Trainee Ch.54

Chapter 54: Second Performance (9)

Facts proved that Mentor Li Ke’s sharp-tongued class was very effective. Whether it was the bloodbath of the Listen team, or the much-maligned Silent Night team, both delivered a satisfying performance.

Lai Yudong, of course, biasedly focused all his attention on his roommates.

For the Listen team, Li Xu finally got the chance to shine in his comfort zone. He digested the lyrics—just revised this morning—remarkably well. He sang of the desire to be heard, the fearless spirit of individuality unrecognized, and the ambition to debut.

Everything he had felt since joining the show was condensed into the lyrics, and he expressed it all through his own rap skills.

This was the strongest rebuttal to a ranking that didn’t match his ability.

Maybe it was the “roommate filter” talking, but even though Listen’s top individual vote went to Yin Zizhen, Lai Yudong still thought Li Xu’s part was on par with anyone else’s in the group.

Not only was his tone textured, but the changes in his flow were refreshing. At one point, he slipped in a rapid-fire verse with crystal-clear enunciation that practically blew the roof off. Even someone like Lai Yudong—who didn’t usually listen to rap—felt his scalp tingle.

If Li Xu hadn’t specifically thanked him afterwards for helping revise the lyrics, Lai Yudong’s excitement might have been even greater.

[Wait, Yuki can write lyrics too?]

[Of course. A versatile all-rounder who can do everything—sing, dance, rap, you name it.]

[The definition of “all-rounder” just got rewritten.]

[I really want to know what Yuzu helped him revise.]

Lai Yudong: …

No, but—don’t you guys think this is strange?

Or is it that the audience in this world just has a higher level of acceptance? Did the system lower the dungeon’s difficulty for him?

Forget it. Better not think too hard about it. Some bugs are too heavy for the world itself to bear.

The next team was the Silent Night group, which was practically a setup for elimination. Inside the group were only two rap positions, the highest ranked being Chu Tianyi at thirty-fourth place. Neither their lineup nor popularity looked promising.

Unexpectedly, the one who delivered the best performance wasn’t either of the rap members, but Liang Zhisheng—the one who had seemed unmotivated about revising lyrics these past few days.

He had actually written a farewell song to match the emotional beat.

The lyrics weren’t particularly elegant, but every word carried genuine feeling.

[Wait, who did Liang Zhisheng write the lyrics for?]

[Probably his parents.]

[If he’s getting eliminated next week, he can spend Christmas Eve with his parents—no way he wrote it for them.]

[Long-time fans say Liang Zhisheng once mentioned on a livestream that he doesn’t have a good relationship with his parents.]

[Could it be for the 707 dorm?]

[Help, can Liang Zhisheng still be saved?]

On the screen, the brown-haired youth deliberately switched the mic to his left hand. With a smile, he stretched out his right hand toward the camera, as if holding something invisible. Then he slowly placed it over his chest, symbolizing that he had taken it to heart.

“…Sorry I can’t keep fooling around with you guys. On this good, peaceful night, I wish you all safety and joy.”

Lai Yudong was stunned by the last line.

Last night, the dance group had been busy with the stage crew confirming set arrangements, so they missed the rap group’s rehearsal. Plus, Liang Zhisheng had never revealed his lyrics beforehand, so Lai Yudong had no idea what Silent Night was actually about.

So…

Were these lyrics written for their dorm?

A complicated emotion welled up in his chest. Lai Yudong pressed his lips together, then turned to the curly-haired boy who was the most mindful of time: “When is Christmas Eve?”

Su Junzhe tilted his head. “Mm… I think it’s next Saturday?”

—Next Saturday.

By then, not only would the second live broadcast be over, even the second edited episode would have aired.

No wonder Liang Zhisheng had to use the second stage performance as a formal farewell.

Seeing the light-blond boy sink into silence in dejection, Su Junzhe blinked and leaned closer considerately. “Do you need a tissue?”

“…I’m not crying.”

Lai Yudong grew even more suspicious that he’d been labeled a crybaby. He clearly wasn’t the type who cried often. At most, he was just a bit sentimental—sometimes when faced with situations he had never experienced before, the impact was too strong for him to control his emotions right away.

“I see.” Su Junzhe lowered his voice with a bright smile. “Make sure you adjust yourself before going on stage, okay? Please.”

Lai Yudong choked for a moment. “…Alright.”

As expected, a career-driven type who only ever had the stage in mind.

