Idol Chapter 152

The first round of elimination is a selection from 120 to 80, based entirely on scoring rankings.

Afterwards, the surviving eighty participants will be arranged again from heaven to earth, and they will compete for survival based on the live results of the second round’s performance.

Considering the varying conditions of the trainees, although the first phase uniformly assessed the theme song “Dance of Blessing”, they could freely sign up to choose whether to participate in the live assessment by the mentors.

Trainees unfamiliar with the stage had time to adapt, while those good at presenting themselves could vie for more camera exposure.

—Fifty spots were naturally snapped up as soon as they were available, with many cursing Fang Chengran in their hearts while they competed.

Originally a peaceful and friendly Buddhist-style selection show, this guy made everyone so tense!!

From the start of the classes, students of different classes demonstrated markedly different levels of ability.

Mentors taught once a week, choosing work days based on their schedules, though most were actually assisted by teaching assistants.

But as long as the cameras were present, the youths had to maintain their spirits and appearances.

They began to realize the weight of the word “idol”.

Behavior, facial expression management, and the constant sense of being watched.

…If just maintaining a smile for the cameras is this exhausting, what does one have to become to win the crown in the future?

Does such a day even exist?

Previously, no boy group in the country had ever won the crown.

Since Corona’s sensational debut, rewriting their undying myth time and again, more and more people have harbored a clearer and more enticing desire.

Even if it’s just a distant dream, it seems to silently ignite a mundane life.

Bo Huan had followed a dance teacher for several years, and though his flexibility was decent, he still found learning somewhat difficult.

Most students in the upper-tier group had strong comprehension skills, able to remember the movements after a few practices with the teacher, maintaining a good atmosphere in the practice room.

Sometimes, while practicing, groups of handsome youths would pass by the distant windows, laughing together on their way to buy water and rest.

“Those are the top-tier gods…” a trainee whispered in awe: “I heard that three or four of them could dance after just one look, and by the third repetition, they could follow the teacher and nail the details—what kind of people are they.”

Bo Huan silently wiped the sweat from his forehead, focusing his attention back on his body memory.

Students in the top tier didn’t need to work too hard; they mostly remembered the dance by the end of the first day, and from the second day onward, they focused on finding the rhythm and practicing singing and dancing in sync.

However, students in the two lower tiers almost all stayed up all night with the lights on, wishing they could sleep in the practice room.

Some trainees, seeing the skilled competition, had their fantasies shattered, merely going through the motions all day waiting to be eliminated, giving up on unrealistic dreams of sudden fame.

Without grouping so many people of varying abilities but the same goal together, some would always lazily dream.

Typically, the teaching assistants would leave work one after another around 8 p.m., and the practice rooms would close one by one at midnight, discouraging and prohibiting overnight practices.

By 10 p.m., students from the upper-tier group had mostly left, leaving only three or four with weak foundations.

Bo Huan saw his roommate was also there, handing him a mango candy during a break: “Are you okay?”

The baby-faced youth was pale: “It’s… it’s too hard… huff…”

“Do you look so young, are you still in high school?”

“No, I’m a junior in college.”

“Eh—”

Han Yang could twist into a pretzel even on a dance mat, let alone synchronize hands and feet in this dance. He practiced from morning to afternoon, holding back tears, wandering through various fantasies.

Although he knew he had a way out, since he was here, he wanted to give it his all.

His mother was very strict, and his grandparents would definitely be watching on TV.

He had to make them proud, no backing down!

The last teaching assistant also said goodbye, and the lights in the corridor gradually went out, turning the dance room into an isolated island unknowingly.

They memorized the movements in front of the TV screen and mirror, starting with a slow version at double speed, gradually linking each movement.

Bo Huan, in the end, remembered faster than him, gradually improving in the latter half, able to dance the theme dance rhythmically.

Students from the two lower tiers also left one after another, wiping their necks and foreheads with towels, laughing and chatting as they left in groups.

When the music stopped again, a sound suddenly came from behind them.

“Still practicing the moves?”

Bo Huan turned around at the sound, realizing it was Gu Shaochu standing at the door, his tall figure casting a long shadow.

It was the tennis champion from the Department of Chemistry.

“Hi,” he smiled: “I remember you.”

Han Yang hurriedly greeted him, continuing to clumsily dance along with the video.

“I’ll join you.” Gu Shaochu took a sip of tea, placing his thermos aside: “This dance has a narrative quality, clearly choreographed by Teacher Huo.”

“Narrative quality?” Han Yang finally joined the conversation: “What does that mean?”

“Starting with the first movement,” Gu Shaochu stood in front of them, the hem of his camel coat fluttering: “Greeting the audience, raising a hand to kiss the stars, then beginning to showcase oneself.”

“In the third section, first struck by an external force, arms crossed to block, retreating three steps.”

Then, immediately turn around to face attacks from both sides.

The young man explained at a measured pace, his demonstration of the dance moves nearly textbook in its precision.

Han Yang suddenly had an epiphany, gradually keeping up with his pace.

Bo Huan was already close to mastering it, now curious.

“Why do you think it was choreographed by Teacher Huo?”

“I can dance all of Corona’s dances,” Gu Shaochu said calmly, “In the provincial team, our physical training entertainment was to follow these dances.”

Their female coach was an absolute star-chasing fanatic, her eyes swollen like peaches from crying on the day they disbanded.

