Wake Up, This is Not a Dating Show! Chapter 5

Chapter 5 Initial Stage (Part 2) “The stage is the most important.”…

Looking at the lot Yi Xingzhi handed over, Ye Nai was reminded of when he was a kid staring at the candy in other people’s hands, making the other party feel so awkward that they had no choice but to ask if he wanted a piece too.

Back then, he held back and didn’t accept it, let alone now.

Besides, he could already tell that the lot said “1”. It was impossible to just push it onto Yi Xingzhi and make him go on stage first in his place, right?

“No need, this is fine,” Ye Nai steeled his heart and said.

“Okay.”

Yi Xingzhi didn’t say more. He pulled his hand back and opened his own slip of paper. Written on it was a “4”.

Harboring a sliver of desperate hope that he had misread it, Ye Nai slowly unfolded his own.

Perfect. Without any surprises, a massive, glaring “1” occupied the entire piece of paper.

“Damn,” he cursed softly. “What peerless European Emperor luck.”

Hearing this, everyone else looked at the number in his hand.

Pei Ze couldn’t hold it back and laughed out loud. Knowing it was inappropriate, he covered it up with a bout of tactical coughing and said, “Outstanding individuals are often destined to shoulder the mission of being the vanguard.”

“I’m scheduled right after you,” Fu Tingyuan said. “As someone who benefits from this, I won’t say much.”

Yuan Lei patted Ye Nai’s shoulder. “It’s fine. Luck is a zero-sum game, good luck will come in the next round.”

Yin Tianhan chimed in, “Who knows, maybe the moment you go up, the stage will explode with energy, and the audience will be throwing their votes at you.”

Truthfully, none of the people present lacked performance experience. Who didn’t know how incredibly difficult opening the show was and how disadvantageous the situation would be?

Ye Nai was not comforted in the slightest. He only felt that it was a terrible start. But when he lifted his eyes, he saw that not too far away, Yi Xingzhi—the only one who hadn’t spoken—was watching him, the depths of his eyes like a tranquil lake.

“The stage is the most important.”

The crisp, cool voice rang out, as if possessing the magic to calm a person’s heart.

The irritation filling Ye Nai’s heart instantly dissipated, and his thoughts gradually cleared.

He was absolutely right. Wasn’t that his original intention for coming here? What was a mere performance order or a preliminary stage ranking worth?

“Salute.” He gave a salute gesture.

Although Yi Xingzhi didn’t say much, he always hit the nail dead on the head. What would he be like on stage? Would he also radiate a sharp edge amidst such calmness?

Ye Nai was just getting curious when he heard the host announce that there would be pre-performance interviews conducted according to the guests’ order of appearance. He became the very first person to be questioned.

“Nyle, you drew the lot to perform first right off the bat. How are you feeling? Are you nervous?” the host asked.

“In a bad mood,” Ye Nai answered truthfully, not caring in the least, “but not nervous.”

“After all, everyone knows about your bet. Don’t you feel any pressure about what happens if you don’t win the competition?”

The other guests on the side hadn’t expected the host to be so blatantly direct and exchanged glances with each other, but Ye Nai wasn’t surprised. Zhuolai Media was deeply versed in the ways of generating traffic; how could they pass up such an opportunity to fan the flames?

“There’s definitely pressure, but that will only make me perform better,” he said with certainty.

“It seems you’re a competition-oriented contestant. When you won the championship before, your performance in the finals was especially brilliant.” The host had clearly done his homework. “Would you like to predict your ranking for this initial stage?”

Ye Nai instantly recognized the trap dug by this question.

With the bet looming over him, he couldn’t predict a low rank. But if he predicted too high and didn’t achieve it in the end, it would be extremely embarrassing. However, avoiding the topic wasn’t his style either.

Just as he was pondering how to respond, Yi Xingzhi, who was sitting next to him, suddenly spoke up: “No one has even taken the stage yet. What are we basing predictions on? Imagination?”

Yuan Lei let out a laugh and also spoke his mind frankly, “Don’t tell me every single one of us has to answer this question? Let me state this right now: my imagination is terrible, I won’t be able to answer.”

The host hadn’t anticipated this batch of guests would be so hard to manage. For a moment, he drew a blank and failed to follow up.

Seeing that the two had smoothly bailed him out, Ye Nai tilted his chin towards them in gratitude, then continued answering, “Let’s skip the predictions. As for goals, I’m definitely aiming for the top two. I’m sure everyone sitting here has the exact same answer.”

The host couldn’t press the issue any further and had to move on to the next interviewee.

Perhaps realizing that the people present were not pushovers, the subsequent questions were all very standard, with no more monkey business involved.

It wasn’t until after interviewing Yi Xingzhi that the host—seemingly truly unwilling to let an opportunity slip by—tacked on another sentence: “This is your first official stage since going solo, right? Is there anything special you’d like to say?”

At first listen, the words sounded very ordinary, but in reality, they seamlessly highlighted Yi Xingzhi’s predicament—that he had no stage opportunities after leaving the Feidu band.

Undoubtedly, he was fabricating a topic again, wanting to incite the audience to discuss the disbandment of Feidu.

