Trainee Ch.99

Chapter 99: Finals (10)

Qu Xincheng gave a vivid demonstration of what it meant to cry as if he were about to run out of breath.

Although people often joked about him being Sky Entertainment’s little prince, the company had never patted its chest and guaranteed him a debut. On the contrary, before he even entered the competition, they’d piled a great deal of pressure on him.

For example, he was the first trainee to represent Sky Entertainment in a talent show—if he failed to debut, it would be a disgrace to the company.

And this was also the best opportunity he could ever hope to get. If he couldn’t make a breakthrough now, he’d be left with only low-budget web dramas in the future—if he could even land those.

The company’s expectations were sky-high, but his evaluation dropped from B to C, and his group failed to make the debut lineup. One bad blow after another nearly crushed him.

Fortunately, the outcome turned out to be good—he had successfully debuted.

Watching Qu Xincheng walk up the pyramid in tears, Lai Yudong smiled and clapped along with everyone else, but his heart was far from calm.

The formation was a six-by-three grid, and his position was the last spot in the front row.

After the fifth and sixth places were announced, two spaces beside him stood empty. The invisible pressure tightened around him, making him more and more anxious, terrified that he’d end up as the one left behind in the front row.

But there was still hope.

The debut slots continued to be announced.

“Fourth place.”

“This trainee has served multiple times as the main vocalist, earning the recognition of the Starseekers with outstanding vocal ability—and has never once fallen out of the debut range.”

The moment he heard the description, Lai Yu-dong knew it wasn’t him.

He could hardly convince himself to stay calm. The pressure was so great that even breathing felt difficult. The fierce pounding of his heart gradually steadied under the strain, his emotions numbing into quiet resignation.

Based on the reasoning he’d discussed with Li Xu before, he was benchmarking himself against Qu Xincheng—if he wanted to debut, he had to rank higher than Qu Xincheng. But since Qu Xincheng was fifth, the last spot—the seventh place—was very unlikely to go to him.

There were only a few debut seats left, and Lai Yudong could no longer imagine what rank he might end up with.

Of the four remaining spots, only third place still seemed even remotely possible; the others weren’t worth hoping for.

Even though his attitude had always been to do his best and leave the rest to fate, once he actually stood on that final stage where the rankings were being announced, he found it impossible to truly comfort himself with thoughts like “It’s okay even if I don’t debut.”

What terrified him most, the more he thought about it, was that—after accounting for Su Junzhe and Mo Li, who were guaranteed to debut—there were only two slots left. That meant many people were destined to fall just short of the debut line.

The situation was even harsher than he had imagined.

“Congratulations, Zhao Yifeng.”

Zhao Yifeng, who had been hanging his head, appeared on the screen. Hearing his name, he lifted his gaze casually, his expression unreadable—no one could tell what he was thinking.

His ranking curve read: 4–6–7–3–4.

[Huh? Looking at it this way, Zhao Yifeng’s performance was actually pretty steady.]

[He kept dropping in the earlier rounds—I thought he’d start high and end low.]

[The perfect example of turning things around with OP votes!]

[Yay! Zhao Yifeng’s walking the flower road!]

Lai Yudong glanced to the side—just as Zhao Yifeng turned to look back. Their eyes met squarely.

One look was enough; no words were needed.

Whatever Lai Yudong was thinking, Zhao Yifeng must have been thinking the same thing.

After finishing his brief exchange of congratulations with the other trainees, Zhao Yifeng walked over to Lai Yudong. Opening his arms, he pulled his friend—whose name still hadn’t been called—into a tight hug, as if trying to share a bit of the burden weighing on him.

Zhao Yifeng murmured, “I’ll wait for you. You’ll definitely be in the top three.”

Lai Yudong only smiled. “Okay.”

Every friend who advanced was waiting for him to join them—but with each “okay” he said, his confidence weakened a little more.

Another person left the front row.

Now, only Su Junzhe, Mo Li, and Lai Yudong remained.

