Trainee Ch.12

Chapter 12: Dorm Assignment (2)

Comparing the members of Dorm 706 and Dorm 707, Lai Yudong’s preference was obvious—his first choice, without a doubt, was the latter.

An independent and self-assured Li Xu, a shy and reserved Xu An, and a gentle and considerate Liang Zhisheng—it was quite literally the perfect lineup.

[Showdown at Dorm Supreme! Where will Miura Yuki end up?!]

[Yuki: I really want to run away.]

[Pick 706, Yuki and Liu Qichu together are hilarious!]

[Don’t make it hard for the cool guy www]

…Don’t risk someone’s life just for a good laugh! Lai Yudong’s life matters too!

Once again, he didn’t mean to look down on Liu Qichu, nor did he have any opinions about the two A-class trainees he hadn’t spoken with yet. It was just that, given his special circumstances, he really had to choose his dorm carefully.

Post the will to live on the public chat.jpg

Even so, it wasn’t in Lai Yudong’s nature to rashly choose one side while caught between two people. Besides, Liu Qichu wasn’t as carefree as he seemed—Lai Yudong worried that rejecting him might hurt his enthusiasm.

He racked his brain for a good excuse but couldn’t come up with anything convincing.

Just as he was about to borrow Liang Zhisheng’s reasoning about “better facilities,” the door opened—and in walked a black-haired boy with a straight fringe, looking like a savior bathed in holy light.

—It was Xu An, the main vocal and pillar of Dorm 707.

Xu An was holding a basin full of toiletries in his left hand, a waterproof laundry bag for changing clothes in his right, and wore a pair of newly swapped slippers. Just one look, and you could tell he was heading to wash up.

He had been unpacking his luggage and hadn’t noticed the commotion outside. As soon as he stepped out of the dorm and saw a familiar figure, his eyes lit up instantly: “Yuki, are you coming to our dorm?”

“I…”

“That’s great!” Realizing that his reaction was a bit too enthusiastic, Xu An gave an embarrassed smile. “I said before that if you ever needed help with singing, you could come find me. Sharing a dorm will make that even easier.”

Lai Yudong: “…”

The moment he thought about how the extra evaluation song was randomly rolled, the damn guilt hit even harder.

System: [Please don’t think like that, Host. Even rolling a song is part of your ability.]

Lai Yudong: [Are you mocking me right now?]

System: [Luck is a form of strength.]

Lai Yudong: [That’s fraud, isn’t it?! Hurry up and play the original version of Lose Heart for me!]

System: [Sorry, technical support for that function is unavailable.]

He had long expected this useless system to be good-for-nothing, and could only sigh deeply in his heart. Compared to clearing up this beautiful misunderstanding—which wasn’t something he could easily explain—the top priority now was to settle the dorm assignment.

Although the system’s blunder had earned him some undeserved goodwill from Xu An, it wasn’t a huge deal. Just because he didn’t recognize one of Xu An’s lesser-known songs didn’t mean he was unfamiliar with the popular hits from back then. He could still barely count as half a fan, so his first choice remained Dorm 707.

Lai Yudong glanced at Liang Zhisheng and Xu An, then held up two fingers at Liu Qichu: “Two to one.”

“…Wait, we’re deciding this by vote?!” Liu Qichu stared in disbelief. “Then I’ll call over Teacher Su and Teacher Jin! That way it’s two to three!”

“It’s getting late, let’s not make Yuki feel torn,” Liang Zhisheng said with a grin, holding his bottle of makeup remover as he gently nudged Lai Yudong toward Dorm 707. “We live so close—it’s easy to visit anytime.”

“You’re so sneaky!”

And just like that, the dorm selection debacle came to a close with the name tag Miura Yuki being placed on the last remaining slot outside Dorm 707.

Lai Yudong stared at the room number for a few seconds before belatedly realizing—his birthday just so happened to be July 7th.

Well then. Wish him luck.

