Dad, Please Let Me Center!

Chu Yuanqing took out her smart hairdryer, adjusted the wind speed and temperature, gently parted her hair with one hand, and moved the hairdryer with the other, blowing along the direction of hair growth.

Her technique was built upon years of experience, following the principle of drying the roots first, then the tips. She would switch the hairdryer's temperature from time to time, maintaining a pattern of alternating hot and cold air to prevent hair damage. She even maintained a good distance between the hairdryer and her hair.

Xie Qingxuan didn't watch the dance videos for long before simply resting her head on the desk, her peripheral vision catching the vanity mirror on the desk.

In the mirror, Chu Yuanqing's young face wore a serious expression. Her movements were meticulous, and in her downcast eyes, one could vaguely glimpse a hint of tenderness. This maturity, unbefitting her age, blended with a gentle affinity, like that of a young wife.

The cool touch of fingertips gently brushing between her hair and scalp, and the occasional warmth on her neck when her hair was gathered, inexplicably made her feel relaxed and cherished.

Xie Qingxuan felt a bit confused.

Was she acting for the camera? Or did she simply enjoy drying hair?

Chu Yuanqing wasn't thinking that much. She had mostly dried the hair at the back and was now tending to her bangs. Her soft fingertips touched her smooth forehead as she lowered the wind speed, saying earnestly:

"If you don't dry your hair completely, you'll easily get headaches, lower your immunity, and even affect your sleep."

"Even if you don't dry it, you still need to towel it dry more next time. Don't just pat it a few times and then go watch your iPad. Idols should pay more attention to their health than ordinary people, right?"

Chu Yuanqing muttered.

Xie Qingxuan grew sleepier with each word. She simply closed her eyes, letting the other continue.

Her eyelashes drooped like butterfly wings, and her profile looked quite docile.

The warm breeze brushed past her ears, and the low-pitched scolding became fragmented as her consciousness drifted away.

In a light dream, a familiar face flashed by.

Xie Qingxuan's delicate eyebrows furrowed slightly, as if shrouded in shadow, yet they were smoothed out by slender fingers as if by a hot iron.

"Are you asleep? You still have some dark circles. This child looks very tired..."

Chu Yuanqing murmured, withdrawing her fingertips and gently putting down the hairdryer.

She pondered for a moment, then took out a thin blanket from her suitcase and draped it over Xie Qingxuan. She then turned up the air conditioning, turned off the lights, and casually covered the camera with something. Only then did she tiptoe out of the room.

Not long after the door was closed, a whisper, as faint as a mosquito's buzz, echoed in the room:

"Sister..."

Volume 1: Chapter 29. A Game That Tests Humanity.

Xie Qingxuan came from a very good family.

Her mother was a famous singer in the film and television industry, and her father was an award-winning international film director. Her older sister, five years her senior, was the leader of a world-renowned girl group, practically born into stardom.

However, unlike her sister, who grew up spoiled and carefree, was debuted at the Center position with strong backing, and became famous.

Xie Qingxuan started learning piano at four, dancing at five, etiquette training at six, international etiquette at seven, and formally studied vocal music with a renowned singer at eight. At nine, she squeezed in acting lessons one day a week, taking time away from her nonexistent weekends, and went to film sets to learn.

From junior high to high school, she had to juggle her studies, being required to achieve perfect scores in all aspects.

No childhood, no holidays, no rest, and no one ever asked her if she liked it.

Xie Qingxuan was like a programmed machine, continuously operating towards predetermined goals.

Her family was merely a backdrop of darkness.

Her parents were perpetually separated, indulging in worldly pleasures around the globe, yet remotely controlling her life, setting goals for each stage as if crafting a work of art.

Xie Qingxuan never experienced normal parental love.

Or rather, all that love was poured onto her sister—Xie Qingyu.

Yu, meaning beautiful jade.

Xuan, meaning a beautiful stone like jade.

Their fates seemed decided from the moment their names were chosen.

