Chapter 2
Step by step, she walked beneath the spotlight to the center of the stage.
Silvery-white light poured down from above, spreading into a halo beneath her feet before scattering outward and merging into flowing rainbow-colored waves across the backdrop. Like countless pieces of popping candy bouncing across a rainbow, the entire stage seemed to pulse gently with the rhythm as the backing music began to play.
“I’m willing to follow you, to every corner of the world, and we’ll never lose our way…”
Qu Xiao infused the original pop singing style with subtle emotional variations, sometimes melancholy, sometimes cheerful, allowing her emotions to rise and fall with the lyrics.
What amazed the trainees watching below even more was her voice. It was clear and pure, and somehow, she’d managed to transform this rather shallow, sugary pop song into a sincere yet somewhat clumsy expression of longing for love.
“How did I never notice how touching this song could be? When I first saw it on the program list, I thought someone had chosen it just to attract attention.”
“But the program list says she originally signed up for singing and dancing. Those few movements Qu Xiao made… do they even count as dancing?”
“Whether it counts as singing and dancing is debatable, but her vocals are genuinely good! It’s a bit of a shame, though. We didn’t get to see how well she dances.”
“She should be pretty good at dancing too, right? Otherwise, why would she have signed up for a singing-and-dancing performance?”
“Who knows? Maybe her company changed it at the last minute? But with a voice like that, I think she’ll last quite a while.”
Qu Xiao tightened her left hand around the microphone and slowly extended her right hand. Spreading her five fingers, she reached toward the empty light ahead of her, making a grasping motion.
But in the end, when those affectionate eyes turned toward her open fingers, there was nothing there but empty air she couldn’t hold on to.
She withdrew her hand and brought the microphone closer to her lips. Her voice was soft and gentle, every word filled with heartfelt emotion.
“With you, beside you, I’m willing…”
As the song ended, the stage lights went dark for an instant before the silvery-white beams descended once more.
Wen Sixu suddenly came back to her senses.
This Alpha wasn’t the useless nobody she’d expected.
In more ways than one.
The lights onstage had been dazzling just now, but the person standing at the center had been even more radiant. Those glossy black eyes and the faint glimpse of her waist beneath the chains had made it surprisingly difficult for Wen Sixu to look away. She’d watched the entire performance without a single distraction.
Holding her microphone, Qu Xiao bowed toward each section of the judges’ table. “I’m trainee Qu Xiao. I look forward to receiving guidance from all the mentors.”
Qu Xiao.
Wen Sixu’s gaze lingered on those two characters on the list in her hands.
“Senior Sister, what do you think of this trainee?”
Wen Sixu returned to her senses and turned her head slightly. Gu Weiyu was looking at her expectantly, waiting for an answer.
They had once been members of the same girl group, with Wen Sixu being the oldest member. After the group disbanded, they had each pursued their own careers, yet even now that they had reunited, Gu Weiyu still called her Senior Sister.
“Not much.”
“Why?” Gu Weiyu didn’t entirely agree, but she still chose to trust her senior sister. She tilted her head closer, intending to listen to Wen Sixu’s reasoning.
“No particular reason. She’s not pretty, and she’s a low-ranking Alpha. Do those count as reasons?”
The confusion in Gu Weiyu’s eyes turned into astonishment.
She knew that ever since her senior sister had been injured, her pheromone levels had become extremely unstable, which could cause irritability and depression. She had learned about that before.
But the trainee standing before them…
If this talent show judged contestants purely on looks, that face alone would be enough to secure her a place in Class A.
Yet Wen Sixu had said she wasn’t pretty.
A low-ranking Alpha? Gu Weiyu recalled their training days several years ago. Back then, Wen Sixu had always disagreed with the idea that pheromone rankings could divide people into different classes.
“There’s no real difference between B-rank and S-rank.”
Wen Sixu had said those words quite seriously during one of their casual conversations.
Gu Weiyu leaned closer and moved her microphone aside so that the people around them wouldn’t hear what she was about to say.
“Senior Sister, how do you know she’s a low-ranking Alpha? Don’t tell me… you’ve awakened some supernatural ability that lets you tell someone’s pheromone rank just by looking at them?”