Yi Xingzhi’s eyelashes lowered, and his lip line pulled straight. As if recalling something, he didn’t answer immediately.

“Not really,” Ye Nai preempted. “He’s performed several live shows offline. He was at the Jinping Music Festival I attended a while ago too.”

Yi Xingzhi turned his head to look at him, a trace of surprise in his eyes.

In truth, Ye Nai was simply disgusted by the host’s malicious hype.

Bringing up this topic would inevitably attract curses from the audience accusing Yi Xingzhi of backstabbing his teammates and abandoning his band, when it still couldn’t be confirmed at all whether this was true or false.

“I don’t have anything I want to say.” Yi Xingzhi’s tightly pursed lips relaxed a bit, and a clear, piercing light shone in his eyes. “Once I’m on stage, I’ll let the music speak.”

Because it was a live broadcast, the production team didn’t give the guests too much time to prepare. Ye Nai barely had time to rapidly run through the song in his head before it was his turn to take the stage.

On the walk from the backstage to the main stage, the cameraman followed him closely the entire way. The corridor was long, narrow, and dim. Only a slanted beam of light hit him, highlighting the handsome, sharp contours of his face and casting a three-dimensional silhouette of his side profile on the wall.

The style of discussion in the bullet screen varied greatly.

[Nobody told me Ye Nai looked like this before! Even his shadow is this handsome?!]

[I don’t care about the rest, let me just be a pure face fan for one second!]

[Such a handsome guy, why did he have to grow a mouth?]

[Nyle grew a mouth specifically to rap, he’s a heaven-chosen rapper, got a problem with that?]

[If having no class and knowing how to curse makes you a rapper, wouldn’t all the grandpas and grandmas at the village entrance be rap stars?]

At this moment, Ye Nai was completely unaware of these discussions. The only thing he could see was the bright light belonging to the stage at the end of the corridor, acting like a silent summons.

As he made his appearance, the audience erupted in cheers and screams. Light boards bearing his name were held high and waved around, and glow sticks connected into a brilliant sea of stars.

The new song Ye Nai wrote for the initial stage was called “Right or Wrong.”

As the intro began, the lights flickered in time with the rhythm, alternating between bright and dim. The entire venue gradually quieted down.

With a loud boom, all the lights vanished completely. The music abruptly halted, and absolute silence swallowed the surroundings.

Following immediately was another beat, and the spotlight above Ye Nai’s head snapped on, bathing his entire figure in the beam of light. His voice and the instrumental track kicked in synchronously at this exact moment.

“How do you distinguish right from wrong, find the longitude and latitude within your heart? How do you maintain a clear conscience, ignoring the fearful power of rumors? The colors of the world are never just black and white, and the standards of judgment aren’t just strictly wrong or right.”

The large lyrics sprawled across the screen. The highly rhythmic arrangement was insanely catchy, and the interwoven drumbeats contained Ye Nai’s characteristic sense of power, instantly dragging the audience into his flow.

“Meeting a wounded person on the street, do you help or pretend you don’t care? Seeing bullying happen, do you stop it or turn a blind eye? Running into a criminal, do you flee or bravely intervene? The price paid for upholding justice, is it truly worth it or far too expensive?”

Many of Ye Nai’s songs included deep explorations of social topics, invoking resonance and thought through realistic problems. This song was no exception.

“Who says choosing the safe, smooth path is the only right way? Who says opposition without results is entirely in vain? Who says the finger-pointing of bystanders watching from the wall is far more noble? Who says a reckless adventure is just the ignorance of the fearless?”

The chorus featured a series of rhetorical questions that struck straight at the heart, allowing the audience to become increasingly emotionally invested.

Ye Nai had undergone professional vocal training, so his singing skills were on par with professional singers. His vocal tone was clear, bright, and sharp, carrying a strength that felt capable of breaking free from all shackles.

The rhythm of the second verse and chorus mirrored the first, but the lyrics were entirely new, continuously layering and stacking the conveyed emotions.

The stage lights also grew increasingly blinding white, as if wanting to lay a person bare and illuminate them, shining straight into the depths of their soul.

Nearing the end was a high-intensity segment of rapid-fire rap.

“They say turning a blind eye and a deaf ear are the perfect match, as long as tragedy doesn’t fall on oneself, one can sleep deeply without a care. But when the world is left with nothing but cold bystanders and criminals who dare to sin in broad daylight, who else can we count on to step forward without hesitation to fiercely defend what is right?”

Although this segment was incredibly fast, Ye Nai’s enunciation was exceptionally crisp. Even without looking at the lyrics, one could hear it with absolute clarity.

Coupled with his body movements and hand gestures seamlessly matching the rhythm, it simultaneously bombarded everyone’s visual and auditory nerves.

His musical style maintained its usual aggressiveness; it was like a sharp weapon that hadn’t been blunted in the slightest just because he was on a variety show.

As it neared its conclusion, the impact slightly decelerated, yet it became extraordinarily thought-provoking.

“When playing it safe is crowned with the highest praise, when the cries of the ignored finally deafen the ears, how many will still dare to say they’ve long understood, what is wrong, and what is right?”

