Chapter 49: Position Evaluation
Duanmu Hongxue was taken away by the police in front of everyone, catching all the trainees off guard.
In recent years, many people have “held court” on Weibo, dropping hard evidence that caused countless celebrities to fall from grace. Exposés were common, but nothing had ever escalated to this level.
And the police mentioned keywords like “threatening and coercing,” “framing and false accusations”…
Everyone turned to look at Yue Zhaolin.
He was speaking with the police.
Although Xiao Zhao had provided plenty of strong evidence, the police still had to follow proper legal procedures and summon the suspect to cooperate with the investigation.
And Yue Zhaolin, as the victim of Duanmu Hongxue’s attempted crime, also had to assist in the investigation.
Because Yue Zhaolin and Duanmu Hongxue both left, the scene fell into a brief silence before erupting into a flurry of noisy discussion.
“What do we do now?”
“Can we still continue filming?”
Most of the trainees were worried about the future of the show, but some were especially panicked.
So when Yue Zhaolin got into the car after the investigation and let out a sigh of relief, he immediately heard a new piece of news: “Someone else dropped out.”
Yue Zhaolin: “Dropped out?”
The assistant handed him a basin of water. “Two people voluntarily quit the show. Their stated reasons were schedule conflicts and health issues.”
Yue Zhaolin looked at the leaves in the basin. “Is this… pomelo leaf?”
“Yeah, to wash your hands and get rid of bad luck.”
The entertainment industry has always been quite superstitious—stage names are chosen by fortune tellers, film crews pray before shooting, and debut dates must be picked on auspicious days.
As Yue Zhaolin washed his hands, he said, “Them quitting at this time is basically shouting ‘there’s no silver buried here.’”
“Exactly.”
If someone had a clear conscience, would they be thinking of quitting just because a coworker was taken away by the police?
The arrival of the police was like chocolate—harmless to humans, but deadly to dogs.
And did they really underestimate the netizens who live for drama? Quitting the show at a moment like this was basically like tattooing “I’m guilty” on their forehead.
When the trainees in the building heard that someone had dropped out, the atmosphere became even more restless. The production team simply gave all the contestants two days off.
Those at risk of scandal scrambled to negotiate with their companies—if they wanted to withdraw, now was the time.
The assistant said, “But those few are way too irrelevant. Netizens’ attention will probably stay on Duanmu Hongxue.”
“Multiple charges combined—he’s definitely going to prison. Who knows, maybe one day we’ll be able to buy umbrellas he made inside.”
Even the driver up front couldn’t help but laugh. Yue Zhaolin replied, “Sister Meng, you’re too funny…”
The assistant was named Rao Mengxing—her name sounded dreamy, but her personality was anything but.
“I can’t stand people like that.”
The reason Yue Zhaolin wasn’t abandoned when the scandal broke—and why Xingqiong was able to counterattack so quickly—was because Yue Zhaolin himself was clean.
He hadn’t broken any laws, so the company didn’t have to tread carefully. He had no moral stains, so there was no need to rush out clarifying press releases.
All their energy could be focused on external response.
So competitors who had planned to kick him while he was down quickly backed off when they sensed the shift in momentum.
Duanmu Hongxue may have been a top pick, but he was an unstable one. When even his “master” couldn’t protect himself, it was only natural he’d be abandoned too.
Rao Mengxing said, “You haven’t heard yet, have you? Tonight’s episode is canceled.”
Tonight was supposed to air Episode 4—the first public performance stages and behind-the-scenes rehearsals of each group.
The episode featured four teams: Dead Leaf Butterfly, Necktie, Actually, and Cold Lover. Duanmu Hongxue was in the Necktie group.
As a top-ranked contestant, he had plenty of solo shots and stage footage. And now, even the first three episodes would need to be re-edited.
It was a massive and urgent task for the post-production team—truly a hard life for the working class.
Yue Zhaolin asked, “By the way, Sister Meng, can I let the fans know I’m okay?”
Even though Duanmu Hongxue had only attempted a crime and didn’t succeed, fans—especially the Tide—were bound to be worried about him.
