DYUTVOBGA Chapter 81

Two hours remained until the official start of the performance.

After entering the venue, the trainees were hurried along by the staff’s urgent prodding like a brood of newly hatched ducklings, swaying their heads and jostling against each other as they gathered towards several dressing rooms.

During rehearsals, the program team deliberately staggered the rehearsal times for each group in order to allow each team sufficient time to communicate and review with the on-site production team. The time for changing clothes was naturally staggered as well.

But on the day of the actual performance, the trainees who arrived together by bus had to face the predicament of over seventy people sharing three dressing rooms.

Still, the second public performance was better than the first. After all, for the first performance, a hundred people had to share two dressing rooms. Everyone changed clothes and got their makeup done in a rush, and the hands of several makeup artists became sore and weak.

Back then, they had to queue up outside the door. Unlike now, where they could at least go into the dressing room to enjoy some air conditioning.

Fortunately, the show was gaining more and more popularity. The director secured support from headquarters, obtaining a larger venue and mobilizing a batch of additional makeup and styling teachers, which barely alleviated some of the on-site pressure.

Dressing Room No. 1 had four small changing cubicles. At the moment, the four wooden doors were tightly shut, and a few pieces of changed clothes were draped over them, with a crowd of people jostling and queuing outside.

According to the makeup and styling order, clothes definitely had to be changed before makeup, otherwise, what if the movements of changing clothes ruined the hairstyle or smudged the makeup?

And four changing rooms were definitely not enough compared to the dozens of trainees.

Quentin’s team was the third group to perform on stage, so of course, the makeup and styling order had to prioritize the first two groups.

Thus, the seven boys obediently sat in the corner of Dressing Room No. 1, holding their performance costumes in their arms, looking wistfully at the tightly closed wooden doors nearby.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

There was a knock on the door of the dressing room. The assistant director stood at the doorway, and under the gaze of everyone in the room, raised his voice without changing expression, urging: “Please speed things up, everyone. Traffic delayed us today. There’s less than an hour and a half until the official performance. The audience will enter half an hour early. We still need to do a blocking rehearsal before the show starts…”

Whether it was the makeup artists who couldn’t stop working or the trainees yearning for their turn, the looks directed at him became resentful.

Did they not want to be faster? Did he know how tired they were/how long they had waited?!

The man paused, acting as if nothing was wrong: “Our venue and manpower are limited, and there are still so many people queuing to change… So, how about this: two people per changing cubicle. If there are no free makeup spots after changing, come to the stage first for a blocking rehearsal. How about that, okay?”

“O…kay…”

Everyone’s reply sounded listless.

“Click.”

The changing room door was pushed open. Xue Mingzhu sprang up, and before the person inside even stepped out, he raised his hand to hold the door, squeezing in just as the previous occupant walked out.

He casually flung the clothes hanging on his arm onto the stool inside, then turned to look outside.

Without him having to call out, Quentin, who had been sitting beside him, stood up consciously and walked over.

On the other side, a stylist waving a makeup brush cast a glance at them: “Quentin, you boys know how to put on those clothes, right? Just follow the adjustments I made for you yesterday. Secure those cloth drapes with safety pins in the designated places. If you don’t remember, you can ask me.”

“Okay.”

Quentin, who was now already inside the changing cubicle, stretched out a hand and gave an OK gesture.

“Bang!”

The door closed.

Stage costumes are far more complicated to put on and take off than regular clothes. Especially costumes like the clown outfit from the first performance’s “Black Umbrella”. The trainees could barely manage putting them on independently.

As for this performance’s post-apocalyptic style, to put it bluntly, before actually being worn, they were essentially just several thick cotton cloth pieces with irregular, tattered edges.

Each person’s costume design had significant differences.

For example, Quentin’s pants were black cargo pants, equipped with multiple dark brown leather straps. The left leg had to be wrapped from the calf up past the knee, while the right leg was wrapped three times from the upper thigh down.

They were tied tightly. Even though the knee joints were avoided, there was still an undeniable feeling of constriction, but the overall look when worn was quite cool.

Paired with a black close-fitting tank top and tactical straps crossed over the chest, his neck and shoulders were layered with cement-gray and earth-toned cloth. A wide, well-structured hood covered his head, just enough to conceal the growing blond hair on top. The whole person looked like an assassin or hitman from a video game.

Xue Mingzhu’s outfit, on the other hand, was much more “beggar-style”. His top and pants were both loose and drapey in cut, with many overlapping elements inside and out. He wore a dark gray wristband on each wrist.

Compared to Quentin’s sleeveless tank top, Xue Mingzhu was practically wrapped from neck to toe. Except for his face that was showing, the skin exposure of the rest of his body was approximately zero.

