Trainee Ch.76

Chapter 76: The Third Performance (12)

With such a difficult stage completed smoothly, Lai Yudong felt there was nothing left that could stump him.

It could truly be called a miracle created in just seven days.

After the performance ended, initiator Fu Hanyu walked onto the stage and naturally guided the flow with a lighthearted topic:

“Yesterday at rehearsal, I didn’t see you guys with black nail polish. I heard this was Yuki’s idea?”

The moment the center’s name was mentioned, the audience’s reaction was extremely enthusiastic.

[Thank you, Teacher Fu, for cueing my fave!]

[I was dying over the fact that the practice clip didn’t include the nail polish part]

[The reversal storyline was already set up so well—if they cut in that part, it would break the flow and ruin the emotions]

[I bet it’ll be edited into the practice diary or an extra episode]

Lai Yudong took the handheld mic passed to him by a teammate.

“Yes, it was added on the spot after we finished recording the practice room version.”

“A very creative idea,” Fu Hanyu said with a smile. “Lately, the clip of your penguin spin after work has been going viral online. Could you show it to the Starseekers here on site?”

The audience erupted into frenzied screams.

“Penguin spin!”

“I want to see it, I want to see it!”

“Yuzu, do a spin!”

Lai Yudong gave an embarrassed smile, his gaze shifting uneasily between Fu Hanyu and the audience, his slightly flustered demeanor a stark contrast to his confident stage presence just moments earlier.

Performing for a handful of fans on the way home and performing for two thousand people on stage were entirely different things.

But since it had come to this, he had no way to refuse.

In the past, the one most often cued during fan-service segments was Su Junzhe. The cute or energetic types were always the easiest to push into doing aegyo, and he happened to be both. One moment he’d clench his fists and meow like a cat, the next he’d puff his cheeks and poke them with his fingers.

After the second performance ended, Su Junzhe had privately complained that no matter how he changed his style, he could never escape the fate of being forced into cuteness.

Although he was joking to liven up the atmosphere, his soft, almost coquettish tone was undeniably cute. Still, Lai Yudong caught a hint of sincerity—he seemed to genuinely dislike his assigned persona.

And yet, for the third performance, he’d been pushed into another sweet, sugary song.

Who would’ve thought the tables would turn so quickly—it was now Lai Yudong’s turn.

Resigned, Lai Yudong lowered the mic, placed both hands at his sides, and bowed his head slightly before spinning in a circle.

Without the bulky winter coat, his turn looked even lighter and livelier. The movement, seemingly out of place with his outfit, felt oddly fitting on him.

Coincidentally, the black leather jacket over a white shirt happened to match the coloring of a penguin’s feathers.

[A close-up penguin spin!]

[It’s over—I suddenly think penguin suits Yuzu better than deer]

[Recorded! Turning this into a gif reaction pack]

[The fierce, sharp-tongued villain offstage is secretly a little sweetheart]

[Pulling the contrast trick on us again! Who are you trying to kill with cuteness?]

“Good work, Yuki.” Fu Hanyu was amused by his reluctant fan-service, laughter touching his brows. “Alright, let’s get back to the stage.”

He sincerely praised their performance:

“Not only much better than the evaluation class, but even better than the rehearsal. From what I know, your group’s practice process was very tough, right?”

Lai Yudong quickly adjusted his expression, shifting into serious mode.

“In terms of process, yes, we faced many brand-new challenges. But more than hardship, the greatest feeling was a sense of achievement—because we turned the ‘impossible’ into ‘possible.’”

“There’s nothing difficult in this world if one is determined enough,” Fu Hanyu segued with a smile. “So then, who do you think taught you rap better—Li Xu or Yin Zizhen?”

Lai Yudong: “……”

Wasn’t this the same batch of troublemakers coming up with questions again?

Might as well just ask, ‘If Li Xu and Yin Zizhen fell into the water, who would you save?’

His brain whirred rapidly, but outwardly he remained calm:

“Teacher Li Ke was better.”

