At this point, the list of 72 advancing from the 100 trainees had been fully announced.
The remaining trainees in the center of the square were all eliminated contestants with lower vote rankings. However, not everyone was hanging their heads in disappointment; a small number of them still looked towards the four mentors on the stage with hidden anticipation.
Soon, Yang Xu walked up from the side, holding a microphone.
“You probably haven’t forgotten the PK rules from our first performance, right?” The man scanned the area and smiled. “The winning team in the group PK will receive one Save Card. If any member of that team is unfortunately eliminated in the first elimination round, the team leader can use the Save Card to bring that member back.”
“But please note, one Save Card can only save one person. If two or more members of the team are eliminated, the decision of who to use the Save Card on will be left to the team leader.”
Yang Xu turned to look at the 72 trainees standing neatly on the tiers. “So now, let’s have the seven leaders of the winning teams step forward and make their decisions one by one. Let’s start with Zhou Zilin, following the order of appearance in the performance.”
On the stage, the team leaders began facing their eliminated teammates for “mutual expressions of sentiment”. Down below, the trainees either had given up struggling or were nervously looking around, repeatedly checking if they were the only one eliminated from their team.
Liang Yao was one of the latter.
As a member of Quentin’s team, he was fortunate enough to steal the spotlight on the first performance stage.
In “Black Umbrella,” Liang Yao played the clown persona of the judge and had a fair number of lines. With the dual guidance and training from Quentin and the vocal coach, he successfully portrayed the image of a “seemingly stern and upright but actually servile” old judge that Quentin had envisioned during the performance.
The enthusiastic cheers and applause from the entire audience during the performance, along with the surprise and praise from other trainees after the show, had probably made him float in a cloud of complacency. He forgot the harsh pressure of the first elimination and never imagined the crisis of being “eliminated after one round” would come so suddenly.
The only silver lining was that he was the only one in his team who hadn’t made it into the top 72. So the Save Card in Quentin’s hand was bound to be used on him.
But for some reason, Liang Yao thought of Tang Heng’s speech on stage earlier that caused an uproar, and also thought of the admiration and worship many trainees in the filming base had for Quentin.
Whether it was Tang Heng’s enthusiastic and proactive attitude, or the envious yet resentful expressions and mutterings of others, they all told him how rare it was to be on the same team as Quentin.
Trainees came and went on the square. Some stepped onto the stage with hope, only to return with red eyes and sighs. Others, favored by their team leaders, survived, standing nervously at the edge of the tiers with their hands over their hearts.
Finally, it was the last team’s turn. Liang Yao heard his name called by Yang Xu.
He swallowed, stepped forward under the envious gazes of those around him, met Quentin’s eyes, and stopped nervously.
Seeing this, Yang Xu, who was standing nearby, couldn’t help but tease: “You’re the only one from your team, why are you so nervous? You can’t even bring yourself to look at Quentin? Don’t tell me you’re going to confess your feelings to him too.”
Boos rose and fell from the stage and below. Liang Yao blushed and stole a glance at Quentin, afraid of seeing a strange expression on the other party’s face.
But the boy remained as calm and composed as ever. Seeing Liang Yao look at him, he merely raised an eyebrow slightly. “No need for confessions. Relax. This vote doesn’t represent anything. Keep working hard in the future. Once the first public performance airs, more viewers will see your talent.”
These words were somewhat brief and cold compared to the exchanges in the other teams. But because it was Quentin saying them, Liang Yao felt unexpectedly flattered.
This was Quentin, after all. The all-round team leader who never cared about others’ opinions, was unbothered by what people thought, did things his own way, was decisive, and possessed a maturity that didn’t match his age.
Under the watchful eyes of many, Liang Yao opened his mouth but couldn’t utter the same sincere and passionate words as Tang Heng’s. He could only manage a dry “Thank you, Team Leader.”
Amid the final applause, he followed Quentin towards the tiers.
