Chapter 69: The Third Performance (5)
According to Li Xu, rapping in English wasn’t as difficult as rapping in Chinese.
Mandarin had too many tones—if the technique wasn’t solid, or if the lyrics didn’t rhyme or match phonetically, it would sound jarring. In fact, certain regional dialects were more suitable for rap; the natural rhythm of dialects made rap flow more smoothly.
Unfortunately, Lai Yudong hadn’t yet experienced any of that supposed “ease” in English rap.
Li Xu’s guided rap practice didn’t last long, but not because Lai Yudong was hopeless or unteachable. Instead, staff came over to notify them that it was their team’s turn for the post-performance interview about song selection.
As center, Lai Yudong was the first to be whisked away.
The staff began with the usual mass-produced template questions, before finally steering the topic toward him:
“Did you expect to be voted as center?”
—Here we go again.
If he answered “yes,” it would seem overconfident.
If he answered “no,” it would imply a lack of trust in his fans.
Skillfully, Lai Yudong turned a subjective question into an objective one:
“Given the second ranking, the possibility was quite high.”
Then the staff threw out their trump card:
“‘Starseekers chose Grotesque for you, which is widely recognized as the most difficult track. Do you feel a lot of pressure?”
Lai Yudong sighed inwardly.
Whoever had come up with this kind of divisive question was really cunning. It was worded as if his fans had deliberately plotted against him by choosing this song. If someone with a looser tongue heard it, they might slip up and end up hurting their fans’ feelings.
It was moments like this that made him worry about his roommate, Li Xu.
“No matter what song you perform, getting on stage will always bring pressure,” Lai Yudong replied calmly and fluently. “So emphasizing the difficulty doesn’t really mean much. As long as the Starseekers like it, I’ll put in double the effort to show the best version of myself.”
With that, he curved his brows into a smile, neatly closing the trap.
If they asked him one more round of those ridiculous questions tonight, he’d drag Li Xu along to climb over the wall and blow up Sky Entertainment headquarters.
Not that he actually could—he didn’t even know where Sky Entertainment headquarters was.
The staff moved on to a series of questions about his teammates for the third performance. Fortunately, they were all harmless, not the kind of traps that required him to spar with the production team.
Once everyone finished their interviews, Jiang Yangfan and Lin Xiao went over to find their captain, who was muttering through a tongue-twisting rap verse. The way he was buried in practice created a vacuum of concentration around him.
Lin Xiao hesitated to interrupt. “Are we rehearsing the dance now?”
“Already?”
Lai Yudong looked up in surprise. For a moment, the dense English letters seemed to lift off the page, floating through the air like a barrage of comments on a screen. He blinked several times in a daze before the illusion faded.
He rubbed at his temples—the rap practice had nearly twisted his tongue to the point where he could hardly speak properly.
Technically, as a broadcasting major, he should have had an advantage in terms of speed. But with rhythms different from his reading habits, and pronunciations he still wasn’t used to, it was hard to adapt quickly.
Lai Yudong slowly stood up. “Let’s practice the dance first. I’ll go call the others.”
It was the perfect chance to give his tangled brain a break.
He glanced around and counted—there were only six people including himself.
That was normal. Even national athletes needed rest during training. Being cooped up day after day in a windowless practice room without fresh air, anyone would eventually go crazy without a break.
The key, though, was when they took their breaks.
Like Zeng Kai during the first performance—his behavior was definitely not encouraged. He had snuck out for a chat in the middle of group practice, disappearing without warning like a burrowing gopher.
Lai Yudong quickly identified the one teammate missing, guessed where he might be, and personally went out to call him back for rehearsal.
He went straight downstairs to the cafeteria and dragged Yin Zizhen back. The kid had gotten so hungry before mealtime that he’d snuck off to gnaw on a chicken drumstick. When Lai Yudong found him, his mouth was still full of meat.
“Wha—cough, cough…”
Yin Zizhen swallowed the drumstick in one big gulp. He ate too fast and accidentally choked, coughing a few times before he managed to recover.
“Slow down.” Lai Yudong patted him on the back. “Go ahead and finish eating first. No rush—once you’re done, we’ll go practice the dance.”
[“No rush.” / “Finish eating first, then practice.”]
[When I got caught sneaking spicy sticks as a kid, this was exactly my reaction.]