A little bit of emotion, but not too much.

The ending pose of Silent Night confirmed the audience’s guesses. The camera cut to a close-up of Liang Zhisheng, who raised his hands beside his head and shaped his fingers into the number seven, shaking them lightly a few times. His gentle smile was like a cup of soothing tea.

[707 dorm just scored big!!]

[Yu-baby, didn’t you say you weren’t crying?]

[If the tears don’t actually fall, it doesn’t count as crying.]

[Crying is beautiful, but mom’s heart aches. I’m off to vote for Liang /smoke]

[Sheng-fans bow in thanks to all the Yuzu-fans T^T]

Lai Yudong took a deep breath, forcing back the tears.

Although he was deeply moved at the moment, Su Junzhe’s reminder wasn’t wrong—he couldn’t let personal emotions affect the group’s upcoming stage. Whatever he felt, he could save it for later, back in the dorm.

When the votes for Silent Night were announced, Liang Zhisheng, previously the least popular member, miraculously ranked second in the group, right behind Chu Tianyi.

In the end, Yin Zizhen of the rap team received the most individual votes and was awarded two extra votes.

At that moment, staff pushed open the door to the viewing room:

“Dance group, you can head backstage now. All three groups go together.”

Lai Yudong stood up with his teammates. Just as he took his first step, the livestream cut to commercials for a break, and the big screen in the viewing room also switched to ads.

Then he heard a familiar line—

“New packaging, larger volume, rose fragrance…”

Lai Yudong: “…”

The nightmare had returned.

[So this is the legendary stunning commercial the forum gossip was talking about!]

[I heard Yuzu blew through dozens of takes?]

[Holy crap, this is the first time I’ve ever felt happy watching an ad.]

[If it’s not the roses Yu-baby blew, I’m not buying.]

[The true goddess has descended.]

What was playing was a newly filmed mid-roll advertisement.

On screen, the light-blond boy with a pure smile lowered his long lashes and gently blew away a handful of vibrant rose petals, like an angel scattering the flowers of hope upon the earth.

At the same time, the very subject of the ad was fleeing in embarrassment under his teammates’ teasing.

Whether it was because he found watching his own commercial too cringeworthy, or because he didn’t want to recall the experience of shooting it—like a lung capacity test—no one knew.

[Yu-baby why are you running hhhhhh]

[He bolted way too fast.]

[At least give us a reaction before you run, baby!]

[Yuzu is still too green (shakes head).]

Lai Yudong: Farewell.

…

The “ratings pillar” being saved for last was an unshakable rule of variety shows. Thus, the Bloody team—packed with popular contestants—was unsurprisingly arranged to be the final group of the dance stage.

The Stolen Fire and Riddle groups had fewer star contestants, so the split-vote effect wasn’t as strong. At present, the group leaders were Qu Xincheng with 179 votes, and Jiang Yangfan with 256 votes.

Whether Jiang Yangfan could keep his position as dance team’s number one all depended on the Bloody group’s votes.

[What luck for Jiang, all the votes ended up concentrated on him.]

[Why so bitter? High popularity gets brushed off as “luck”?]

[Jiang Yangfan’s individual votes were over 70 more than Qu’s, yet Riddle’s total votes were nearly a hundred less than Stolen Fire. Don’t fans know the difference between split votes and not?]

[Jiang is ranked 4th, Qu is ranked 8th. Even without split votes, Jiang is more popular.]

[Did you not watch last week’s main episode? Who’s more popular isn’t set in stone yet.]

[Just laughing at these nobodies fighting.]

[Come watch the Bloody group, then you’ll understand what real vote-splitting looks like.]

[What group could possibly suffer worse split-votes than 135’s team-building?]

[I feel a little out of place just focusing on the practice clips…]

The barrage was full of noisy bickering.

Once the practice clip for the Bloody group finished playing, the stage suddenly went dark. Both the live audience and the livestream chat quieted down, anticipation of the upcoming performance silencing most of them.

Thump, thump.

In the silence came the sound of two sampled heartbeats.

Dim, eerie lighting illuminated the stage.

The first image was a panoramic view: the light-blond boy stood alone at center stage, surrounded by five crouching figures. His back faced the camera, but his side profile was sharp and well-defined.

He lazily twisted his body to the music, snapping his head three times in rhythm—like a vampire slowly awakening from slumber.

The camera zoomed in: a close-up just for the center position.

