On the corridor connecting the stage and backstage, the staff quickly reminded everyone of the order and urged them to get ready. The makeup and styling teachers quickly surrounded the trainees who were about to go on stage, giving them a final check.
On the wall hung a small television showing a live feed of the venue, but the content it played was different from the official live stream. The screen was split into two parts, one aimed at the stage and the other aimed at the audience seating area.
The camera rarely moved or switched angles, mostly maintaining a high-angle panoramic shot, a bit like the perspective of a surveillance camera.
But due to the relatively close shooting distance and high resolution, the expressions and actions of the front-row audience were clearly visible on the screen. Standing here, one could probably feel the audience’s likes and dislikes regarding the stage even more intuitively than the performers on stage.
They didn’t have such advanced equipment in the previous public performances. The trainees that were yet to go on stage curiously gathered under the television, looking up at the screen and whispering to each other.
“Look at the words on these fan signs. Hey, I see our mentor’s nickname.”
“Green, red, blue, yellow… Speaking of which, do all of you know your own support colors? Or were they not yet determined before recording the show?”
“Cui Yan and Fang Xu, you two probably haven’t decided on yours yet, right? Same with Quentin.”
Cui Yan was so tall he could almost touch the television screen hanging high on the wall with his outstretched hand.
He traced a circle on the screen with his finger and smiled, saying, “This dark blue area is probably mine, I’m guessing. Because I’m from the south, my hometown is by the sea. I posted childhood photos on the forum, all of them by the sea. I think my fans will choose blue.”
Xue Mingzhu glanced at Cui Yan’s muscular arm, exposed because he was wearing a sleeveless vest, reached over and patted it, teasing, “So you got tanned because you played by the sea as a kid?”
Cui Yan touched the back of his head: “Not really… It’s genetics. My mom said I was born this way.”
Wen Xinyi laughed when he heard that. He turned to look at Quentin, who had been watching the television screen intently: “Quentin’s support color is even easier to guess. You can tell at a glance.”
Fang Xu stood behind the crowd with his arms crossed and leaning against the wall: “Do you even need to guess his? Who didn’t see the flower wall at the entrance during the previous public performances? The color must be green. Forest green, right?”
Quentin didn’t hear their discussion about support colors. His attention was entirely focused on the faces of the front-row audience.
He wasn’t particularly good at recognizing people. The high probability that he could actually remember someone wasn’t based on their appearance, but rather their behavior and how familiar they were. For example, in his previous life, he could recognize many fans’ faces.
The fan culture varies in intensity worldwide, but when it comes to offline events, overseas is still more open than domestically.
Quentin had experienced fans enthusiastically throwing items of clothing at him from the audience during concerts in his previous life. The ‘fans’ being both male and female. Although none hit him in the face, it was hard not to remember it vividly.
During some events, he also encountered incidents like fans chasing his car, fans rushing up the stage to forcefully hug and kiss him, and exhibitionists taking off their clothes in public, among other outrageous things.
Fortunately, these kinds of things didn’t happen often. Most of the fans he remembered were long-time fans who had liked him for many years. Some were IDs that frequently appeared in the comment sections of his social media accounts, and others were fans who almost never missed his offline events.
But in this life, having only been a trainee for three months, he had only had a few chances to meet his new fans. However, Quentin still carefully remembered quite a few.
But the reason he was paying so close attention to the audience seating wasn’t to look for any particular fan, but to verify whether Jin Sui, who had accompanied ‘Quentin’ as he grew up in this world, would appear at tonight’s debut night.
Quentin had seen Jin Sui in his twenties through the memory fragments that appeared in his mind. But the clips that were filmed and edited by Jin Sui shown in the growth movie before hadn’t revealed any information about the other person.
He didn’t know Jin Sui’s current appearance or age, let alone his identity.
He wanted to find Jin Sui, wanted to figure out why Jin Sui was here, why this person had accompanied the otherwise nonexistent ‘Quentin’ as he grew up.
Was he the same person as ‘Quentin’ in this world? Had he lost his memories of this life? What was his relationship with Jin Sui here?
Quentin found it hard to imagine how Jin Sui viewed his sudden participation in a boy group survival show and his imminent debut as an idol. But he believed the emotions revealed in that video weren’t fake.
If he and this childhood friend still shared some tacit understanding, the other person probably wouldn’t miss these finals.
As for whether Jin Sui could get a front-row ticket in the audience, Quentin didn’t know. He would have to wait and see.
“Hey, Quentin, look here.”
Cui Yan suddenly pointed at a corner of the screen and raised his eyebrows: “Isn’t this guy the lucky audience member who was picked to go on stage during the last public performance? He’s still wearing a mask. Is he afraid of being picked again?”
Quentin’s gaze fell on where his finger was pointing, and he paused for a moment: “…Lucky audience member?”
Yan Qiao looked at Cui Yan in surprise: “You remember it that clearly? We couldn’t even see his face.”
“Don’t let my poor memory for lyrics fool you, I’m a master at recognizing people!” Cui Yan grinned, withdrew his hand, and put a thumbs up beside his cheek. “Besides, this guy looks like he works out. The type who trains both shoulders and chest. His body proportions are great. Believe me, he’ll be handsome even without the mask.”
Yan Qiao narrowed his eyes, staring at the corner of the screen for a while: “…I can’t tell, there’s just a pair of eyes visible.”
Quentin rummaged through his memory and remembered the “lucky audience member”…why hadn’t he noticed it back then? The host had clearly called him “Mr. Jin” and… on top of that, the other party even said they were his fan.
He tried to recall his reaction back then…….it seemed there was nothing special, and it was just a normal greeting to his fans.
