Chapter 51

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Chapter 51: I Want to Die, I Want to Die, I Want to Die

At this moment, the live room buzzed with excitement and chatter.

“I can’t stand it anymore! I’m a pretty girl too, and I want to be close to Honey Qing!”

“You’d better just stay as friends!”

“Ugh! A group of women behaving improperly! Listen to me carefully—no getting close!”

“You deserved that slap! Put your pants on! Are you trying to trip me?!”

These outrageous remarks, which would have surely made Chu Yuanqing faint, didn’t disrupt the lively atmosphere in the practice room.

Zhao Dapan let the trainees interact for a while before clapping his hands to signal the end of the break. He randomly called on a contestant to sing, skillfully defusing someone’s current predicament.

Chu Yuanqing let out a sigh of relief and obediently stayed quiet in her corner. She blinked as she watched the other contestants perform.

Although these eight trainees were only in Grade C, the Grade A players usually chose weaker ones for practice. The remaining contestants stayed because they were well-rounded in all aspects.

This was evident now.

The girls had clearly worked hard the night before. Their rendition of Candy was significantly better than their performance yesterday.

Thanks to their foundational training in voice, breathing, and breath control, none of them sang with a raw, unrefined voice like hers. Instead, they transformed their vocals into sweet and charming tones.

Their only flaw was their struggle to handle pressure. If a minor mistake disrupted the performance, their nerves were palpable. It was difficult for them to regain composure. However, since the lyrics and melody were simple, they managed to stumble through with ease.

Chu Yuanqing watched in admiration, feeling a pang of emotion.

The more she learned about idols, the more she realized how brutal the competition format was.

These trainees, who risked never stepping onto the stage of Dazzling Stage, had a purity of awareness, dreams, beliefs, and willpower that far surpassed the participants of regular talent shows.

For someone like her, who lacked any obsession with the stage, she felt unworthy of competing alongside these dedicated individuals.

Shame weighed heavily on Chu Yuanqing as she resolved to slip away at the first opportunity—get the money, pay the insurance, and deal with the aftermath.

After all, while she could use magic to restore the magical girl core to its original state before death, ensuring the corpse looked flawless, some insurance companies hired detective teams to investigate fraud. Fooling these professionals required careful planning.

Time slipped by.

Once Zhao Dapan had the trainees take turns singing Candy, he broke the song into parts, pointed out areas for improvement, and announced the end of class, allowing them to practice freely.

This was expected. Singing Candy wasn’t particularly challenging, so those with basic skills didn’t need constant guidance.

Dancing, however, was a different story. It demanded greater focus and practice.

The singing class ended quickly, and Chen Baijiu, wearing a fisherman’s hat, strolled lazily into the room. A female assistant accompanied him, discreetly correcting movements without drawing attention.

Chu Yuanqing, however, wasn’t content to just coast through.

Despite her desire to participate, her poor dancing skills meant she had to work harder. She feared becoming a burden to the other contestants during the big performance after the secondary ratings. A stage accident would only make things worse.

Worried about gaining too many fans from an exceptional performance?

That wasn’t a concern for Chu Yuanqing.

As the saying goes, practice makes perfect. Even though she’d lost 99.9% of her blessings and possessed a soul weaker than most, apart from a few magical tricks, she was no different from anyone else. Why should she outshine these young girls who truly loved the stage?

The idea was laughable. Even a Grade D dancer from Dazzling Stage could outperform her effortlessly.

So, she never aimed to excel in dancing.

To her, worrying about this felt like a form of arrogance.

Unsurprisingly, in dance class, she struggled to keep up with the other eight trainees.

Initially, she was fine with spending two hours slowly getting familiar with breaking down the movements.

However, once the dance was officially divided into parts and they began practicing together, Chen Baijiu couldn’t stay calm. For the next two agonizing hours, he incessantly criticized:

“Your movements are too stiff.”

“Chu Yuanqing, where is your coordination on stage?”

“The dance Candy is all about showcasing a girly and lovable style—it’s not tai chi or military training!”

“You can’t even keep up with such a simple beat. What will you do when singing and dancing?”

“Pay attention to controlling your breathing!”

“Don’t keep a straight face! Show some expressions! This is a girl group dance—facial expressions are fundamental. Let’s start with smiling!”

Compared to her disappointing performance, the other contestants, though not perfect, managed to keep up with the lesson’s pace.

After only two practice sessions, Chu Yuanqing was taken aside like a misbehaving student. With the help of a female assistant, she began training alone—a scene that was both awkward and oddly amusing.

The bullet comments in the live stream were filled with laughter, radiating a sense of joy.

Still, some viewers questioned her qualifications, arguing that someone with such poor dance skills shouldn’t participate in a global idol project. This sparked a heated debate in the comments.

Unaware of the chaos outside, Chu Yuanqing struggled to follow the beat. Clumsily, she worked through the choreography she had just learned, breaking it into manageable sections.

The moves weren’t the cool, neutral street dance style she might have handled better. Instead, they were a mix of jazz with isolations, leaning heavily into the sweet, classic girl group aesthetic.

While she managed the inward and outward motions adequately, the hip twisting, head turns, intricate hand gestures, and precise winks were entirely out of her comfort zone!

The female assistant teacher played the role of an unforgiving rhythm machine, her mechanical precision turning the once-sweet Candy into a nightmarish creature in Chu Yuanqing’s mind.

Embarrassment overwhelmed her. Her body felt heavy, her skin sticky with sweat, and her limbs refused to obey her commands. Even her “Heart Flow” dance routine—a move she usually found comfort in—seemed entirely out of reach. Her brain felt on the verge of shutting down.

I want to die, I want to die, I want to die.

I really want to die, I really want to die, I really want to die.

Was she truly going to perform this routine in front of everyone?

If Little Shu saw her like this, she’d probably want to disappear out of secondhand embarrassment!

Damn it, she thought. No matter how you look at it, making a middle-aged man dance something like this is too much, isn’t it?!

Despite her inner despair spilling over, her expression grew increasingly blank, like a lifeless puppet.

Yet, even as her retired-savior spirit flickered weakly, her unrelenting willpower carried her through the class.

By the end, Chu Yuanqing was drenched in sweat, her mind buzzing as she stood at the center of the studio. Slowly, she regained her composure, blinking her long eyelashes like a weary migratory bird yearning to return home. She awaited Chen Baijiu’s dismissal with quiet anticipation.

But in the next moment—

“Dream Weaver Rabbit says that to rehearse for the performance, everyone’s costumes need a little adjustment,” the mentor announced cheerfully.

He clapped his hands as a smart robot brought in a large box. Then, with a devilish grin, Chen Baijiu uttered a proclamation more terrifying than any monster or betrayal:

“For example, a short skirt.”