His hair was a noble, pearl-white blond; his eyes, an ominous crimson like a demon’s. He wore a pure white shirt, the V-neck trimmed with ruffled frills in a British court style. Two narrow ribbons crossed at the collar, and his choker and earrings added a trace of darkness to his radiant, glowing-white look.

The stage lights fell across his face, and for a fleeting moment, those blood-red eyes seemed to emit an eerie glow.

Unconsciously, eyes fell upon the bloodstains smeared across his cheek—an unfinished masterpiece that hinted at his dangerous identity. Instinct said to pull away, yet the beauty of his appearance lured one closer, the seductive tilt of his phoenix eyes pulling them deeper still.

With just one glance, you would willingly become the prey walking straight into his trap.

[Holy shit]

[Wow……]

[The title “Yuzu the Tempter” truly lives up to its name!]

[Mom will NOT allow you to dress like this!!!]

[Whoever suggested putting Yuzu in center is a genius]

[So handsome I’ve lost my mind ahhhh]

[Pretty sure I just saw pecs]

[Who the hell could resist voting after this!?]

—Unfortunately, the one who had provoked such shrieks of astonishment shut off the barrage again, too nervous to face it.

With just a few simple yet elegant dance moves, the trainee named Miura Yuki, relying on his flawless looks and aura, delivered a visual feast no one could surpass. His face drew the eye like a magnet, making it impossible to look away.

In the final moment before the prelude ended, those blood-red eyes lifted to meet theirs, carrying a trace of reluctant sorrow—enough to make anyone want to follow in his steps.

Even if it was a sweet trap.

Only when the camera cut to the next teammate did the audience snap back from their daze.

Thankfully, the rest of the group were strong enough not to let the opening’s visual strike steal all the Starseekers’ favor. Each shone in turn during their rotating center parts, showcasing their unique styles with choreography that dazzled without straying from the theme.

Just as the opening impact began to fade, the light-blond boy returned to center for the chorus. His tall, slender frame paired with elegant attire; his movements precise yet never stiff.

A fleeting, weighty gaze.

A smile so faint it almost wasn’t there.

A careless brush of his lips.

Every gesture was an invitation, as though one had stepped into a mysterious European castle and was being coaxed into a dance by a vampire with ulterior motives.

He stole their hearts away, only to leave the stage again—mastering the essence of “to capture, one must first let go.”

The next teammate seamlessly filled the gap, intercepting the drifting attention and gathering it to himself with sheer stage presence.

Without prior bias, choosing one among the six felt as difficult as picking the most beautiful gem in a jewelry exhibition.

Even so, that exquisite face was like a butterfly dancing gracefully among flowers—at times alighting lightly upon a petal, at times fluttering past in a fleeting brush of wings. He wasn’t always in the center of sight, yet cunningly asserted his presence in ways impossible to ignore.

A deliberate game of push and pull, like a romantic hide-and-seek.

Find him, look at him, and you will win his heart.

Choose him, approach him, and you will drown together in passion.

Between them, it was as if an unspoken agreement had already been reached.

The “love song” cut off abruptly.

The stage lights plunged once again into darkness. The performance wasn’t over.

After a brief silence, the lights flared back without warning—as though to rip apart the candy coating, shatter the haze of ambiguity, and reveal the truth beneath the illusion.

The atmosphere plummeted.

The intimacy and tenderness from before had vanished, leaving only a trace of scarlet at the corner of his lips.

For instance—the light-blond boy standing at the center.

He used the pad of his left finger to smear the blood at his mouth, curling into a cruel, merciless smile. His tongue slid across the fang stained with blood, his expression savoring the spoils of a successful deception.

Thump, thump.

Once again, the sound of two sampled heartbeats echoed.

Unlike the opening, the second heartbeat at the end was noticeably weaker, as though foreshadowing the prey’s fate.

And then came a low voice, carrying both coldness and a trace of amusement—

“Thank you for your hospitality.”

The true face of this game of hide-and-seek was, in fact, a cruel and ruthless hunt.

No heart, no love, no shared understanding.

The livestream chat went absolutely wild.

[Holy crap! Little devil ahhh!]

[Y-you’re welcome… (faints)]

[Please enjoy! Please!]

[Whose voice was that last English line!?]

[The moment you hear it, you know it’s Yuzu.]

[Worth the whole night of waiting.]

[I volunteer to be Vampire Yuzu’s emergency blood pack 5555]

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