Chapter 74
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Chapter 74: Ji Shuzhu: I’m Sorry, Little Ning
As soon as the results were revealed, all the players unconsciously glanced at the stunning beauty of the host.
Chu Yuanqing’s eyes widened in shock, feeling extremely uncomfortable, wanting to run away on the spot.
The girl’s fair, delicate face, with a strained expression, was on the verge of breaking down.
The more she thought about it, the more embarrassed she felt.
Her toes, hidden in small shoes, started to squabble, almost knocking down a replica of the Notre Dame Cathedral.
Unable to bear the humiliation, she clenched her fists tightly.
Darn, why is this red-eyed rabbit so wicked? What’s the difference between this and a public execution?
She really didn’t want to dance in a skirt in front of Little Shu.
The intense emotions shown in Heart Flow only made her feel more embarrassed.
Just the thought of that scene made Chu Yuanqing’s heart explode like fireworks made of sardine cans.
The image brutally assaulted all her senses, forcing her to savor the despair within.
The young girl’s soft body trembled slightly as dozens of eyes roamed over her. The sticky feeling of their touch made her whole body numb, creating a wave of terrifying shame.
Using her strong willpower, Chu Yuanqing maintained a calm expression, appearing indifferent on the surface.
But secretly, she brought her legs together, unable to resist tidying her skirt quietly.
With delicate fingers, she smoothed out the hem, trying to cover more of her smooth, pale skin with the fabric.
The skirt length provided by the program group was 39 centimeters.
Considering her own leg length, five centimeters shorter might cause a wardrobe malfunction, and any shorter would be considered scandalous.
Too short! This dress is really too short for a middle-aged father!
Chu Yuanqing didn’t even dare to look back at her own lovely daughter, knowing that the girl must be looking forward to seeing her on stage more than anyone else.
And that was the truth.
—
Chu Wang Shu was even happier when she saw her mother receive a Grade A than when she herself got a Grade B.
The audience in the live room saw the little girl transform into a boastful person, chattering excitedly in a cute manner.
The followers of the court clasped their hands in admiration, praising Honey Moon as a worthy first appointed crowned divine child.
Chu Wang Shu’s eyes sparkled as she stared unblinkingly at the big screen, happily saying:
“I can’t wait for Qing Qing’s performance!”
Dream Weaver Rabbit was still using his imagination to promote the idea that strength determines the winner on stage.
Tang Liuli, however, had no interest in this. She was focused on Chu Wang Shu, who stood very close by, her face serious.
Chu Wang Shu, a mascot who didn’t compete but was already at the finish line, was incredibly important to Honey Qing—almost like a daughter.
In order to deal with Little Sakura, Tang Liuli knew she needed to befriend Chu Wang Shu.
For someone with social anxiety, initiating social interactions felt extremely difficult. Despite being a former top actor, Tang Liuli could briefly portray her past self through sheer determination.
This was how she, burdened with multiple mental illnesses, could still step onto the stage and perform.
From this perspective, Tang Liuli calling herself a super paper tiger was truly fitting.
—
As long as she wanted, she could recreate the classic scenes that made millions of people cheer, “Lord Qing is back.”
This nostalgia could help her regain popularity and gather an enormous fan base.
This was a strategic move in the early stages of the voting process in Dazzling Stage.
However, neither self-deception nor Heart Flow could last long. If Tang Liuli relied on these, she would be trapped in a dangerous cycle, becoming nothing more than a fierce paper tiger.
But for now, those concerns didn’t matter.
Tang Liuli took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and opened them after three seconds. In that instant, it seemed as if time had reversed seven years.
The gloom in her emerald eyes dissipated, replaced by a warm smile. Her lips curved up, the cute teardrop mole at the corner of her eye catching the light.
Delicate fingers brushed aside the bangs on her forehead, revealing a face that netizens once considered divine.
She exuded a sunny, youthful atmosphere, like a heroine from a movie.
Perfect condition, great temperament!
Tang Liuli took the opportunity while Dream Weaver Rabbit was still talking nonsense.
Confidently, she stood up, gently adjusted her skirt, and sat down next to Chu Wang Shu, revealing a flawless smile.
Before she could come up with any social pleasantries, Chu Wang Shu turned her head. Her expression changed from confusion to coldness, then to surprise.
Excitedly, she leaned in, grabbed Tang Liuli’s hands, and said:
“Wow, are you the child star who played Delaina in Magical Girl Delaina? I’ve always been a huge fan of yours. Can you give me an autograph?”
Tang Liuli was shocked.
—
Huh? Why is your opening line almost identical to Honey Qing’s? Are you perhaps Honey Qing’s niece?
Tang Liuli’s thoughts scattered, almost causing her to break character.
She flicked her bangs back over her forehead, annoyed by her lack of composure. But as her mind raced, her eyes sparkled with realization.
Wait, it’s actually quite possible.
Chu Yuanqing. Chu Wang Shu. Both shared the surname Chu.
Considering Magical Girl Delaina and the intense love Chu Yuanqing had for her daughter, being relatives seemed like the most logical explanation.
