Chapter 105: Sing Live
Amid jets and a shower of streamers, he finished the high note and once again threw himself into the final section of the dance.
The veins on his neck bulged as he sang the high note, the swing of his arms cut through the air with a sharp sound as he danced, and the strands of hair he tossed about leapt against the light.
His whole being was filled with heat, with wild abandon, and with ambition for the stage.
At this moment, no one could tear their eyes away from him.
He was twenty years old.
He was only twenty years old.
From the mixed reviews of his first appearance, to the stunning impression of his initial evaluation, to the three clearly marked improvements on the public stages, and then to the dazzling debut night.
—Looking back at the show Starlight, it could almost be said that it had recorded the upward path of this one star, Yue Zhaolin.
And this star was still growing, still shining brighter.
[I’m going to die]
[(*&#&YURER?!]
[…I don’t know why, but I suddenly want to use the phrase “the young man in fine clothes and on a spirited horse” to describe him. It feels right and not quite right at the same time]
[The very embodiment of youthful pride—he can already command a stage this big…]
[Yue Zhaolin’s rise to fame is deserved…]
[I suddenly understand what an idol really is]
[Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Chen Dafa I’m so wiped I can only asdfghjkl blah blah VB I don’t know what to do]
[Help, help]
The barrage was in chaos, and the audience below the stage was in chaos too, all filled with blood-curdling screams.
Seeing the stage with their own eyes, the Tide fandom didn’t have clear thoughts—only blank minds, overloading hearts, and instinctive screams.
When the dance ended, Yue Zhaolin lifted his gaze, and what entered his eyes was a sky full of blue-silver lights.
At the beginning of the show, the lightboards had already lit up, but now there were even more.
Deafening cheers erupted inside the vast venue, while a blue-silver tsunami, belonging to Yue Zhaolin alone, shimmered and surged.
This was a decision Tide had made collectively after the third performance—during his solo, they would light up more lightboards to give Yue Zhaolin a surprise.
At that third stage, Yue Zhaolin had clearly lacked a sense of security. Tide wasn’t sure what the source of his unease was, but they were determined to erase it with all their might.
Of course, a surprise worked best with a little setup—first suppress, then release—but Tide didn’t want to use fewer lightboards at the start to create that “suppression.”
Because someone had once said that he was a vain person. If the lightboards were too few at the opening, he would surely feel upset, and Tide didn’t want him to feel upset.
So they came up with a plan: everyone would bring in two lightboards.
Half would be lit at the beginning, and the other half during his solo.
So, a Tide’s two hands had to record video, hold banners, and also raise lightboards—it could truly be said they were carrying heavy responsibilities.
But this wasn’t a burden. It was happiness.
Panting, Yue Zhaolin looked out at the arena, at the blue ocean like a sea of stars. Roars filled his ears, and a current of electricity shot up the back of his head.
In that moment, he forgot about expression management; he didn’t even know what expression was on his face.
“Yue Zhaolin—”
Fu Xunying was calling him.
Because after the solo, there was still a group dance, and they needed to move into formation.
He came back to his senses, immediately caught up to Fu Xunying, clenched his numb palms, and, feeling heat spread across his face, instinctively tugged at the stifling headband.
“Ah…”
The headband he wore was like a folded scarf tied at the back of his head, so it wasn’t elastic. When he flipped it up, half of it slipped off.
With only a few seconds left before the group dance, Yue Zhaolin simply tore it off.
The clip that had been holding the headband at the back of his head came off with it, yanking out a few strands of hair. Yue Zhaolin hissed, then turned it into a wink.
He wound the headband twice around his wrist, stepped into position right on beat, and kept going.
In the group dance that followed, he kept smiling brightly, growing more and more at ease, completely immersed in enjoying the stage—
With this love that was showered on him alone, given so generously, how could he not become spoiled by it?
[So envious]
[So happy…]
[Not even a Yue fan, but my eyes are stinging watching this]
[As a fangirl, I can relate—fans’ love is the most precious treasure. Everything done for an idol comes purely from love]
[Seeing his eyes light up like that makes everything worth it]
[That look Yue Zhaolin just gave—so moving, I’m crying]
[Mutual devotion…]
[In the group dance, all I can see is Yue Zhaolin]
[The way he tied the headband around his wrist looks so good, I want to buy the same one…]
[Such a treat to watch (he’s in front, my eyes never wander to the back at all)]
[When he debuts, he can definitely be the face, the center. With a bit more training, he might even become the ace]
[Wait, did I see that right? Yue Zhaolin’s votes are still rising?!!]
Yue Zhaolin’s overwhelming lead in votes meant that even if fans stopped voting, he would still win easily.
But after watching the stage, what reason did fans have left to stay rational? Excited and emotional, they just threw all their previously saved free votes into the pool.
Yue Zhaolin’s bar, already far ahead, was maxed out, so it didn’t move—but the bars below his all shortened again.
It was absurdly funny.
The Yue fandom site admins and big accounts had to post on Weibo: “Everyone, don’t vote for Zhaolin right now. Save the free votes to pull others up!”