After he found his place, he looked up again at the peers in the square who were now moved and inspired by the mentors’ speeches.
At this moment, Liang Yao suddenly realized just how much being on Quentin’s team had helped him.
Without Quentin, if he had been in another team, he would most likely be like the trainees below, filled with regret and disappointment, packing his bags and heading home before the program had even been recording for a month.
But next time… would there be another opportunity like this?
*
“OK, that’s all for today’s recording! Everyone, you’ve worked hard!”
The director standing nearby clapped his hands and walked forward with a loudspeaker. “Students, pull yourselves together, go back to the dorm, take a shower, and get some proper rest. The post-recording interviews at 8 PM tonight will proceed as scheduled. Oh, and everyone, don’t be late tomorrow morning. After breakfast, assemble in the large practice room at 7 AM sharp. We’re planning to record the second performance team selections tomorrow!”
“Okay…”
The boys responded listlessly, dragging out their voices. They stretched, rubbing their shoulders and patting their legs, and moved towards the dormitory building in groups.
Quentin had only taken a couple of steps when someone bumped into him from behind. A familiar arm slung over his shoulder, the warm body temperature making him instinctively shrink away. The person holding him leaned in closer and nudged against him.
To be fair, Quentin never minded close contact since he was a child. They were all guys, after all; putting arms around shoulders, hugging, and holding hands were all normal ways of interacting.
Besides, as a singer who had been involved in the Western entertainment industry and performed in countless large and small tours, intimate embraces, hot dances, and even cheek kisses with dancers or partners on stage in front of large audiences were common occurrences. There wasn’t much difference between same-sex and opposite-sex interactions in stage performances.
But work was work, and life was life.
Counting the 25 years from his previous life, Quentin had never encountered a sticky and clingy friend like Xue Mingzhu. Although…he didn’t have many friends to begin with. The thousands of contacts in his phone were all acquaintances and ordinary colleagues.
Given the entertainment industry’s tangled interests, resource competition, and mutual disdain among peers, being able to pretend to be “surface friends” in front of the media was already good enough. It was already an achievement not to become enemies.
But Xue Mingzhu… and many of the trainees in “NS”… were full of the reckless naivety of young artists just entering the industry, fearless and bold.
Inside the closed recording base, shielded from the fickle and critical voices of the outside world, they threw themselves wholeheartedly into the path of self-improvement. This youthful and vibrant atmosphere was something Quentin hadn’t experienced in a long time.
And so, before he knew it, his world became lively. No one would have imagined that this was the same lone wolf from his previous life who kept everyone at a distance.
Xue Mingzhu was undoubtedly the trainee in “NS” who disregarded personal space the most and was the most proactive in getting close to Quentin.
He himself probably didn’t even consider these proactive actions as “proactive.” His closeness to Quentin came suddenly and naturally.
It started with a chance conversation in the makeup room, then adjacent seats during the initial stage performance, the order of going on stage one after the other, and getting the Class A rating right next to each other.
Later, the sense of crisis brought by Yan Qiao’s appearance gave him a strange feeling of protectiveness towards Quentin.
Xue Mingzhu had many friends at school. He liked calling people ‘brother’ and was a “social butterfly” who loved going out with a boisterous crowd.
However, interestingly, his situation in “NS” was completely the opposite extreme.
He rarely took the initiative to build relationships with other trainees, focusing his entire heart on classes, rehearsals, and Quentin.
The former was likely because his experience on the rap reality show two years ago made him subconsciously avoid forming deep connections with peers in the industry. As for the latter… It was purely a case of “love at first sight” with Quentin.
At this moment, Xue Mingzhu had his arm around Quentin’s neck. If not for their lack of height difference, his current action would be equivalent to pulling Quentin into an embrace.
As they walked, the ties hanging on their chests occasionally bumped against each other. Their similar fair skin was tinged with the afterglow of the setting sun, casting a warm yellow glow.
A photographer not far away keenly captured this scene.
