Initial Evaluation (Continued)
The handsome young man in the mirror no longer had the black hair and black eyes he had worn for over a decade. Instead, he had styled light blond hair and primrose-colored eyes that were most likely fitted with colored contacts. Exquisite makeup added flowers to an already splendid foundation. Anyone who didn't know better might have taken him for a newly debuted idol in the entertainment industry.
As he stood there stunned, as though struck by five bolts of lightning, his upturned eyes took on an added air of otherworldly detachment.
In plain English, he looked as if his soul had left his body.
The system claimed that he could unbind from it as long as he completed the task, and that he would also receive a mysterious reward. The specifics of the reward, however, would be decided based on the host's performance.
It sounded like an unscrupulous capitalist dangling a pie in the sky before a lowly wage slave.
Lai Yudong wasn't particularly interested in the reward. He cared about only one thing—
[What happens if I can't complete the task?]
System: [Another task will be activated, and this will continue until you complete one. Host, don't worry. There will always be one that's right for you.]
...Hearing that only made him more worried.
Although the road ahead looked bleak, Lai Yudong didn't give up before he had even begun.
Based on his years of experience devouring web novels, systems were now caught in fierce involution. High-difficulty instances like survival games, supernatural challenges, and puzzle-solving mysteries kept cropping up. Maybe debuting through an idol survival show was the easiest task he could get.
So he would go as far as he could.
A man still had to have dreams!
Lai Yudong took a deep breath. Just as his gaze swept over the name tag attached to his clothes, a voice suddenly rang out beside his ear—
"Please welcome our next trainee, Miura Yuki from LYD Entertainment."
Lai Yudong: "..."
I'm screwed. I can't even speak Japanese!
For a moment, he didn't know whether to complain about the company name being his initials or fool himself into thinking that "Miura Yuki" might not be him...
Like hell! That's the name on my tag!
Wait, does the system really want me to debut in a group?
Why make a broadcasting major with a Grade 1-B Mandarin certificate, who's preparing to test for Grade 1-A, pretend to be an overseas contestant on an idol survival show? Surely it can't deprive me of my right to speak fluent, clear Chinese just because my Mandarin is above average?
Are you sure you're not deliberately messing with me!?
Lai Yudong had no time to think about why the name sounded familiar. He left the waiting room with stiff steps, facing death as if it were home, while inwardly demanding in despair what the system was playing at.
The system's answer was as infuriating as customer service on a certain orange app.
System: [Investigating. Please wait patiently for the results.]
Lai Yudong: [Then what do I do now? Besides facing the challenge head-on, do I have any other choice? How about installing a new language function so I don't get exposed?]
System: [You may choose to abandon this task.]
Lai Yudong: [...No need, thanks.]
There was more than one piece of terrible news.
The immoral system announced that it was about to activate a synchronized bullet comment feature.
Lai Yudong's vision went black.
Help, I don't want to know how the audience reacts at all!
Clinging to a faint hope, he asked tremulously:
[Is the show live or prerecorded?]
If the show was prerecorded, his footage might be cut from the final broadcast or have its audio polished, and he might suffer a little less ridicule.
Of course, there was also the possibility that malicious editing would make it worse.
When it comes to editing, my fate is in heaven's hands, not mine. It all depends on what script I've been given.
He knew a thing or two about variety show tricks.
But the system mercilessly shattered Lai Yudong's last psychological defense.
["Ascend to Stardom" is an idol survival show broadcast live in its entirety. Not only are the stage performances live, with all microphones fully on and no audio polishing, but the trainees' daily lives are also streamed twenty-four hours a day from multiple cameras. However, considering that some viewers do not have enough time or patience to follow the entire broadcast, the production team will release an edited recording each week.]
Great.
That meant he would not only be publicly executed in front of the entire nation, but might also be repeatedly executed as comic relief in postproduction, and even given the cannon-fodder persona of a greasy man with unearned confidence.
I'm tired. I'm numb. Let it all be destroyed.
I might as well start praying now that the next task doesn't involve catching ghosts.
Fortunately, the system still had a shred of conscience—
System: [As compensation for the suspected bug in the host's identity, we can offer you green mode. Would you like to activate it?]
Lai Yudong: [What's that?]
System: [It filters out undesirable bullet comments, such as personal attacks and paid commenters flooding the screen, but that does not mean all negative reviews will be filtered out.]
Lai Yudong: [...Turn it on, on, on!]
Once green mode was activated, bullet comments appeared before his eyes like a 3D projection.
Lai Yudong gave them a quick glance. Most were discussing the trainee who had appeared before him, while a smaller number were repeatedly posting the names of their initial picks. There were no rainbow farts filling the screen, nor were there any mindless attacks brimming with hostility.
Green mode lived up to its name.
He hoped this harmony would last after his performance.
The walk to the studio was short, but to Lai Yudong it felt as long as a century. The lights grew brighter with each step he took, and his heart beat faster and faster.
He wasn't the type to get nervous the moment he stepped onstage; his nerves varied with the situation.
Factors such as cameras, live broadcasts, audiences, and scale didn't affect his mindset much. His level of nervousness depended solely on how confident he felt. The more confident he was, the more at ease he became, as he had been during his art school entrance interviews.
Conversely, in a situation like this, which had nothing to do with his professional skills, he was so nervous he could almost throw up.
The moment he stepped out of the passage, he was greeted by countless faces of trainees and mentors. Dozens of gazes, some appraising, some probing, and some curious, settled on Lai Yudong's face. He felt an involuntary wave of dizziness, and a tremendous surge of nerves rose within him, swallowing him like a raging sea.
He came to a stop in the center of the stage. The glaring lights left his brain starved of oxygen, and for a moment, he felt as though he were lying on an operating table beneath a lit surgical lamp.