Checking his appearance, Chu Qianze looked at himself in the mirror to check his current makeup. After confirming that it matched the theme, he walked towards the runway.
In the order of appearance, they belonged to the second round. As they ascended the platform and appeared on the stage, the first thing that caught their eyes was the glow of cheering light sticks.
The stage lights went out, highlighting the fluorescent lights. They swayed slowly, illuminating individual nameplates, creating a splendid display resembling mountains and seas.
The song was titled “Puppet House,” a melancholic tune.
The prelude began, and the crisp sound of a music box echoed throughout the venue.
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
A surge of red and purple smoke emerged, and the lights tilted slowly, casting shadows of figures on the stage, sometimes visible and sometimes elusive.
Some stood with their upper bodies tilted, arms frozen in peculiar angles, while others squatted with slightly raised chins, eyes staring straight ahead.
They stood still in their original positions, and as the accompaniment slowly progressed, the atmosphere suddenly became eerie.
The sound of the pendulum clock matched the music box melody. Chu Qianze rotated his wrist, gently shifting his previously tilted head, looking towards the stage below. His dark pupils were stained with an unusual glow from the lights. An invisible connection manipulated his movements; he moved like a puppet on strings, harmonizing with every beat of the music.
Click, click, click.
Chu Qianze’s movement seemed to trigger a switch, and those around him followed suit.
The dancers on the left moved in rhythm with the music box, while those on the right synchronized with the sound of the swinging clock pendulum. Utilizing the contrast in rhythm, with one side moving at a fast pace and the other at a slow pace, they created a vivid and classic choreographic contrast.
Their bodies tensed, using joints as pivots to guide and move their entire bodies.
A singing passage began, and Chu Qianze raised his hand above his head, fingers tightly gripping onto something as he pulled it to the side, causing his neck to tilt.
His eyes squinted slightly, dark eyeshadow extending the corners of his eyes, creating a captivating sense of mystery.
His body trembled with a slight quiver, and a small smile played on the corners of his mouth. Despite the dark and decadent attire, the smile exuded an unusually pure innocence, creating a strong and instant contrast that captivated the audience’s attention.
[In the depths of the forest, there is an ancient castle.]
[The castle has no beds but is filled with many cabinets, inside of which various kinds of puppets are arranged.]
[The puppets have exquisite features, cold skin, splendid clothing, and rusty gears.]
[At night, they push open the doors of the cabinets, descend from above, and roam around, guided by strings.]
The sacred chime rings out, the piano flows gently, and white lights slowly illuminate the center of the stage.
[The audience is ready, get prepared, the puppets are about to perform.]
[They silently clap their small hands, their lips outlined in perfect curves, eyes slightly lowered, every smile and frown exuding elegance.]
[They dance in the center of the stage, their clothes swaying gently in the wind. Every movement is precise and beautiful.]
[Countless threads swirl above their heads, and the audience below laughs with joy. The puppets themselves are also filled with joy.]
The pendulum clock chimed, and the music box resumed its rotation.
Chu Qianze stood in the center, serving as a link for the transition.
He guided the trainee on the left to dance with the swinging pendulum, directing the trainee on the right to follow the movements of the music box, creating a visual symmetry that echoed the previous segment.
[As the day slowly brightens, the puppets return to their cabinets, gently closing their eyes.]
[They will come out again in the next night, repeating the cycle endlessly.]
When the performance ended, the lights came back on, and the performers stood in a row, bowing to the audience below.
After Group B finished their on-stage performance, members from both groups gathered together, awaiting the final voting results.
“It’s Group A’s victory, congratulations!” The host exclaimed, and Chu Qianze was embraced by his teammates.
Chu Qianze walked down to the stage, circled around, and returned to the dressing room, coincidentally meeting Rong Jinghe.
“Are you getting ready to go on stage?”
“Yes, Group A is preparing now. We’re waiting backstage.”
Rong Jinghe stepped out, admiringly saying, “I just watched your performance; it was truly stunning.”
“Of course! Looking forward to your performance later. We’ll be here cheering for you!” Chu Qianze said.
Whether it was his imagination or not, he couldn’t help but feel that the other person’s complexion didn’t look great—maybe it was the makeup.