Wen Sixu’s fingers paused in the middle of playing with the ends of her hair.
That’s right. If it hadn’t been for that accident the other day… how would she have known that the person standing onstage was a low-ranking Alpha?
She lowered her lashes and fell into thought. Meanwhile, Ren Yue, the guest mentor seated at the far end, had already begun speaking.
“Qu Xiao, to tell you the truth, your performance surprised me.”
Qu Xiao’s pupils widened slightly. She held her breath and listened humbly to Mentor Ren Yue’s evaluation.
“I didn’t know a pop song could be interpreted in this way. You’ve given me a surprisingly refreshing perspective.”
Qu Xiao hadn’t expected her performance to receive such high praise. She hurriedly clutched her microphone and bowed. “Thank you, Mentor.”
Ren Yue was still immersed in the song she’d just heard. She glanced at the list in her hand, and when she saw “Lemon Entertainment” written before Qu Xiao’s name, a trace of regret quietly appeared in her eyes.
But she quickly adjusted her expression into a smile. “A contestant like you has a promising future wherever you go. Therefore, my rating for your initial stage performance is—A!”
A considerable commotion erupted across the pyramid seating area.
Qu Xiao was the third act to perform. Before her, the first act had been a four-member group, and the second had been a duo. Of those six contestants, not a single one had received a final A rating.
More precisely, only two main dancers had received A ratings from Wen Sixu, but because of weaknesses in other areas, both had ultimately been assigned to Class B. So far, Qu Xiao was the only contestant to receive an A from Ren Yue.
“See? I told you she was amazing! Sister Ren Yue gave her an A! That’s the highest mountain in the girl group industry we’re talking about—the strictest mother when it comes to judging!”
“Let’s wait and see! Her first rating is already an A. Could she become the first person to take a seat in Class A?”
At those words, several people immediately looked toward the very top of the pyramid.
The seven seats in Class A corresponded to the seven debut positions in the finals.
All Qu Xiao could hear was the sudden eruption of voices below the stage. Holding her microphone, she bowed deeply.
“Thank you, Mentor. I’ll continue working hard.”
Wen Sixu leaned back against her red chair, her peach-blossom eyes narrowing slightly.
See? Low-ranking Alphas like this really were so easily won over.
All anyone had to do was crook a finger at her or offer her a piece of candy, and she’d obediently follow them anywhere. Wasn’t that right?
The corners of her lips curved into a mocking smile.
Ren Yue turned toward Gu Weiyu and gestured. “Your turn.”
Qu Xiao’s heart was pounding wildly in her chest as she watched Gu Weiyu adjust the headset microphone beside her cheek.
During that brief interval, her gaze drifted uncontrollably toward Gu Weiyu—or rather, toward Wen Sixu, who was sitting beside her.
Wen Sixu occupied the center position at the judges’ table, her eyes slightly narrowed and the corners of her lips faintly raised.
For an instant, their eyes met.
Qu Xiao instinctively lowered her head, the tips of her ears turning bright red.
Gu Weiyu picked up her scoring screen and glanced at her. “Are you nervous?”
Qu Xiao shook her head and offered a cautious smile. “Not too nervous.”
As long as she didn’t look at Wen Sixu, she wasn’t too nervous.
“I really like your singing style. Songs like this generally don’t demand much vocal technique, but I could tell that you made some small adjustments. You demonstrated both technical skill and emotion. So I’m going to give you an A.”
“Another A! She’s practically guaranteed a high position in Class A now, isn’t she?”
But some people disagreed.
“Getting an A isn’t anything special. There have been contestants without connections who received A ratings during the initial stage in previous seasons, too. But later, all their footage got cut, and they were eliminated after the second public performance.”
Qu Xiao was unaware of these conversations. She simply bowed gratefully to Gu Weiyu once more.
“Thank you for your encouragement, Mentor. I’ll keep working hard.”
After finishing her evaluation, Gu Weiyu turned toward Wen Sixu beside her.
Wen Sixu was still leaning against the red backrest, a posture that made her look somewhat languid.
