DYUTVOBGA Chapter 67

“Click.”

The door to room 205 opened, and the first person to enter the screenwriter’s field of vision was Xue Mingzhu, whose smile was very radiant.

When he was with Quentin, he seemed to have suddenly become someone who loved to laugh. His relatively small pupils appeared less fierce than usual when his eyes narrowed, and dimples appeared at his cheeks. He smiled so hard that his whole body hung on Quentin’s shoulder, his face persistently burying into the boy’s neck.

His arm was still hooked around Quentin’s neck, not considering his own weight at all, pressing Quentin’s upper body into an involuntary tilt towards him.

The two of them walked out like this, arm in arm and shoulder to shoulder.

Their identical white T-shirts and red pants were covered in intersecting wrinkles, their collars pulled askew, and their hair stuck up messily. Anyone who didn’t know better would have thought they had been in the small dark room throwing punches at each other.

“I’m really convinced.”

The boy’s low voice was wrapped in obvious amusement, his words accompanied by faint, warm puffs of air against Quentin’s ear: “What were you thinking? How could you just think of sitting directly on my lap? Do you know I almost kicked you out? My reflex was so strong I had to clench my fist!”

Quentin’s neck felt ticklish from his hair rubbing against it, so he raised a hand, pressed it against his forehead, and pushed him away, saying flatly, “Why don’t you explain why you were lying in the chair with your eyes closed.”

Xue Mingzhu: “… Tch, I was set up by the production team. My situation was different from yours. I entered the secret room alone, the door slammed shut, and the lights suddenly went out. Any normal person would be scared, okay!”

He muttered while vigorously wrestling with the hand pressed against his head, as if I’m a bullfight, holding back strength and pushing back and forth repeatedly.

It wasn’t until those green eyes drifted over with a light glance that he slowly relaxed his strength, straightened his head, and refuted: “You’d know if you switched places with me. Those were all normal reactions!”

The screenwriter standing in the hallway by the door observed this scene and couldn’t help but recall how Xue Mingzhu interacted with other trainees.

Arrogant, impatient, his face full of the unbridled recklessness of a young rapper in his prime…a completely different person from the one shamelessly making excuses and clinging to someone else without any sense of personal space.

The screenwriter narrowed her eyes and was about to say something when she saw Yan Qiao and Fang Xu walking out behind the conjoined-twin-like pair.

Compared to Xue Mingzhu’s clear-skies-and-bright-sunshine demeanor, Yan and Fang had dark clouds gathering over their heads, just short of a cold rain pour..

It even felt as if Yan Qiao had a few bolts of thunder and lightning added to his.

It was a rare sight to see such obvious emotion on this lazy, carefree face that seemed indifferent to everything.

The screenwriter’s gaze paused subtly, then returned to Quentin.

She looked closely, swallowed back the words that had just reached her lips, and instead raised a hand hesitantly, pointing and indicating: “Quentin, your mouth… are you okay?”

As soon as these words came out, the gazes of everyone present immediately turned to Quentin. Even the chattering Xue Mingzhu subconsciously shut up and turned to stare fixedly.

“… Holy crap?”

Xue Mingzhu’s eyes widened: “What happened to your mouth? How did it get so swollen, and the color has turned red… It wasn’t because of me, was it?”

He looked down at his own hand, then looked up at Quentin’s mouth, his tangled thoughts overflowing. He looked like he wanted to touch it but didn’t dare to, muttering to himself in self doubt: “Did I hit you? Maybe it was too dark and I didn’t notice?”

Fang Xu, who had originally been walking behind with his head down, was even more nervous than him, and quickly moved to the front in a few steps.

After seeing the state of Quentin’s face clearly, his brows tightly knitted together: “Was it when I bumped into you then? Is the skin broken? Is it bleeding? I have some bruise and injury medicine over there. Should we go back to the dorm to apply some now?”