But why? Why could her sister have a childhood, friends, freedom, the love she craved, and the right to rebellious defiance, while she had to be like a predetermined NPC, constantly moving towards the future her parents expected?

Xie Qingxuan chose to rebel.

And for her parents, who wanted her to become an artist, the decision to participate in Shining Stage was the greatest act of rebellion.

"Xie Qingxuan, your dancing lacks emotion, like a dead thing."

"How disgusting, don't you have your own dreams?"

"With such half-hearted resolve, you are utterly ugly."

"You'll never beat me. You, who don't love the stage and don't want to be an idol, will never enter the [Flow State]. Flash Dance will never cultivate a subpar product like you."

That familiar voice echoed from her dream.

Xie Qingxuan's consciousness, like a bubble rising from a deep well, slowly pulled back into her body. Her eyelashes trembled, and her eyes opened.

The room was dim and silent, with only the cold air from the air conditioner blowing.

Her expression was calm, her gaze obsessive and deep, sharp and cold like a sword. She thought to herself:

"Sister, my dream is to destroy your dream."

Xie Qingxuan sat up, and the thin blanket draped over her slipped off. She reflexively caught it, her slender palm stroking the soft texture. Her eyes lowered, she pursed her lips and murmured, "No wonder... it's not cold at all."

Meanwhile, Chu Yuanqing had already found a dining companion in another roommate and walked into the incredibly spacious cafeteria of the base.

The cafeteria's decor was luxurious, easily accommodating over a hundred people.

Aside from the trainees, there were no other staff members; only robots were responsible for serving food.

Chu Yuanqing carried her meal tray to a secluded corner.

Sitting opposite her was one of her assigned roommates, Liang Xiaoxiao.

Unlike top-tier contestants like Tang Liuli and Xie Qingxuan, who had experience in the industry and impressive resumes, Liang Xiaoxiao came from a small company and had trained for less than a year.

Liang Xiaoxiao's skills were average, and even her looks were only considered pretty among ordinary people. She would have virtually no presence on the big screen. Her previous evaluation stage performance was also mediocre, earning her only a D rating.

Yeah, the only impression Chu Yuanqing had of this girl was that she was in the waiting room, spinning a flatbread while dancing, possessing a somewhat abstract comedic talent.

Perhaps because of this, she hadn't invited Tang Liuli, and certainly didn't dare to disturb the sleeping "great demon king." Instead, she invited Chu Yuanqing, whose rating wasn't much higher than her own.

Only "rookie" trainees could find common ground with other "rookie" trainees.

Liang Xiaoxiao poked at the vegetable salad in her bowl with her chopsticks, lamenting dejectedly, "Why is this show's venue set up like an open-world game? Everywhere you go, it's like, 'explore this area later'?"

Chu Yuanqing glanced at the fruit that had appeared on her tray. She didn't understand the young people's slang and simply replied earnestly, "That's what the Dream Weaver Rabbit said about the difference in privileges."

"A-rank trainees can unlock all the dishes in the cafeteria, and their accessible areas are much larger. The virtual reality system in the practice rooms is also like that; its functions are basically only available to A and B-rank trainees."

Liang Xiaoxiao sounded dispirited, saying, "Isn't this rule a typical case of the strong getting stronger and the weak getting weaker?"

"I feel like I'm going to be eliminated in the first round. If there's already a gap in skill, and then there's a gap in facilities, how can I possibly work hard enough to compete with them?"

"By the way, how did you know all this?"

Chu Yuanqing hesitated before softly replying, "Yayoi told me."

Liang Xiaoxiao's fork paused mid-air. She looked surprised and asked, "Yayoi? That Sakura Girl with the super intense stage presence?"

"That makes sense. She's an A-rank contestant."

Chu Yuanqing nodded and said no more.

Kiriwake Yayoi had indeed told her many things, including one of the most captivating technologies in virtual reality.

That is, the ability to generate a phantom projection beside you that perfectly replicates your original appearance, correcting any incorrect movements. During this process, by attaching wireless electrodes to your body, you could achieve a surreal technology that rapidly builds muscle memory.

