DYUTVOBGA Chapter 9

While the forum was buzzing with a new round of heated discussion due to leaked photos from the show, the 101 trainees of [NS] had already finished the red carpet shoot and entered the dressing rooms to begin hair and makeup preparations for their initial stage performances.

Most trainees had outfits arranged for them by their companies. Large companies like Wanming, Xinda, and BKL had even specially arranged styling teams for their trainees.

A few independent trainees had prepared their own performance outfits in advance. Only a very small number of trainees chose to borrow clothes from the show’s production team.

For example, Quentin really did not want to wear the system’s flowery clothes on stage. So, a few days before the recording, he privately contacted a member of the show’s production staff to apply for borrowing an average-sized black casual suit from the costume department’s stylists.

The stylist was unexpectedly enthusiastic. Rather than finding a random black suit, they carefully asked for Quentin’s measurements and promised to temporarily alter an Italian-style peaked lapel suit that had won an award at an international fashion show a few years prior. They even sent sample images from various angles.

Compared to the straight, gentlemanly cut of British suits and the casual, unrestrained style of American suits, Italian suits, with their lightweight and comfortable fabric, emphasize personal style more.

Just like the country of Italy itself, its fabric choices and cutting designs everywhere reflect lightness, freedom, and romance.

Quentin took the suit handed to him by the stylist and slipped it on deftly, then raised his hands to adjust the collar.

This suit had broader shoulders with a thin, rounded shoulder line. Rather than deliberately creating broad shoulders with padding, it pursued the wearer’s natural body lines.

In short, it heavily tested a man’s underlying physique.

Quentin obviously didn’t need to worry about this. The purple shirt and straight-leg suit pants he wore today were specifically chosen to match this suit.

“I feel like the shirt collar could be loosened… Yeah, just like that, let the tie be tied a bit looser.”

The stylist examined the young man before him with a serious expression, meticulously adjusting the details of his clothes: “Unbutton all the buttons on the shirt hem, tuck in one side, let a bit of the belt show… Wait, try this belt instead… Perfect, excellent!”

He smiled, pushing Quentin’s shoulders to sit him down at the makeup table: “The hairstyle will be as we discussed online the day before yesterday, a chill side part, completely exposing the brow area, then brush a few strands of hair onto the forehead.”

“Is this black hair dyed? Later, I’ll also use mascara to make your eyelashes black. Your overall look today is dark-toned. Although the golden eyelashes look good, they stand out too much.”

The man’s fingers traced over Quentin’s face, his eyes meeting the young man’s through the mirror. He couldn’t help but whisper in admiration: “Honey, you are too perfect.”

The dressing room was bustling with people coming and going. Staff members were busy everywhere, and the trainees, being prepped by the stylists, were seriously recalling the content of their initial stage performances.

The boy at the table next to Quentin kept opening and closing his lips, silently spitting out the lyrics like a machine gun. Even without sound, his rapid pace was audible through slight breathy noises.

His fingers on his thighs were still swaying to the beat, exuding a very cool, uninhibited underground rapper vibe.

“Mingzhu, the rap you’re performing later is a more explosive and dynamic style, right? I recommend wearing sunglasses on stage for the first half, then taking them off at the climax.”

The stylist explained: “Your eyes have sanbai (lower whites showing). When you look up at the camera, it will look very fierce. Paired with your rap lyrics, it will have a strong impact, creating a contrast with the simple coolness of wearing sunglasses. How about it? Do you want to try?”

Xue Mingzhu stopped muttering the rap lyrics: “Whatever, I’m fine with anything.”

The moment he opened his mouth, a unique pure bass voice came out. Anyone in rap knows how much a memorable, good voice can enhance a rapper.

Xue Mingzhu’s rap review was interrupted by the stylist. He pulled his attention away and looked at himself in the mirror: “….”

Tch, really can’t get used to it. Such thick powder, it feels like it’s not even as white as his bare face.

The stylist laughed: “This foundation isn’t thick. You probably didn’t wear much makeup before, right? You’re not used to having stuff on your face?”

The boy looked aloof, his brows and eyes rebellious. He said casually: “Yeah, no need. I don’t have pimples on my face anyway.”