By choosing a name outside the options, he instantly ended the showdown. The audience, who had been waiting to watch the drama, burst into laughter.

[This guy really doesn’t budge no matter what]

[No wonder he’s the most frequent guest in the “Shameless MacFu Encyclopedia”]

[Oh my god, an all-Yuzu chance handed right to his face, and he still won’t even say “I’ll take them all”]

[Now I finally get what fans mean by “the solo-fan paradise”]

[And you see why we CP fans have all become Sherlock Holmes :)]

“Didn’t expect that answer.” Seizing on the topic, Fu Hanyu smoothly guided the flow to the next trainee. “Yin Zizhen, do you agree with that answer?”

Lai Yudong immediately handed over the mic, passing the hot potato to Yin Zizhen.

Because of their height difference, the sound source lowered by a notch.

Taking the mic, Yin Zizhen solemnly agreed: “Brother Yuki is right.”

[Even if Yuzu had answered Li Hong, Xiao Zhen would’ve said the same thing /smoke]

[Yin Zizhen: anyone who likes rap can’t be all that bad]

Once everyone had finished speaking, the Grotesque group returned to the lounge. The next group, Brownie, was already heading backstage to prepare, with their practice footage playing on the big screen.

Lai Yudong sat down and joined the audience.

The Brownie group’s behind-the-scenes story was full of twists and tension. Su Junzhe, who always maintained a flawless idol image, for the first time couldn’t hold back from showing a cold face on camera.

The reason was that two of his teammates had a careless attitude, and their lack of seriousness kept delaying progress—yet they still laughed and joked as if nothing mattered.

For Su Junzhe, who valued effort and the stage, their behavior was no different than raving in a minefield.

[It’s already the third performance—how can there still be people like this?]

[They just got lucky and slipped through]

[These two were like this since the first performance, but back then all the fire was concentrated on Peppermint A. For the second round they went to the vocal group’s main vocal line, didn’t need to do any composing, and coasted by again]

[They look decent and talk in a funny way. With a few jokes, some fans even whitewash them, saying they’re not lazy but just trying to “lighten the mood”]

[Oh, those two? Their practice hours are probably about the same length as Yuzu’s sleep time]

“I’ve already reminded you countless times.”

On screen, Su Junzhe’s tone was cold, his usual smile gone from his face.

“Since it’s still like this, then don’t bother coming to the practice room anymore.”

He rested one hand against the doorframe.

“You come but don’t practice—then what’s the point? You sleep nine hours a day and you’re still tired. You might as well go back to the dorm and nap. At least then you’d be guaranteed either proper sleep or practice—one or the other.”

Lai Yudong was stunned.

At the third competition stage, there were actually trainees who managed to sleep a full nine hours?

Even Yin Zizhen, who was still growing, would wake up automatically after eight. Nine hours only existed during breaks when no performances were scheduled.

“But we—”

One teammate tried to argue, but Su Junzhe didn’t even give them the chance.

“Get out.”

With no expression, Su Junzhe shut the door and braced his back firmly against it. He was far stronger than he looked, easily holding the two teammates outside.

“Come back when you’ve thought it through. Don’t waste my time.”

[This move from Xiao Su is harsher than Teacher Zhao]

[Did Su Junzhe lose his temper? This doesn’t seem like him]

[Honestly, Su usually has this edge in his tone—him snapping isn’t surprising to me]

[SuSu blocking the door looks kind of cute though hhhh]

[Off-topic, but SuSu’s natural voice is so sweet, I thought he was a little twink]

[Shipping AllxSu is tasteless—SuSu’s clearly a strong top 1]

The two teammates outside looked at each other helplessly. But with the center and captain clearly furious, they had no choice but to go borrow a practice room from the Anonymous group next door.

The camera cut, time fast-forwarded.

At eight in the morning, Su Junzhe, freshly out of the shower after finishing practice, walked into the cafeteria—where he happened to run into a familiar face, a light-blond-haired boy nibbling on an egg pancake: Miura Yuki.