“Tsk, this outfit…” Xue Mingzhu lifted his arms, struggling to wrap the cloth around himself, grimacing and muttering, “It’s still as heavy as before. Even with the AC on, it’s a bit hot.”

Quentin was sitting on the stool, his left leg bent with his foot on the edge, head bowed as he meticulously wrapped the straps around his leg: “Mm.”

“I feel like this getup weighs at least 20 pounds. This pile of cloth is pressing down on me so much my back is almost hunched.”

“Mm.”

“And these pants, they don’t even have a belt. Huh, what size are these pants? Why is the waistband both loose and tight? It’d be hilarious if they fell down while I’m dancing.”

“Mm.”

Xue Mingzhu narrowed his eyes and looked at Quentin’s hands: “You’re not done wrapping yet? Is it that hard to put on?”

Quentin wordlessly pulled out a strap that was piled on the stool, stretching it out to a full meter long. The silver metal buckle reflected a sharp light under the lamp.

Xue Mingzhu: “…. Oh, so that’s how long it is. No wonder you needed the styling teacher’s help the other day.”

At this moment, Quentin hadn’t changed his top yet, and was still wearing the white T-shirt of the Class A uniform. His long, straight legs were outlined by the straps wrapped around them. Only with legs this long would one need extra-long straps.

“I’m done changing. Should I go out first and call the others from our team in?” Xue Mingzhu asked.

Quentin nodded: “Okay.”

*

The door was knocked from the outside, followed by the sound of a boy’s cautious voice.

“Quentin, I’m coming in?”

After getting a casual “Mm”, the door slowly opened. Sheng Yuanxu, who had cautiously pushed the door open a crack, had just peeked inside when his gaze suddenly froze.

His mind went blank; he subconsciously squeezed in through the crack, giving no one outside any chance to peek inside, and with his back to the door, slammed it shut with a bang.

Leaning against the door, he stared blankly at Quentin, who was shirtless in the changing cubicle.

The smooth lines were as precise and detailed as a sculpture, yet the skin as delicate as ivory under the light was something a cold statue could never compare to.

The cool-white complexion was coated with a layer of warm yellow lamplight, like it had been brushed with honey, flowing over his shoulders and back with his movements as he adjusted his clothes.

This body lacked any of the delicate, immature features of a boy. Instead, it was full of the powerful vigor of youthful health. Thanks to the recent fitness training, his muscles had become more defined and solid. Though not as big as Cui Yan’s, they were lean, clear and distinct, as if carved with a knife and axe.

Sheng Yuanxu had already seen Quentin in a tight-fitting tank top. He thought that outfit already showed off his figure well enough. He never imagined that taking it off would look even better.

Facing such a person, one couldn’t even muster up envy or jealousy. All admiration finally converged into a simple, crude exclamation…

“Fuck, that’s really damn awesome.”

Hearing the sound, Quentin gave him a strange look over his shoulder.

‘What kind of look is that?’ Sheng Yuanxu vaguely felt something was off: “I’m complimenting you. You…You don’t understand swear words, do you?”

Quentin silently pulled on his top. The black matte fabric clung to his skin, the semi-high collar making his neck appear even longer.

He casually swept aside the stray hairs hanging by his face, responding lazily: “Mm… I understand a little.”

“You’re really like a young master untouched by worldly matters.” Sheng Yuanxu put down his performance costume and said jokingly, “Then I should say less in the future, lest I lead you astray.”

Quentin didn’t respond to the remark. Instead, he deftly put on the shawls and hood one by one, his expression neutral as he reminded, “I’m done. You should hurry.”

Sheng Yuanxu sighed softly: “Alright…”

Getting close to Quentin was really so difficult.

After everyone on the team changed clothes, Quentin led them through a quick run-through of the performance on stage.

Even though there were no stage props, they still calmly and smoothly executed the blocking and movements completely.

The on-site director was very satisfied with their performance, and his overflowing praise made a few of the boys somewhat embarrassed.

After finishing the rehearsal and returning to the dressing room, the second group had just finished their makeup and gotten up, so they didn’t have to queue again.

After applying makeup and styling his hair, the stylist added more accessories onto Quentin’s face, neck, and wrists.

She pinched Quentin’s earlobe and muttered to herself: “No ear piercings, huh. Then let’s put on an ear cuff. Hmm… How about this one?”

The stylist hooked her finger through a string of malachite beads hanging like grapes, and held it up next to Quentin’s ear a couple of times: “Isn’t this a bit too long? It might fly off when you dance, right?”

She set aside the earring, then took an ear cartilage cuff that was made of several gray and white feathers from the jewelry box, resembling an eagle’s.