Even though Chu Wang Shu had denied their relationship on stage, Tang Liuli reasoned that the truth had to be hidden for a reason.
Perhaps it involved complicated family dynamics.
She couldn’t stop herself from imagining dramatic plots of heiresses, mistaken identities, and hidden truths.
Tang Liuli felt like a reincarnation of Sherlock Holmes, piecing together the puzzle.
I’m so clever!
Feeling triumphant, Tang Liuli instinctively reached for her autograph book but stopped herself.
No. If I give her an autograph now, it might lead her to guess the truth. I can’t lose favor with her!
Suppressing her eagerness, she blinked and softly said:
“I don’t have paper and a pen right now, but I’ll bring them next time.”
To avoid further disappointment, Tang Liuli hesitantly started a conversation with Chu Wang Shu about Magical Girl Delaina.
Despite her social anxiety, Chu Wang Shu’s friendly demeanor made the exchange feel natural.
—
While the two bonded, the debate promoted by Dream Weaver Rabbit was wrapping up. It smiled and announced:
“Now, please enjoy Chu Yuanqing’s performance on stage.”
As the voice faded, Chu Yuanqing’s entrance scene began to play on the big screen.
The camera work was different from yesterday, designed to engage the audience with fantastic angles and effects.
Everyone, except Chu Yuanqing who pretended to be asleep, focused intently on the screen. Among them, Ji Shuzhu was particularly serious.
Her cold phoenix eyes burned with passion as she whispered to herself:
“Chu Yuanqing, let me see your performance. Whether that sparkle is real or fake, we’ll soon find out.”
—
The background music filled the room. The person in the spotlight began to dance.
In the first twenty seconds, apart from the initial visual impact of her beauty, Chu Yuanqing’s performance seemed ordinary.
Her expressiveness, singing skills, and emotional delivery were rough, barely reaching a Grade C level.
Still, her striking appearance and strong mentality drew admiration:
“That face is truly exquisite—both pure and tempting. Did she even wear lipstick?”
“Her waist-hip ratio is perfect. I want to touch it.”
“How is she so calm? The audience seems non-existent to her.”
Despite this praise, many questioned why she had been given a Grade A.
But everything changed at the 30-second mark. Chu Yuanqing entered a state called Heart Flow.
—
The frenzy of live-stream comments abruptly ceased.
Inside the room, all chatter fell silent, as if time itself had frozen.
At that moment, the brilliance of Chu Yuanqing’s performance unfolded.
She shone like the rising sun, her presence filling the space with a radiant and otherworldly glow.
The audience felt a rush of emotions—sorrow, joy, and awe—all at once.
Her movements conveyed a profound story, weaving despair and hope together. The haunting sadness in her voice burned deep into the listeners’ hearts.
Yet, as the tone shifted, her song became a soothing lullaby, gently erasing the pain she had evoked moments earlier.
The stage lights dimmed, and the audience was left with the image of her silhouette fading into the distance, leaving behind a bittersweet emptiness.
—
The audience in the live-stream was the first to recover:
“At least we’ll have a recorded version to rewatch. It’s not as stunning as being here live, but it’s something to cherish.”
Inside the room, the contestants remained frozen, struggling to process what they had witnessed.
For them, Chu Yuanqing’s performance transcended what they thought an idol could achieve.
“This is an idol,” someone whispered.
Dream Weaver Rabbit’s earlier assertion—victory is decided on stage—suddenly seemed profound.
—
Among the contestants, reactions varied.
Chu Wang Shu and Tang Liuli became an energetic duo, gushing about Chu Yuanqing’s performance with starry-eyed admiration.
Xie Qingxuan, meanwhile, felt the weight of her inadequacies. Her technical perfection now seemed hollow in comparison to Chu Yuanqing’s raw emotional depth.
She clenched her fists as her sister’s mocking words echoed in her mind:
“You can’t beat me. Without love for the stage, you’ll never achieve Heart Flow. You’re nothing more than a second-rate product.”
For the first time, Xie Qingxuan understood those words. She realized that without genuine connection and emotion, even the most flawless performance would fall short.
Her gaze darkened, and she murmured, “Sorry… but I’ll have to borrow your dreams for a while.”
—
Ji Shuzhu, the choreographer, was overwhelmed.
Tears welled in her eyes as she watched Chu Yuanqing’s performance. Years of cynicism melted away, replaced by uncontainable joy and fulfillment.
She clutched her chest, her voice trembling:
“I’m sorry, Little Ning. The one who can satisfy me now… is no longer you.”
—
Elsewhere, Kirimi Miyuki smiled brightly, unshaken by the performance.
Instead of feeling threatened, she was thrilled to witness a higher level of artistry.
So, this is what it means to be an idol, she thought.
—
As the final lights dimmed, everyone in the room shared the same thought:
Chu Yuanqing wasn’t just an idol. She was a force of nature, reshaping what it meant to stand on stage.
And for those who watched her, the dream of victory became both clearer and more daunting than ever before.
Nullparadox
The author has some serious talent in emotional descriptions…