Trainee Ch.30.1

Chapter 30.1: First Performance (3)

Staring at that lone, raised hand, Lai Yudong couldn’t understand it. It made sense that he wasn’t fighting for the center position, but why wasn’t anyone else competing for it either?

Their team’s lineup consisted of three Class B members, four from Class C, and one from Class F. The best approach, naturally, was to pick a Class B trainee as the center.

It wasn’t that only higher-rated trainees had the right to be the center — the real requirement was a mix of strength and stage presence. Especially with such strong opponents, they needed someone eye-catching to stand in the center.

Judging solely from Zeng Kai’s theme song evaluation, he might not be able to carry this performance.

Shu Tengjie looked around the group. “Only one person wants to be center?”

“I’m too weak at dancing — I’d crumble in the center position,” Zhao Yifeng admitted straightforwardly without beating around the bush. “I’d rather be the main vocalist.”

Chu Tianyi chimed in right after, “I want to be the main rapper.”

Seeing that the gray-hoodied boy still hadn’t spoken up, Lai Yudong thought it over and decided to call him out directly: “What about you, Zhou Rui?”

Out of the three Class B members, two had already clearly stated their preferred roles. With their abilities, they were basically guaranteed those spots. That left only the center position, and only one person wanted it. If things were allocated like this, Zhou Rui wouldn’t get a part that matched his capabilities.

The moment those words left his mouth, Zeng Kai’s gaze locked sharply onto him, as if blaming him for saying something unnecessary.

“Me?” Zhou Rui was momentarily stunned, then quickly waved his hands in refusal. “No, no. The center in the other team is definitely going to be one of the Class A trainees — I can’t measure up.”

[He says that like Zeng Kai can measure up. But he still raised his hand.]

[So naive. This is a survival show — you can’t be that laid-back!]

[The other team is ridiculously strong. It’s understandable they’re backing off.]

Lai Yudong changed to a more direct question: “Do you want to be the center?”

Winning or not was another matter — Zhou Rui’s ranking was already in a dangerous spot. If he kept flying under the radar, he might not make it to the next round.

He had finally been promoted to Class B — it would be such a shame for him to fade into the background.

And if he got eliminated, that would be more like a leaf falling to the ground.

Zhou Rui’s gaze shifted slightly. “Of course I want to…”

“Then go for it,” Zhao Yifeng said lazily, resting his chin on his hand. “If you want to do it, do it. Even if you fail, there’s nothing to lose. Plus, your competitor for center is Zeng Kai. You both know the song, right? It’s still anyone’s game.”

Zhou Rui hesitated for a moment. “Then I’ll give it a try.”

He paused, then looked toward the pale blond boy who’d encouraged him first: “What about you?”

Lai Yudong shook his head. “I can’t be center.”

[Yuzu, be more confident in yourself!]

But this wasn’t about confidence.

[This team isn’t going to win anyway. Might as well pick the best-looking one as center.]

[He could just stand there and not even dance — Yuki’s face already wins.]

…They’d definitely get scolded for that.

Please, dear audience, don’t spoil him so much!

The center position would be decided through a round of performances of the killing part, after which everyone would vote for the trainee they thought best suited for the role.

Zeng Kai went first. His dancing was passable, but his vocals left much to be desired. Forgetting the lyrics after just one line was a minor issue — the real problem was his pitch, which floated around like a helium balloon, never quite landing. On top of that, his facial expressions didn’t reflect the refreshing vibe of the song at all.

The second to perform was Zhou Rui. His singing and dancing were both average — clearly a step behind Class A’s standards — but more than sufficient for competing for the center position within this group. His expression control also conveyed a much fresher vibe.

Objectively speaking, neither performance was particularly outstanding, but the difference in quality was clear as day.

“You two, keep your heads down and don’t look. We’re voting internally,” Shu Tengjie took it upon himself to host the process. “Raise your hand if you choose Zeng Kai.”

Two hands went up — one from Zhou Rui, who was still looking down, and the other from Zeng Kai.