Rao Mengxing was briefly stunned, then thought it over. “You can let them know, but you don’t have a personal account yet. You’ll have to use the official one.”
Posting from the official account was indeed a little awkward. Yue Zhaolin considered it for a few seconds. “Then how about a livestream? I remember there were livestreams in the last season.”
Welfare livestreams for top-ranking contestants, birthday streams for popular trainees, dorm room streams, and so on.
As long as nothing about unaired content was revealed—like stage performances or ranking results—livestreams were actually a good way to boost engagement.
If the Tide saw that he was in good spirits during a stream, they’d probably feel more at ease.
Rao Mengxing replied, “That should be fine. But I’ll need to contact the show’s production team first. I’ll call Sister Liu now.” This kind of livestream would have to go through the official channel.
Yue Zhaolin: “Okay.”
Liu Li responded quickly—the production team approved.
Now that a trainee from the show had gotten involved in a criminal case, it was a major scandal. There was no hiding it, so a livestream could at least divert some of the attention.
Once Yue Zhaolin finished streaming, other trainees could take over, turning it into a series.
With this level of negative publicity, it’d be a waste not to redirect some traffic toward the show.
“What do you want to stream?”
“…Uh, can I stream myself playing with a cat?”
Mixing business with pleasure—using the opportunity to pet a cat.
The black cat that had run wild at the fan meet gained popularity after appearing in a photo uploaded by Etienne, so Xingqiong ended up adopting it.
…
[Ding! The blogger you follow is live now—]
The official Starlight Weibo account sent out a push notification, and the ever-vigilant Tide fandom caught it immediately.
A livestream?
Among the chaos of cursing at rumors guy / alcohol-allergy guy / illegal-actions guy / going-to-jail guy, this could wait a moment.
Duanmu Hongxue had now overtaken Cen Chi as the Tide’s most hated figure. Whenever someone exposed dirt on him, the Tide would generously provide free reposts.
Still, scandals attract attention. And if the official account made a move, someone was bound to be curious.
Clicking in, they saw the stream title:
“Starlight Livestream Diaries: Yue Zhaolin Edition – Novice Shit Shoveler”
Netizens: ?
They didn’t get it, but their hands clicked anyway. As the victim in an attempted frame-up case, Yue Zhaolin was the subject of genuine public curiosity.
Some people even started overanalyzing—wait, is he implying Duanmu Hongxue is the poop?
With that kind of mindset, they opened the stream, only to be blasted by a loud screech:
“MEOOOW—!”
Netizens: ??
Where’s that siren coming from?
In the livestream, a long, sleek black cat had leapt onto a table, baring its tiny yet fearsome mouth, loudly yelling at Yue Zhaolin.
…
Yue Zhaolin, who had previously experienced the cat’s vocal prowess, reached out to stroke its head. “Hungry?”
The black cat kept meowing at full volume, pawing at Yue Zhaolin’s sleeve. A staff member shifted the camera to center the cat and Yue Zhaolin in the frame.
This stream was being assisted by staff behind the scenes—filtering and selecting appropriate comments from the live chat to ask Yue Zhaolin.
After all, the scandal was still fresh, and some viewers were here just to stir trouble, dropping questions like:
[Is Duanmu Hongxue bi?]
[Did you see Duanmu Hongxue at the police station?]
[Are you in a relationship?]
So having staff moderate the stream helped avoid a lot of unnecessary mess.
The staff spoke first:
“Hello everyone, welcome to the very first episode of Starlight Livestream Diaries! This series will show snippets of the trainees’ daily lives and behind-the-scenes moments.”
“Earlier, Zhaolin mentioned wanting to raise a cat, so today, we’re letting him try out the duties of a shit shoveler.”
Yue Zhaolin picked up an A4 sheet beside him and chimed in, “Step one: Prepare a cat meal.”
As he tied on an apron and began chopping vegetables, the Tide—having caught wind of the stream—flooded in and unleashed a unified howl of excitement:
[Baaaaaby—]
[That rumor-monger guy is so disgusting.]
[Thank god you’re okay. Seeing you calms my heart. Love you, mwah mwah.]
[An apron? And chopping vegetables?!]
