Chapter 27: Halftime Break (3)
Filming officially began, and Qu Xincheng and Lai Yudong stood on either side of the mystery box, taking turns to introduce themselves to the camera.
“Hello everyone, I’m Qu Xincheng from Tianhua Entertainment.”
“I’m Miura Yuki from LYD Entertainment.”
A staff member pressed the button to start the one-minute countdown.
The “mystery box,” as the name suggests, induces fear through the unknown. People with weaker nerves can scare themselves just by imagining what might be inside. Some bold foreign variety shows even include strange things like bullfrogs or loaches—live creatures that are unpleasant both to see and to touch.
Lai Yudong didn’t think the props prepared by the show would go that far. No matter how scary, it would probably be something like fake rats, fake bugs, or sea cucumbers—not enough to faze him.
He had a pretty strong tolerance for fear.
Lai Yudong reached toward the hole on the side of the mystery box. His fingertip hadn’t even gone in halfway when—without any warning—a sudden scream jolted him so hard it felt like his entire body convulsed, as if the universe had timed it perfectly to slap him in the face.
“Ah! Ahhh!”
Lai Yudong: “…”
What the hell was that?
He turned speechlessly toward the black-haired boy who had jumped up and done a few popping moves. The scream was so contagious that Lai Yudong almost suspected they’d already moved into the next horror segment and accidentally touched something so gory it would need to be censored.
He looked at the other person with a questioning gaze—what did you touch?
Qu Xincheng laughed awkwardly, “I-I haven’t touched anything yet.”
“…”
Okay, looks like this teammate is the type who scares others more than the haunted house itself.
Lai Yudong reached into the box, his fingertips brushing against a cold solid object. He pressed forward with his palm and identified it as a bowl-shaped container—the real object was inside.
His fingers slid down along the rim of the bowl and dipped into a cold liquid.
“Does it have to be something soaked in water?”
“Waaahhhh!!!”
A scream shot straight up to the ceiling, and Qu Xincheng jumped even farther than before—half his body disappeared from the camera’s view. His voice quivered as if he were about to cry: “I-it’s c-cold!”
“It’s water,” Lai Yudong replied coolly, a stark contrast to his partner’s panicked flailing.
“W-water…?” Qu Xincheng stammered.
Lai Yudong resumed his search, now accustomed to the sporadic shrieks beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Qu Xincheng twitching as though he’d been electrocuted. Lai Yudong fought the urge to laugh.
He felt a smooth block.
It gave slightly under his touch.
Raising his hand, he ventured: “Tofu?”
“Wrong.”
At that moment, Qu Xincheng mustered his courage, gingerly poking the surface twice with his fingertip before confidently raising his hand: “Kelp!”
Lai Yudong: “That’s my hand.”
Qu Xincheng: “…Sorry.”
No staff member even had to announce it—every answer was wrong.
“Jelly.”
“Wide rice noodles.”
“Double-skin milk pudding.”
…
With time running out, Qu Xincheng rattled off several more incorrect guesses. Then, on a sudden impulse, Lai Yudong sniffed his finger. A faint metallic scent clicked everything into place.
“Duck’s blood.”
“Correct!”
“That’s amazing!” Qu Xincheng clapped and hurried to the open side of the box. “It really is duck’s blood—I never would’ve guessed.”
Lai Yudong thought: eating too much hot pot does that to you. And besides, Qu Xincheng had almost eliminated every plausible answer—there weren’t many possibilities left.
In the end, Lai Yudong, having won the game, unlocked a special reward: the staff placed a fluffy deer-ear and antler headband on him, and he posed for three carefully crafted, cutesy selfies.
The following evening, Climbing to Stardom’s official account released a highlight reel of the mystery box segment.
Because Lai Yudong and Qu Xincheng’s visuals were such a standout pairing, many people clicked in the moment they saw the thumbnail—bam!—and the view count soared, eventually surpassing that of the group with the biggest fanbase, Zhao Yifeng and Jiang Yangfan, firmly securing the top spot.
Of course, another major reason was that this segment had off-the-charts entertainment value.
Many viewers didn’t have the patience to watch all 52 groups and instead picked only the most likable or funniest contestants. Naturally, this pair earned a spot on the must-watch list.
And then came a wave of oddly specific recommendations…
…
[Thread Title] Don’t tell me there are still people who haven’t watched the mystery box challenge with Miura Yuki and Qu Xincheng!