The trainee dorm wasn’t particularly fancy—about the same level as his college dorm. The only real difference was that instead of lofted beds with desks underneath, the four-person room was furnished with two bunk beds, both set along the same wall.

The bed assigned to him was the lower bunk nearest the door, with Liang Zhisheng above him. The other lower bunk belonged to Xu An, and the upper bunk above that was Li Xu’s.

“Li Xu, our room’s full now,” Liang Zhisheng said, knocking lightly on the underside of the top bunk. “Here, this is Miura Yuki—you two sat together on the bus.”

“Hi.” Lai Yudong quickly offered a greeting, afraid that this impatient guy might ignore him again.

“Oh. Hey.” Li Xu, in the middle of making his bed, spared him a glance and casually brought up the incident from the bus. “Next time someone insults you, make sure you insult them right back.”

Lai Yudong: “…”

Was… was that something you were supposed to say on camera?

With his limited understanding, Lai Yudong felt Li Xu’s advice was a bit too image-damaging. Whether on-camera or off, it was probably better to avoid that kind of behavior. Besides, the person hadn’t even called him out by name—if he responded directly, it would only make him look petty and self-important.

From a showbiz perspective, yes, drama and conflict could bring more attention. Trashy on-screen catfights were a dime a dozen in variety shows, and as the saying goes: even bad publicity is still publicity.

But—

This was a dream-selling talent show, not a messy dating show where the highlight was couples fighting their way to divorce.

His goal was to debut—not to get eliminated and end up livestreaming product placements.

Whatever the reason, he stood by his choice in that moment.

“Ahem.”

Liang Zhisheng gave a deliberately exaggerated cough and discreetly glanced at the camera installed in the dorm room.

Fortunately, the GoPro installed in the dorm had mediocre audio quality. Li Xu hadn’t spoken loudly, and the rustling from making his bed had mostly drowned out his voice. At this hour, the livestream viewers were few, and none of them had Leuwenhoek-level ears to catch what he said.

Liang Zhisheng couldn’t help but remark, “You two should get along pretty well.”

“Huh?” Li Xu frowned, clearly puzzled. “What would I have to talk about with him? He probably says fewer words in a whole day than I do in a single sentence.”

Liang Zhisheng shot back sharply, “Well, his two words are worth your whole sentence.”

[What does that mean?]

[I know this one! It’s the script!]

[Wait, what’s the script joke? I missed that episode??]

Lai Yudong: “…”

Please… stop calling that back!

After that borderline-risky exchange, Lai Yudong finally dragged his suitcase to the edge of the bed and set it down. The unboxing moment felt just as crucial as the first free 10-pull in a mobile gacha game—he was one step away from engraving “Newbie Welcome Package” onto the luggage itself.

He was equally afraid of drawing a stage outfit that would make his soul leave his body, or that the system had packed the entire thing with raffia grass just to prank him. Either option would be unbearable.

He vowed in his heart to eat vegetarian for life—just let the starter pack not be that outrageous.

Gritting his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut, and bracing himself, Lai Yudong yanked the zipper all the way down and cautiously lifted the lid.

Inside were several neatly folded sets of clothes. As expected, the miserly system hadn’t gone above and beyond—only just enough outfits to get by with daily changes.

On the bright side, at least the fashion wasn’t tragic. No programmer plaid shirts, no government-office-style polos, and none of those grandpa cardigans for neighborhood strolls. The pieces were even trendier than the flashy “street style” bestsellers on a certain orange shopping app. As long as his sense of style was at a passing grade, he could put together some decent outfits.

Towel, toothbrush, slippers, water cup, body wash—all the daily essentials were there, even colored contact lenses, face masks, and makeup remover. It felt like he’d just pulled a full set of R-rank cards in a gacha game.

At least he wouldn’t have to shamelessly ask his roommates to borrow things.

Aside from that, Lai Yudong discovered a few unexpected items: an unassuming wallet and a smart MP3 player.