[Big difference: you ate snacks out of greed, Zhen-baby is actually starving lol]
[Yuzu really has that leader vibe.]
Lai Yudong: ?
Really? He was just a walking, talking human broadcast system.
After feeding Yin Zizhen and bringing him back to the practice room, the entire Grotesque team finally gathered to start dance practice.
This song’s formation changes were complicated. Many parts had to be performed in small subgroups—sometimes different choreography depending on position, sometimes part of the members just stood at the edges of the stage. That’s why the first thing taught was the synchronized dance section all seven had to complete together.
It had to be admitted: this group had too high a concentration of “dance-challenged” members.
Zhao Yifeng and Yin Zizhen had never studied dance before joining the show. Song Yanxi and Li Xu had only learned for a few months. By comparison, dropping Lai Yudong into this group meant his learning speed was far ahead—not only was he not the worst at dancing, he could even help correct others’ moves.
At last, his strong memory came in handy again.
Fortunately, everyone had a serious attitude, so although progress was slow, they moved forward bit by bit.
“Let’s stop here for now,” Jiang Yangfan finally said. “I think we can split up for practice. Some of you can stay with Lin Xiao to get this synchronized section solid, while the rest follow me to learn your individual parts.”
He made sure to ask the captain’s opinion: “What do you think?”
Of course, Lai Yudong couldn’t say no.
Practice had to respect the dance instructors’ intentions, and splitting into two groups would indeed speed things up.
“Whatever you guys think.”
Little did he know—that sentence marked the beginning of a nightmare.
Technically, they were supposed to learn their own parts. But for most of the first half of the song, everyone else was just backup dancing for the center. Lai Yudong’s choreography was the only one that really stood apart, occasionally involving one or two others around him.
The intro wasn’t hard, and the lead-in wasn’t hard either—but immediately after came the rap section, and from the very first pose to the end of the verse, there wasn’t a single moment that let him relax.
The first hurdle was, quite literally, vaulting over a teammate.
Li Xu was already kneeling on one knee with his head bowed, waiting. After a few seconds of silence, he turned his head to see his roommate looking suspiciously like he was psyching himself up.
He instantly felt a vein pop. “Are you gonna jump or not?”
Lai Yudong remained unusually calm. “Hold on. I’m thinking about the leverage point and posture.”
Li Xu was baffled. “What, are you solving a geometry problem on my back?”
“You mean a physics force analysis?”
Li Xu: “…”
Such a meticulous guy.
After estimating the route, Lai Yudong reminded him: “Lower your head, I’m about to flip.”
Li Xu quickly ducked down.
Lai Yudong took two running steps, pressed one hand lightly on Li Xu’s shoulder, pushed off with his wrist, lifted his leg toward the opposite side, and vaulted over.
Plop—a light landing.
Li Xu rubbed his shoulder, thinking back on the barely-there pressure. “Why do I feel like you didn’t even use any strength?”
“Li Xu’s right,” Jiang Yangfan critiqued sharply from the sidelines. “Yuki, your legs were way too close to the ground. It wasn’t so much a side flip as it was you hopping in place. Honestly, it looked like an old man with weak legs stepping over a dirt mound.”
Lai Yudong: “…”
What a brutal description.
[Sharp-tongued sweetheart living up to his name]
[Fan-baby is like this with his Brother Zhen and Brother Che too, his mouth is already a weapon (hands clasped in prayer)]
[Suddenly looking forward to Dong-baby and Fan-baby facing off head-to-head]
[No way, Yuzu’s careful about how close or distant he is with people. Since Jiang Yangfan’s teaching him dance, he’ll only humbly accept it /smoke]
[Is Yuzu too scared to flip?]
[Afraid of crushing Li Hong, right? That’s why Yuzu didn’t dare use strength]
[Help, is Li Hong a new nickname?? lol]
Lai Yudong silently glanced at Li Xu, wondering if this 18G-speed internet surfer knew he’d just been given the new title “Li Hong(Red).”
It sounded like Li Hua’s younger sister.
“It’s not like you’re goat-jumping over my head—why are you holding back like this? Haven’t you vaulted a railing with one hand before?” Li Xu was practically dying to expose the time Yudong had climbed through the window to fetch takeout.
“I was worried I’d be too heavy,” Lai Yudong explained.
