Royal Ch.18

Chapter 18: Divorce

Of course some trainees would sneak phones in and secretly use them at night.

Shu Yang from Class B was one of them.

He was decently skilled, but his company wasn’t very supportive, so Shu Yang planned to ride on some extra screen time to support himself.

That’s why all the accounts he followed on his phone were gossip bloggers from fandom circles—he kept a close eye on public opinion and adjusted his strategy accordingly.

Late at night, he pulled out his phone, and the first thing he saw on Weibo was the official statement from the Starlight show’s main account.

The caption was just one word: “Re-recording?”

And a single photo—but the post had gone hugely viral.

Shu Yang scrolled down and caught his breath. The top two comments had over 150,000 likes each.

For a show that hadn’t even aired yet, that was crazy.

“Just from the screenshot, I’m already obsessed… and he still has to re-record? Are the other contestants all megastars or what?” —175K likes

“Before watching: How are you gonna explain this? After watching: I’m about to sue whoever posted that previous trending rumor.” —158K likes

“First time seeing such a fast and forceful official response. Feels so alive.” —107K likes

“Exposed thigh, covered face, open collar, slightly parted lips—it’s like you can hear the panting.” —142K likes

“Yue Zhaolin… it’s you again… I give everything and still can’t resist… you incubus…” —94K likes

He was so hyped he barely slept that night. He decided that no matter what, he’d force himself into the spotlight the next day.

But the very next morning, the news had already spread everywhere.

“……”

He’d been dreaming of getting a scoop all to himself, but that plan had completely flopped.

Aaaaaargh!!!

—

Wei Huahao had been hiding in the bathroom smoking when a fellow smoker brought it up.

“Royalty’s like that now—honestly, aren’t you jealous?”

Another guy let out a sigh and laughed. “Jealous, of course. I was just thinking, why are Cen Chi and Meng Yu both gravitating toward him?”

“Guy’s got foresight—being a simp for the crown prince, ha!”

“Teaming up with Yue Zhaolin has its perks. Didn’t Chu Li latch on too?”

“Yue Zhaolin’s always been kind of lukewarm with them, hasn’t he? Just those few thick-skinned ones who shamelessly suck up and somehow make it work.”

Wei Huahao exhaled a puff of smoke. “You guys don’t know this, but when Yue Zhaolin was still a trainee, he already had a terrible reputation.”

“Oh? What do you mean?”

“He’s just a pretty face who used his looks to throw his weight around, b*llying fellow trainees,” he said without hesitation.

In reality, Wei Huahao had no direct conflict of interest with Yue Zhaolin—Yue Zhaolin was already pre-selected, while Wei Huahao had to compete with the rest. But he just didn’t like him. Making things up like this gave him a secret sense of satisfaction, a thrill of feeling superior.

“You don’t believe me? Just look at Fu Xunying. During the initial evaluations, he and Yue Zhaolin were always stuck together. Now they’ve totally drifted apart.”

That was something Wei Huahao had noticed and now used as proof for his made-up claims.

The other guy played along, saying, “So they couldn’t even keep up the act, huh?”

“Bang—”

Before the words were even finished, the bathroom door was yanked open, the sliding door slamming hard against the frame with a loud crash.

Everyone inside jumped in fright, snapping their heads toward the door—it was… Fu Xunying.

Fu Xunying’s face was expressionless. His gaze fell on them like it had physical weight.

No one dared speak.

The guy next to Wei Huahao finally forced himself to break the silence, awkwardly stammering, “Xunying, didn’t you go to the practice room? How come you’re back—did you forget something or…?”

Fu Xunying said coldly, “I heard everything.”

“…What?”

Wei Huahao’s pupils contracted. He shot to his feet in a panic. “Xunying, I wasn’t—”

He was fully aware of Fu Xunying’s “status.” The company had warned him repeatedly: if you can’t win him over, at least don’t offend him.

Fu Xunying was in a foul mood. Having grown up surrounded by wealth and power, his natural temperament was hard to restrain. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an unmistakable pressure.

“Who else have you said this to?”

Wei Huahao stammered, “No one—no one else. Just them. That’s all…”

Fu Xunying’s face darkened.

“Y-Yue Zhaolin never b*llied anyone,” Wei blurted out, panicked, “I was making it up—I was spreading rumors!”

Seeing him like that, Fu Xunying originally wanted to ask why he’d bother fabricating rumors about Yue Zhaolin, but suddenly lost all interest.

“There’s no bad blood between us,” he said. “That’s all in your head.”

And another sentence—“Yue Zhaolin and I aren’t pretending”—was stuck in Fu Xunying’s throat, unsaid.

—

Morning, practice room.