The lights extinguished, and the audience could no longer clearly see the person on stage. Yet the final question still echoed in their ears, lingering for a long, long time.

After a brief silence, thunderous applause and roars erupted across the venue.

The netizens watching the livestream were equally boiling with excitement.

[Holy sh*t, that was absolutely amazing and explosive! His handsomeness hit me right in the face ahhhh!!!]

[So stunning right from the opening? How are the people after him supposed to follow that, my god!]

[Why can’t you drag the progress bar on a livestream? I want to watch this on loop!]

[Who on earth was mocking him for having no skills? I fxcking almost believed it!]

Ye Nai stood in the darkness. The rapid breathing from his performance hadn’t completely settled yet. Before his eyes were the scattered dots of glow sticks in the audience, and his whole being was enveloped by the tidal wave of overwhelming cheers.

Regardless of the result, he had thoroughly enjoyed this stage to his heart’s content, and he had performed to the absolute best of his abilities. He had no regrets.

When the lights came back on, the host began reminding the audience not to forget to cast their votes, initiating the final countdown.

Since Ye Nai was the first to perform, according to the rules, his vote count would be announced immediately. After a round of drumrolls meant to build atmosphere and suspense, a number appeared on the big screen: 856.

There were a total of one thousand audience members in the venue. This vote count seemed quite high, but there was currently no other data to serve as a comparison or reference, and no one was clear on exactly what tier this level represented.

The big screen cut to the other guests backstage.

Aside from Fu Tingyuan, who was already waiting off-stage and wasn’t in the shot, Pei Ze looked amazed, seemingly not expecting the votes to be this high. Yin Tianhan was clapping and praising with sighs of admiration, while Yuan Lei commented, “The pressure is on all of us now.”

Yi Xingzhi, however, showed absolutely no reaction. He merely watched the real-time broadcast on the backstage screen quietly, completely out of tune with the lively atmosphere around him, making it hard to tell what he was thinking.

Could it be that my performance didn’t meet his expectations?

Harboring such guesses, Ye Nai returned backstage, only to find that Yi Xingzhi was the very first person to stand up and applaud for him. Although he didn’t say a single word and had no particular expression on his face, the gaze cast from those deep eyes was firmly locked onto him.

The others also successively stood up and joined in the applause.

Yuan Lei: “Respect!”

Yin Tianhan: “Amazing, truly amazing.”

Though Pei Ze was somewhat reluctant, out of respect for a good performance, he still clapped for him.

There were many empty seats backstage; from the very beginning, seating had been completely random.

Ye Nai could have easily chosen the seat closest to himself, yet he was inexplicably drawn in by Yi Xingzhi’s gaze. He walked over and sat back down right next to him.

No sooner had he sat down securely than the next performer, Fu Tingyuan, had already taken the stage.

Under the dim lighting, his tall figure appeared even more steady and mature, resembling a silent, distant mountain.

When the lights flared up, they illuminated the unique sobriety between his brows, as if he intended to view this world from an entirely unparalleled perspective.

Fu Tingyuan was going to sing the wildly popular theme song of a massive hit drama. The original singer was well-known, but the audience had strongly advocated for him to cover it as the leading actor.

This was his first time performing it publicly, so it could be considered fulfilling the public’s wishes.

Sure enough, the moment the intro dropped, many people in the venue recognized the song and screamed in excitement.

Though Fu Tingyuan was an actor, his vocal conditions were on par with professional singers, and he had frequently sung insert songs for the dramas he starred in. This time, his rendition was exceptionally on point, quickly plunging the audience into his singing.

When it hit the chorus, it evolved into a grand spectacle of a venue-wide sing-along. The screen played the high-energy, iconic scenes from the drama, instantly pulling everyone back into the plot, making them feel as if they had returned to the summer when that drama was heavily airing.

Even though the votes hadn’t been tallied yet, Ye Nai already had a bad premonition in his heart.

“Do you guys think this will surpass Nyle’s?” Yin Tianhan asked.

“Hard to say, really,” Yuan Lei answered frankly. “The live atmosphere is just way too good. Plus, the character he played was so immensely popular, that should add a lot of impression points, right? The inherent popularity that an actor brings is basically a cheat code.”

“You can’t really say it like that either,” Pei Ze said objectively. “In voting matters like this, it’s always been like the Eight Immortals crossing the sea, each showing their own special prowess.”

Though Ye Nai wanted to refute it, he knew this was indeed the truth, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit stifled.

If he had come to participate in this show right after he first won his championship, he wouldn’t have had to worry about popularity at all, but now…

“It’s true, popularity is also a part of one’s strength,” Yi Xingzhi said mildly.

Hearing him say this as well, Ye Nai felt even more suffocated. Just as he was feeling he had nowhere to vent it, he saw him turn his head to look over, taking a sharp turn in the conversation.

“However, I feel that live voting cannot be used as an absolute standard of judgment.” Yi Xingzhi’s eyes were as tranquil as water, reflecting Ye Nai’s silhouette. “A truly good stage will definitely never be buried.”