Because there was no competition, Lu Jingwei successfully became the captain. Wen Shike carefully placed the captain’s sticker onto Lu Jingwei’s chest.
Lu Jingwei only felt something light brush against the softness of her chest, it was fast and a bit itchy. She pursed her lips, thinking that it really was better to wear thicker clothes. She glanced at Wen Shike, who had already withdrawn her hand.
While the captaincy went uncontested, the competition for the Center (C-position) was fierce. Everyone except the perpetually laid back Lu Jingwei and the “dance disaster” Ming Wangxue raised their hands.
“How about we each perform a short song and dance in a similar style, and then we vote? You can’t vote for yourself,” Ming Wangxue suggested, sitting cross-legged on the floor with excitement.
“Ah… that might not be fair,” a girl from Class C said in a small voice. Her name was An Ya. “You guys are all close with Wen Shike.”
The room suddenly fell silent. The smile on Ming Wangxue’s face stiffened.
“A ‘direct disciple’ of Ding Qing?” Wen Shike glanced at the girl, scanning her name tag. She didn’t have much of an impression of her.
An Ya’s face turned pale. “I’m just stating the truth. Lu Jingwei is from your company, and there are three others who were originally in Class B.”
“Then how do you suggest we choose?” Another trainee from Class A spoke up, sounding impatient. Her gaze pierced through An Ya like a needle.
Wen Shike glanced at this trainee; she clearly had a short fuse. An Ya grew even paler, lowering her head and trembling slightly.
“Don’t act like we’re bullying you,” Zhou Yueran said irritably. “If you think this method is no good, then suggest a better rule. Tell us how to choose. Or should we just hand the C position to you directly? If I end up being chosen, are you going to say we’re discriminating against you for being in Class C?”
Ming Wangxue shrank back and leaned toward Wen Shike. Lu Jingwei spared her a glance.
“Everyone can see whether someone’s strength is good or not.” “Exactly, our goal is to win. Of course we have to pick the best Center.” Two other girls who had been quiet finally chimed in.
“Let’s just vote by a show of hands,” Lu Jingwei said with a smile, her eyes landing on An Ya. “If we bury your talent, the audience will see it. Maybe you’ll even gain some sympathy points.”
Wen Shike looked at Lu Jingwei. She hadn’t expected her to be so sharp-tongued. Yet, with Lu Jingwei’s smiling face, it sounded like a perfectly normal, harmless comment.
After five minutes of preparation, the auditions began.
Wen Shike chose a snippet from another song by the same group that performed their upcoming public stage track. She even performed the original English rap. Despite the fast pace, it was clear her English was excellent.
An Ya kept her hands clasped, looking extremely nervous. When it was her turn, she tripped and fell flat on her face. Silence returned to the room.
“I-I’m sorry, can I try again?” An Ya looked up timidly, glancing at Wen Shike and then at Zhou Yueran.
“Everyone only gets one chance,” Lu Jingwei said. Her voice was gentle, but her tone left no room for negotiation.
“I was just nervous… I’m nervous… I can actually do it well.”
“What if you get nervous on stage too? I think the Center should have better psychological resilience,” Ming Wangxue said, lying on the floor, propping her chin up while spinning a milk carton for fun.
Wen Shike stood by and watched, suppressing the urge to call someone to throw the girl out.
“Are you trying to say I’m so scary that I frightened you into failing?” Zhou Yueran stood with her hands on her hips, pointing at herself. “Come on, sister, I see you’re twenty-one this year. At this age, you should be graduating university and entering society. What, do you act like this in the real world too?”
Wen Shike crossed her arms and dug through her memory before slowly speaking: “I remember your dance for the initial evaluation was a similar style to this. In the end, you were placed in Class C.”
An Ya opened her mouth but said nothing.
“Let’s vote,” Lu Jingwei said, not wanting to waste more time.
Unsurprisingly, Wen Shike became the Center. Zhou Yueran also voted for her. Wen Shike, in turn, voted for Zhou Yueran. Except for An Ya, everyone was satisfied with the choice.
A burst of laughter erupted from the classroom next door. Ming Wangxue looked at the wall with envy and sighed.
The seven of them quickly divided the parts. Although An Ya looked easy to bully, she wasn’t at all shy when it came to grabbing parts. Her pitiful expression made it seem like she would burst into tears the second she was rejected.
“I want Part C,” An Ya said, clutching her lyric sheet and looking at them anxiously.
Everyone knew Part C was the best segment. However, after the previous drama, they all wanted to keep the peace and said nothing.
Wen Shike chose Part A, and Lu Jingwei took Part D.
As they were debating the next step, the door opened.
“Young Miss, your segment is coming up. Do you want to go watch?” someone poked their head in.
Wen Shike figured they probably edited her part toward the end of the episode otherwise, it would have aired already.
“I’m going,” Wen Shike stood up quickly. “I learn things fast, you guys can start without me.”
“I want to go see too!” Ming Wangxue scrambled to follow.
The atmosphere in the room had dropped to freezing point, staying there would be foolish.
“Let’s take a short break then. Everyone, take a moment to calm down,” Lu Jingwei rose and followed behind Wen Shike.
The others also stood up and left one by one, leaving An Ya sitting alone in the classroom.
“When I left, I looked back and saw An Ya sitting alone holding her knees. She looked like she was about to cry. It looked so pitiful… if the editors use that…” someone caught up to Wen Shike and whispered.
“Evil editing won’t stick to me, so it won’t stick to you guys either,” Wen Shike replied in a low voice. She had that level of confidence.
“That’s good then.” The person relaxed and smiled. “I’m going to go learn the song.”
“Mhm, go ahead,” Wen Shike nodded.
Zhou Yueran walked past them expressionlessly. Wen Shike glanced at her and said, “The next few days are probably going to be quite a hassle.”
“Mhm,” Lu Jingwei agreed.
When Wen Shike arrived, the projector was just showing her segment. There were many empty seats, as most trainees chose to practice, leaving only a few watching.
“Can we turn on the live comments (bullet chat)?” Wen Shike asked, grabbing a bottle of milk and some chips from the table.
“You want to see them? We can,” the staff member replied. She knew about the negative rumors surrounding Wen Shike online. “But… are you sure you want to?”
“I want to see,” Wen Shike nodded.
She felt her performance wasn’t bad, so she didn’t expect anything too outrageous.