Chapter 5: Rank Assessment

“Hello, Gu Jingyi.”

There was no denying that Gu Jingyi was indeed very handsome.

So... even after exchanging greetings, Cai Xukun had no intention of continuing the conversation or getting to know him better.

Cai Xukun simply maintained a polite, somewhat businesslike smile and quietly averted his gaze before sitting down.

To be honest, he didn’t want to share the frame with Gu Jingyi.

Although he was confident in his own looks, it all depended on whom he was compared with.

If he had known Gu Jingyi would choose seat number five, he wouldn’t have picked number six just for luck...

A bitter feeling welled up in Cai Xukun’s heart. He was the contestant with the second-highest popularity after Gu Jingyi in this season. With 1.75 million Weibo followers and a background from the Swin boy group, he should have stood out.

Yet, standing beside Gu Jingyi, he instantly faded into the background. All eyes were drawn to Gu Jingyi.

Adjusting his mindset, Cai Xukun focused once more on the program.

Gu Jingyi sat down directly, not even glancing at Xukun. After a courteous greeting, he began adjusting his posture.

The seats were not very comfortable, especially for tall people. Others had already taken their seats ahead of him, so Gu Jingyi couldn’t just stretch out his legs carelessly.

It would be rude and easy fodder for the production team’s malicious editing.

In fact, Gu Jingyi’s intuition was correct. After he and Cai Xukun met, the track camera on the stairs slid over automatically, locking onto their faces—

Gu Jingyi wore a simple white shirt and a black open-front sweater, concentrating all attention on himself.

Cai Xukun looked a bit awkward in the same frame. His blue velvet jacket and black mesh undershirt gave off a more mature vibe.

To the casual viewer, it might have seemed fine, even stylish.

But standing next to his peer Gu Jingyi, Cai Xukun’s outfit appeared a little greasy.

Seeing that the two had no further interaction after sitting, the camera crew reset the track camera to its original position.

Gu Jingyi was the final act to appear, and his seat choice marked the end of this segment.

Soon, the recording moved to the next phase.

“Dun dun dun.”

On stage, the lights brightened as Zhang Yixing and the panel of mentors made their dazzling entrance. The vocal mentor was the recently rising original singer Li Ronghao. There were two rap mentors: Wang Jiaer, who had also debuted in South Korea, and Ouyang Jing, a rapper who had gained popularity domestically.

As for dance mentors, there were two as well, Cheng Xiao and Zhou Jieqiong, both with South Korean debut experience and undeniable skills.

After the mentors appeared, the camera turned to the contestants seated by the pyramid.

Several fixed cameras following Gu Jingyi captured his standing and clapping, faithfully recording the moment.

It seemed ordinary, but the directors immediately decided to include this shot in the final broadcast.

Compared to other trainees who exaggerated their cheers and reactions for the cameras, Gu Jingyi simply wore a faint smile and applauded gently.

There was no flattery—just the dignified bearing of a gentleman.

Having overseas experience and a “green card,” Gu Jingyi was unlikely to put on a show just to catch the spotlight. Besides, he maintained good relationships with Wang Jiaer and Zhou Jieqiong on the mentor panel.

He wouldn’t stoop to such undignified behavior.

Throughout the history of talent shows, respect and camera time were earned through strength.

In the center of the stage, Zhang Yixing nodded slightly but couldn’t help glancing at the unfamiliar center position, a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

The production team’s faint explanation came through his earpiece, and he nodded subtly.

Then, holding a cue card, Zhang Yixing spoke solemnly: “Hello, trainees. I am Zhang Yixing, the initiator of ‘Idol Trainee.’ This stage requires the votes of the producers nationwide to determine your fate.”

“As the show progresses, the number of seats will gradually decrease. In the end, only nine will remain.”

Zhang Yixing, already a veteran, casually laid out the game rules for all the trainees present.

He was straightforward, putting the harsh rules front and center.

In fact, the trainees already knew this before entering the show. Zhang Yixing’s announcement was more about setting the tense atmosphere and addressing the audience watching at home.

Likely aware of this, Zhang Yixing moved to the main point: “The mentors and I have already received your information sheets. Without further ado, let’s see if your performances match your predicted levels.”

“Level evaluation, begin!”

The competition officially started.

...

After the first group from Mai Rui Entertainment finished their performance, Zhang Yixing and the mentors discussed and gave their final ratings.

Three received a D grade, three an F.

The scores were much stricter than the trainees had expected.

Tension and pressure descended like invisible nets, silently enveloping the trainees and stirring various anxieties.

The second to perform was Dong Yanlei, who scored full marks for entertainment but was mediocre in skill. Unsurprisingly, he received an F.

Next was a contestant who placed third in a world street dance competition, skilled in locking. But since he didn’t sing, the mentors ultimately rated him a B.

Some trainees whispered quietly, complaining the scores were too harsh.

“Quiet. The scores are correct. He lacks ‘balance.’ This result of ‘B’ comes from the combined judgment of all the mentors and myself,” Zhang Yixing said with an authoritative tone, leaving no room for dispute.

No one who followed received an ‘A’; ratings mostly hovered between ‘D’ and ‘F.’

Everyone eagerly awaited the first ‘A’ to appear.

At the mentor table, when flipping to the next contestant’s info, Zhang Yixing straightened up and said expectantly: “Next, please welcome the trainee from Huace Entertainment, Gu Jingyi!”

Gu Jingyi stood from his seat and walked backstage. He greeted the stage manager and camera crew, then calmly stood in the corridor awaiting his cue through the earpiece.

“Jingyi, here is the guitar you said you would need,” the stage manager handed him a guitar prepared in advance. Gu Jingyi accepted it politely and thanked them.

While the stage was being set up, Gu Jingyi used the spare moments to warm up his voice with scales.

Seeing his methodical preparation, the backstage staff quietly admired: Gu Jingyi truly deserved his reputation as a former center who made a comeback through sheer stage prowess in overseas auditions. His poise alone was something these trainees should learn from.

About five minutes passed before the stage manager informed him: “Gu Jingyi, you may go on stage.”

“Thank you.”

Gu Jingyi stepped onto the stage from the corridor and, in just a few strides, stood at the center of the spotlight.