The day’s task for all trainees was to record their performance video for the show’s theme song. Each person had only one shot.

There were only 11 people in Class A, and even with the staff, the room didn’t feel crowded.

But perhaps because of the rumors floating around, the atmosphere felt subtly off.

Chu Li asked, “Who wants to go first?”

“I’ll go.”

Chen Wu, a former street dance champion, raised his hand. He didn’t have the same variety-show appeal as the other contestants, but anyone placed in Class A had ambition.

With cameras filming, going first might earn him a bit more screen time.

Chen Wu said, “I’m ready. You can start the music. Thanks.”

The staff member gave a nod, and as soon as the music started, Chen Wu sprang into motion. He hit the beat right on cue and began singing the first line—but his voice wavered slightly.

Though he managed to steady himself afterward, the tension in his throat was obvious.

As Chen Wu approached the high note, everyone present held their breath, tense with anticipation—

Good, he nailed it!

Class A was off to a strong start.

Chen Wu had set a solid tone for the session. The atmosphere lightened noticeably, and after he bowed and stepped aside, some of the trainees even high-fived him.

After that, one by one, Chu Li, Cen Chi, Yue Zhaolin, Meng Yu, and others took their turns on stage.

Yue Zhaolin’s turn came somewhere in the middle—not too early, not too late. When he stood up, Chu Li and Cen Chi were the first to applaud, prompting everyone else to follow suit.

Yue Zhaolin smiled and thanked them.

The pitch-black camera lens loomed ahead. He bowed his head, and only when the music began did he look up and deliver the opening line.

For those with a trained eye, Yue Zhaolin’s improvement in dance was just as obvious as Tan Shen’s had been earlier—undeniable. But…

Chu Li blinked in surprise, eyes fixed on him. He leaned toward Cen Chi and whispered, “Zhaolin’s expressions… do they seem even more impressive now?”

Cen Chi: “……”

The lyrics of Meteor revolve around themes like burning bright and fearless forward momentum.

And today, Yue Zhaolin’s smile embodied that perfectly.

He shone.

The theme song performance needed to balance both singing and dancing. By the end, Yue Zhaolin was slightly out of breath. He gave a formal bow to the camera—performance complete.

“Clap clap clap—”

Cen Chi was the first to applaud. His eyes were gleaming, and he praised without hesitation:

“Zhaolin, you sang really well.”

Meng Yu was smiling.

Chu Li tilted his head and chatted softly with him.

Quietly, almost without notice, Yue Zhaolin had once again become the center of Class A.

There were only 11 trainees, and the song was three and a half minutes long. So in under an hour, they were all done recording.

The other classes were still recording.

The theme song assessment videos would be reviewed one by one by the PD and the mentors. Once they reached a consensus, the trainees would be re-evaluated and assigned a new grade.

Only those who were rated A again would be eligible to compete for the center position in the theme song the following day.

Another day passed.

When it was time to announce the re-evaluations, the eleven trainees returned to the same practice room, standing face-to-face with the staff.

Remaining in Class A meant you could stay here. If you were downgraded, you’d have to leave the room and go to the one corresponding to your new grade. It was a symbolic kind of exile.

It was also a way to ramp up the tension for the contestants.

The staff intentionally slowed down the announcements to build suspense—then dropped a bomb: the very first person was downgraded.

“Yuan Tao, Class D.”

Yuan Tao had forgotten the lyrics during the assessment. He only sang half the song, then never opened his mouth again.

His face flushed bright red. Embarrassed and flustered, he forced a smile and said goodbye to the rest of Class A before walking out the door.

After that, two more trainees were moved down to Class B. At the same time, some were promoted from other classes.

Among them: Fu Xunying and Mao Ding from Class B.

When Fu Xunying entered the room, the first thing he did was glance at Yue Zhaolin—then glance again.

“……”

Yue Zhaolin didn’t react. He didn’t even stand up to welcome him. The slight guilt that Fu Xunying had been feeling instantly faded.

Then, the staff called out:

“Yue Zhaolin, your grade is—

A.”

The moment the “A” was announced, Fu Xunying dropped all personal “grudges.” His face lit up with pure joy, and he couldn’t help but cheer out loud—

“…Ahem.”

After all the trainees’ grades had been announced, the staff told those who had changed classes to go switch into the appropriate uniforms, while the others were given a short break. They were to gather in the main hall in an hour.

Soon, the main event of the day would begin—the battle for center position.

…

In the corner of Class A’s practice room, Yue Zhaolin was rummaging through his bag looking for cold medicine.

Once he found it, he realized his water bottle was empty, so he got up to refill it.

“Here.”

A bottle of mineral water was handed to him.

It was Fu Xunying.

