Chapter 11

Chapter 11

As soon as Li Ying finished speaking, the mentors were momentarily stunned before bursting into laughter, and the contestants on the steps behind them also erupted in cheers.

The previously tense atmosphere eased imperceptibly.

In the control room, the director nodded approvingly. "Li Ying's improvisation skills are good. Get the music ready, and pull the camera back a bit."

Yue Zhaolin and Fu Xunying's performance was the centerpiece of the first episode.

To emphasize Yue Zhaolin's overhyped reputation as the "favorite," they absolutely couldn’t shoot tight face shots. Though his physique wasn’t great either...

But at least he was the least bad option.

During post-production editing, they would first magnify the flaws and mistakes in his dance, then cut to post-performance interviews with a few trainees pointing out those errors.

Then, by saying, "I didn’t expect him to get an A," the hype would build.

In truth, survival shows rarely let anyone beat the odds. The production team, seasoned and experienced, knew exactly how to manipulate the fans' likes and dislikes.

And even if someone was maliciously edited, what could they do? Weak rebuttals couldn’t shake the show’s influence.

In recent years, "being maliciously edited" had even become a new form of clout-chasing tactic.

The director glanced at the black-haired young man on the screen. When Stellar Entertainment had sent over his profile, he’d been skeptical—

An amateur?

Could he withstand cyberbullying?

The show hadn’t aired yet, so he hasn’t felt the impact yet. But in a month, a storm of backlash would come crashing down, threatening to swallow him whole.

That’s what he thought.

Then, the music began to play on screen.

·

Yue Zhaolin and Fu Xunying stood angled toward the stage, heads lowered.

The song they performed was an English track. It opened with a murmured intro—not high in pitch, but the melody was an earworm.

The title: *Replacement*.

Cued to the first lyric, they lifted their heads.

The song had a strong rhythm, though not the headbanging kind, and the choreography matched—centered around chest pops and body waves.

The song wasn’t particularly difficult, and the company had put effort into the choreography, making it look cool and flashy.

Everything was designed to help Fu Xunying skate by and secure a good score.

—"I don't want to be his replacement – and you know it perfectly well."

—"I'm no longer satisfied with a friendship. but you can't return to his side."

Yue Zhaolin was the first to sing. He caught the drumbeat before the vocals, having practiced countless times, syncing his movements and voice perfectly.

The song was originally meant to have a "Scandinavian indie-pop vibe." But Yue Zhaolin’s voice, affected by his cold, sounded different than usual.

His light singing lacked its usual youthful purity.

The hoarseness, the nasal undertones in his breathing, created a trippy vibe—like the drunken murmurs of someone alone late at night.

His gasping breaths, unable to be concealed, didn’t feel heavy or grating. Instead, they became part of the performance.

Yue Zhaolin’s mind was zoned out—like spacing out while biking, only to snap back and realize you’ve already passed the traffic light.

He had practiced this song endlessly, and the moves were etched into his muscle memory.

At the judges’ table, Li Ying unconsciously rubbed the ring on his index finger.

Compared to Fu Xunying beside him, Yue Zhaolin’s energy was visibly lacking, likely due to his physical discomfort.

The dance required syncing to the beat precisely, and missing them was obvious.

A bit sloppy.

But...

Li Ying didn’t look away from Yue Zhaolin. From start to finish, his gaze followed him alone.

It wasn’t just his face.

Li Ying wasn’t even sure if Yue Zhaolin was doing it on purpose—

The song had plenty of chest pops and waves, but he had toned them down.

The power in each move was reduced, but the form stayed sharp. It wasn’t quite "skipping steps"—instead, the transitions flowed naturally.

With his lanky frame and limber body, he used the rise and fall of his shoulders, the angles of his thighs, to draw focus.

His raspy, sensual voice paired with the "slacker chic" style of dance.

The style clicked.

The smile on Li Ying’s face deepened.

Setting everything else aside, purely in terms of performance impact, Yue Zhaolin’s performance outshone the previous groups.

—"I don't want to be his replacement – and you know it perfectly well."

—"Memories that I can't get over, all your fragrance scattered here."

The music faded, leaving only vocals.

A high note.

Sung by Fu Xunying.

Like a tease before the climax. After the vocals vanished, there was a two-second pause—hooking the audience—before the drumbeat returned with a "boom."

The sound wasn't loud, but the rhythm was intense.

This part was the dance break section of the song. The company's choreography involved gyrating their thighs and popping their hips to both sides of the body.

Yue Zhaolin breathed heavily, legs spread wide, his hands covering his face from behind. Only the lower half of his face was visible, his hair swaying with the movement.

Even without seeing his face, it was undeniably the "killing part."

Li Ying thought.

The trainees were part of the hype squad. During other groups' performances, many would exclaim or gasp in surprise, often criticized for overacting.

But this time, that area fell silent.

Their jaws dropped.

