Chapter 10: Initial Rating (1)
Cen Chi bent down and moved lightly, thinking he was being discreet as he jogged over and crouched beside Yue Zhaolin’s armrest.
To avoid blocking the way, Cen Chi tried to shrink himself a bit—still, he was quite a large presence.
When they first added each other on WeChat along with a mutual friend, Cen Chi had boldly suggested, “Calling each other by full names sounds way too formal. How about we drop the surnames?”
So in WeChat, he’d always called him just “Zhaolin, Zhaolin.”
But now, seeing him in person, all that easy confidence had vanished.
“…Zhaolin, are you feeling any better?”
Cen Chi asked quietly, carefully observing Yue Zhaolin’s face. With makeup on, it was hard to tell his complexion, but his eyes looked unfocused.
While putting on a mask, Yue Zhaolin motioned for Cen Chi to keep his distance.
“Careful, it’s contagious. Stay back a bit.”
Cen Chi obediently took a step back.
He rested both hands on the left armrest next to Yue Zhaolin, his eyes filled with concern as he looked up at him. “Should we tell the production team? Maybe let you take a break?”
He could tell from Yue Zhaolin’s labored breathing that even speaking took effort.
Yue Zhaolin shook his head to say no. Compared to the morning, he was already much better.
“You picked number one?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“That’s brave.”
Cen Chi gave a small smile and said earnestly, “I go after what I want.”
Just then, the trainee sitting beside Yue Zhaolin, Fu Xunying, suddenly spoke up: “Hi, I’m Fu Xunying, also a trainee with Xingqiong Entertainment.”
“Uh, hello?”
Cen Chi was momentarily stunned.
Fu Xunying looked him straight in the eyes, still smiling. “Zhaolin has a fever and a swollen throat. If you have something to say, could it wait?”
Cen Chi’s eyes widened as he turned to Yue Zhaolin. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know! I was just wondering why your ears were so red…”
He looked genuinely flustered.
From Yue Zhaolin’s high vantage point, looking down at Cen Chi crouched beside him, the other boy resembled a softly whimpering puppy.
This guy really does suit the “puppy” persona, Yue Zhaolin thought.
Probably the kind that people can’t help but like.
Then his eyes drifted to the camera nearby, swiveling slowly in their direction. In his dizzy, feverish haze, a thought surfaced in Yue Zhaolin’s mind—
He needed to be more likable.
This highlight moment could include Cen Chi, but it couldn’t belong to Cen Chi alone.
He was burning up, but still lucid—his mind in that tipsy, unguarded space. And in that state, when his competitive streak flared up, all restraint went out the window. Yue Zhaolin turned to face the rotating camera at his side:
He cupped his chin with his left hand—not fully resting his face on it, or the mask would get squished—just using it for support, tilting his jaw slightly;
His eyes didn’t stare straight ahead, but dipped subtly beneath his lashes;
Fever had tinted the corners of his eyes a delicate red, his waterline glistening. Those eyes, like falling petals, looked soft and stunning.
“It’s fine, the fever’s going down,” he said.
He was speaking, but his gaze was directed at the camera. His expression—one he’d practiced countless times in the mirror—was crafted to charm fans.
Whether that line was meant for Fu Xunying or Cen Chi… who knew?
Cen Chi looked completely stunned.
So did the staff watching from the editing bay—the so-called “little black room.” It took them a few seconds to recover. “Did we get that? Was it recorded? That has to go in the teaser!”
The production team had originally planned to hype Yue Zhaolin up just to tear him down—to offer sacrifices to the royal family, they had to highlight an emperor who was not worthy of the position.
They hadn’t planned on giving him any highlight moments beyond his good looks.
But now? Perfect.
This shot—this one was going viral.
The chief director was already picturing it: the moment the first episode aired, this image would be everywhere. They could even crop it out for the app’s homepage banner.
It was going to be unforgettable.
The chief director couldn’t help muttering to himself.
Logically speaking, if a boy had even slightly above-average looks, there’s no way he’d stay undiscovered until he was twenty. A scout should’ve picked him up long ago.
