Volume One, Chapter Four: Group Competition—Another Upset?

[Heh, this is karma. Everyone said no one who dares to mess with Brother Xiao ends well. Now it’s perfect—drawing the same script as Qiao Yunan and the others, it looks like Su is about to be eliminated in the first round.]

[Who even remembers what Su Nianxi said in her interview? Didn’t she claim that anyone who falls behind in scores would automatically drop out? Don’t even dare to deny it! Let’s get ready for the elimination announcements tonight.]

[Looking forward to Su’s second meltdown, it’s going to be a spectacle. I want to watch it on repeat.]

[Who says Qiao Yunan is overrated? She’s amazing! Love seeing mediocre acting get called out and lose its footing.]

The online audience once again indulged in wicked delight, while Su Nianxi herself remained composed, even finding it somewhat amusing.

She had expected the production team to stir up trouble on the first day, perhaps unveiling some earth-shattering, grandiose plot, but this was all there was?

Compared to Su Nianxi’s calm, Song Shian looked as if struck by lightning.

When he heard he was grouped with Su Nianxi, this handsome young man froze solid, and even as the staff led him into the rehearsal room, he hadn’t yet shaken off his stunned state.

At least when Su Nianxi entered, all she caught was the hypnotic monotony of his lines, more soporific than a mantra.

“Hey, bro, which temple did you come from?” Su Nianxi plopped down opposite Song Shian, propping her head on her hand.

“Huh?” The boy lifted his eyes, a pair of peach blossom eyes looking at her in confusion.

Su Nianxi: “...”

Forget it, considering your looks, I won’t hold it against you.

Song Shian finally caught on that Su Nianxi was mocking his line delivery and looked down sheepishly. “My former acting teacher said my lines weren’t great either. Sorry to disappoint.”

“That was pretty gentle of her,” Su Nianxi said sympathetically, not wanting to dampen his enthusiasm.

Song Shian’s gaze flickered toward the script Su Nianxi had casually tossed beside him. “Um, Teacher Su, shall we rehearse a scene together?”

“No, thanks.”

His sudden change of topic startled Su Nianxi, who waved her hands frantically, “I’m afraid you’d exorcise me during rehearsal.”

At that, Song Shian completely shut down, crouching in the corner to quietly grow mushrooms.

Seeing the boy’s pitiful expression, Su Nianxi hesitated a moment before kindly offering a suggestion. “You’re a singer, right?”

“...Yeah,” Song Shian’s voice was weak.

“Though acting and performing on stage are different, the way you tap into emotions is similar. If you can’t feel the emotions in the script, try listening to a song with a similar mood—it might help you find the feeling quicker.” She said this without waiting to see if he understood, then turned to leave the rehearsal room.

After a moment, Song Shian’s voice echoed behind her, “Wait, Teacher Su, where are you going?”

“For a walk.” Su Nianxi waved her hand, restoring her expressionless, indifferent face.

While their exchange was a give-and-take, the fans in the comment stream had already cycled through several rounds of insults.

[Does she think she can win over Qiao Yunan without rehearsing? That’s just arrogant.]

[Looks to me like she knows her acting is atrocious and has given up.]

[So frustrating! With such terrible acting and still claiming to know our Shian, the nerve!]

[Relax, she’ll be eliminated sooner or later. I’ll just enjoy our Night Snack CP.]

Meanwhile, Qiao Yunan muted her mic and whispered with her manager in the stairwell.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Qiao Yunan frowned, still worried.

“Don’t worry. We’ve coordinated everything. Once the live clips are out, all the marketing accounts will post your and Su Nianxi’s performances side by side. This time, you’ll definitely outshine her and rise higher.” The manager chuckled, eyes gleaming with sharp calculation.

“That’s good to hear.” Qiao Yunan relaxed. “That Su Nianxi really has no self-awareness. But that’s fine—it’s paving the way for me.”

“This show has a lot of buzz. If you explode in the first episode, no big production will be missing you later.” The manager patted her shoulder. “Make the most of it.”

After a brief hour of rehearsal, all the trainees gathered once again in the room where they first met.