Li Xu’s eyes went wide in shock. “Are you looking down on me?”
“…Not really.”
“Then put more strength into it! You don’t seriously think this little weight is gonna crush me into the ground, right? I’m not that fragile.”
“Next time for sure.”
“You’re not just brushing me off, are you?”
“Pfft.” Jiang Yangfan was amused by their exchange. “You two have a really good relationship.”
Lai Yudong agreed wholeheartedly. “I think so too.”
Li Xu: “…”
He didn’t bother explaining further, just lowered his head expressionlessly and urged, “Miura, hurry up and flip again.”
Jiang Yangfan pointed the way: “Just imagine you’re vaulting a fence the same height as crouching Li Xu.”
“Got it.”
Lai Yudong circled back to his starting spot, braced himself mentally, and launched once more.
This time he jumped hard, one leg forward and one back, sweeping cleanly over Li Xu’s back. His entire weight pressed down through the hand on Li Xu’s shoulder, granting him a brief moment of suspension.
Both feet landed—he had cleared it smoothly.
“Good. We’ll keep it like that,” Jiang Yangfan gave the new instruction. “Next move.”
After the one-handed side flip, the center had to rush to the front of the camera, crouch, and rap a section. When the rap ended, he was supposed to match the camerawork with a move that looked like he was swatting the lens away.
Li Xu stood up, glanced at Lai Yudong crouching in his marked spot, and gave him a speechless look. “What are you doing, counting ants down there?”
[Yuzu-baby’s pose is seriously way too well-behaved]
[Like a little white rabbit hopping over to ask me for a carrot]
[omg what do I do with my obedient little Yuzu]
[Poor Yuyu, this is hard on him]
Lai Yudong: “…”
Sorry, he thought he looked fierce enough already.
“This rap segment has to completely overturn the atmosphere,” Jiang Yangfan analyzed. “There isn’t much choreography here—you’ve got to hold it up with pure stage presence. Which means you need to look wild and cocky. And don’t face the camera straight on.”
Lai Yudong angled his body slightly. “Like this?”
“Spread your legs a little wider.”
Lai Yudong shifted, feet apart.
Jiang Yangfan thought for a moment. “Knees are too high. Move your legs back, put your weight on your toes.”
“Does it really need to be this complicated?” Li Xu couldn’t stand it anymore. He didn’t get why such a simple pose was taking forever to figure out.
He walked over and crouched right next to Lai Yudong. “See? Like this.”
Lai Yudong: “…”
Jiang Yangfan: “…”
The silence wasn’t because they were dumbfounded by Li Xu’s confidence—it was because his crouch and aura were a perfect match for this rap verse.
He squatted with legs apart in front of the mirror, one hand braced on his knee, the other raised in some completely inexplicable “rap hand gesture.”
Not exaggerating at all—if you stuck a cigarette between his fingers, it wouldn’t look out of place.
For others, it’s like the male lead of a novel stepping into reality; for him, it’s a delinquent stepping into reality.
[Sorry, but I’m really curious about Li Xu’s education level]
[If you told me he dropped out after junior high ‘cause he got suspended for fighting, I’d believe you]
[Truly the rapper who looks most like a rapper in Stardom]
[No joke, this is exactly the vibe we want]
[Brother Xu, did you seriously ever collect protection money? hahaha]
The more Lai Yudong watched, the more he felt Li Xu’s fit with Grotesque was at a staggering 200%. He quickly mimicked Li Xu’s pose, trying to grasp the essence of it.
Before long, another delinquent appeared out of thin air.
“Your eyes and expression still need work,” Jiang Yangfan suggested. “Right now you look more like an honor student forced to go collect protection money, still not used to the role—missing a bit of Li Xu’s natural-born swagger.”
“What swagger? I’ve never collected protection money,” Li Xu was the first to jump in and deny it.
“Just a figure of speech,” Jiang Yangfan said, offering each a hand and pulling the two up from the floor. “We can polish your expressions later. Let’s get back to the dance lesson.”
“Okay,” Lai Yudong replied.
As practice went on, each person’s solo part was slotted in one after another, with students constantly rotating through Jiang Yangfan’s group.
Not long after dinner, it was once again Lai Yudong and Li Xu’s turn as a pair.
Difficulty level: upgraded.
The most troublesome move—the leap down off someone’s back—had arrived.
