Trainee Ch.43

Chapter 43: First Ranking Announcement (2)

The big screen flashed with the faces of four trainee candidates, and at first glance, there was no familiar shade of light blond.

Lai Yudong was certain he was done for. Before he even had the chance to laugh at his own misfortune and imagine whether the next “dungeon” would be an apocalypse, a ghost story, or an ancient setting, a familiar face made him pause. His mind went blank with a sudden, explosive shock.

Among the candidates for promotion, two of them were Zhou Rui and Liang Zhisheng.

When the rankings were first announced, Lai Yudong had been so tense that he couldn’t even keep track of himself—every name called went in one ear and out the other. Later, when his mind drifted off entirely, he didn’t catch anything at all.

— They both didn’t make it in!?

Zhou Rui had his head lowered, one hand pressed to his forehead, his whole demeanor dazed. Beside him, Liang Zhisheng hooked an arm around his shoulder and smiled while murmuring comfort, his lips forming the words: “It’s definitely you.”

[Damn, this hurts so much]

[707, don’t fall apart ahhh]

[I can’t watch anymore]

[Help, why did the director have to cut to Yuzu? Seeing his expression is making me break down too]

[Feels like Yuzu’s about to cry…]

Lai Yudong turned his head toward the two of them. Even though reason told him that after a mission failed, the fate of this world had nothing to do with him, after spending so many days side by side, he couldn’t help but feel upset about the current situation.

Zhou Rui’s efforts had not been rewarded as they should have been, and just a few days ago Liang Zhisheng had said he wanted to stay. But now, the two of them couldn’t both get what they wished for.

And it wasn’t a choice between two—it was a choice between four.

If realizing he wasn’t among the candidates himself had left him feeling regret—like he’d gotten an idol experience card and wasted a few weeks—then what he felt now was far more about the cruelty of it all.

He didn’t know who he should be praying for to advance.

At the very least, he hoped the one to advance would be one of them.

Lai Yudong’s nose stung. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling lights so bright they were almost blinding, forcing back the tears that hadn’t yet fallen, as if letting them flow instead toward his heart.

The screen switched to a chart, announcing the rankings from lowest to highest.

Fifty-eighth place — not there.

Fifty-seventh place — not there.

Now it was down to a two-out-of-two chance.

[Please, now is not the time to keep cutting the camera to Yuzu 5555]

[I’m done… one second of Zhou Rui, one second of Yuzu! One second of Liang Zhisheng, one second of Yuzu! Does the director think he’s cutting a cake to share like Liu Xing?]

[Calm down, at least Yuzu holding back tears looks beautiful. If they don’t cut to him, we won’t get to see it]

The last two names were announced at the same time.

Fifty-sixth place, Zhou Rui.

Fifty-fifth place, Liang Zhisheng.

Their names were announced along with their vote counts—the difference between them was only a few hundred votes. In the world of talent shows, where totals easily reached into the millions or tens of millions, that gap was practically nothing.

The footage switched to the newly promoted trainees.

Liang Zhisheng pulled Zhou Rui into his arms. The boy with ashy-brown hair clung to him like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood, breaking down and sobbing uncontrollably.

Lai Yudong understood firsthand what “bittersweet” really meant.

Staring at that scene, the tears he had just managed to hold back blurred his vision again. Afraid that wiping too hard would smear the foundation-mixed tears into his eyes, he simply lowered his head and pressed a knuckle to the corner of his eye, only to feel the dampness there.

[He’s crying, he’s crying, he’s crying!]

[Uuuu, nobody can resist a cold-acting, shy little brother]

[I’m wiping your tears through the screen, baby T^T]

[Ahhh, mama’s heart is breaking]

[So beautiful… but my heart hurts…]

Lai Yudong: “…”

He really should turn off the barrage.

“I will never let down the Starseekers’ support for me, and I’ll cherish this precious opportunity. Also, to the friends from Group B of All Night who didn’t make it through, I’m glad I got to be on the same team with you. In my heart, you’re the best.”

After finishing his speech, Liang Zhisheng walked toward the promotion area and shared a hug with Li Xu, who had stood up to greet him.

The sadness didn’t last long, because next came the most crucial part—the first ranking announcement’s top seven, the trainees who would be the first to take a shot at their debut dreams.

“Seventh place.”

“In the first week, his ranking was outside the debut zone, but with an energetic and lively stage, he broke the Starseekers’ old impression of him…”

“Congratulations, Yin Zizhen.”

[Wow, it’s the maknae]

[Congrats Zhen-baby for squeezing into the debut zone]

[You have to hold onto it!]

“Sixth place.”

“In the first public performance, his position was vocal, with a uniquely distinctive voice…”

“Congratulations, Zhao Yifeng.”

[Teacher Zhao dropped that much? Wasn’t he fourth in the first episode?]