Qu Xiao, however, didn’t dare raise her head. Instead, she was furiously complaining about the original novel’s author in her mind.
With a face as breathtakingly beautiful as Wen Sixu’s, how could the author possibly call her ordinary?!
And when she remembered that she’d somehow ended up marking Wen Sixu anyway, her heart began pounding anxiously.
Her unsteady, breathy breathing reached Wen Sixu through her headset. Wen Sixu lowered her lashes, listening to those moist breaths sounding so close to her ears. They were uneven, as though Qu Xiao were restraining herself, yet also anticipating something.
“Qu Xiao.”
The two syllables slipped softly from Wen Sixu’s red lips.
Qu Xiao raised her head and met those amber-colored eyes.
“I’d like to see you perform an additional piece. Would that be all right?”
Qu Xiao nearly lost her grip on the microphone, while a wave of discussion swept through the audience.
“An additional performance?”
“None of the contestants before her were asked to perform again, but Mentor Wen specifically requested one from her. What does that mean?”
“What else could it mean? It means she’s talented, and Mentor Wen wants to give her another opportunity.”
Qu Xiao stood onstage without responding immediately.
“Didn’t prepare one?” Wen Sixu’s gaze lowered to the fingers wrapped around Qu Xiao’s microphone. They had turned slightly white from her tight grip, and a light blue bracelet was still around her wrist.
The silver bracelet Wen Sixu had given her had also been custom-made for the production team.
Had she casually thrown it away after leaving?
Qu Xiao was somewhat bewildered. The original novel hadn’t mentioned any additional performances, and neither the company nor the original owner had prepared anything of the sort.
She shook her head. “I have something prepared. For my additional performance, I’ll sing ‘Moonlight’ a cappella.”
The spotlights onstage shifted and brightened once more, casting silvery-white light down like moonlight.
This was her favorite ballad. As she stood at the center of the stage and began singing, it was as though she’d already rehearsed it countless times.
The a cappella performance came to an end.
Qu Xiao held her breath, her fingernails digging deeply into her palms as she waited for Wen Sixu’s evaluation.
Wen Sixu listened to the faint sounds of breathing coming through her headset and studied the scoring screen in her hands, seemingly deep in thought. After a moment, she lifted her eyes.
“Qu Xiao, you registered for a singing-and-dancing performance, but for your first piece, you chose to stand still and sing. Even during your additional performance, I still didn’t see you dance.”
Gu Weiyu lowered her voice. “But she really does sing quite well.”
Wen Sixu sighed. “Since you chose not to sing and dance in either of your two performances, my understanding is that you lack stamina.”
Qu Xiao had been listening attentively, but now she raised her head in astonishment.
Lacked stamina?
Had she heard that correctly?
Wen Sixu had said she… lacked stamina?
“I admit your vocals are excellent. In that respect, you’ve exceeded my expectations.” Wen Sixu paused for two seconds, her voice showing little emotion. “But you’ve consistently avoided incorporating dance into your performances. Perhaps your breathing becomes unstable when you sing and dance simultaneously, so you’ve chosen to eliminate your weakness. In my judgment, that doesn’t meet the standards of an A-rank singer-dancer. And another thing—”
She paused, her gaze darkening slightly. “Next time, don’t sign up for something you can’t do. You’ll only disappoint the audience.”
Qu Xiao stood motionless, feeling a drop of sweat slide into her eye, stinging painfully. She blinked but didn’t raise a hand to wipe it away.
Whose expectations had she disappointed?
She had no fans and no friends.
Beneath this stage, not a single light sign had been lit for her. Not a single camera had been set up for her.
Whose expectations had she disappointed?
Qu Xiao bit her lip. She desperately wanted to ask Wen Sixu.
Was it your expectations that I disappointed?
Below the stage, Wen Sixu’s beautiful eyes rested on her. Beneath her long lashes, her gaze seemed veiled in mist as she waited for a response.
“Thank you for your guidance, Mentor Wen.”
Wen Sixu nodded lightly.
“Therefore, the rating I’m giving you is—”
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