Chapter 60
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Chapter 60: Secondary Rating, the Giant-Beast-Like Stage
The next morning.
Under the influence of the first episode of ‘Dazzling Stage’, Chu Yuanqing’s Weibo followers increased at a terrifying speed, reaching five million overnight—nearly tripling.
Typically, among five million Weibo followers, after excluding inactive accounts, fake followers, haters, marketers, ads, and giveaway participants, there’s hardly anything left. A single Weibo post might not even get a thousand likes.
But consider this: Chu Yuanqing hasn’t even debuted yet—she’s not officially in the industry. The first episode had such a huge overnight impact. When ‘Dazzling Stage’ ends, won’t her fan base expand to tens of millions, rivaling A-list celebrities?
Furthermore, even setting aside these prospects, this account differs from those with artificially inflated followers. Chu Yuanqing’s Weibo account maintains a high ratio of active followers, which is unusual both in terms of economic benefits and fan authenticity.
Even if she were eliminated now, with five million genuine fans, she could quickly transition into an internet celebrity or artist, earning enough to live worry-free.
Of course, for Chu Yuanqing’s fans, witnessing her elimination would be devastating—like watching a loved one shatter into pieces.
This potential ending for Chu Yuanqing could only be described as epic; the mere thought of it brings tears, making it especially heart-wrenching.
Meanwhile, in hundreds of fan support groups, followers who stayed up late watching her Weibo numbers climb celebrated as if they’d won a holy war. Feeling the emotion of watching a loved one grow up, tears welled in their eyes as they shouted passionate slogans.
Xu Ling lurked in a fan support group of 2,000 people, earnestly declaring: “This is a small step for Honey Qing to become a world-class idol, but a giant leap for our ‘Yuanxiao Group’ in helping Honey Qing debut!”
The Lantern Festival (Yuanxiao Festival) name was chosen by fans through the character “Yuan” in Chu Yuanqing’s name. Due to its auspicious meaning and beautiful implications, it gained almost overnight acceptance among most fans.
Now, Chu Yuanqing’s fans called themselves either “Little Yuanxiao” or “Yuanxiao Group”—the former being endearing, the latter suggesting an exclusive club. The fandom had developed a cohesion and organization vastly different from the previous day, with a clear structural outline emerging.
This transformation occurred because the first episode attracted not just casual fans, but dedicated supporters and industry insiders. Their rich experience in establishing idol fan clubs meant basics like choosing names, uniting scattered fans, and organizing activities came naturally—once committed, they poured their hearts into it.
From an omniscient perspective, it seemed almost comical that while the main character still slept, the outside world rallied under her name, engaging in fierce abstract battles.
The fans in the support group remained unaware, still worrying about their sleeping idol.
“I think there’s a high chance—the first episode broke industry viewership records. The production team confirmed the live broadcast format is beneficial; it wouldn’t make sense not to capitalize on this peak traffic.”
“I hope Honey Qing can achieve Grade B.”
“We shouldn’t set expectations too high—it might pressure Honey Qing.”
“True. Although Honey Qing works hard, so do the other contestants. With her foundation, maintaining her current rating would already be a victory.”
Some fans expressed sadness: “It breaks my heart that Honey Qing clearly loves the stage so much yet has to pretend she doesn’t in public.”
Others theorized: “In Honey Qing’s world, she’s never had the privilege of being willful. She’s grown accustomed to compromising, retreating, adapting to reality. Even when she truly loves something, she feels compelled to hide it, not wanting others to see her true feelings.”
Xu Ling, eyes wet, sniffled and said: “Honey Qing’s maturity comes from having to care for herself early on—planning for the future, working hard for survival. She couldn’t remain naive.”
“She couldn’t afford pretty dresses, makeup, snacks, or a carefree life. Life forced her to struggle; reality made her feel inferior…”
“Maintaining a calm, composed attitude without arrogance became her only way to preserve dignity.”
“That’s why, while other contestants break down crying during interviews, Honey Qing doesn’t. She’s insecure but stubborn, preferring to process these emotions alone late at night rather than show vulnerability before cameras.”
After these words, the group members imagined Chu Yuanqing quietly wiping tears under her covers. They collectively broke into tears, composing emotional essays, metaphorically poking each other with glass shards and iron thorns, promoting angst-filled fan fiction, spiraling into chaos. The discussion concluded with “Honey Qing must still be training hard, right?”—triggering widespread emotional responses.