[Zhou Rui’s vote could be interpreted as showing respect to his competitor — but what’s Zeng Kai’s reason for voting for himself?]

[Because he wants to be center /doge]

[Zeng Kai’s rank is low. If he doesn’t fight for opportunities now, he might get eliminated in the first round.]

[Aren’t the two of them ranked about the same?]

— Zhou Rui was ranked 60th, Zeng Kai 64th.

Lai Yudong wasn’t good at everything, but he had an excellent memory. Remembering rankings was way easier than memorizing complex dance moves.

Too bad he couldn’t just answer the barrage of comments himself.

But truthfully, their group didn’t have much popularity to begin with. Aside from Zhao Yifeng, ranked 4th, and Chu Tianyi, ranked 33rd, everyone else was ranked below Lai Yudong — who was just barely clinging to his spot.

Shu Tengjie continued, “Raise your hand if you vote for Zhou Rui.”

With Huang Yue abstaining, five hands went up.

In the end, Zhou Rui was chosen as the group’s center with a lead of three votes.

Standing closest to the part assignment board, Shu Tengjie placed Zhou Rui’s name in the center slot. At the same time, Jiang Yangfan from the other team stood up and filled in their center as well.

—Center: Mo Li.

[Let’s be honest, no one in either Peppermint team is more suited to be center than Emperor Mo.]

[Isn’t this basically a total stomp over the other group?]

Zhou Rui placed one hand on the shoulder of the person most responsible for pushing him into the center spot, and let out a weak voice: “I’m under so much pressure… Why did it have to be Mo Li…”

Lai Yudong patted his shoulder. “We’re counting on you, center.”

Zhou Rui gave a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Then we’re screwed.”

Next up was selecting the team leader, which went smoothly since only Shu Tengjie volunteered.

The following round was for choosing the main vocalist. Zhao Yifeng, Shu Tengjie, and Zeng Kai all expressed interest. The three of them sang a high-note section in turn, and the vote ended at 6:1:1 — Zhao Yifeng won.

Even more people wanted to compete for the role of main rapper: Chu Tianyi, Huang Yueru, Luo Feiran, and Zeng Kai — not because all of them were skilled rappers, but because it was the least competitive of the core positions. Chu Tianyi’s rapping wasn’t as far ahead of the others as Zhao Yifeng’s vocals were.

The final vote came to 4:2:1:1, with Chu Tianyi securing the position of main rapper.

Dividing up the remaining parts got far more heated. Everyone wanted as large a share as possible, and no one was willing to back down — excuses kept popping up one after another.

“I think this part suits you better.”

“This section was originally done by a senior I really admire.”

“My rap’s better than my vocals.”

…

Lai Yudong figured that as the group’s token “little foreigner,” there was no way he’d be able to blend into the debate, so he quietly sat to the side, letting his mind wander while the others fought it out. Once the dust settled, he could just pick up whatever was left — in this case, sub-vocal 3.

He flipped through the lyrics sheet. It had a total of two solo lines, about four seconds altogether. The rest was group singing.

Honestly, he had Zhou Rui to thank for even getting that. Since Zhou Rui already had the killing part, he willingly chose the smallest share — sub-vocal 4.

Looking on the bright side…

There didn’t seem to be a bright side.

Maybe having more time to practice dancing counted?

Once the part assignment sheet was completed, they moved on to practice. Unlike the theme song evaluation, the performance task didn’t come with designated instructors — the trainees had to learn everything themselves by following a demo video. The teachers would only step in the day before the dress rehearsal to check their progress and give specific advice.

“Zhou Rui, Zeng Kai — are you two familiar with the choreography?” asked Shu Tengjie, now carrying the burden of team captain. They were the only two in the group who had heard Peppermint before.

Zhou Rui: “I know the chorus part.”

Zeng Kai: “I’ve only heard the song.”

“Got it.” Shu Tengjie nodded and turned to Zhou Rui. “Can I leave the choreography breakdown to you?”