Unfortunately, there was no sign of that modern-day lifeline—a smartphone.

Apparently, all the trainees had their phones confiscated before filming began. Since he’d arrived late in the timeline, he had the good luck of skipping that traumatic process.

The wallet was as plain as it looked, containing only a few bills. Other than bribing a guard to secretly order delivery for him, Lai Yudong couldn’t imagine what use cash would have in this place.

The real surprise was the smart MP3. Though it was the kind meant for students—completely locked down with limited Wi-Fi access and no ability to browse the web—it could at least stream music through its built-in app.

Got it. His side quest was to locate a Wi-Fi signal and listen to the original version of Lose Heart.

System: [Host, that’s not an official side quest.]

Lai Yudong: [Don’t care.]

After taking stock of his “newbie starter pack,” Lai Yudong dug out the makeup remover and cotton pads from his suitcase, skillfully tearing open the packaging.

He’d worn makeup before for various on- and off-campus interviews and events, so he was more than familiar with the makeup removal process—none of that mythical “straight guy” nonsense.

Like the classic quote: “Lipstick only comes in one color—red.”

Every time he stared at shade names like Barbie Pink and Pumpkin Spice, he truly couldn’t understand how some “real men” could be so colorblind they couldn’t tell the difference between pink and orange.

The person who’d screeched “Must be nice to be good-looking!” in the crowd earlier? Lai Yudong figured they were probably cut from the same cloth as some of his current roommates.

Muttering internally, he picked up the cotton pad soaked in makeup remover and walked over to the mirror. But the moment he met those bright, amber-colored eyes staring back at him, a serious thought suddenly struck him—

How… was he supposed to take out the colored contacts?

Lai Yudong stared silently at his reflection. This was his first time ever wearing colored lenses. He hadn’t even put them in himself—by the time he came to, the system had already slapped this whole “starter skin” on him.

And by the way, the hair color? Same story. Because of professional requirements, he had never dyed his hair before either.

This was the pinnacle of one-click character customization.

“—Yuki? Did you fall asleep standing there?”

Seeing their new roommate staring blankly at the full-length mirror without moving for a long time, Liang Zhisheng’s worrywart instincts kicked in. He came over for a closer look and quickly noticed Lai Yudong’s gaze was locked onto his own eyes in the mirror. “Are your eyes uncomfortable?”

The pale blond boy tilted his head slightly, and all attention naturally shifted to his eye area.

With a subtle greenish tint enhancing them, the primrose hue of his irises looked as fresh as flower petals—neither too light nor too deep. This balanced tone perfectly complemented his temperament, allowing him to stand out quietly in a crowd—not flashy, but unmistakably eye-catching in a quietly unique way.

He quickly looked away, lips pressing together just faintly, then lifted his gaze again—this time meeting Liang Zhisheng’s eyes head-on, as if strictly following the rule of “Look people in the eye when you talk to them.”

Seeing this, Liang Zhisheng began trying to seriously figure out what might be bothering his new roommate…

Only to be hit with an answer he absolutely did not expect—

“I don’t know how to take them out.”

Liang Zhisheng: “…Huh?”

[I’m wheezing HAHAHAHAHAHA]

[A plot twist no one saw coming]

[Knows how to put them in but not take them out?]

[To be fair, removing contacts is trickier than wearing them]

After a tough internal struggle, Lai Yudong finally confessed the problem he was facing.

He was genuinely worried that if he fumbled around too much, he’d end up injuring his eye—and who knew if damage to this body might somehow be reflected in his real one?

More importantly, he’d heard all sorts of horror stories: contacts slipping behind the eyeball, lenses tearing in the eye—basically the stuff of nightmares.

Just thinking about it made his scalp tingle.

With that in mind, Lai Yudong turned to the stunned Liang Zhisheng and looked at him earnestly.

“Can you teach me?” he asked, sincerely. “Thank you.”

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