Notably, mastermind Xu Ling quietly departed after posting her remarks, heading to scout the fan support group dedicated to Little Sakura and Honey Qing’s pairing.
Throughout the night, Kirimi Miyuki and Chu Yuanqing’s relationship gained even more traction.
As the blogger who introduced this pairing, Xu Ling had already filled eight chat groups of 2,000 members each. The shared stories grew increasingly abstract, filled with creative interpretations. New fan fiction emerged daily, focusing on their imagined romance.
Before long, an announcement appeared on “Dazzling Stage’s” official website, revealing plans to livestream the entire secondary rating process.
At noon, Xu Ling rose, donned her blue-light blocking glasses, ordered an iced Americano via Meituan, restarted her computer, hugged her dinosaur plushie, and clicked the livestream link.
Comment floods overwhelmed the screen, barely allowing visibility of the actual content. Popular contestants received waves of cheers amid quirky modern internet culture expressions.
However, the livestream didn’t show the 168 trainees. Instead, it featured “Dazzling Stage’s” mentors alongside the much-discussed Dream Weaver Rabbit:
Leading actress Luo Siling
Renowned songwriter Zhao Dapan
Domestic rap sensation Jiang Chi
World-class choreographer Chen Baijiu
The four sat at an elegant white round table, watching the screen before them with varying expressions of resignation, seriousness, and solemnity—like judges determining fate.
Dream Weaver Rabbit, maintaining its characteristic smile, warmly greeted viewers despite comment section criticism. It began explaining:
“As known, ‘Dazzling Stage’ allowed trainees one week of training before re-evaluation based on stage performance.”
“Unlike other survival shows, to ensure transparency and fairness, all 168 trainee performances in this secondary rating will be live, not pre-recorded.”
“You’ll witness their future unfold in real-time!”
This unprecedented announcement sparked increased viewer engagement. Most survival shows typically show pre-recorded footage for mentor evaluation, but “Dazzling Stage” was taking a bold new approach.
The live format eliminated common loopholes in competition shows. Privileged contestants could no longer retry performances multiple times for perfect footage, and the production team couldn’t manipulate outcomes by selectively editing or omitting performances.
This public secondary rating process sparked widespread approval, seen as rejecting capital influence in favor of genuine stage-based competition.
“The stage truly becomes a battlefield where victory and defeat shape futures. ‘Dazzling Stage’s’ slogan proves authentic, genuinely aiming to cultivate real idols!”
Viewers began understanding that the show’s strict elimination mechanism served a purpose beyond shock value—fostering competition to develop world-class performers.
The broadcast screen divided into a Rubik’s cube pattern showing all 168 contestants’ individual channels.
Dream Weaver Rabbit explained: “The secondary rating requires at least nine hours. For contestants’ well-being, they may freely train, rest, or engage in activities in the underground base before their evaluation time.”
“Viewers may freely switch between contestant channels. Black screens indicate contestants are outside camera range. Assessment order follows current contestant ratings.”
“First to be evaluated: Grade A contestant—Xie Qingxuan!”
The main screen returned to the mentors while pinning Xie Qingxuan’s channel for first-person viewing.
Xie Qingxuan emerged from the practice room, tall and graceful in a white short skirt. Her platinum hair caught the light as she walked with firm, confident steps. Her demeanor remained calm, like an elegant forest spirit rather than someone facing a crucial evaluation.
Live chat viewers responded with mixed excitement and anxiety:
“Great Devil appears first—ready to dominate?”
“Qingxuan’s cool as ever!”
“Something feels off about this rating—too grandiose. ‘Dazzling Stage’ must have surprises planned.”
Xie Qingxuan entered the competition venue—a magnificent underground stage with hundreds of circular tiered seats, rivaling professional venues in design and technology.
The stage lights transformed with each step she took, creating an atmosphere of anticipation. Dream Weaver Rabbit initiated the countdown:
“Ten seconds until music starts. Performers, prepare to showcase your talents.”
10, 9, 8, 7, 6…
The countdown pulsed on screen like a heartbeat, creating palpable tension. Even viewers felt pressure mounting.
Xie Qingxuan’s heart raced despite her outward composure. The stage loomed like a hungry monster, its pressure palpable even to experienced performers.
As the countdown reached zero, “Candy’s” prelude blared. The true shock came as hundreds of audience members suddenly filled the seats below, their collective presence creating a wave of overwhelming energy.
In that instant, the air seemed to vanish, leaving performers gasping in the face of this unexpected challenge.