OP: Let me start by saying, I’m not a fan of either of them. But this segment is hilarious. From the moment they meet, it’s just nonstop laughs. Why did Prince Qu randomly hit Yuzu with English right off the bat?! Hahahahahaha
1F: I’m dying—did Xiao Qu think Yuzu was a foreigner or something?
2F: To be fair, I don’t think Yuzu ever clarified that point…
3F: Totally normal. Who goes around saying “I’m Chinese” for no reason? What is he, one of those Korean scammers pretending to be Chinese abroad?
4F: Now I’m seriously wondering if a bunch of contestants actually think Yuzu is a foreigner…
5F: Yuzu: “Y’all okay?? This is China.jpg”
6F: Are you guys talking about the duck-blood slap incident? /doge
7F: Xiao Qu’s scream was way too dramatic hahahahahahaha
8F: The prince was already hilarious just standing there screaming, but then Yuzu was next to him, dead still, staring like he was watching an idiot—it’s the contrast that makes it so much funnier.
9F: Yuzu: I don’t get it, and I’m not particularly moved.
10F: Honestly didn’t expect Yu-baby to be that brave. I thought he’d react just like Xiao Qu… what a letdown. I wanted to see my wife running around screaming /cry
11F: Don’t forget—this is the same guy who ripped out his colored contacts the second he wore them. Cold-blooded legend.
12F: Did y’all not watch the livestream? Yu-baby’s got nerves of steel. Yesterday he killed a bug in Dorm 706 while all four residents were screaming and scrambling—he just calmly took a slipper, smashed it, and even cleaned up the crime scene with tissues. 233
13F: LMAO who’s in 706 again?
14F: Replying to upstairs: Liu Qichu, Jin Xiheng, Su Junzhe, and Huang Yueru.
15F: Why is no one talking about the kelp moment?? That part broke me.
16F: Stoppp, the moment you said it, I remembered. All I hear in my head is Yuzu saying, “That’s my hand.”
17F: Don’t even bring it up. That kelp moment was literally their only physical contact in the whole segment.
18F: Ahhhh I wanted to rant about that too! Did the show pair them up just so they could sensually caress duck blood together??
19F: +1. Other groups were holding hands, and these two were just over there like “kelp” hhhhhhh
20F: Some groups are seriously selling fanservice, others are seriously solving riddles—everyone’s on their own beautiful journey.
21F: Two clueless cuties with zero awareness of how to fanservice.
22F: Doesn’t matter. As long as pretty boys are in the same frame, it’s already peak bliss.
23F: Just quietly chiming in—the show just dropped new content! It’s selfies of the mystery box winners, and Yuzu’s got one too!
24F: OMG go look now!! Yuzu is so good at this fanservice stuff!
25F: I’ve lost the ability to form coherent sentences. Miura Yuki, why are you so good-looking?! TUT
26F: I’ve passed out from the cuteness of Reindeer Yuzu.
27F: Cool guy doing cutesy poses = deadly combo (blank stare). He’s so good at taking pics—if he debuts, his photocards will be insanely expensive…
28F: Sobbing… I want Prince Qu’s fanservice selfies too…
29F: Xiao Qu: Screaming, do not disturb.
30F: Xiao Qu: Kelp, do not disturb.
31F: Please I’m begging you, stop bringing up the kelp HAHAHAHA
—
After the theme song phase wrapped up, Lai Yudong didn’t exactly get a break. His days remained packed with material shoots, vocal practice, and dance rehearsals—the only difference was that now, he actually had time to sleep properly.
He couldn’t afford to slack off just because there was no immediate evaluation. If he waited until group stage practice to regret having a weak foundation, it’d be too late.
So, he sought vocal coaching from his dormmate Xu An and dance help from next-door dormmates Su Junzhe and Jin Xiheng.
Xu An ended up hosting a mini vocal class in dorm 707. Even the perpetually unmotivated Liang Zhisheng dragged himself out from under the covers to join. Add in Zhou Rui who dropped by from another dorm, and the four of them sat in a neat row before “Teacher Xu,” creating a surprisingly wholesome little study group.
What caught Lai Yudong off guard was that the keyboard propped up beside the suitcase wasn’t Xu An’s—it belonged to Liang Zhisheng.