Zhou Rui looked troubled. “I’m not very good at breaking down choreography — I’m really slow at it.”

“Anyone else here good at learning choreo from scratch?”

The only responses he got were either “never done it before” or “I’m not good at dancing.”

Zhou Rui sighed. “Then I’ll do it. As long as you don’t mind me being slow.”

[This group is down bad.]

[Zhou Rui’s picks were kind of questionable — wasn’t he the fifth to choose?]

[He probably didn’t expect things to turn out like this.]

[His picks were fine. A lot of other teams are lacking vocals or dancers. This team was clearly selected for balance — just unlucky, really.]

Watching the gray-hooded boy crouched in the corner with a tablet in his hands, Lai Yudong pursed his lips, feeling guilty.

Because they had practiced the theme song together, Lai Yudong knew Zhou Rui’s learning pace was on the slower side and he struggled with memorizing choreography — he only managed to keep up through sheer hard work rather than natural talent. Now he not only had to learn the entire dance by himself, but also teach it to the rest of the team. The pressure had to be enormous.

But there was nothing Lai Yudong could do to help — not making things worse was already the best he could manage.

Lai Yudong decided to finish learning his vocal part as quickly as possible so he could spend the rest of the time with his friend who was now carrying the heavy burden alone.

Zhou Rui was the kind of person who really needed emotional support — even just quietly being nearby was better than doing nothing at all.

There were only four MP3 players, so they had to share earphones in pairs. Lai Yudong immediately rushed toward Zhao Yifeng, expressing his desire to be in the same group with him.

His reason for picking Zhao Yifeng was simple: first, because he was a great singer; second, because he was a chill and reasonable person.

“Sure,” Zhao Yifeng agreed readily. He plugged in the earphones and tossed one side over, casually adding, “Thanks for that thing, by the way.”

Lai Yudong looked completely confused. “Huh?”

[Wait, they know each other?]

[What?! Did I miss another chapter of Yuzu’s friendship arc?]

He wanted to know too — was this some kind of surprise backstory update?

Seriously, why did every major vocalist in this show start their conversations with mysterious thanks he didn’t understand?

Seeing Lai Yudong’s utterly baffled expression, Zhao Yifeng vaguely explained, “You know, the first stage battle thing.”

“…What?”

What did that have to do with a former Class F trainee like him?

Zhao Yifeng chuckled, clearly amused. “You spoke up for me, didn’t you? Forgot already?”

That’s when Lai Yudong finally realized he was talking about the time he helped defuse the situation for Xu An. His eyes widened in shock. “How did you know about that?”

“Oh, Liu Qichu told me.”

Lai Yudong: “O-oh… I see…”

So Zhao Yifeng wasn’t some mind-reading chosen one after all.

But… how did those two even know each other? From the initial evaluations to dorm assignments to the second round of assessments, they’d had zero interaction. Or was it that, by now, there was no one on this show Liu Qichu didn’t know?

The end of the world might just be Liu Qichu.

[Wait, what? I’m lost — how is this related to Qichu again?]

[Got it now. It’s a fan war. Miura is a Zhao Yifeng stan, Liu Qichu’s a Zhao Yifeng anti.]

[I’d believe that if Yuzu weren’t already a Xu An fan.]

[Still, publicly speaking up for Zhao Yifeng probably means he’s a fan, right?]

[So what did Pangolin say, exactly?]

[I swear, I’m going back to rewatch the livestream. If I don’t find out what Yuzu said, I’ll lose sleep.]

[Sister, if you find it, post the clip on the forum, please.]

Lai Yudong: “…”

How had he suddenly gained two fandom identities without noticing?

Comment after comment flew across the screen. Lai Yudong turned to glance at Zhao Yifeng, who was just putting in one side of the shared earphones. Judging by how casually he brushed off the whole incident, it was clear that he wasn’t the type who liked to dwell on or explain his actions.

Like one of those “good deeds done anonymously” types?

Wait, no — it was actually the opposite.

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