Chapter Seventy: The Results of the Rehearsal

For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, Cai Chengyu simply despised people like Ren Qian—those pretty faces with no real talent, who had climbed to their current positions solely on the strength of their family backgrounds. Parasites. Scum. Degenerates. Animals. Spoiled brats. Cai Chengyu fumed with indignation.

Why did that Ren Qian kid, barely in his twenties, dare to treat Director Hong Tao as a peer? Power and influence? Deep connections? To hell with all that—it was downright nauseating! So what if he had power and influence? He’d still have to bow his head when confronting Cai Chengyu. The memory of Ren Qian’s retreat during their previous encounters filled Cai Chengyu with smug satisfaction.

Now, with the media’s openness and transparency, Cai Chengyu felt invincible. No matter how formidable Ren Qian’s background, he wouldn’t dare play dirty tricks against him. Besides, as a man destined to become a heavyweight in the entertainment industry—someone whose talent outshone other singers by a mile, with the potential to ascend to the throne of a superstar—why should he fear Ren Qian’s petty schemes?

In fact, he hoped Ren Qian would try something underhanded; then he could gather evidence, expose him through the media, and utterly ruin his reputation!

Cai Chengyu muttered curses as he strode toward the broadcast hall. If he was going to make trouble for Ren Qian, he might as well go all out. The broadcast hall was crowded and chaotic—singers, cameramen, musicians, backstage staff—over a hundred people. Humiliating Ren Qian in front of everyone, making him unbearably uncomfortable, would be all the more satisfying.

He relished the thought of that pampered second-generation rich kid soon being so embarrassed he’d lose his composure—maybe even disgrace himself. Cai Chengyu felt a surge of pleasure at the prospect.

He remembered how, last time, he’d used reverse psychology to destroy another young heir, who was still languishing in prison. Ren Qian, with little social experience, would be dealt with just as quickly.

Lost in these fantasies, Cai Chengyu was suddenly blocked by a figure.

“Well, well, where is our little superstar off to?” Ren Qian looked at Cai Chengyu with a half-smile, half-smirk. When choosing singers, he’d focused so much on ability, he’d neglected to consider character—a costly mistake.

If only Cai Chengyu had shown a bit of restraint and not always wore that sour expression when meeting Ren Qian, perhaps Ren Qian would have let him have a minor role and moved on. But Cai Chengyu insisted on acting as though he ruled the world and didn’t even acknowledge Ren Qian, so Ren Qian could only respond in kind.

“Hmph!” Cai Chengyu was momentarily at a loss; this was not how he’d envisioned the scene.

He had imagined himself swaggering into the broadcast hall, immediately capturing everyone’s attention. Then, a female singer in rehearsal, mesmerized by his presence, would hand him the microphone. Next, he’d stand center stage and deliver a rousing speech, each line powerful and stirring, igniting the crowd before he even finished. Everyone would flock to his side and begin criticizing Ren Qian.

Finally, the outnumbered rich kid would be so flustered and irrational that a video of the incident would be recorded and posted online—forcing Ren Qian to leave Jiangnan TV in disgrace.

But unexpectedly, he’d run into Ren Qian here, and for a moment, all he could manage was a cold snort.

“As your senior, I must warn you, young man—don’t be too flashy. Don’t try to run before you’ve learned to walk. If you break your leg, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

There’s an old saying: ‘A boy without facial hair is unreliable.’ That’s exactly the kind of immature kid you are!”

Ren Qian chuckled coldly at this. Cai Chengyu was like a mangy dog lurking in a gutter: the more you show weakness, the more fiercely he barks. If you throw him a bone, he’ll wag his tail and beg for mercy. Of course, there was a simpler, more brutal method of taming such creatures.

As the saying goes: “A vicious dog obeys only a heavy stick.” If you beat it hard enough, it’ll submit; but if you go easy, it won’t fear you and will bear a grudge. Given Ren Qian’s status and public image, he couldn’t afford to tear off his mask for the sake of this clown.

So he chose to throw the cur some dog food—laced with poison.

“Oh, you really are astute, little superstar. But tell me, who really benefits from the shortened rehearsal schedule? Can’t you see?

Everyone else’s competition song was assigned by me—they need time to familiarize themselves and rehearse. But you, King Cai, picked your own song.

You don’t need nearly as much rehearsal time. That’s your greatest advantage! Think about it: while the other singers are underprepared, you’re fully ready. Your talent is already exceptional, and with ample preparation, you’ll be rested and poised—who could possibly rival you? Winning first place would be effortless.

On a high-rated show, if you keep winning first place, just imagine how great your influence will become! Have you considered who stands to gain the most from the reduced time?”

Ren Qian’s analysis left Cai Chengyu speechless. On reflection, it made perfect sense: cutting rehearsal and rest time wouldn’t affect him at all, but other singers might struggle.

So Ren Qian wasn’t acting recklessly—he was actually looking out for Cai Chengyu. It seemed his superstar potential, his kingly aura, was beginning to show—even the rich kids were trembling.

“Brother Ren Qian, haha, I like how sensible you are. What I said earlier was just in the heat of the moment, but I was only looking out for you, wasn’t I?”

Ren Qian shrugged indifferently, waved Cai Chengyu off, and strode into Director Hong Tao’s office without a backward glance. Though he appeared amiable, he had long since labeled Cai Chengyu as a hopeless fool—and the worst kind, utterly lacking in self-awareness.

For that reason, Cai Chengyu was nothing more than a street ruffian, tiresome and unruly.

If Ren Qian showed him any hostility, used his authority to insult or suppress him, Cai Chengyu would undoubtedly make a scene—even disrupt the live “I Am a Singer” show.

At this stage, Ren Qian wanted to avoid even the slightest rumor against him.

Not a whisper!

…

After one round of rehearsal, Ren Qian and Director Hong Tao entered the broadcast hall to review the singers.

“A day has passed—how are you all doing? Let’s have another rehearsal so we can see the results,” Director Hong approached the singers and spoke quietly, while Ren Qian sat calmly in the front row as an observer.

The six singers—Sha Pu Liang, Sun Mu Nan, Hu Yan Bin, Xu Zhi Qian, Murong Xue, and Zhang Nian Wei—huddled together to discuss, then Sun Mu Nan stepped onto the stage. It seemed he would be the first to showcase his progress.

Ren Qian remembered he’d chosen Jay Chou’s “Chrysanthemum Terrace” for Sun Mu Nan—a song that fit the theme of paying tribute to classic singers with ancient style, and was iconic in its own right. Combined with Sun Mu Nan’s nasal singing style, it would likely evoke a heart-rending, melancholic atmosphere.

The band was ready, the lighting crew was ready, the singer was ready. Everyone watched in anticipation.