Quentin’s skin was naturally tender, and his lips were even softer. The slight swelling of his lower lip now made its usually relatively light color appear several shades rosier.

Actually, the symptoms weren’t very obvious, but his lip color was famously light, and the shape of his lips was neither thick or thin, so a little swelling made it look like he had applied gorgeous lipstick.

The crimson color spread across his jade-like face, the youthful and tender features resembling a skinned red fruit with overflowing juices, which was vivid and charming.

At first glance, he looked like a handsome young man stepping out of those dazzling, rich and extravagant oil paintings from the 18th-century Rococo period.

The gazes coming from all directions were so intense they seemed to carry their own temperature, gathering around him like a furnace. Quentin just thought they were making a fuss over nothing.

He raised his hand and rubbed his lips a few times without regard for gentleness, saying vaguely, “It’s fine, it’s just a bump from my teeth. It’ll be fine after going back to sleep.”

Fang Xu didn’t think so and his brows furrowed: “Even a mosquito bite takes you several days to go down. Now that your mouth is injured like this, if you don’t apply medicine, it might not heal until after the second public performance.”

Quentin: “Mhmm, mhmm, I know. I’ll apply it when I go back.”

Xue Mingzhu, whose arm was still draped over his shoulder, saw his indifferent attitude and couldn’t help but reach out and pinch his face, grinning cheekily: “Even mosquito bites take days to go down? Your face is so tender. My little nephew has thicker skin than you.”

Quentin: “Mmph %#& ¥ #……………”

Quentin swatted his hand away and looked at the assistant director and screenwriter standing quietly like chickens in the hallway and asked politely: “Sister, is there anything else? Are we announcing the scores now?”

‘S-sister?’’

The screenwriter, who was addressed so obediently(?) by the black-haired, green-eyed, red-lipped(?) beautiful boy, almost raised her hand to cover her mouth, afraid she would let out an indescribable cackle in front of everyone.

She used the strength of nine bulls and two tigers to control her expression, her smile kind and affectionate as she met Quentin’s eyes: “Yes, the scores are out. We’ll announce them now.”

After saying this, she immediately went ahead and announced the results according to her notebook.

“Yan Qiao, congratulations, the mission was successfully completed. Score: 50.”

“Fang Xu, there were only four mistakes throughout, 20 points deducted. Score: 30.”

“Xue Mingzhu, also congratulations to you, the mission was successfully completed. Score: 50.”

“Finally, Quentin, unfortunately, there were too many mistakes during the game…”

The screenwriter dragged out her voice, and under the gaze of the four boys, said unhurriedly: “But as the only player who remained completely silent throughout, congratulations on receiving the bonus points. Total score: 10 points!”

Fang Xu: “…”

Yan Qiao: “…”

Xue Mingzhu:”Huh?!”

Quentin:”…Oh.”

The boy’s expression remained unchanged, and it was hard to tell if he was disappointed or resentful because of the low score.

But the reactions of the people around him were much stronger than his.

Especially Fang Xu. The boy, who was usually gloomy and low-spirited, rarely showed an expression of guilt and dissatisfaction.

The guilt was towards Quentin, the dissatisfaction towards himself.

After regaining his composure, he was the first to speak up and ask: “Can I transfer my points to Quentin? If it weren’t for me, Quentin wouldn’t have made so many mistakes. Without Quentin’s cooperation, I couldn’t have succeeded either.”

Yan Qiao followed closely: “Me too. It was me who kept… moving his hand.”

Xue Mingzhu grabbed his hair hard, looking at Quentin with a face full of dismay and regret: “I forgot you couldn’t move… If I’d known, I wouldn’t have held you and shaken you around. No, wait, sigh, I shouldn’t have sat in that chair in the first place.”

He closed his eyes as if ready to die and raised his hand: “Count me in. My points can all go to Quentin too.”

Quentin: “…”
‘That really isn’t necessary.’