“Indeed, it’s rare to see a guy with skin as good as yours,” the stylist agreed. “But the camera eats up a lot of makeup. If you don’t wear any, you’ll look pale. At least your skin tone still has a roughly matching foundation shade. Look at Quentin, he’s so white it’s hard to apply makeup properly.”

‘Quentin?’

‘Who is that?’

Xue Mingzhu subconsciously looked to the side and abruptly met the gaze of the boy in the mirror of the next makeup station. He blurted out.

“Fuck…why are your eyes green?!”

The black-haired, green-eyed boy gave him a faint glance and didn’t speak.

Xue Mingzhu: “The director said no wearing those… colored contacts for the initial stage, right? Are they natural? Oh, you’re mixed race, no wonder you’re so white.”

He raised one eyebrow. The black pupils occupied only one-third of his eyeballs, and when he focused on someone, it naturally carried a fierce, intimidating force.

Obviously, this person had a naturally mocking face. Just opening his mouth sounded like a provocation; he was practically born with a holy body of dissing.

Both Xue Mingzhu and Quentin were the type who gave a strong sense of distance at first glance. The former had sanbai eyes, the latter had eyebrows pressing down on his eyes…each fiercer than the last.

But in true comparison, Xue Mingzhu looked a bit younger. The fierceness on his face was somewhat bratty, with the immaturity of an 18-year-old boy not fully grown into his features.

As for Quentin, needless to say, the face of a top visual appeared as a finished product from the start. The double buff of mixed race and rebirth gave him a calm composure beyond his years, naturally carrying an aura of coldness and aloofness.

Quentin originally had his eyes downcast, conversing with the system in his mind. Suddenly hearing the constant voice from the side, he turned his head and lifted his gaze to meet Xue Mingzhu’s eyes, and said lazily, “Hmm… So?”

Xue Mingzhu was stunned. He narrowed his eyes, and openly looked Quentin up and down with his gaze.

After a long moment, he drawled, “Wow…a voice demon.”

Quentin: “…”

Xue Mingzhu pressed on relentlessly: “What’s your name again, Qu… Quentin? Quentin? A foreign name?”

“Do you rap? It would be a shame not to rap with a voice like that.”

He changed the subject: “I’ve been rapping since elementary school. I won the national rap competition youth division championship at 15, and made it to the top four in a rap show at 16. I was the youngest among all the rappers back then.”

“I’m 18 now, and my skills have improved a lot!”

The boy raised his chin: “Do you want to team up with me for the performance stages later? I’ll carry you!”

Quentin stared at Xue Mingzhu, who remained frank and open under his gaze, even continuing to meet his eyes with fierce intensity.

Like a puppy with its back arched and fur puffed up, its eyes full of eager anticipation as if seeing a meaty bone.

He wasn’t unfamiliar with such a gaze.

When he first became famous in his previous life, he encountered many senior musicians who were shocked and appreciative of his talent and wanted to invite him to collaborate.

Unfortunately, he was later suppressed by several companies, forced to shoulder many unclear and black material, and he could never return to that simple mentality and environment.

He could read the emotions from Xue Mingzhu’s eyes; this person was serious.

He really wanted to “carry him.”

Quentin… had never experienced being treated as a “weakling” and taken care of before.

“Alright,” he replied calmly. “I’m not a rapper, but I know a little.”

“Snap!”

Xue Mingzhu leaned back in his chair, his left hand resting on the armrest. He pinched his fingers and made an extremely loud snap.

He sounded very happy, vowing confidently: “No problem, I’ll teach you when the time comes!”

…..

After the hair and makeup for all 101 trainees were done, the head director came to arrange everyone’s entry in order.

“We’ll go in team by team. Everyone stand with your teammates! Those performing alone, stand on the left!”

The middle-aged, balding director shouted through a megaphone: “Enter in order of age! When you hear your name, walk to the preparation room to put on your name tags inside! There’s an assistant director in the room who will tell you the subsequent rules! After putting on your name tags, go directly out through the other door! Outside is the place for the initial stage performance!”