[That’s what happens when you rely on pre-show popularity—early rankings are a false prosperity.]

[Now I’m suddenly curious about who pushed ahead]

[The top five must be exciting]

Having seen through the ups and downs of the world, Lai Yudong detached himself from it all. Once he’d adjusted his mindset, he switched into pure spectator mode, treating himself like someone watching a variety show—except that, unlike the barrage commenters, he was physically there.

To be fair, it really was easy to get swept up in the atmosphere.

No longer caring about his own ranking, he listened attentively to each trainee’s speech. Maybe because he’d already cried once earlier, he didn’t need fancy words or over-the-top theatrics—just genuine emotion was enough to make his eyes well up again.

[Yuzu, why are you crying again hhhhhh]

[Baby sitting there alone wiping his tears looks so pitiful]

[Why does it feel like there’s a vacuum zone around Yuzu]

[Those teary eyes are like gems, so beautiful w]

“Fifth place.”

Host Fu Hanyu glanced at the cue card in his hand, a look of surprise flashing across his face. “This trainee’s ranking has changed a lot.”

He smiled mysteriously and offered a vague clue: “In the first public performance, he was the vocal position for the Peppermint team.”

Lai Yudong counted on his fingers—there were only four people left in the upper circle, and apart from Xu An, they were all vocals from that team.

Mo Li and Jiang Yangfan had been first and third in the first episode, but judging by Fu Hanyu’s expression, this person’s ranking had risen. That made the answer obvious—it must be Su Junzhe, who had moved up from sixth place.

He felt rather pleased with his own deduction.

“Before the main show even aired, he went viral with a GIF from the theme song performance, hitting ten thousand shares. Starseekers even called it a ‘god-tier ending.’”

[I think I know who it is]

[That hint is way too obvious]

[That ending video already passed a million views ages ago]

[Does the person in question even know hhhhh]

[Fu Hanyu should just say it and scare him!!]

Lai Yudong couldn’t help thinking—wow, the upper circle’s popularity was terrifying.

The last time he’d seen something hit ten thousand shares that fast, it was a scam giveaway promising free fruit machines.

“Congratulations, Miura Yuki.”

See? He knew it was Su—

…

?

The studio erupted into chatter, everyone turning to look at the announced trainee with astonished expressions.

“That’s insane.”

“I knew he was popular, but not that popular.”

“How many places did he climb?”

Lai Yudong was stunned.

Who was in fifth place?

Was he hallucinating?

Why was it his name?

Huh???

The big screen showing his name alongside the ranking erased any doubt. Staring at the light-blond boy on screen, frozen with a tear-streaked face, Lai Yudong suddenly felt like he didn’t even recognize his own expression.

There was only one thought in his head—

Weren’t they not doing random draws?

[Is this little dummy seriously unaware that he’s super popular hahaha]

[I bet he thought he was waiting for one of the “fill-in” promotion slots]

[Yuzu doesn’t have a phone, so he has no idea the theme song ending went viral]

[Honestly, no one would expect to shoot up that much—and Yuzu’s never had much confidence in his own popularity]

[Even if it’s the man himself, he can’t underestimate Yuzu fans!]

[Baby, stand up already! This fifth place belongs to you!]

Lai Yudong suddenly remembered the viral trending topic people in the barrage had mentioned before. He’d always assumed they were talking about his disaster-level first stage performance, and the system’s unusually vague “stay tuned” had only convinced him further.

Turns out… he’d been completely wrong.

So this was his actual ranking?

Then all that earlier inner commentary—like “who’s so amazing they jumped from the back row into debut,” or “the upper circle’s popularity is terrifying”—

…didn’t that now sound like he was bragging about himself?

Thank goodness no one nearby tried to chat with him, or the social-death moment would’ve been unbearable.

Amid the applause and cheers, Lai Yudong slowly crossed the pending zone. Like a parade mascot at an amusement park, he was hugged one after another by both familiar and unfamiliar trainees.

“Yuki’s ranking rise has been quite remarkable,” Fu Hanyu added while the newly promoted trainee made his way to the stage. “In the first week, he was 55th, then 22nd in the second week, 11th in the third, and this week he’s surged into the debut zone—an overall climb of fifty places in the first stage.”

[What an insanely good upward curve]

[I don’t recall any past season where someone jumped from the edge of elimination to the debut zone in the first ranking]

[Sure enough, the popularity after the show starts airing is what matters most]

[Yuzu baby still looks like he hasn’t processed it hhhhh]

Taking the microphone handed to him by the host, Lai Yudong still felt like he was in a dream. He looked over at the trainees still seated in the pending zone, unable to believe that just a second ago, he’d been sitting there too.

Both hands gripped the mic tightly, his arms, wrists, and fingertips all trembling uncontrollably.