“First pull up Deng Yangbing and Chen Wu, who are right behind Zhihu Bro!”
Stage-panic Bro Rong Ruize was sitting at sixth, Zhihu Bro Zhu Zhu at eighth.
Deng Yangbing was ninth, Chen Wu tenth—so Tide decided to lift those two up, to push Zhihu Bro down. To be safe, they might even push both of them above.
Compared to Zhu Zhu, Rong Ruize wasn’t quite as bad, so the priority was to deal with Zhu Zhu first.
But Rong Ruize’s sixth place wasn’t stable either.
Because hashtags like #RongRuizeUnderstandsWhatFakeDanceIs# and #IfRongRuizeIsReallySickHeShouldGoToTheHospital# had already made it onto the hot search.
His bizarre footwork and grotesque expression management became a unique spectacle on Weibo’s chaotic trending list.
Sharp-tongued netizens commented: “When he recovers and makes a comeback, he could really try a career in horror films.”
While making snarky remarks, onlookers also enthusiastically cast votes for his competitors.
·
After his solo, Yue Zhaolin couldn’t remain on stage—he had to go backstage immediately to change outfits and prepare for the final performance, the two-group showdown.
The livestream cameras had already cut to the host, Wei Feizhang, and the next step in the program was to let the guest panel speak.
The guests included idols, actors and directors there to promote themselves, company reps, and GreenFruit platform representatives.
Different categories of guests were given different questions, and with the pre-recorded VCRs before group stages, the schedule could be dragged out for another half hour.
The three-plus hours of live broadcast were stitched together this way; the actual trainee performances only added up to a little over half an hour.
As Yue Zhaolin left the stage, he heard someone shouting his name loudly.
Following the sound, he saw Tide in a nearby section frantically waving their lightboards at him.
The staff urged him to hurry, but Yue Zhaolin still found a gap to quickly wave back.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh—”
Someone captured this moment on video.
Later, microscope fans noticed that in that section, there were also lightboards with names like “Chu Li,” “Cen Chi,” and “Fu Xunying.” When Yue Zhaolin waved toward that area, those fans, as if forgetting who they were actually stanning, also screamed and waved back at him.
Thus, the talent show world naturally gained a new legendary moment—[The Reign of a Godly Face].
Back to the present.
Yue Zhaolin was still changing outfits, and after that, his makeup needed adjustments to better match the style of Suit Aesthetics, so time was tight.
Suddenly, the audience outside began to shout.
The guest interviews had started.
Yue Zhaolin listened closely—Director Ma from GreenFruit first officially announced the post-debut music variety shows Music Countdown and Happy Saturday.
The audience instantly erupted.
[New shows?!!]
[GreenFruit is seriously pushing them this time?]
[Kinda guessed Happy Saturday would happen, it’s the must-appear show for rising stars (though I haven’t watched it in ages)]
[Sisters, this group might not disband right after debuting… I’m tempted, I want to follow them…]
[Yang Lesheng’s words are so half-hearted. Asked which trainee he supports, he just said “they’re all good.” He clearly only came to plug his movie]
[Isn’t that dad-vibe director the one who got exposed years ago? He was caught cheating during his marriage, so how’s he making a comeback again?]
[Lei Jin actually extended an invitation to Yue Zhaolin… recruiting Ru Xiao lol]
[Yue Zhaolin’s very first step into film was a Hollywood cameo. If he went to film Lei Jin’s plagiarism drama, it would be lowering his own value. No way]
[Speaking of which, I heard that Hollywood production crew has arrived, over in West River Old Town]
[So as soon as Yue Zhaolin debuts, is he going to film over there?]
While the bullet screen comments blazed with discussion, Yue Zhaolin, already dressed, sat in the chair with his eyes closed as the makeup artist carefully refined his eye makeup.
The group performing first was Red Rose. Their practice and center-selection VCR was already playing, and the nine members were waiting to take the stage.
As for Suit Aesthetics, they would be on in just ten minutes.
Rong Ruize had changed into a suit and leather shoes, wearing gold-rimmed glasses—copying the look Yue Zhaolin had worn so well at the Soda Festival.
His manager frowned. “Why are you drinking water nonstop?”
“The venue’s big, it’s normal to be nervous. But stop drinking water—you won’t have time to go to the restroom later.” After the performance, the rankings would be announced.
Rong Ruize spat the water back out. “…Mm.”
In his head, the audience’s cold indifference and mocking laughter during his solo kept replaying, filling him with shame and fear.
Formal Aesthetics was supposed to be his comeback. This time, he absolutely couldn’t afford to mess up.
Rong Ruize tried his best not to think about the possibility of mistakes, but he couldn’t control himself—cold sweat trickled down his forehead, and his fingers were numb.
His manager checked the time. “Get ready. Go meet up with Yue Zhaolin.”
From the sounds outside, Crimson Rose’s performance had begun. Once their VCR finished playing, the nine-person group would be on stage.
Rong Ruize: “Mm.”
By the time Rong Ruize arrived in the waiting area, Yue Zhaolin was already there.