Under the overhead lights, Fu Xunying’s expression was slightly awkward as he urged, “What are you staring at me for…? I even opened the cap for you—hurry up and drink it!”

Taking advantage of the fact that no one else was nearby, Fu Xunying grew bolder.

“Yue Zhaolin, do you still remember we’re supposed to be on the same team?”

“?”

Fu Xunying stiffened his neck and muttered, “These past few days you’ve been so busy with those other people, you forgot all about me…”

“It’d be weird not to forget,” Yue Zhaolin replied. “Besides, weren’t you giving me the silent treatment?”

Fu Xunying: “When did I ever—”

Yue Zhaolin looked at him.

Fu Xunying’s voice instantly dropped to a mumble, grumbling under his breath but unable to come up with a real excuse.

“How come I feel like you’re not even the least bit tolerant with me anymore?” he said, a sudden idea striking him. “We do have a CP storyline, you know!”

A pairing line the company had assigned them—like an arranged marriage.

“We’re divorced,” Yue Zhaolin said flatly.

Fu Xunying looked stunned, stammering, “H-How is that even possible?!”

…

By the time Yue Zhaolin arrived at the hall, most people were already there. They sat in a wide circle around the stage, the crowd fanning outward.

This season’s Class A lineup was exceptionally strong, so the competition for center was bound to be intense.

There was Chen Wu, the street dance champion; Chu Li, a prodigy in Chinese dance; and Cen Chi, who wasn’t quite as technically trained but had impressive choreography skills.

The rest of the A-class trainees each had their own specialties to bring to the table.

As Yue Zhaolin walked over, the murmur of conversation in the room briefly faltered. Then suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed his wrist.

It was Tan Shen.

“Come sit in the front—it’s basically the VIP section. Better view,” he said casually. After all, neither of them was competing for center.

He tugged Yue Zhaolin forward a few steps before letting go. The two of them found an open spot in the front row and sat side by side.

Tan Shen had also heard the widely-circulated rumors among the trainees, but he didn’t have much of a reaction. In his opinion, Yue Zhaolin being treated like royalty was only natural.

What did bother him were the familiar, whispering stares from people around them.

So Tan Shen chose to be more proactive—if people were going to gossip, they could include him too.

Tan Shen leaned over, “Cen Chi’s not glued to your side today? That’s rare.”

The phrase “glued to your side” sounded suspiciously like describing a puppy—and Tan Shen had said it deliberately.

Yue Zhaolin shot him a look. “Tan Shen, is there ever a moment when you rein in your mouth?”

“There is,” Tan Shen replied, “if the situation calls for it.”

Then he leaned closer to Yue Zhaolin’s ear and whispered with amusement, “Oho—Fu Xunying’s sneaking glances at you from the back.”

His tone suggested the look on Fu Xunying’s face was… quite interesting.

Yue Zhaolin turned to look—only to see Cen Chi suddenly pop up from behind.

“I’m back!” Cen Chi chirped.

…

On stage, the crowd had mostly settled. Li Ying picked up the microphone and began explaining the rules for the C-position competition.

They were simple—perform based on your own abilities. Everyone votes.

Actually, Chu Li was also pretty obviously favored by the show—his performance slot was near the front, though not the very first.

When he took the stage, everyone noticed he had a plum blossom in his hand.

Li Ying asked curiously, “Where’d that come from?”

Chu Li quickly explained, “It’s a fake flower, I took it from the vase by the elevator corner,” then hastily added, “With permission!”

Maybe because he rushed to clarify, worried others wouldn’t believe him, the whole thing came off a little funny. Laughter rippled through the room.

After the previous two had battled it out with powerful dance performances, Chu Li’s “trump card” felt especially striking—

A sword dance, using the flower branch as a stand-in for the sword.

It struck a perfect balance between strength and grace, blending gentleness with sharp precision. The choreography seamlessly matched the music, leaving the audience dazzled.

Even though Chu Li wore a pink sweatshirt, there were fleeting moments when it felt like he was dressed in flowing ancient robes—like a celestial swordsman from a classic drama.

Yue Zhaolin, though no expert in dance, couldn’t help but be captivated. Amazement flickered across his face.

As Chu Li spun, their eyes met—like a spark snapping into place.

On impulse, or maybe to make the performance more interactive, Chu Li suddenly changed the choreography—

He offered the end of the plum branch toward Yue Zhaolin.

Yue Zhaolin tilted his head slightly, uncertain.

Chu Li’s eyes, their corners slightly upturned, were steeped in an ancient, foxlike charm. He smiled faintly, gaze full of anticipation—

As if he were waiting for Yue Zhaolin to reach out and touch the red plum blossom at the tip of the branch.

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