How did Xingqiong even manage to sign someone like that? Pure dumb luck.
While thinking this, the director waved his hand. “Have Cen Chi go back.” They’d gotten all the footage they needed—he couldn’t squat there forever.
On screen, a staff member walked up behind Cen Chi and asked him to return to his seat.
As they watched Cen Chi’s dazed figure walking away, Fu Xunying asked with suspicion, “That’s him?”
“Mm.”
The one who gave Yue Zhaolin the flowers.
Fu Xunying looked like he wanted to ask more, but with the camera still rolling, he forcibly changed the subject. “Want some hot water? I’ll go get it for you.”
Their segment was done, so stepping away briefly wasn’t a problem.
Just as he started to get up, Yue Zhaolin grabbed his forearm with his right hand, signaling him to stay seated. He tilted his chin slightly.
Fu Xunying followed his gaze to the screen—
A new company had appeared.
[S.K]
“S.K? That’s Tang Sheng’s company?!”
“Who’s Tang Sheng?”
“You don’t know Tang Sheng? He’s a top supermodel—the highest-ranked male model in Asia!”
“So S.K is a modeling agency? What are they doing sending people to a survival show?”
As the contestants whispered among themselves, three boys walked in. Stylishly dressed, small-faced, tall and lean, with arms that reached past their thighs.
“They’re so fashionable, my arthritis’s acting up.”
“Is the one in the middle mixed race? His skin’s way too pale, and that face is insanely narrow. But he doesn’t look aged like most foreigners.”
“…Could you not say that? This show’s going on international platforms too, you know.”
The two unfamiliar trainees up front kept cracking jokes, and Yue Zhaolin couldn’t help but laugh.
When Yue Zhaolin tugged on his arm, Fu Xunying simply followed the motion and sat back down. He watched those “out-of-place” models take seats all the way in the last row—out of ninety-something spots—and couldn’t help muttering to himself, At least they know their place.
At the same time, Yue Zhaolin got a good look at the nametag on the mixed-race trainee.
Tan Shen.
A perfectly standard Chinese name.
Fu Xunying murmured, “They’re really skinny.”
Even thinner than most of the trainees here—but with broader frames that made clothes hang effortlessly on them.
Fu Xunying had a feeling—maybe just a hunch—that Tan Shen glanced in their direction.
More groups of trainees entered after that, and the remaining seats filled up quickly.
The holographic screen flickered again, now displaying the program’s title. As the music swelled, the PD and mentors made their entrance together.
The PD was Li Ying—handsome, composed, with calm, penetrating eyes. He’d been the center of the very first season, and eight years later, he was still free of scandals and untouched by controversy.
Beyond that, he was consistently releasing great work, with singing and dancing skills that had never slipped. He was, without exaggeration, the model idol.
Li Ying picked up the mic and opened with an introduction to the show, then cracked a joke with the trainees—drawing laughter from the room.
With the atmosphere warmed up, Li Ying invited the mentors to take their seats at the judging panel.
He adjusted his in-ear monitor, raised the mic again, and said in his steady voice:
“First group—trainees from Fantasy Entertainment, please come to the stage.”
The pressure on the first group was enormous.
All eyes were on them. The music cue started—it was Li Ying’s own recently released single—and the moment he smiled, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause.
The energy in the room was up. The performance officially began.
But then—everyone in the audience collectively froze for a beat.
The live backing track was quiet, and there were no pitch correction effects applied. Every flaw was laid bare. What might have been a solid 7 out of 10 dropped to barely a 5.
It was practically a public execution.
Fu Xunying’s chronic secondhand embarrassment flared up. He leaned toward Yue Zhaolin and whispered, “I think their scores are going to be brutal.”
But the actual results were even worse than he expected—Li Ying handed out two C’s and a D.
The room erupted in murmurs. The trainees were visibly shaken by how harsh the grading was this season.
Yue Zhaolin, however, understood the show’s usual tactic: crush them early, build them back later. Classic setup before the rise of a standout “Grade A.”
Wait a second…
That “Royal” role in Xingqiong’s script—
Could it be possible…
That he, Yue Zhaolin—
Would be the first A?