The judges on the panel were also captivated, trading looks amidst their busy schedules—everything was a wordless understanding.

"..."

The two finished their performance.

Fu Xunying's stamina was decent; he wasn't panting much after the song, but he still followed standard practice and played up his exhaustion a bit.

Bowing to signal the end of the performance, he glanced sideways at Yue Zhaolin, his eyes darting.

Through his in-ear monitor, he could hear Yue Zhaolin's voice...

Li Ying let them rest for a moment, then put down the microphone and spoke quietly with the other judges, seemingly discussing something.

Soon, they reached a consensus.

Li Ying picked up the microphone and looked up. "So far, this is the first performance that made me feel like witnessing a 'fully-formed idol' on stage."

"Wow!"

"Such high praise!"

Someone stood up abruptly, exclaiming, "Are we about to see the first A-rank?!"

The atmosphere was electric.

"Trainee Yue Zhaolin from Stellar Dome Entertainment, your grade is—" Li Ying met Yue Zhaolin's eyes, a faint smile curling his lips.

He cut to the chase.

"A."

"Call them to stay behind for retakes." The director's voice in the "black room" overlapped with Li Ying's announcement.

"Have Yue Zhaolin and Fu Xunying perform again," the Executive Director tapped the table.

On the screen, the trainees cheered excitedly, while those in the "black room" frowned.

The mood turned strange, the room falling into silence.

The Executive Director replayed their performance at double speed, then sighed. "This won't work. It's unworkable."

Why?

Because it was too good—it didn't fit the personas the show and Stellar Dome had planned.

Originally, editing would steer the "controversy" around Yue Zhaolin, maybe splitting opinions evenly. But if this performance aired,

he'd become the crown prince.

Striking looks, a perfectly gravelly voice, and an innate air of detachment—if this didn't explode in popularity, he might as well quit the industry.

"Reshoot it."

The Executive Director exhaled. "Have Yue Zhaolin and Fu Xunying stay behind later."

Even saying it felt absurd. Reshooting because the stage was too stunning? A first.

But those were the orders from above, and he could only do his best.

·

The moment the A-rank was announced, Fu Xunying zoned out—he suddenly remembered they were supposed to hold hands.

But the rankings were already announced. He'd forgotten.

Li Ying spoke up. "Fu Xunying, your grade is B."

Stellar Dome had given Fu Xunying the "hidden ace" script—staying low-key early on, sacrificing Yue Zhaolin, then "exploding" with one standout performance to surge ahead. Since Fu Xunying was average in singing and dancing, lacked comedic talent, and was overshadowed by Yue Zhaolin's looks, this was the safest route.

Fu Xunying was still stunned when Yue Zhaolin gave him a light push at the waist, snapping him back to reality. He quickly bowed toward the judges.

The two exited the stage together.

Once offstage, Fu Xunying hesitated for half a second. "Yue Zhaolin, you—"

Before he could finish, he saw Yue Zhaolin sway and pitch forward.

As Yue Zhaolin fell, Fu Xunying couldn't react in time—he could only watch.

Suddenly, a pale-skinned hand shot out from the side, moving swiftly to sling an arm around Yue Zhaolin's waist.

With a firm pull, the weight settled against the person's body.

It was Tan Shen from S.K.

Yue Zhaolin's forehead rested against Tan Shen's shoulder, and he immediately sensed the feverish heat. "His forehead is burning."

Meng Yu abruptly stood up, standing out among the bewildered trainees.

Cen Chi acted before he could think—he was already rushing down from above.

The other trainees also swarmed in disarray, the scene devolving into chaos.

Li Ying rapped the microphone, the sharp sound piercing the commotion. The room quieted, and Li Ying ordered the trainees back to their seats.

"Cen Chi, you too. You're first up—the cameras will easily catch you." He couldn't be absent.

Cen Chi: "But—"

Through the gap between Tan Shen and Fu Xunying, he caught a glimpse of Yue Zhaolin—eyes shut, his lips appeared pale beneath the makeup.

He looked frighteningly frail.

The staff wanted to take him, but Tan Shen said, "I'll get him to his rest area first."

Fu Xunying offered kindly, "You've got your evaluation coming up. I can handle it."

Tan Shen replied, "He was already unwell. Don't jostle him. Besides, I'm one of the last to be assessed, so there's no rush."

The order of the initial performance evaluations followed the seating arrangement from the pre-selection.

Tan Shen had a quiet, aloof mixed-race appearance, but his speaking style was entirely different.

Fu Xunying: "...?"

Fu Xunying: "!"

...

After an unknown amount of time.

Yue Zhaolin slowly opened his eyes.

As he became more alert, he felt a cool warmth on the back of his hand. Looking down, he saw an IV drip; someone had placed a hot water bag under his hand.

On the couch nearby, someone was curled up, closely monitoring his IV drip.

"...Fu Xunying?" he murmured.