“Let me say it again, don’t waste time in the preparation room! The mentors are all waiting backstage! Everyone, move quickly!”

“First, group one, independent trainees…”

“Quentin, Xue Mingzhu, Yang Siyi, Liao Fei!”

Quentin stepped out from the crowd. Xue Mingzhu, who was already standing to his left, also stepped out simultaneously.

He raised an eyebrow at Quentin and whistled: “…What a coincidence.”

The director glared at him: “Don’t dawdle! Hurry up!”

The four boys quickly walked into the preparation room under the director’s urging. Upon entering, they saw name tags for the four of them placed on the table.

The assistant director was a big sister with a gentle demeanor. She stood by the table and waved to the boys: “Come, everyone stand in front of the table facing the camera. Put on your name tags first, then pay attention to the rules posted on the wall.”

“After you go in later, there will be four classes: A, B, C, and F. You can freely choose which class to sit in, but please note…”

“Trainees who choose Class A, if their initial stage rating is not A, will directly fall to Class F.”

“Trainees who choose Classes B, C, or F, if their initial stage rating does not match the chosen class, will be placed in the class corresponding to their rating. For example, if you choose Class B but the mentors rate you as A, then you can also go to Class A.”

“Reminding everyone, the maximum number for Class A is 7, the same as the number of final debut spots.”

The assistant director sister continued after seeing all four had put on their name tags: “The above are the rules for seat selection later. Next, you can say a few competitive words to the camera, or give a remark. Starting with Quentin in order.”

The other three turned to look at the black-haired boy on the far right.

His face showed no surprise at being suddenly named. Instead, he naturally lifted his gaze to the two-way mirror in front of him; the camera was hidden behind the mirror.

The close-up shot captured his long, distinct eyelashes. His light green pupils reflected another version of himself. He seemed to be looking directly at the audience behind the camera, and also seemed to be making eye contact with the boy reflected in the mirror.

A staff member standing to the side of the table aimed a camera at Quentin’s profile, completely capturing this scene reminiscent of Narcissus falling in love with his reflection in water.

In Greek mythology, the most handsome man drowned after falling in love with his own reflection. After death, the gods, pitying him, transformed him into the aloof and solitary narcissus flower.

And this 17-year-old boy before them, simply by making eye contact with his mirror image, easily evoked that classic myth…if Narcissus had lake-green eyes, one could imagine they would rival Quentin’s.

“My target is Class A.”

The boy’s light tone revealed an arrogance that asked, “who else but me?” Yet, set against this face, it became extremely persuasive.

He raised his eyebrows slightly, curled his lips, and said: “I need your support. Please vote for me.”

“…”

Everyone present, including the director, suddenly had the same thought;

Foul! This guy is publicly seducing the audience! So foul!

Xue Mingzhu, who was standing next to him, turned his head back a beat late, his face sour. A few seconds later, he said, “Ah… My target is also Class A.”

He suppressed the impulse to raise his hand and grab his hair, only glaring at the camera with his intense, intimidating eyes: “I will use my strength to prove that I am qualified to debut in the group.”

“If the final debut spots don’t include me,” the boy snorted, “it will definitely be everyone’s regret. So, please support me..”

He changed his words: “…And this Quentin next to me. Please vote for us!”

Yang Siyi, who was next in line, felt his heart tighten nervously. He wanted to cry but had no tears: “It’s over, these two are so confident. How do they manage to say such things so naturally? What should I do?!”

He didn’t plan to choose Class A. Falling from A to F would be too embarrassing. No matter what, choosing Class B was the safest bet!

Yang Siyi took a deep breath, put on a smile, and faced the camera: “For me, what’s important isn’t the result, but the process of striving with all my might for my ideal. Everyone watching behind the screen, I will work hard to show you my determination. Please vote for me!”

‘Ughhh so cringeee, what lines are you reciting, Yang Siyi! So lame!’

Liao Fei, the last to speak, pursed his lips and said seriously: “I know everyone is still unfamiliar with me. Every day from now on, I will work hard to make everyone remember me. Please remember me. I am Liao Fei, the ‘Fei’ in extraordinary. Please vote for me!”