Compared to Lai Yudong, the fans were even more anxious—the Yuzu-fans in the audience were shouting his name at the top of their lungs, over and over again.

“Lai Yudong!!!”

“Don’t be afraid, Yuzu! You’re definitely going to debut!”

“Yuzu-fans will always have your back!”

Lai Yudong kept his smile steady.

Even if the odds were slim, before all the rankings were announced, he didn’t want to show any trace of unease or worry.

Whether it was laughter or tears, he wanted to save them both for the very last, most brilliant moment.

Onstage, Zhao Yifeng finished his prewritten speech in his usual calm, unhurried tone. His gaze landed on the pale blond boy standing across from him.

“Lastly, I just want to say—because of my personality and circumstances, I’ve always been resistant to making friends in a show like this. But I quickly realized that reality isn’t quite what I imagined.”

“Yuki, thank you for your kindness. I want to debut with you.”

The broadcast director switched the camera just in time.

Lai Yudong’s face bloomed into a dazzling smile, tears shimmering at the corners of his eyes. He tried to bite his lower lip to hold them back, but emotion surged too strongly to be contained.

“Third place.”

The ranking that would decide whether he debuted—had finally come.

“This trainee, on the Polar Aurora stage…”

The moment he heard the first words of the description, Lai Yudong felt his heart sink. The smile on his face faded into a helpless, wry curve.

He closed his eyes, unnaturally calm.

Was there still… any chance left?

The fans below the stage screamed his name like they’d gone mad.

They knew it too—missing third place almost certainly meant missing the last chance to debut.

“—Lai Yudong! Lai Yudong!”

The shouts rang out in his ears—clear and piercing, laced with the unmistakable sound of someone on the verge of tears.

Lai Yudong followed the voice and spotted its source: a fan sitting in the very front row, close enough to the stage that he could clearly see her face.

She was wearing a headband in his support color and holding up a banner, tears streaming down as she cried his name.

“Lai Yudong!”

When she saw him look her way, she broke down even more, crying harder.

Lai Yudong froze for a moment. Then he wiped the corner of his eyes and showed her a smile—pure and cloudless, bright as a primrose blooming in the morning light, radiating the warmth of spring.

He shaped the words silently with his lips:

“It’s okay. Don’t cry.”

The fan sobbed even harder as she wiped her tears, biting her lip and nodding with all her strength.

And at that moment, the announcement for third place came—

“Congratulations, Mo Li.”

The entire venue erupted in shocked exclamations. Even Mo Li himself was momentarily stunned; no one had expected his name to be called.

The ranking chart appeared at the bottom of the screen: 1–1–2–1–3.

[Mo Li’s third!!?]

[Huh? Then who’s first and second!?]

[Wasn’t Mo Li guaranteed first or second?]

[Did Xu An make it?]

[No way—he dropped out of the top ten on the donation rankings, how could he have?]

[You guys might want to check the Meteor chart.]

Though Mo Li was surprised to place third, he quickly composed himself and once again walked the path toward debut. Compared to the first time he’d stepped up that pyramid, his emotions now were even stronger.

After finishing his debut speech, he became the first trainee to ascend to the second row of the pyramid.

As for Lai Yudong—his mind had completely gone blank.

He was standing on stage, but his soul had already left his body.

He was trying to calculate the odds of his own debut.

Would Sky Entertainment give him the final spot? Or would they let him fall just short in eighth place?

“Second place.”

“This trainee showed remarkable growth on stage, breaking free from his initial impression and becoming one of the most frequently talked-about contestants.”

He knew better than to have too much faith in Sky, but capitalists’ logic was like a secondhand toilet—you never really knew what would happen until you pressed the flush.

What if… just maybe?

Still, he figured he should start mentally drafting his elimination speech, so that before switching to the next “chapter” of life, he could at least curse out Sky Video one last time. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel at peace.

“Congratulations, Miura Yuki.”

One must always be prepared for both outcomes—

…?

…??