Yue Zhaolin glanced back at him. In his mind, Rong Ruize’s role was like the slacker in a group project.
You didn’t expect him to make the PPT, you didn’t expect him to give the report—just let him coast along on his own, as long as he didn’t drag the others down.
Fu Xunying walked over. “Where’s your jacket?”
Yue Zhaolin: “I’ll put it on later. Need to get the mic set up first.” The transmitter had to be clipped at the back of the waist, so it could be hidden more neatly.
The rest of the group arrived one after another, all dressed in formal wear—an impressive sight.
On stage, Red Rose’s performance ended. Wei Feizhang remarked on the growth of the trainees visible on this stage.
Then the cameras pulled one of their “linguistic art” tricks—zooming straight onto the small screen with the vote ranking chart.
The standings had shifted dramatically!
- [Yue Zhaolin]
- [Tan Shen]
- [Chu Li]
- [Cen Chi]
- [Fu Xunying]
- [Mao Ding]
- [Deng Yangbing]
- [Rong Ruize]
- [Zhu Zhu]
- [Chen Wu]
- [Ao Liang’ao]
- [Wei Lai]
…
Chu Li had overtaken Cen Chi. Deng Yangbing moved up two spots. Rong Ruize dropped two places.
In fact, Zhihu Bro’s real ranking had already fallen out of the top nine, but since they needed to spur more voting, the production team did a little behind-the-scenes manipulation.
Zhu Zhu was stuck at ninth. He had already provoked public outrage—his character was corrupt, and no one watching the livestream could stomach the thought of him entering the debut lineup.
Abandoned by both his company and the show, Zhu Zhu was simply being used to the last drop of value.
Rong Ruize’s ranking also slipped—again, a tactic to bait votes, to make viewers believe they had a chance of voting him out.
But the program wouldn’t really let him fall out of the top nine. After all, Rong Ruize hadn’t violated his contract, and his collapse wasn’t total—he could still be salvaged.
Yet the supposedly “salvageable” Rong Ruize’s face was taut with strain. Among the top ranks, his position had shifted the most.
He clenched his fists. “…”
Staff checked everyone’s outfits and mics, confirmed there were no issues, and reminded them: “Get ready. Once the VCR hits the center-selection part, head over there to wait.”
Like Red Rose, this group also had a short intro performance.
The waiting area was closer to the audience, and the noise hammered clearly against their eardrums.
Yue Zhaolin stepped up first, with the other eight following one by one.
“Hey, where are you going?”
Deng Yangbing spoke up.
Mao Ding turned around, only to catch sight of Rong Ruize’s hunched back as he clutched his stomach and hurried away. “He’s not going to take a dump, is he?!”
Let him go if he has to—after all, when nature calls, there’s no choice. The real question was whether he could make it back in time.
Since yesterday, everyone had been eating light, with some even skipping meals altogether, all to avoid this kind of situation. What on earth had Rong Ruize eaten?
Yue Zhaolin frowned as he watched Rong Ruize disappear around the corner.
He had a bad feeling, but he hadn’t expected that the result, just two minutes later, would turn out even worse than he imagined.
…
Restroom.
Rong Ruize’s manager rushed into the stall. “You got an upset stomach?! Can you not be this pathetic, breaking down right before going on stage?!”
“Hurry up and finish, we can still stall for a little outside!”
“…”
“Bro, I… I can’t get on stage.”
Rong Ruize felt something was wrong with his body today. Many times, it was as if he were watching himself from a bystander’s perspective.
He also felt like vomiting, trembling, breaking out in a cold sweat.
Rong Ruize could feel himself spiraling out of control. He wanted some reassurance from his manager.
But when he pushed open the door, he was met with a gaze colder than he had ever seen before.
“You just said you can’t get on stage… what do you mean by that?”
…
Waiting area.
The staff came back with the result, their expression grim: “Rong Ruize had a panic attack. He can’t go on stage.”
Everyone froze, exchanging shocked looks.
The first reaction—wasn’t that earlier prediction during practice coming true? He didn’t forget his lines, but he actually refused to go on stage, dragging the entire team down with him!
But then again, wasn’t his so-called panic disorder supposed to be fake?
Even Chu Li, usually the picture of a gentleman, looked utterly baffled and blurted out, “What the hell, is he sick in the head? Can’t stop pretending, huh?!”
Without Rong Ruize, what about the shots planned for the live broadcast? Everything had been set in advance.
And besides, the finale song was supposed to have backing tracks—if Rong Ruize wasn’t there but his voice still played, how was that going to look?
On top of that, the choreography for nine people was suddenly short one member. With only a few minutes left, there was no time to come up with a countermeasure.
Pull one thread and the whole thing unraveled—just one Rong Ruize had wasted so much of their collective effort. If only they’d recorded a “no-Rong” version beforehand.
Working with someone like this was torture, like handling a live bomb that could blow everything to pieces.
Amid the restless, suffocating tension, Yue Zhaolin listened to the pounding of his own heartbeat and said:
“Sing live—can we?”