Two boys in matching style school uniforms walked with arms around each other’s shoulders across the square at sunset. Their black hair was ruffled in the wind, revealing their youthful, handsome, and captivating brows and eyes.
This looked very similar to a scene in an American TV drama about a mixed-race youth and his closest Asian best friend in a prestigious school laughing and joking together after classes and heading out to have fun.
The man carrying the camera couldn’t help but think: “No wonder the girls on the forums love shipping them. They really do look good together filmed like this.”
Meanwhile, the person in the frame was chattering nonstop.
“Tomorrow is the second performance team formation. I wonder what the team selection rules will be this time. They probably won’t set us up with a vote during the post-recording interviews again like last time, right?”
Xue Mingzhu pouted. “I really don’t want to be a team leader this time. Leading a team is too annoying. Only you could manage to make everyone in your team behave so well… Quentin, you probably have no idea, during the team formation for the first public performance, I ran into several stubborn guys with rebellious tendencies!”
Just during that Save Card segment earlier, he really had to hold his nose and reluctantly pick one from three listless stubborn mules who was relatively balanced in skill and not quite as hard-mouthed.
He wasn’t afraid of being called a braggart for having a big face and blowing his own trumpet, but he dared to say that 80% of the credit for their team’s victory in the first performance belonged to him!
Wanting to blow up the stage with rap wasn’t just about having a loud voice. Did they think he had been messing around all these years for nothing?
He really didn’t know how Quentin managed it, rearranging a complete and stunning stage like the first performance in just one day… Sigh, what could he do but admire him?
Quentin thought for a moment and said: “it’s probably because birds of a feather flock together, and people of the same mind fall into the same group.”
Xue Mingzhu: “…… Are you saying I’m stubborn? Tsk, whatever, I’ll take it as a compliment.”
Quentin: “So, who do you want to be with for the second performance? Or are you planning to rap again?”
“Teammates for the second performance… Sigh, it doesn’t matter anymore. I’d be thankful to heaven and earth if we can cooperate well, rehearse properly, and waste less time on meaningless arguments and discussions.”
The boy sighed with a bitter face: “As for whether I’ll rap or not, it depends on the song selection for the second performance. Although I’m aiming for the rapper position, if there are other opportunities to try something different, it’s not like I can’t challenge myself, right?”
Quentin turned to look at him, his eyes slightly puzzled: “This time you’re not saying you want to be on the same team as me.”
“… Ahem.” Xue Mingzhu met the boy’s gaze briefly, then averted his eyes with a rare look of embarrassment. He raised his hand to scratch his cheek, “It’s just that, I saw your first public performance stage.”
“You could deliver such an amazing live performance relying on your own skills. How black-hearted would I have to be to insist on dragging you into learning rap on a survival show?”
“Even if I really want to teach you, it’s not like there won’t be time in the future. I heard that boy groups live together when they first debut. If it’s single rooms, I’ll live next door to you; if it’s shared rooms, I’ll sleep across from you! Anyway, we’ll have plenty of time together in the future.”
He muttered: “Besides, your vote count is really close to Qi Yang and the others now. Anyone could guess that your fans are probably fighting like crazy outside the show. The more it’s like this, the more you need to use the skills you’re good at to attract fans. How else are you going to maintain your number 1 position?”
Quentin blinked and looked him up and down in surprise: “I didn’t realize you’ve considered so much.”
Xue Mingzhu snorted softly: “Of course, look who I am. I’ve eaten one more year of rice than you, and been in the industry two or three years longer. This experience of mine didn’t come for nothing!”
Quentin crossed his arms, humming as if in agreement: “But who told you I’m not good at rap?”
Xue Mingzhu: “…”
Xue Mingzhu: “…. Ah?”
The boy froze for two seconds, then abruptly turned his head to stare at Quentin, his eyes wide open: “Wait, you mean….”