Sensing someone approaching, Miura Yuki quickly chewed and swallowed, his brows curving warmly like dawn breaking through the clouds:

“Good morning. Did you finish practice too?”

[I swear I see holy light shining behind Yuzu]

[Yuzu is an angel, right T^T]

[That one little word “too”…]

[The teammate truly meant for Xiao Su /doge]

[God, if I were SuSu, I’d cry on the spot seeing Yuzu]

Su Junzhe forced a smile. “Good morning.”

“Did you run into some trouble?” Miura Yuki caught onto his mood instantly.

Su Junzhe let out a soft sigh. “Not really trouble, per se.”

“If you don’t mind, you can talk to me about it.” Miura Yuki blinked playfully, his light tone teasing: “’Brownie’ doesn’t suit a frown.”

After a brief hesitation, Su Junzhe roughly explained the situation with his group. He didn’t directly call out his teammates’ faults but instead phrased it as a difference in outlook toward the stage that left him troubled.

Someone with less emotional intelligence might have assumed the Brownie group’s issue was teamwork, but Miura Yuki immediately picked up on the subtext. He let out an understanding little “ah.”

A subtle smile appeared on his lips as he reassured him: “I get it. I really do.”

[Yuzu absolutely feels this in his bones hhhh]

[No wonder they’re called the master-disciple pair, their struggles are identical]

[Poor SuSu, he’s about to break from frustration]

“Sometimes I just can’t understand what they’re thinking.” Su Junzhe raked a hand through his hair in frustration. “We worked so hard to make it here—shouldn’t they cherish the opportunity?”

“To get this far, I’ve poured in so much time and energy. Every single day before joining the show, I devoted myself to training. Now that we’ve come this far, even though I’ve won high rankings, I’m terrified of falling and never being able to climb back up again. That’s why I can’t relax for even a moment! But why is it that they—”

“—Teacher Su.”

Miura Yuki gently cut him off, smiling as he slid a carton of milk across the table toward Su Junzhe. The straw was already unwrapped and poked in:

“Have some milk.”

Su Junzhe understood—it was a reminder that he was getting too worked up.

He took a deep breath, accepted the milk, and took a sullen sip. “Thanks.”

“Different experiences lead to different perspectives.” Miura Yuki set down the half-eaten egg pancake in his hand. His gaze was steady on the curly-haired boy before him, his dark eyes bright as though filled with starlight.

“Different choices come with different results. Even if you repeat yourself ten thousand times, you can’t change their choices. It’s all in vain.”

“If your ideas don’t align, you can try to bridge the gap through communication. But if you still can’t find common ground, then all you can do is wish them well. A flawed stage will never outweigh their own will.”

“There’s no need to force it. Everyone has their own path to follow.”

[Translation: they’re about to get eliminated.]

[Re-translation: just don’t die on my doorstep.]

[This speech is so delightfully shady hahahahaha (PS: shady in the best way)]

[Haven’t seen this yin-yang tone in a while, love it, give us more]

[Why is it that even when Yuzu throws shade, it still feels so pure? I’m starting to suspect he’s not doing it on purpose]

[What? I thought Yuzu had just switched on “life coach mode”]

[I take back everything I said about Miura Yuki being a useless flower vase… orz]

[Good personality, willing to learn, clear progress—are the people who insult Yuzu stuck forever on his first stage?]

[Anyone who bashes Yuzu-baby must be insane, I’m not even joking]

Offscreen, Lai Yudong: …

Watching himself cameo in another team’s practice video for the first time, his feelings were complicated.

That day, he had just finished an all-nighter of practice, his brain not fully clear. The similar experience gave him such a strong sense of identification that he recklessly let loose with yin-yang commentary, like he’d drunk fake liquor.

What he hadn’t expected was for that entire bit to be cut into the main broadcast.

But the real issue wasn’t the sarcasm—it was how much he talked.

His mouth just wouldn’t stay shut.

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