The first group to perform was the highly anticipated “Night Snack CP,” Song Xiao and Ye Zhixia.

Their assigned scene was about a princess of a fallen kingdom meeting the emperor of an enemy country, only to discover he is her childhood sweetheart who grew up with her—a shocking and anguished outburst from the princess.

To fit the story, both wore simple traditional makeup.

As they appeared on stage, their CP fans and solo admirers began showering praise in the comments like a rainbow cascade.

“Ahhh, Xiaxia is so beautiful! Truly the chosen ancient beauty.”

“Brother Xiao is so handsome; he’s got the face of every novel’s male lead.”

“Night Snack CP is the perfect match. You two should be cast in historical romances.”

“Whenever you’re ready, you may begin,” said Zheng Zhiwen from the judges’ panel.

He was the most experienced among them and the first to achieve the grand slam as Best Actor.

Now older, he had stepped behind the scenes to work as a guest professor at S City Film Academy.

This recording marked his first appearance on a variety show in years.

“Okay, Teacher,” Ye Zhixia responded obediently, giving Song Xiao a meaningful glance.

All initial evaluations were performed without props; Song Xiao stepped back a few paces, while Ye Zhixia knelt center stage.

From the waiting area, Su Nianxi glanced at their performance, then quietly looked away.

Hmm, a one-armed emperor and a princess with dry eyes—somehow, a perfect match.

“Cut.”

On stage, Ye Zhixia had barely finished three lines when Lin Yue’s voice came from the judges’ panel.

Both were startled but quickly rose to face the judges.

“Do you know what you’re acting?” Lin Yue’s expression was stern, almost wordless. “Girl, do you understand your character’s kingdom has fallen?”

“Yes, I do,” Ye Zhixia whispered, lips pressed tight.

“From your performance, I see no emotional fluctuation. Boy, you’re just reciting lines, not acting.” Lin Yue chose her words carefully but couldn’t hold back. “I see no acting talent in either of you. We’re supposed to score your initial performance today, but honestly, I can’t even give you a single point.”

“Sorry, Teacher,” Ye Zhixia, who had grown up adored and pampered, and was used to a team coaxing her on set, couldn’t hold back tears immediately.

“Oh, the miracle doctor,” Shen Yizhou finally spoke, raising an eyebrow at Ye Zhixia’s tearful display, “turning dry eye into uncontrollable crying.”

Lin Yue’s lips twitched, ignoring his provocation.

“Let me say something,” Shen Yizhou’s voice was lazy. “Song Xiao, why is your arm always hanging at your waist like that? I thought the emperor’s character wasn’t supposed to be in a healing phase for a broken arm? And you,” he looked at Ye Zhixia without changing tone, “trying hard, but staring at the spotlight and not shedding a single tear—crying like you’re chewing gum. Next time, bring some eye drops before going on stage.”

[The judges are way too harsh! Xiaxia’s crying and they still say that? That’s not fair!]

[Ugh, Shen Yizhou is so mean! Why mock Xiaxia? She’s clearly trying, but with only an hour to rehearse, how could she do better?]

[Yeah, and Xiaxia’s obviously nervous!]

Fans rushed to defend Ye Zhixia, but other viewers were no longer convinced.

[The performance was obvious to all. If fans think this is acceptable, then future dramas won’t need an audience—just sell directly to fans, no middlemen, and spare the public’s eyes.]

[Everyone’s on the show to improve their acting. If you can’t accept criticism and lash out at the judges, I know exactly who spoiled you.]

[Is there anything wrong with what the judges said? Crying scenes and attention to detail are fundamental for actors. If you can’t handle that, it’s beyond just rehearsal time.]

After watching Song and Ye’s performance, the audience was on the edge of rebellion.

The atmosphere in the venue plummeted.

Ye Zhixia sobbed quietly as Song Xiao accompanied her offstage.

Watching them leave, Shen Yizhou yawned lazily. “Well, that was some fine acting, wasn’t it?”

“Shut up,” Lin Yue shot him a glare, unwilling to argue.

As they exited, Qiao Yunan’s group stepped onto the stage next.