smile, “Not at all! Since Shen Xiu is already here, I’ll leave you two alone.”
With that, he turned around, gently closed the door, and left.
As the assistant director rounded the corner in the hallway, he nearly jumped out of his skin—Shi Buwen was standing right at the corner.
“Director Shi! You scared me half to death—do you know people can literally die from that kind of fright?”
Shi Buwen’s gaze was sharp and slightly eerie. “No. Now tell me—what did they say?”
The assistant director recounted everything he’d just heard.
After listening, he witnessed with his own eyes how Shi Buwen’s expression soured—like someone who had just eaten a jar of pickled sour cucumbers.
Shi Buwen sighed. “Hmph. I thought the teacher was here to see me. Turns out she came for Shen Xiu. In the end, it’s always the new waves pushing out the old. I’m just an old wave now, washed up on the beach by Shen Xiu.”
The assistant director paused. “Uh… Director Shi, I don’t think that’s quite how that saying is used…”
“I don’t care. That’s exactly how I’m using it right now.”
“Well, yeah,” Shi Buwen continued, wallowing in self-pity. “What am I, really? Not even becoming someone’s disciple could save a loser like me.”
“It makes sense that the teacher wouldn’t remember me and would instead seek out an outstanding kid like Shen Xiu.”
“After all these years of drifting, in the end I only managed to turn things around because my cousin helped me behind the scenes.”
“I really am just a—”
At this point, the assistant director silently raised his hand to cover his ears, outright rejecting the wave of negativity radiating from the show’s chief director.
—
Inside the room.
When Shen Xiu heard the door close behind him, he realized he was now alone in the room with his teacher. That made him even more uneasy.
He couldn’t help it. No matter how old he got, Shen Xiu always found himself instinctively nervous in front of his teacher.
What’s more, he had no idea why his teacher had come to see him.
As Shen Xiu sat there, nervously guessing the reason, he suddenly heard Jiang Jinya’s calm voice:
“What made you decide to join a show like this?”
Jiang Jinya had only come by to visit Shi Buwen, but upon entering the set, she’d seen photos of the trainees—and there was Shen Xiu among them.
She remembered Shen Xiu very well. In fact, not just her—every subject teacher who had taught him remembered the quiet, award-winning academic standout.
She still recalled him saying he wanted to become a director.
Because of that, she had watched all of Shen Xiu’s student short films. They were imaginative, full of creative spark and promise.
If Shen Xiu had stayed on that excellent path until graduation, she had been planning to introduce him to people in the industry, to help guide him toward his dream.
So she couldn’t understand—what could’ve happened to that aspiring director Shen Xiu that led him to join a boy group talent show?
Of course, Shen Xiu couldn’t tell her about the system. Even if the system allowed him to explain, no one would believe him. They’d think he was insane.
So he opted for the honest, simple version of the truth:
“Because they provide free food and lodging here…”
Upon hearing Shen Xiu’s calm reply, Jiang Jinya fell silent: “…”
She didn’t quite understand young people these days—the joke was painfully dry.
“As long as you’re happy.” Jiang Jinya said, her gaze fixed intently on Shen Xiu, unblinking.
As the teacher was a respected senior, it would be rude to avert his gaze, so Shen Xiu forced himself to meet her eyes and responded stiffly, “Yes, Teacher. I’m very happy.”
He was afraid she’d think he was wasting his potential, so he worked hard to pull himself out of the flustered state he’d been in since seeing her, trying to come up with a proper explanation that wouldn’t make her misunderstand.
Hearing Shen Xiu’s calm reply, Jiang Jinya nodded slightly. “Do you still want to become a director?”
Shen Xiu nodded without hesitation. “I do!”
At that moment, he finally began to recover from his nerves, and repeated the thoughts he’d prepared in his heart:
“Teacher, I won’t neglect my studies, and I won’t give up on my dream.”
Back at school, Shen Xiu had always known how extraordinary Jiang Jinya was.
Students often said that many celebrities and directors in the entertainment industry needed to book an appointment through her assistant just to get a meeting with her. If they weren’t her students, they’d never get close. For someone as busy and highly regarded as her to show concern for him—Shen Xiu felt incredibly honored, and even more afraid of disappointing her.
Of course, there were many accomplished professors at their university. Shen Xiu had heard classmates gossip about several who owned companies or led creative teams—making far more money from a single project than their monthly professor salaries.
After finishing, Shen Xiu realized his words might have come off too short, so he nervously added:
“Please believe in me, Teacher.”
Jiang Jinya couldn’t see even a trace of perfunctory behavior in Shen Xiu’s expression. In fact, from start to finish, he had faced her with calm composure, respectful but not self-deprecating.
It was clear that Shen Xiu had already thought long and hard about the path he wanted to take. He likely had a clear vision for his future—and was ready to walk it on his own terms.
Jiang Jinya thought to herself: Shen Xiu must have his own reasons—or perhaps even a specific goal—for suddenly participating in this talent show.
Maybe… he’s here to scout future actors to collaborate with?
After all, it’s not uncommon these days for idols to cross over into acting.
In short, it seemed clear that Shen Xiu knew exactly what he was doing. As for that “free food and lodging” line—she figured it must have been one of his dry jokes. He didn’t crack jokes often, but this wouldn’t be the first time.
Jiang Jinya let out a quiet sigh of relief. “As long as you’ve got a clear head about it.”
Shen Xiu was just as she remembered—always clear in his intentions, no matter what he was doing, never someone others had to worry about.
Shen Xiu could tell his teacher was worried about him—worried that joining a talent show might hurt his studies. The fact that she came all the way here just to check on him made his chest ache with emotion.
“Thank you, Teacher.”
As he spoke, he realized his voice had turned a little hoarse—choked with emotion.
Shen Xiu: “……”
‘Oh no. I just choked up in front of my teacher. This is so embarrassing!’
Overwhelmed with embarrassment, Shen Xiu sat there, totally silent and avoiding eye contact.