The latter claimed he couldn’t really play and just brought it for the aesthetic.
As for dance practice, Lai Yudong’s unexpected partnership with Jin Xiheng came about by pure coincidence.
That day, as Lai Yudong passed by dorm 706, he was startled by a series of shrieks on par with Qu Xincheng’s. Just as he was about to knock and ask what was going on, Liu Qichu burst out of the room like he’d found a lifeline and grabbed him, saying a bug had fallen onto Jin Xiheng’s bed.
Lai Yudong: …
Not a single one of the four dared to deal with the bug?
Thanks to his heroic deed of eliminating the insect, Lai Yudong was rewarded with an entry ticket to “Teacher Jin’s Dance Class.”
Just kidding.
In truth, Jin Xiheng had promised to teach Liu Qichu how to dance, and Su Junzhe used that opportunity to pitch in an extra student. After all, he couldn’t afford to spend all his time coaching just Lai Yudong and Zhou Rui. Adding another trainee to share the load sounded like a great idea.
So, Su Junzhe went all in—praising Jin Xiheng’s dance skills and professional teaching style from top to bottom, then doing the same for Lai Yudong, talking up his dedication and how quickly he was improving. He even threw in a line about how deeply passionate Lai Yudong was about dancing—something the boy himself hadn’t realized.
And just like that, the two were roped into it without even knowing how.
Su Junzhe, brimming with energy, cheered them on: “You got this! Current dance ace and future dance ace!”
Jin Xiheng twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Why does it sound like you’re being sarcastic?”
“Nonsense, I’m complimenting you,” Su Junzhe insisted, grabbing Jin Xiheng’s hand with his left and Lai Yudong’s with his right. Like some kind of ritual handoff, he pressed the two hands together. “I leave my precious student in your care~”
“Sure, sure. I’ll do my best to train him into a top talent.”
Jin Xiheng’s stance was clear: teaching one person or two made no difference—as long as they were willing to learn, anyone was welcome.
As a result, Jin Xiheng’s dance class gradually expanded. Once Zhou Rui, Pei Lan, Xu An, and others caught wind of it, they all joined in one after another. Eventually, even a few unserious trainees who only came to goof off ended up tagging along.
Their logic was simple: free dance lessons—why not take advantage of them? After all, a single session with Teacher Jin would normally cost hundreds.
In contrast, Su Junzhe’s dance class became increasingly deserted. Trainees who had experienced his brutal teaching during the theme song rehearsals were too intimidated to return. The only ones with the willpower to endure and push through were Lai Yudong, Zhou Rui, and—barely—Wang Yiwen.
But Lai Yudong, who often “crashed” the class, knew very well that Su Junzhe’s regular practice sessions weren’t nearly as terrifying as people imagined.
In a way, this whole “scare them off” strategy might have been intentional—a clever way to filter out those who weren’t truly serious.
And besides, it’s not like Lai Yudong was the type to go blabbing about it.
Just like that, the days passed, and Friday came. The calm routine was suddenly disrupted.
All 101 trainees were summoned to the large third-floor practice room. Even without any prior announcement from the production team, everyone knew exactly what kind of news was coming.
Host Fu Hanyu entered with a warm smile. After a brief round of greetings, he got straight to the point.
“I’m here to announce the first performance mission—Group Evaluation.”
Fu Hanyu calmly explained the rules: “There are seven performance tracks in total, divided among fourteen groups. Each track will be performed by two different teams in a head-to-head showdown. The audience on-site will vote, and the winning team will receive an additional 50,000 votes. Within each team, the individual trainee with the highest vote count will receive an extra 20,000 votes.”
“And—only the top 55 trainees in the first ranking announcement will be eligible to participate in the second performance. The rest will be eliminated.”
[Not that many bonus votes… but we’ve got the numbers.]
[High-rankers and mid-rankers won’t benefit much, but for those in the lower ranks, this could really matter.]
Lai Yudong felt the pressure double.
If his team lost the group battle, his current ranking would be in serious jeopardy—he could get kicked off the cutoff line at any moment.
This was even tougher than the theme song evaluation. The outcome here was absolute: win or lose. No in-between.
“Now, I’ll reveal the songs for the group evaluation.”
Fu Hanyu walked to the task board and peeled off the sticker covering the song title.
“The first song—‘Peppermint’ by Fir-Nine.”