Lai Yudong snapped his head up in disbelief. His face appeared on the giant screen before him—quite literally staring back at himself.

At the bottom of the screen, his ranking curve appeared:

55 – 5 – 4 – 6 – 2

A jagged line shooting from the very bottom toward the top—though it dipped slightly midway, it ultimately surged upward, the result of quiet persistence bursting into full bloom.

He had debuted in second place.

[Congratulations on your debut, Lai Yudong!]

[I was scared to death—I thought our Yuzu was doomed!]

[??? I was already crying, and then suddenly he’s second place?!]

[As expected of the Meteor Chart’s #1!]

[I swear that chart was tailor-made for his fandom—they went from third to first after just one call for votes.]

[They couldn’t rig the official results under so much scrutiny, but they still didn’t want a complete unknown to debut too high, so they made a new chart to milk one last round of money.]

[If not for the Meteor Chart, Yuzu would’ve probably ended up third or fourth /sob]

[Yuzu-fan sisters, you’ve worked so hard… T T]

[Congrats, Yuzu, for debuting in the top ranks! Yuzu-fans are amazing!]

Lai Yudong stared blankly at his own face on the screen, feeling as if he were trapped inside a dream. Even as his friends surrounded him, cheering and celebrating, he still couldn’t quite snap back to reality.

He hadn’t just debuted unexpectedly—he’d debuted high. Among the high ranks, his position was even higher.

Too many emotions crashed over him at once, leaving him unable to think clearly.

Only when tears began to fall—like droplets sliding down a fogged window—did he finally realize the joy overflowing from his chest.

He had debuted.

“Lai Yudong! Lai Yudong!”

“Congratulations—second place debut!”

“I knew you could do it! Amazing!”

The entire venue erupted in cheers.

Some came from the audience below; others, from right beside his ears.

He was wrapped in one hug after another, embraced by everyone’s blessings.

He couldn’t even remember how his legs began to move—only that someone had gently pushed him from behind, giving him a small shove of encouragement, the same way his friends had supported him so many times before. That little push became his strength to move forward.

Smiling through tears, he wiped the corners of his eyes as he walked alone onto the debut path.

Everyone was waiting for him to join them—and now, at last, he could fulfill his promise.

Along the sides of the walkway, countless Yuzu-fans held up glowing signs in unison, chanting his name. The pale primrose-colored lights gathered together, illuminating the bright future ahead of him.

The primrose is the messenger of spring.

And tonight, they had brought a feast of spring—

for their very own “Winter(Dong).”

“Lai Yudong, don’t cry!”

“Yuzu, don’t cry! From now on, we’ll walk the flower road together!”

“Don’t cry—smile as you debut!”

“If you want to cry, then cry! Lai Yudong has the right to do whatever he wants!”

Amid the flood of voices filled with care and affection, Lai Yudong stepped onto the podium. His dazed mind finally began to clear a little.

He felt as though he had just taken a trip to the underworld and been kicked back right at the gates—like someone had told him, “You’ve still got years left to live, stop wandering around down here.”

And in a way, that wasn’t wrong—if he had failed this mission, he would’ve been sent straight into the next “instance.”

“Good evening.”

Lai Yudong raised the microphone with both hands. His voice—and his hands—were trembling.

“I’m Miura Yuki, and also Lai Yudong.”

He fought to steady his emotions.

“I still remember the first ranking announcement. Back then, I waited for my name with no expectations at all… and somehow, I was called up. I never thought I’d experience the exact same feelings all over again in the finals.”

“Once more, I’ve relied on your love to stand here, in an even higher place.”

Compared to his shaky, stumbling speech during the first ranking announcement, this time his words flowed smoothly—

the only thing that hadn’t changed was the soft, trembling edge of tears in his voice.

He curved his lips into a smile, and his tears glittered like stars decorating it.

“The miracle you created for me this winter—I’ll never forget it.”

“Thank you for meeting me. I hope we can look forward to a beautiful future together.”

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