Depending on an individual's physical condition, the usage duration for this technology ranged from one to three hours.

A-rank trainees, however, were granted eight hours of privilege time daily, exceeding the standard by approximately five hours.

And this information, combined with a secret the Sakura Girl had shared, created a very delicate ecosystem.

That is, A-rank privileges could be shared unconditionally with others.

Chu Yuanqing didn't want to tell Liang Xiaoxiao this information, not out of selfishness.

It was because, once this news got out, Flash Dance would quickly devolve into a game that tested humanity.

Kiriwake Yayoi and her Daughter had both told her their roommates' ratings.

The former's dormitory consisted of A-rank, B-rank, C-rank, and D-rank trainees.

The latter's dormitory had B-rank, C-rank, D-rank, and F-rank trainees.

Chu Yuanqing had also inquired about some other contestants, and their dormitories surprisingly all exhibited a clear hierarchical structure based on rank, without exception.

In other words, when the production team assigned dormitories before the competition, they had likely calculated the initial evaluation results based on the contestants' strengths and, using the dormitories as units, fabricated a series of small ecosystems with distinct food chains.

This sounded absurd, but after hearing Dream Weaver Rabbit's self-introduction, it became clear that achieving this was not difficult.

If you also considered the incredible move of only giving camera time to the initial 101 contestants, the production team's intentions became obvious.

Book Recommendation

Synopsis: [Orange]

The last guardian of the world—Haga Mayumi—after her world was destroyed, finally broke free from the trap of eternal life and, as she wished, welcomed eternal slumber.

However, when she opened her eyes again, she had been reincarnated into another world.

This world was strange.

The guardians here didn't get injured or bleed. When they fought, they didn't end up as disheveled as she did. Their clothes were always kept clean by sparkling magic, and they fought and flew in floaty skirts without any wardrobe malfunctions.

These guardians with colorful hair and outfits were called "Magical Girls," and it was said that no one knew their identities.

Even though Hagane Mayumi's childhood friend, classmate, transfer student, school doctor... and even the idol she saw on TV, all had rare, vibrant hair colors that corresponded one-to-one with the Magical Girls' hair colors, not a single person noticed anything unusual.

It was absurd.

But she didn't know that in this children's world, the most absurd thing recognized by everyone was her—who bled, could have her arm reattached and be fully mobile in three minutes, and could revive from a pulp of flesh after exploding into orange juice all over someone—

—herself.

Book Title: A Little Detonation Shock for a Children's Worldview

Volume 1: 30. The Dying, Winds and Clouds Gather.

Chu Yuanqing understood human nature very well.

Because the disaster beasts that had once caused the apocalypse had drawn nourishment from it, successfully bearing the evil fruit.

So after Kiriwake Yayoi shared some information, she immediately perceived the distortion in the mechanism.

The production team arranged for each dormitory to form a hierarchical ladder, aiming to make everyone realize intuitively and as quickly as possible that in this underground base, which was like a prison, the assigned rank represented everything.

Whether it was the range of activities, the level of practice rooms, the amount of song and dance data in the AI knowledge base, the usage time of the massage pods, whether they had a professional nutritionist, or even the range of food choices, all clearly demarcated the classes and tiers of each individual.

It wouldn't take too long, at most three days, or perhaps even just one day would be enough.

This amount of time was sufficient for most people to understand the implications and begin to feel intense anxiety.

A-class contestants stood at the pinnacle of the masses. They were already the cream of the crop and occupied the best resources, so the possibility of their secondary evaluation dropping was very low.

B-class contestants were positioned in the upper echelons. The core resources they occupied, aside from lacking the leeway to share, were not significantly different from those of A-class contestants. The two were almost at the same starting line, and there was no lack of hope for them to rise.

C-class contestants were in a precarious middle ground. These individuals, by stabilizing their rank, had a smaller probability of being eliminated in the first round, but they were highly unlikely to make it to the debut spots, inevitably leading to anxiety.