Offstage

Lai Yudong shook his head.

"Good. I was afraid you'd go and say something silly again." Liang Zhisheng was referring to a certain bold "scripted" remark. He stared at Lai Yudong for a few seconds, then said in a puzzled tone, "Come to think of it, you hardly talk at all, do you?"

"?" Lai Yudong tilted his head.

"Even if your Chinese isn't very good, you should try to talk more. If you're too quiet, you might not get much screen time. If you want to make it through more rounds, you'd better make an effort to socialize."

"...Huh?"

Lai Yudong's eyes widened slightly. The unexpected, well-meaning advice left him a little at a loss.

He had heard plenty of gossip about the open and covert battles in the entertainment industry, like buying negative trending searches, fighting for the center position, and grabbing screen time. But why was reality so different from the scheming boy group survival show he had imagined?

First Xu An, then Liang Zhisheng, and, for the time being, the chatterbox Liu Qichu too. Every one of them was sincere and friendly, and he had grown fond of them.

If the other trainees were all like them, that would be wonderful.

Lai Yudong couldn't easily explain why his remarks were always so short and concise, as though they were subject to a word limit, or why he so often used gestures in place of words. All he could do was respond with a heartfelt smile.

"Thank you."

"What's there to thank me for?" Liang Zhisheng chuckled and patted Lai Yudong on the shoulder. "Come on, let's head back to the studio together."

Chapter 10: Offstage

After all 101 trainees had finished their post-recording interviews, the cameras in the livestream were turned off.

The recording venue for Ascend to Stardom was a long way from the trainees' dorms, so they had to take a bus back and forth. Anyone who had followed a survival show knew that plenty of fans would stake out the area to take pictures of their idols "going to and from work."

Although there was a 24-hour livestream with multiple cameras, it covered the trainees' dorm life and daily practice. No cameras were specifically assigned to their commute.

For one thing, during the upcoming theme song and performance rehearsals, everyone's schedules were bound to go wild and fall out of sync. There was no need to station multiple camera operators in shifts, and using GoPros would be a bit like watching security footage from a guardroom.

For another, the production team encouraged fans to follow the show offline. Prison-visit-style interactions gave them an extra sense of participation that the livestream couldn't provide, while also keeping the show popular outside the broadcast. Fancams were a great way to promote the show and keep fans loyal, killing two birds with one stone.

Outside the recording venue, night had long since fallen.

Many people had already gone home because of the late hour, but quite a few remained to wait.

Some were fansite masters and fans of contestants who had already made a name for themselves. Some were paid photographers who had come specifically to photograph popular contestants and promising prospects for money. Others were unaffiliated onlookers who had come to join the excitement and scout out a new favorite while they were at it. Everyone had at least one piece of equipment or fan merchandise, such as a phone, camera, slogan banner, or light sign.

After waiting outside in the bitter wind for so long, everyone inevitably began to talk.

"They're still not out?"

"If I wait any longer, I'm going to fall asleep standing up."

"Didn't the interviews end already?"

"Maybe they still have other things to go over. They won't be out that quickly."

"If I'd known they were filming this late, I would've gone home."

"It's not that bad. This is only the beginning. Their schedules will get even more hellish later."

Everyone craned their necks to see whether any contestants had appeared. Just then, a commotion broke out by the entrance.

"They're out!" someone cried in delight.

A few figures emerged from the building. Two or three seconds later, more people trickled out behind them.

In an instant, shutters and flashes went off one after another.

"Who are those people at the front? They're walking so fast they've left everyone else behind."

"They're from Sijia Music. I saw Mo Li."

"Where's Qu Xincheng? I can't find him! Hurry, hurry, hurry!"

"Toward the back, in front of a younger guy with red hair."

"Song Yanxi! Your cat's making an appearance in the livestream! You can stay here without worrying!"

"Zhao Yifeng! Sing your heart out! Your Danfeng sisters will always support you!"

"Xu An is waving at me, ahhhhhh!"

It was a night so dark that streetlights were needed to see the way, the two sides were separated by such a long distance, and there were 101 trainees with different styles. With all three conditions combined, standing out from the crowd was no simple matter.

Even Qu Xincheng, one of the contestants most frequently nominated for "best-looking" in the post-recording interviews, couldn't be spotted by his fans right away—unless someone's looks were so heaven-defying that they were a whole dimension above everyone else's.

The most eye-catching method was to dye one's hair a highly distinctive color. A typical example was the red-haired trainee Li Xu, who was being used as a landmark for identifying people. In the vast sea of people, his was the only head as red as a cherry tomato.

Next came strikingly different traits or behavior, like the Web Drama Team charging ahead at the front, seemingly eager to get off work; Yin Zizhen, whose height made a dip in the crowd; Xu An, smiling and waving hello to his fans; and Zhao Yifeng, walking alone at the edge, his little braid bobbing.

Looks came last. Before a camera that treated everyone equally, it was clear at a glance who stood out more.

One person met all three criteria.

The pale blond-haired youth followed at the back of the group at an unhurried pace. The cool moonlight fell on his hair, as though coating it in a beautiful silvery sheen. He was like an expensive work of art on display, not to be touched without permission.

Streetlights passed him one after another, their dim yellow glow flickering over his face. Even though everyone was wearing makeup and basking in both moonlight and lamplight, his skin was still a shade paler than most.

His eyes were slightly lowered, his hands rested lightly on his coat pockets, and his upper body didn't sway at all as he walked. His good posture made him stand out from the crowd with the bearing of a male model, a stark contrast to some of the trainees who staggered every which way as they walked.

At a glance, he ranked among the top three in the crowd for drawing attention.

"Who's that blond?" A fan filming her own idol on her phone couldn't resist the visual temptation of his good looks. With her conscience weighing heavily on her, she turned her camera slightly toward the pale blond-haired boy, switching favorites on the spot. "He's so good-looking."