Under his shocked and bewildered gaze, the black-haired, green-eyed boy tilted his head, his calm face looking quite innocent, yet he used a flat tone to utter words that could be considered as arrogant.
“Xue Mingzhu, I’ve been playing with rap longer than you.”
KO!
A critical hit, a true critical hit.
Regardless of whether Quentin’s words were true or not…well, Xue Mingzhu never even considered the possibility that Quentin might be lying.
The phrase “I’ve been playing with rap longer than you… longer than you… longer…” kept swirling in his mind. His entire brain seemed rusted, and it was stuck for several seconds before he stammered out a sentence.
“R-really?”
Quentin nodded.
The two looked at each other, the silence speaking volumes.
Xue Mingzhu was stunned for almost five seconds before he thought to question it, but he didn’t have any reason to question him.
After all, based on his understanding of Quentin…this person only did big things, and never boasted. What came out of his mouth was most likely an objective fact, neither exaggerated nor modest. Quentin was just that kind of factual person.
He asked quietly: “Then how old were you when you started with rap?”
“Ten years old.”
“….” Xue Mingzhu held back for a long time before finally swallowing it and accepting. “Then it really is longer than me.”
He only started rapping after graduating from elementary school. Twelve years old was already early enough; who would have thought there was a ten-year-old child prodigy here.
But when he thought about how he had been so confident earlier about teaching Quentin rap, he felt his teeth ache and his face hurt. He endured and endured, but still couldn’t help complaining: “How could you hide it so well? I never even heard you spit a few lines casually, and your vibe isn’t like a rapper’s at all. I’ve been with you for so long and I completely failed to see it.”
Quentin glanced at him: “What kind of vibe do you need for rap? I learn street dance, do hip-hop, and I like hip-hop culture. Isn’t it normal to know how to rap?”
Xue Mingzhu stared at him and sighed deeply: “…… That’s true.”
Damn it! Whether Quentin can rap or not is the main point!
The main point is that they’ve known each other for over half a month, been in the same class, ate and lived together, and were already considered quite close friends (he unilaterally decided anyway), but Quentin actually waited until now to tell him this!
Didn’t he actively bring up rap in front of Quentin over the past half month? It shouldn’t be…
Anyway, anyway, it’s just so infuriating!
Someone so talented, all-rounded in singing, dancing, and rap…doesn’t that make him the “ACE” that Teacher Yang Xu talked about?
If such a handsome ACE can’t get the number 1 place, if he can’t finally debut as the Center….that would definitely be a black box operation, blatant capital manipulation, under-the-table dealings!
But then he thought about how he rarely made friends on the show but ended up befriending a top contestant… Tsk, why are his feelings so complicated.
Xue Mingzhu raised his hand and pressed it against the back of Quentin’s head, rubbing it messily as if venting his anger, ruffling the boy’s fluffy hair until it looked like a bristling sea urchin before stopping reluctantly.
Quentin let him rub. Anyway, the painless, itchless pressure was like a massage, with no lethality at all.
“Since that’s the case, it’s settled then!”
Xue Mingzhu licked his lips, feeling suddenly a bit excited: “For this second performance, let’s have a dual-rap stage together and blow up the place! How about it?”
Quentin: “…”
“Don’t hesitate now, we agreed before.” The boy narrowed his eyes warily. “Even if the rap for the second performance song selection sounds terrible, we can still choose another song, adapt it together and add rap lyrics. We can still make it work.”
Quentin was not planning to refuse anyway; he already intended to try something different for the second performance stage.
Recently, whether it was the first performance’s “Black Umbrella,” or the first pre-release track “Greed” from the Cupid album, or the upcoming second song “Lust,” the stylistic tone has been somewhat similar.
Magical, gorgeous, exquisite, dramatic…
After repeating this a few times, even he would get aesthetic fatigue. He might as well play with something with strong contrast, something completely different.
Quentin nodded lazily: “Relax, I don’t intend to go back on my word. Wait until tomorrow.”