[He’s wearing an apron—too husband-coded. I want to hug him from behind. Yue Zhaolin, where are you? I’m about to crawl through the sewer to find you.]
[That’s husband material right there…]
[Wanna kiss him right on the mouth.]
…
Yue Zhaolin couldn’t see the comment stream, but the staff relayed some of the more passionate confessions. Yue Zhaolin smiled and glanced at the camera.
Maybe he’d been teased so much that his tolerance had gone up—this time, he only felt his face heat up a little.
[Hubby, do you actually know how to cook? You look pretty skilled with that knife.]
As he sliced a pumpkin, Yue Zhaolin replied, “I can cook, but it’s pretty average.”
Most of his seasonings were just soy sauce, MSG, and salt—so not much in terms of color, fragrance, or flavor.
“Meow!”
The black cat suddenly snatched a strip of chicken breast.
[Kitty thief!!]
[Aren’t you gonna take it back? You’re letting the cat eat raw meat?!]
[Exactly, cats can’t eat raw meat—especially since in the wild, cave people roast the mice and chicken over a bonfire before feeding them to cats.]
The black cat had sharp teeth. After two quick chomps—crunch—it swallowed it whole.
Yue Zhaolin: “!”
He immediately picked up the plate of meat and moved it far away from the cat.
The cat gave it a look, flicked its tail like it was thinking, let out a “meow,” then walked over and rubbed against Yue Zhaolin with domineering affection.
Yue Zhaolin said, “Wait a little, okay?”
The meat still had to be steamed and mixed with vegetable puree to be rolled into little balls for the cat to eat.
The black cat didn’t seem too pleased. It delivered a rapid-fire “lightning attack” on Yue Zhaolin’s arm—seven swipes in two seconds. Claws retracted, so it didn’t hurt.
Yue Zhaolin: “?”
[Top-tier cat]
[It hit him without using claws ]
[This livestream is too domestic—those rolled-up sleeves, the apron cinching that lean, strong waist, the skilled cooking—it’s like he’s made me dinner a hundred times. Okay, I’m dreaming of this tonight.]
[Man and cat… declaration…]
[Can you stop petting the cat and pet me instead?]
Some comments were… filtered by the staff. Understandably.
“Is a cat not using claws a sign it likes me?” Yue Zhaolin asked as he gave the black cat a head pat. He’d never raised a cat, so he wasn’t sure.
[Baby, what support color do you want?]
[Will you dye your hair for the second performance?]
[Second performance hasn’t aired yet! That’s a spoiler, Tide-sisters, don’t ask that here]
Yue Zhaolin placed the chopped meat and vegetables into the steamer. Just then, he heard something behind him—rustle rustle rustle.
He turned around.
The black cat was squatting in the litter box, front paws braced on the rim, its mouth scrunched up in concentration—even its whiskers were tense with effort.
Then the smell hit.
Yue Zhaolin’s eyes widened: “…”
The staff collectively held their breath. One of them managed to say through the stifling air,
“Zhaolin, perfect timing—your next task is here: scooping the litter box.”
Yue Zhaolin: “……”
[His face practically screamed: How can such a fluffy little cat poop something that smells this bad?]
[Can someone who actually owns a cat tell me—is it really that bad?]
—
Yes.
Very bad.
On the level of biological warfare. The stench fills your nose instantly. Even now, just recalling it, Yue Zhaolin could still remember that distinct smell.
It slightly shattered his beautiful fantasy of owning a cat.
“Still want to raise one?”
“Yes.”
Tan Shen took a sip of water. “…So you went on and on about how bad cat poop smells—what’s your point?”
In the end, weren’t you still going to scoop the litter box with a straight face?
Yue Zhaolin looked at him strangely. “You don’t like cats?”
Tan Shen gave a small smile. Even a servant can have a sense of crisis. All cat lovers turn into cat sl*ves—so wouldn’t that make him a slave to a sl*ve?
Just then, Cen Chi walked in with a salad, Shu Yang following behind and closing the door. “I found out—three people have dropped out.”
Yue Zhaolin: “Three?”
Cen Chi handed him the lunchbox. “Two were ranked below 30. But one was in the top ten—Min Xixi, who was ranked 8th.”