“Just now, when I wasn’t among the promotion candidates, I’d already given up… I’d even prepared my elimination speech…”

Sniffling, Lai Yudong spoke through half-formed tears. Being suddenly called up mid-cry had left him no time to fix his image, and this unexpected gift from the heavens—so far beyond what he’d imagined—made him stumble nervously over his words without any need for pretense.

“With my abilities, to be standing here…”

He took a deep breath, his last bit of composure searching for the right phrasing in his mind. “I’m very grateful for the Starseekers’… favoritism toward me.”

[Favoritism… ahhh I love that word!]

[It sounds a little indulgent (?)]

Lai Yudong tilted his head back, trying to hold the tears in by widening his eyes—he didn’t want to be a sobbing mess in a moment meant for celebration.

But when he looked back at the camera with a bright smile, a single rogue tear escaped, sliding slowly from the corner of his eye to the curve of his upturned lips, like morning dew clinging to the edge of a flower petal.

“In the days to come, I’ll definitely show a better version of myself and live up to everyone’s love.”

“Thank you.”

With that, he bent at the waist in a sincere bow.

[That tear was timed perfectly!!!]

[Holy shh, Yuzu produces god-tier screenshots at an alarming frequency]

[Mom will definitely make sure you debut!]

Even if he didn’t debut, it wouldn’t matter.

Being embraced, praised, and loved by so many—he’d already received a kind of favoritism most ordinary people could never dream of.

The promotion zone was shaped like a pyramid: the base had normal seats, while the top had single-person sofas—extreme VIP treatment in both comfort and view.

Lai Yudong climbed the steps toward the highest debut seat. Li Xu, coming forward to hug him in celebration, discreetly slipped him a tissue and whispered smugly into his ear, “See? I didn’t lie to you, right?”

“…You could’ve told me earlier,” Lai Yudong muttered, not wanting to relive the emotional rollercoaster he’d just endured.

Li Xu gave a soft hum. “Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.”

[What are Xu and Yu whispering about?]

[Liang Zhisheng is looking at them so fondly]

[Even though our honorary member is gone, the entire 707 dorm is still alive—I’m satisfied]

The fifth-place seat was in the third row of the debut zone. Still dazed, Lai Yudong sat down and dabbed at his tear-streaked face with the tissue. All that mental preparation from earlier was for nothing—soon he’d be back in the exhausting grind of practice.

Maybe he’d gotten used to this pace of life, or maybe his fans had given him real hope for debut, but he no longer saw it as an impossible goal.

He was even… a little happy about it, like some masochist who’d gotten hooked.

The rankings continued.

Jiang Yangfan dropped to fourth place. Although a flop web drama had given him some pre-show popularity, his momentum wasn’t strong enough to sustain him. The audience for such dramas was quick to switch biases—especially for modern idol dramas that had never gone viral—so by the first ranking announcement, his popularity was already showing signs of fatigue.

Su Junzhe rose to third place.

The combined buffs of being the center for the first performance and the lead dancer easily attracted “power-admirer” fans who chase after top contenders, as well as a smaller group of fans who believed in the superstitious rule that “the first center should also be the final center.”

Once again, it came down to Xu An and Mo Li competing for first place.

The two of them stepped onto the stage, waiting for the final results to be announced.

“Who do you think will be first?” Zhao Yifeng, sitting next to him, asked.

“Xu An, probably.” Lai Yudong leaned toward his roommate in bias, but rationally, he thought Mo Li would take first.

Although Xu An had shone in the first public performance and won the highest individual vote of the night, Mo Li’s fans had been driven half-mad by Sky Video’s string of manipulative moves and were determined to guard his first-place position.

On the other hand, Sky Video wanted to use this as a test to see if Mo Li’s popularity could truly hold steady. If they went this far and still couldn’t deliver a satisfying result, the outlook for him in the later stages might be grim.

And this was something the fans probably understood even better than he did.

The final results turned out exactly as he expected: Mo Li first, Xu An second. The two took their seats in their rightful positions.

With that, all the promotion seats were filled.

—————————————————

**Author’s Note

First release of partial rankings –

Mo Li 1 / Xu An 2 / Su Junzhe 3 Jiang Yangfan 4

Miura Yuki 5 / Zhao Yifeng 6 / Yin Zizhen 7

Qu Xincheng 8 / Song Yanxi 9 / Qu Junwei 10

Bai Xuanhe 14 / Yu Yizhen 17 / Cheng Jinghao 22 / Qin Xu 23 / Zhang Mingche 25 / Jin Xiheng 28 / Lin Xiao 30 / Pei Lan 33 / Chu Tianyi 34 / Li Xu 37 / Wang Yiwen 46 / Lu Zhonghao 51 / Liu Qichu 54 / Liang Zhisheng 55 / Zhou Rui 56 / Shu Tengjie 60 / Huang Yueru 74 / Luo Feiran 87 / Zeng Kai 96

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