A Bolt from the Blue

“Behave once you’re inside.”

Fu Donghai wiped his eyes and patted both their heads, exuding a bizarre maternal tenderness–like a mother worrying about her child traveling abroad.

Ling Tinglan rolled his eyes speechlessly. “Uncle, we’re entering a talent show, not going to prison…”

According to the production team’s requirements, the trainees had to arrive at the filming base on their own, then board a designated bus, get off outside the base gates, and walk in on foot—all to facilitate the production team’s group shots.

That’s why Fu Donghai had splurged on their styling beforehand: eighty yuan per person for makeup and hair.

Jiao Wangshu remarked, “Even when I was a girl, I never wore this much makeup, especially around the eyes.” The template-style makeup always used reddish-brown tones, which, against his fair skin, only heightened the contrast between light and shadow, making his already perfect brow bones look even more sculpted and refined.

And Jiao Wangshu’s eyelashes were naturally long and thick. Coated with a heavy layer of mascara, they felt like a dark weight constantly flicking before his eyes, irritating his tear ducts until his eyes filled with tears. This made his eyes look even more like clear pools—and his already blurry vision even more hazy.

Ling Tinglan’s styling that day was particularly aloof. A sleeveless, tight tank top outlined his firm muscle lines, the contours of his abs peeking through with each movement. Over it, he wore a red leather jacket. The fiery color clashed oddly with the coldness he couldn’t hide expressionlessly, yet it gave him an unexpected, explosive coolness.

The two boarded the bus with the other trainees and chose two seats by the window. They shared one earphone each, listening to the song for their first stage—a Chinese version of a spicy K-pop track.

Originally, the two who were supposed to participate could at least manage some awkward dance moves in a livestream, and with the help of a sound card, they’d miraculously become “gods of song.” That’s why they’d picked such a difficult song.

But for Ling Tinglan and Jiao Wangshu, it was a bolt from the blue. Neither had any singing or dancing experience; Jiao Wangshu was especially tone-deaf, while Ling Tinglan could at least sing a few songs at karaoke.

They’d considered switching to a simpler ballad, but the contract with the production team had already decided on this song. If they changed it now, the team wouldn’t cover the licensing fee.

Who would have thought the most expensive part of participating in a show was the song license?

Clearly, they didn’t have that budget.

The choreography had been simplified compared to the original, but the tempo was still fast. They’d given up on keeping up with the choreography and were just cramming the lyrics before the deadline.

Once they put on their earphones, Ling Tinglan and Jiao Wangshu immersed themselves in memorizing the lyrics. Completely oblivious to their own presence, they had no idea how conspicuous they were—two people used to being invisible.

Around them, whispers kept drifting by, their meanings ambiguous:

“Which agency are those trainees from?”

“Move over a bit; standing next to them makes my legs look so short…”

Who says guys have no ulterior motives? At moments like this, their scheming brains work fast.

Some fixed their hair, others touched up their makeup, and still others silently straightened their backs, furtively adjusting their postures.

Soon the noise around grew louder. They looked out the window to see a crowd of people: unauthorized photographers, fansite masters, and fans who had camped out early.

A dark mass of people pressed together, a forest of long lenses and cameras. As far as the eye could see, there were only people.

This really showed that not everyone was cut out to be a star. Ling Tinglan and Jiao Wangshu had never experienced such a scene.

This was when being nearsighted became an advantage: since he couldn’t see clearly anyway, Jiao Wangshu was only briefly stunned before quickly recovering. But Ling Tinglan’s condition was more severe.

“I never thought I’d say this one day…”

“Really… So many people.”

The crowded throng and noise made his already dizzy mind even slower, causing an increasingly impatient expression on his face.

They squeezed in among the other trainees and got off the bus with the flow of people.

Instantly, camera flashes went off like machine guns—click, click, click! Ling Tinglan was startled and instinctively reached for the person who could calm him most.

He wrapped an arm around Jiao Wangshu, pressing his whole body against him.

Jiao Wangshu immediately sensed his unease and habitually linked arms with him in return.

But they both completely forgot that Ling Tinglan was no longer a 1.6-meter cute girl, but a 1.89-meter hulking man…

So the protective posture Jiao Wangshu had imagined turned into an indescribably intimate atmosphere in the eyes of outsiders.

The frequency of camera flashes noticeably increased.

Fu Donghai, fully disguised with a hat and mask, had snuck into the crowd of fansite masters and paparazzi. Before he could even react, he saw a young girl crouching nearby frantically pressing her camera shutter. He instinctively raised his own camera and took a few shots.

As the contestants entered the base, the noise behind them gradually faded.

The dorms had both four-person and six-person rooms. Naturally, trainees from the same company wanted to room together.

Popular contestants from a few big companies picked their rooms first, with cameramen following immediately. There were only so many camera crews, so not every trainee had a personal cameraman. In previous seasons, many trainees were eliminated without a single shot in the main show.

Ling Tinglan and Jiao Wangshu smoothly chose a four-person room. Expecting to leave in a few days, they had packed light—each carrying one bag with only the bare necessities.

They handed over their phones, secretly hid backup phones in their pillowcases, tidied up briefly, and waited for the staff to notify them.

Just then, a voice came from the door:

“Excuse me?”

“Is there still space in this room…”

They looked over to see a male trainee with chestnut hair standing at the door. His neatly combed hair gave him a docile look, and he was dragging a large suitcase, looking a bit awkward.

For a moment, Ling Tinglan and Jiao Wangshu didn’t even react.

Little did they know Li Shu, under the synchronized stare of those two, was equally panicked. Taihe Media had sent three people this time, and the six-person room they’d gone to had only two empty bunks left. So Li Shu, who was usually invisible in the company, had been pushed out.

Tears streaming in his heart, Li Shu thought: I’d rather have someone put a gun to my head than come here, but I’ve asked all the way, and this is the only room not full.

How could anyone look like that?

Li Shu even wondered if he was living in a comic book world. How else could their art styles be so different?

Back on the bus, he’d only dared glance at them from afar. Now, less than three meters away, Li Shu felt he couldn’t even breathe.

Anyone who chooses to be a trainee has at least some confidence in their appearance. Li Shu was no exception. Though not the kind to make heads turn at first sight, he had a neat, delicate look that elders liked. His overall looks were slightly above average. But standing next to those two, who would even notice him?

The other trainees thought the same, so they generally avoided walking near the pair to avoid being completely overshadowed in shots. It was just that Ling Tinglan and Jiao Wangshu, still not used to their new status as stunningly handsome men, were rather laid-back about the whole thing.

“Oh, there are two empty beds.”

Jiao Wangshu was the first to snap out of it. He smiled and replied, then gave Li Shu a hand with his suitcase, which looked heavy.

“Thanks, thanks, thanks…”

Li Shu was overwhelmed; the stream of gratitude flowed endlessly from his lips. Then he turned around and nearly got scared half to death.

Ling Tinglan’s eyes were like knives, glaring at him from behind like a ghost.

Help—

A ghost!

A ghost!!!