In the first round of voting, Zhu Zhu was ranked 7th, Min Xixi 8th, and Deng Yangbing 9th—all pulled into the top ranks by the Tide fandom.
But only Deng Yangbing’s votes were completely clean. 7th and 8th were first boosted into the front rows by their companies, then got partial real votes from the Tide.
Tan Shen clicked his tongue. “Tsk.”
If even the 8th-ranked contestant bailed overnight, just how serious must it be?
Cen Chi didn’t care much about who stayed or left. Lately, he’d been in a pretty relaxed mood.
His fanbase had finally realized they were being used as pawns. The main fan leaders were replaced, and the new ones quickly drew a hard line between themselves and the CP fans.
Cen Chi narrowly escaped disaster. “Otherwise, I was this close to having to break up the ship myself.”
Tan Shen was curious. “How were you going to do that?”
“I’d say I hated whatever Zhaolin said he liked, and stay away from him.”
Shu Yang gave him a complicated expression. “That trick won’t work. The CP fans would just say you two are having a lovers’ quarrel.”
He knew the fandom world well—he’d studied it.
“CP fans have their own logic for reading ‘sugar.’ Even if you two really never spoke again for the rest of your lives, they’d still be shipping ‘two kings who can’t meet.’”
Tan Shen was stunned. “They can twist that into romance?!”
Just then, the production coordinator knocked on the door. “Recording officially starts in five minutes. Everyone, please head to the main hall.”
“Got it.”
Yue Zhaolin finished his salad, stood up, stuck his ranking label onto his T-shirt, and after checking that everything was in place, headed to the hall with Tan Shen and the others.
The hall setup hadn’t changed. On the wall stood six vertical panels—two labeled Vocal, two Rap, and two Dance.
Below each title was a sheet of paper, hiding the names of the six songs that would soon be revealed.
This round followed the same rules as the last: each song would be split into two teams for a dual-stage battle.
Originally there were 64 trainees. Now, with one in jail and three who had withdrawn, 60 remained—just right for 12 groups of 5.
Once all the trainees had taken their places on the tiered steps according to their rankings, Li Ying arrived.
“PD, hello!”
“Long time no see, everyone.”
Li Ying greeted them briefly, then—prompted by the staff—stepped up to stand in front of the wall.
A staff member came over to adjust the formation. “Zhaolin, move a bit forward—right at the front.”
Yue Zhaolin responded and stepped forward.
For a brief moment, Li Ying and Yue Zhaolin made eye contact and exchanged a friendly smile.
The official recording began.
Li Ying, smiling, said: “After last week’s first round of eliminations, I’m glad to see you’re all still here.”
“But starting today, the challenges will get tougher—your first-round votes will carry over and be weighted at 9% into the second-round total.”
“And this time, 24 people will be eliminated. Which means, out of all the trainees here, only 36 will remain.”
Meng Yu’s expression froze—his ranking, written on the sticker on his chest, was right in the elimination zone.
And he wasn’t the only one—Wei Lai, Chen Fei, and Shu Yang were also among those suddenly tense with worry.
Li Ying deliberately drew out the suspense: “So, the theme of the second performance is—Position Evaluation.”
Bang!
The covers on the wall behind Li Ying suddenly dropped, revealing the names of the six songs.
This round, each position had a specific role—Vocal groups only needed to sing, Dance groups only needed to dance.
[Vocal]
(Letting Go)
A pop ballad centered on deep emotion and helplessness—an emotionally charged love song.
(Melatonin）
An international R&B hit that went viral overseas, featuring a mix of English and Spanish lyrics with a strong exotic flair.
[Rap]
(007-5)
A beat personally produced by PD Li Ying, full of aggression and provocation—a battle-style track.
(White Rose)
A recently popular melodic rap track in China, blending R&B segments. It’s not pure rap, so contestants will need to adapt and rearrange it themselves.
[Dance]
(Crane Bell)
A pure instrumental piece in traditional Chinese style. It combines chilling, lethal bell tones with the elegance and divinity of a crane—currently a viral ancient-style track.
(Indulged)
A once chart-topping K-pop boy group song in Korea, known for its sexy and seductive dance style.