At midnight, the staff came to hurry them once more.

“I’ll be heading back then.” Bo Huan smiled and said goodbye to Han Yang, “You should come back to rest early too.”

“Yeah, thank you both for keeping me company for so long,” Han Yang bowed earnestly, “It’s been tough, I’ll consolidate a bit more.”

Gu Shaochu raised his hand to tie Bo Huan’s ponytail to the side, having become quite familiar with him unnoticeably.

“I’ll walk you back.”

Bo Huan smiled and glanced at him, “Aren’t we living across from each other?”

Mingzhu Hotel, Sunday evening at 7:30.

Huo Ren adjusted his tie in the car, his little finger trembling slightly as he got out.

“Stand by my side.” Pei Ruye also opened the car door for him, “Stay calm when you see Han Qu.”

“Patience and caution.” Huo Ren closed his eyes, “I know, you don’t need to worry.”

He had stayed here for a while, feeling it was bearable.

The time spent apart gradually extended to seven hours, the busy work occasionally making both forget this soul-deep connection.

Pei Ruye spent most of his day dealing with affairs at the company or attending meetings in different districts of Shi Du.

But as long as they could share lunch and dinner together, even just for a brief ten minutes, it served as a timely medicine for Huo Ren, offering some relief.

Sometimes, Huo Ren would harbor thoughts so childish they were extreme.

If only the pain would never disappear.

Then he could see his teacher every day, spend more time with him.

Unknowingly, he had gradually found himself in a life once completely occupied by work.

And his true feelings, denied and suppressed many times.

Now back in this city, everything Huo Ren saw reminded him of Corona’s past, then repeatedly of that lapse in responsibility and a missing piece.

If Xiao Chi were still here, they would probably be on their way to an international tour by now, perhaps traveling for a whole year, then bowing out happily to embark on different lives.

When they got out of the car, Pei Ruye took Huo Ren’s hand again, using the blind spot of their bodies.

“I’m here,” he whispered, “Relax.”

Huo Ren nodded quickly, gripping tightly for a moment before letting go and turning around, walking towards the flashing lights with a smile.

Tonight was the CITIZENS annual charity gala, a gathering moment for celebrities.

The organizers were CITIZENS and the currently popular Caibi Media, with Han Qu likely to make an appearance.

After walking the red carpet, guests gradually entered the reception area, holding their wine glasses and chatting with people nearby.

Mei Heng was absent tonight, only sending a quick message to the organizer.

Due to “Chosen by the Gods”, Huo Ren met him again, and because of Mei Shengyao, he felt so guilty he didn’t know how to apologize.

But Mr. Mei was always composed and gentle, even taking the initiative to embrace and comfort him.

“Shengyao has been recovering,” he sighed unconsciously, “Although the blow was too heavy and the doctor is also worried about his mental state, but… it will get better.”

“Ren Ren, you have your own life, don’t take all the responsibility on yourself.”

Independence was a rather vague concept two years ago.

Recalling the past, Huo Ren calmly interacted with the people who came to greet and comfort him.

Before they could speak much, a commotion not too far away caught their attention.

Several reporters ran over to snap photos, and gasps from female guests could be heard.

Huo Ren looked up, also freezing in place.

At that moment, across the sea of people, Mei Shengyao with his red hair and white clothes just happened to look over.

Two years apart, Mei Shengyao had become so thin that his cheekbones were prominent, his complexion pale and lips nearly colorless.

Yet, he dyed his hair a fire-like bright red, wearing three earrings on his right ear.

He stood there, slightly panicked, moving his lips, then quickly walked through the crowd towards Huo Ren.

Huo Ren instinctively moved to meet him, his heart once again clenched by guilt and pain.

The young man nearly crashed into his arms, embracing him tightly in front of all the cameras and eyes, fingers clenched to the point where the knuckles were distinct.

“Brother,” he said tremblingly, “Brother Ren…”

Pei Ruye quickly shielded them from the media, signaling Huo Ren to take him to a quiet corner outside the hall for a private talk.

Huo Ren tightly grasped Mei Shengyao’s wrist and led him away from the cameras, embracing him again in a secluded, dark corner.

“Shengyao,” he realized his brother was trying to restrain his emotions, reaching out to touch his cheek, “It’s okay to cry, there are no cameras here…”

At this moment, Mei Shengyao buried his face in Huo Ren’s shoulder, crying so hard that his entire body trembled.

Huo Ren kept wiping his cheeks, allowing his suit sleeve to get soaked.

“It’s my fault,” Huo Ren whispered, “Shengyao, I’ve been afraid to see you.”

If it hadn’t been for the first time the team split up without any incidents,

If it hadn’t been for their insistence that nothing happened all year,

If it hadn’t been for the approach of the New Year, just one more program to record before they could take a holiday break…

He would never have been so relaxed as to leave Chi Ji alone on the seventeenth floor.

Nor would he have allowed Corona to become a nightmare for the six of them.

Huo Ren didn’t know how to comfort or protect his youngest brother at this moment, standing up to look for a cup of warm water or a chair.

Just before he sensed his hand being released, Mei Shengyao tightened his embrace again.

“Brother,” the young man leaned in close to him, his voice hoarse from releasing all his emotions, “Chi Chi is with me.”

“Today, finally… his fingers moved.”