Cui Yan, standing nearby, was still talking to Quentin: “To be able to grab front-row tickets, whether it’s luck or money, this guy has got some serious capabilities.”
Wen Xinyi smiled and said, “He’s just too low-key. Normally, fans coming to watch a performance would dress to stand out, and even hold up a fan sign, a banner, a small blackboard, or something like that. Especially when sitting in the front row, it’s easy to catch the idol’s attention, right?”
“Maybe because Quentin hasn’t performed yet,” Fang Xu observed more carefully. “He brought a camera.”
The other trainees nearby heard this and turned their heads to look.
“Huh? Cameras are allowed at the finals this time?”
“Of course they are. There are so many seniors here. Their fans will definitely want to take pictures and fan cam footage.”
“Shh shh, stop chatting. It’s time to go on stage!”
…
The staff quickly walked to where Quentin and the others were standing and waved to urge them: “Fang Xu, Cui Yan, get ready. After you it’s Cheng Shaozhi and Xue Mingzhu. Remember the rehearsal order, don’t be nervous. Come and line up.”
Yan Qiao walked close behind Quentin. They were the last two to go on stage. After waiting for the others to go to the front to line up, he quietly leaned close to Quentin’s ear and lowered his voice to ask, “Are you nervous?”
Quentin turned his head to look at him: “Not really… you?”
The light in this corridor wasn’t very bright, and the white light cast by the fluorescent lamps made the stage makeup on their faces look deathly pale.
Fortunately, most of the trainees were young with good skin and facial features, so the footage taken by the behind-the-scenes cameraman wasn’t too disastrous.
Yan Qiao’s skin was also very good. He was born on the winter solstice and wasn’t even 20 yet. His makeup wasn’t heavy, and the young chivalrous hero look made his carefree and proud youthful spirit radiate freely.
On his head was a bamboo rain hat woven from fine rattan, with several strings of copper coins hanging from the brim’s edge. Red threads passed through the holes in the copper coins, and the dangling tassels swayed gently. It was said the stylist found inspiration in ancient nuo opera.
**Nuo opera (nuoxi) is a traditional Chinese folk performance originating from ancient shamanistic exorcism rituals. Performers wear carved wooden masks and use chanting, dance, and symbolic movements to ward off evil spirits and pray for blessings.
Quentin felt the copper coins lightly bump his earlobe, the cold metallic sensation making him subconsciously dodge aside a bit.
But Yan Qiao, standing close behind him, clearly had no self-awareness to create distance. He very naturally leaned closer, looked at the exit just ahead, and said in a low voice: “On my side… I’m a bit nervous.”
The bamboo hat on his head was pressed quite low. The wide brim just happened to obscure his long and narrow eyes, making it impossible to tell where his gaze was focused at that moment.
When Quentin heard him say he was nervous, he wanted to say something to soothe his teammate’s mindset. But the next second, he heard the barely suppressed laughter in his following words.
“But, thinking about how the two of us will be going on stage together soon, I don’t feel like there’s anything to be nervous about.”
“…That’s not exactly going on stage together.” Quentin silently poured cold water on the idea. “I’m going down to the audience seating later.”
Yan Qiao curved his lips: “Isn’t that even better? You’ll be watching me from the side. If I make any mistakes, you can just come up and help me, right?”
Quentin: “…You sure can think.”
Yan Qiao made a gesture of lifting his sleeves and slightly cupped one hand in the other: “You flatter me, you flatter me.”
Wen Xinyi, who was standing at the front, turned his head back: “What are you two talking about? Quentin, aren’t you going to the audience seating? You need to go this way. You remember how to get there, right?”
“Mm, I remember.”
Quentin turned at the fork in the path, and the makeup artist who had been helping him adjust his collar withdrew her hand. His teammates behind him smiled and waved at him, but no one said anything.
The moment to go on stage was approaching quickly. Tension reached its peak, and the casual chatter to calm their heartbeats could no longer serve its purpose at this critical juncture.
Following the guidance of the staff, Quentin walked into the passage leading to the front row of the audience seating.
He was wearing a quite textured cloak, which could be thrown behind him when singing and dancing.
But since he needed to slip into the audience seating now, he wrapped himself entirely in the cloak and pulled the hood over his head. Otherwise, his overly brilliant blonde hair would expose his presence within seconds.
The outer side of this cloak was a darker shade of forest green, appearing nearly black in the dim light of the audience seating. The inner side was a bright green embroidered with golden threads, and the hem of the cloak was cut quite elegantly.
Looking solely at these details, it was hard to tell whether he was portraying a bard or an elf prince.
The production team hadn’t specifically reserved a seat for Quentin in the audience seating, mainly because entering in the middle of the show would be easily noticed by the surrounding audience. Instead, it was better to blend in with the filming crew down below, a dark mass that wouldn’t stand out.
Quentin was very clear on his positioning. After confirming Jin Sui’s location on the television screen, he quickly calculated that the other person was sitting on the path he had to take to get there.
But he couldn’t do anything in plain sight anyway. The final stage was more important than all that.
After exiting the passage, the light shifted from bright to dim, but Quentin was still momentarily blinded by the various colored fan signs flashing before his eyes.
He blinked, crouched down, and under the cover of the surrounding staff, stealthily made his way towards his destination.
By this time, Fang Xu had already taken the stage, and waves of enthusiastic cheers surged forward. The front-row audience’s attention was all on the stage, and a certain person crouching and hiding in the shadows had virtually zero presence.
The staff member beside him softly urged him, “This path is a bit dark. There might be things on the floor. You can walk slower. Be careful, don’t fall.”
Quentin nodded, his gaze quickly sweeping over the excited faces nearby.
But at the very moment he looked over, a pair of eyes looking directly at him forcefully seized his attention.