The screenwriter looked at this almost comical scene, tried hard to hold back her laughter, and put on a serious and stern expression to refuse: “That’s not allowed. We run a fair, just, and open game here. You can compensate Quentin in other ways, but directly giving points is not allowed.”

Xue Mingzhu frowned and grumbled: “Other ways… what other ways could there be?”

He had nothing on him, and usually had to rely on clinging to Quentin’s thigh…where was he supposed to find compensation?

“These matters are for you to discuss privately. I can’t help you with that either.”

The screenwriter smiled and clapped her hands: “OK, then the game ends here for today. You can all leave now. Those who have class should go to class, those who need rest should return to the dorms. See you next time~”

*

Leaving the game matter aside for now, time quickly moved to the next day.

The official website of Youth TV lit up with the final countdown to the voting deadline.

As the bright red numbers decreased second by second, the fan wars on the forum gradually escalated, entering a white-hot stage of frantically spreading old scandals.

None of the top ten trainees in the current vote ranking could escape the fate of having their scandals dug up and pictures photoshopped over and over.

Because Quentin debuted late, he managed to escape relatively unscathed.

But those who debuted earlier, like Wen Xinyi, almost had their underpants stripped off; all their early, potentially damaging photos and videos were dug up and exposed. Being a 00s generation, his black history was even in high definition…

However, the one whose scandals were dug up most severely was undoubtedly Xue Mingzhu, with the “house collapse” rumor of “sleeping with a fan at 16” that had once made it to hot search number one.

For Xue’s fans, the rap variety show from two years ago that plunged Xue Mingzhu into online abuse and nearly made him quit the industry forever would always be the hurdle they can’t get over in their hearts.

It was so annoying that they didn’t even want to mention the program’s name.

Whenever they happened to see someone online discussing that incident, their hearts would suddenly lurch, as if suffering from PTSD, with anxious and restless emotions gushing out, making them toss and turn uneasily.

Most fans didn’t dare to read the comments below. A small portion endured the heartache and grievance and tortured themselves by engaging in fierce confrontations with the black fans.

And some die-hard fans, already abused into having an “immune-to-all-poisons” constitution, chose to indiscriminately go crazy and destroy all netizens.

No matter what others said, they just focused on posting clear evidence chain images in the comment sections. Willing passersby would naturally look, and there was no point saying more to the brainless black fans.

But the above three categories were the tactics of old fans who had weathered the storms over the past two years. The new fans who became interested in Xue Mingzhu because of “Next Stage” this September had not yet trained this kind of strong heart.

This grand storm of scandal-digging was equivalent to a fan-purge campaign before the first round of voting closed.

Like big waves washing sand, it used seemingly plausible rumor attacks to wash away the wavering fans in the rolling waves, leaving behind the steadfast die-hard fans who couldn’t be sifted away to continue charging forward and fighting for their idol.

Whichever idol retained the most fans would have the last laugh.

Leaving aside the other popular contestants, the ones who suffered the heaviest blows were undoubtedly Xue Mingzhu’s new fans.

They might have been attracted by Xue Mingzhu’s powerful rap performance in the initial stage, or interested in the boy’s unruly temperament reminiscent of a little wolf dog, or perhaps simply liked his visual type.

In any case, the favorable impression that sprouted in a short time hadn’t yet been tempered and polished by time, hadn’t had the chance to grow strong, before being struck head-on by the sudden huge wave, completely extinguishing the fire.

The most troublesome thing was that Xue Mingzhu had been inactive for two years. His remaining fans were too scattered, and there were no big fans responsible for management, so the flow of information within the fan circle was extremely slow.

By the time the old fans, long out of touch with the internal strife in the fandom, noticed something wrong with the official website vote ranking, it was already too late.

October 9th, 12:00 noon.

The voting portal on the “NS” official website officially closed.

Countless fans looked at the finalized first-round ranking. No matter how much unwillingness they felt, they could only swallow it back into their hearts.