“Try this one.” She said, attaching the feather cuff to Quentin’s left ear. “Not bad, it’s quite fitting. Actually, this snake-shaped cartilage cuff could work too, but the feathers are more eye-catching and prettier.”

Quentin let the stylist fuss over him. He looked at the bracelets stacked on his left wrist…some braided cord, others irregular shaped beads. To be honest, if he didn’t look at his outfit and only at these bracelets, he would have thought today’s theme was primitive tribe.

But people from a primitive tribe wouldn’t wear so many exquisite metal rings on their fingers.

The rehearsals two days ago didn’t include makeup or this many accessories piled on the body. Quentin looked at the enthusiastic stylist in the mirror, always feeling like he was being dressed up like a Barbie doll.

Hmm, it was probably his imagination.

Time passed quickly. The audience had already entered, and all 1000 seats were filled. The densely packed crowd murmured and discussed.

Light sticks and hand banners were scattered in various corners of the audience seating. Only fans of the popular contestants had the chance to connect their support colors together, forming a sea of x color.

The second performance’s procedure wasn’t much different from the first, except it lacked the mentor collaboration stage, and then added small game PKs during the vote-pulling segment.

Quentin and the others didn’t stay long in the backstage lounge before being called out by staff to prepare for going on stage.

It was still the familiar revolving stage. Trainees about to go on stage could pre-form their formation on the back of the stage, and the props team could also complete the stage setup earlier, saving the audience waiting time.

The lights dimmed.

The boys, waiting in their designated positions according to the blocking, took deep breaths silently. In the hazy darkness, they glanced at each other.

The performance…was about to begin!

*

“Do you remember the prophecy of the 2012 apocalypse?”

Qin Miao stood under the spotlight, smiling as she slowly spoke: “If one day, the apocalypse truly arrives, where will humanity go? Can civilization withstand the natural disasters and stubbornly persist?”

“Then, all survivors, please note…” Her smile faded, and her tone became firm and forceful. “It is now Year 7, Month 10, Day 16 of the New Era. Surface radiation value: 798 µSv!”

“The last water purification plant stopped operating 48 hours ago!”

“But we have detected abnormal energy fluctuations. Coordinates: East Longitude 116°, North Latitude 39°.”

“That is to say, right at this moment, the location beneath our feet.”

As she spoke in a low voice, the central stage slowly rotated.

Twisted steel skeletons, broken highways, discarded electronic component remnants……and in the center of the stage, a satellite receiver covered in cracks gradually exposed itself under the cold lights.

On the large background LED screen, winds swept clouds, yellow sand filled the sky, broken walls and ruins were everywhere. The once prosperous city had become a scarred wasteland full of devastation.

Qin Miao’s words continued: “Seven hours ago, the old-century satellite station received a set of encrypted signals. The content contained only three words.”

“Fire, bones, rebirth.”

“And the seven ‘Fire Seeds’ carrying this code will arrive on site tonight, traversing the toxic fog zone.”

The large screen flashed seven damaged number plates one by one: IV, V, III, VI, II, VII, I.

Each time a number plate appeared, an oil lamp either hanging or placed somewhere on the stage lit up. And next to each lamp, a mysterious figure lurked.

The spotlight on Qin Miao began to flicker on and off. The woman’s bright and beautiful face appeared enigmatic amidst the light and shadows.

“Forget cheering. There are no safe zone seats here.”

“And please put down the scoring sheets, because the wasteland only acknowledges one currency.”

She said in a low voice, “That is… the courage to burn alive.”

Qin Miao paused for a moment. The slight sound of her breathing amplified through the microphone, then quickly restrained, as she forcefully raised her voice: “Now, please switch your breathing to silent mode. In 30 seconds, we will collectively witness…”

The spotlight suddenly went out, and the sound abruptly stopped.

“Zzz…zzz”

A blinding red light flickered at high frequency on the large screen, and an urgent air raid alarm rang out.

A mechanical electronic female voice sounded intermittently. The difficult, stilted prompt tone revealed a hint of weakness.

[Warning… Stratosphere… toxin concentration…exceeded…]

[Remaining…habitable zones…calculating…]

[Error… failure…children… Ark Project…]

[Detecting…unknown energy… fluctuations…]

Suddenly, the sound of a mechanical reboot replaced the air raid alarm. The red light on the large screen disappeared, and segments of old-century news footage played in fast reverse on the screen.

Languages like English, Russian, Japanese, Spanish, etc., overlapped and broadcast chaotically, finally synthesizing into one ultimate instruction.

[Fire Seed Protocol……automatically… initiated!]