If this was the standard being used, then even with his face, it would be hard to justify. It would scream unworthy of the rank—and audiences would be quick to rebel.
Every single thing he did would be under the microscope.
If the production team pushed it—editing him maliciously—his words would be twisted, his every move exaggerated.
Add trending topics and gossip accounts into the mix, and it would turn into a public spectacle—a trial by fire.
Yue Zhaolin could already see it.
A future he could predict with eerie clarity.
But this kind of “overhyping to destroy” had its downsides… and upsides. As the first A, he would still get more screen time than most of the other contestants.
So Yue Zhaolin wasn’t afraid of being “overhyped to be crushed.” In fact, it exhilarated him. From the start, his goal had been very clear: make a lot of money.
After signing with the company, Xingqiong had already prepared a “redemption arc” for Yue Zhaolin in case he was eliminated, as well as his long-term career roadmap.
He wasn’t without a way out.
But still—
He couldn’t help thinking of that moment:
The cold morning when he stepped out of the van, his breath visible in the icy air, and someone was waiting for him.
They had stood far away. But he could still hear their voices:
“Yue Zhaolin, jiayou!”
Crystal clear.
…
“…Trainees from Xingqiong Entertainment, please take the stage.”
Fu Xunying placed a hand on Yue Zhaolin’s thigh and gave it a gentle shake, his brow furrowed.
“Yue Zhaolin—it’s our turn.”
Yue Zhaolin opened his eyes.
Had he fallen asleep again?
Fu Xunying leaned in and whispered, “You okay?”
Yue Zhaolin’s gaze sharpened into focus. “Yeah.”
Li Ying called out again, “The two trainees from Xingqiong, please come to the stage.”
Fu Xunying stayed close beside him, ready to lend support at any moment as they made their way to center stage.
Once they stood beneath the lights, Li Ying looked up, surprised, and picked up the mic.
“This trainee—do you have a cold?”
“Yes,” Fu Xunying answered.
They bowed together. Fu Xunying introduced himself first, followed by Yue Zhaolin.
“Hello, PD Li and esteemed mentors. I’m Yue Zhaolin, from Xingqiong Entertainment.”
As soon as he finished, Fu Xunying lifted the mic again.
“PD Li, Yue Zhaolin still has a fever. After the performance, would it be possible for him to rest immediately?”
Li Ying looked a little surprised. “Of course. Fu Xunying, you seem quite close to him?”
The second part was directed at Yue Zhaolin.
Fu Xunying pressed his lips together. “…”
Yue Zhaolin answered calmly, “Yes.”
Li Ying nodded. “Trainee Yue Zhaolin, will you be performing with the mask on? You might find it hard to breathe—feel free to take it off during the performance.”
The vocal coach glanced at Yue Zhaolin’s face, then looked down at her notes.
“Yue Zhaolin—is that the same Yue Zhaolin from the Zhaozhou Music Festival?”
Li Ying nodded, smiling.
“I saw that fancam too. It was excellent.”
The dance mentor looked up. “According to your profile, you’ve only been training for less than three months.”
“I’m curious—what made Xingqiong decide to have you perform as a backup dancer for your seniors, Actual, at the music festival?”
Fu Xunying’s mouth parted slightly.
The company didn’t say the show would bring this up!
Yue Zhaolin answered before he could.
“Training time is like pages filled with a trainee’s sweat,” Yue Zhaolin said evenly. “But time alone isn’t the only deciding factor.”
“I hope my performance will prove that.”
He bowed again after speaking.
Wow.
That was bold.
Then, Li Ying suddenly spoke up. “Before the evaluation starts, I want to mention something. Not sure if the other mentors heard it through your in-ears?”
The four mentors turned to look at him.
Li Ying pointed to the earpiece in his ear, and said with a smile, “Trainee Yue Zhaolin from Xingqiong—your breathing… sounds quite seductive.”
**TN
Jjiayou – an expression that literally means “add oil,” but its actual meaning is closer to: You can do it!, Keep going!, Good luck!, Stay strong!