“Well, we’ll head off for now. See you later.”
Rong Jinghe smiled, pursed his lips, and walked towards the preparation area with his teammates.
Back in the dressing room, Chu Qianze ran into Hong.
“Brother Chu, that was so cool! How do you manage those expressions? I got goosebumps all over. Look, look!” Hong said, raising his arm to show off.
“Forget it, your arms are all hairy. If I remember correctly, your performance is up in a while, so get ready and focus,” Chu Qianze shifted to the side, avoiding a direct attack from Hong.
“I just wanted to talk to you to ease my nerves. Why do you have to remind me? I’m so nervous!” Hong took a few deep breaths, followed by a few jumps, syncing his body’s movements with his heartbeat.
“Just sit there, stop moving, conserve some energy. You’re jumping around like a monkey,” Chu Qianze couldn’t help but advise as Hong bounced around.
“I’ve never performed this type of song before; of course, I’m nervous. Jumping around helps me relieve the tension!”
“Sure, do whatever you want,” Chu Qianze casually replied.
Hong chuckled and continued jumping. After a while, he asked, “Brother Chu, why didn’t you stop me?”
Chu Qianze couldn’t be bothered to deal with him. He knew this guy was just idle, suffering from stage anxiety, and now he was all hyped up.
Seeing Chu Qianze ignoring him, Hong felt bored and ran over to bother Ye Lunguo, “Xiao Ye, quickly, help me calm down!”
Ye Lunguo nudged Hong aside and pointed, “Brother Jinghe is about to perform. Don’t block my view.”
“Is it Jinghe’s turn? Let me see.” Chu Qianze noticed the keyword and sat in front of the big screen, waiting.
After encountering repeated obstacles with both Chu Qianze and Ye Lunguo, Hong lost interest in dancing and took a seat nearby. He was also looking forward to Rong Jinghe’s performance.
As the music started, watching the people on stage, Hong couldn’t help but sigh, “Indeed, it’s Brother Jinghe.”
During Rong Jinghe’s segment, it was as if he brought his own lighting effects; he was dazzling. The combination of singing and dancing was excellent, especially the singing part – the moment he started singing, you could tell it was him.
Having his own unique style was truly rare.
“So handsome, right, Brother Chu?” Hong couldn’t help but sigh again, elbowing Chu Qianze, but he got no response. Looking up, he found Chu Qianze furrowing his brows, with a serious expression.
“Brother Chu, what’s wrong with you?” Hong sensed that something was off and didn’t want to push too hard.
Chu Qianze heard this and glanced at Hong, returning to his usual calm demeanor. He asked, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s about what you just…” Hong tried to find the right words but couldn’t. “Did Brother Jinghe make a mistake?”
That was the only possibility he could think of. Perhaps his own abilities were limited, and he couldn’t spot some flaws.
“No, not at all. He performed exceptionally well,” Chu Qianze said, his gaze fixed on the screen, focusing on Rong Jinghe.
“Okay.” Relieved to know it wasn’t a matter of skill, Hong was about to continue watching when Chu Qianze stood up.
“Brother Chu, aren’t you watching anymore?”
“Yeah, I’m going to the restroom.” Chu Qianze waved his hand, opened the door, and walked out.
Rong Jinghe’s performance was outstanding, maintaining his consistently high level. There was hardly anything to criticize, and it was evident that he was putting in effort to improve and grow.
Thinking about the person’s state from earlier, Chu Qianze put his hands in his pockets, leaned against the wall, rested his head against it for a moment, then straightened up and walked towards the backstage exit.
Group B, which included Rong Jinghe, had already left the stage.
“That performance was truly explosive; my palms are still sweaty!”
“Brother Jinghe, you’re really amazing, truly admirable.”
“With the performance over and the rankings not out yet, tonight I’m going to party hard.”
Rong Jinghe’s steps slowed down a bit. Seeing a few people looking back as if wanting to wait for him, he smiled lightly and said, “You guys go ahead. I’ll use the restroom.”
“Oh, then we’ll head back first.”
“Goodbye.” Watching them leave, he lifted his hand to support himself against the nearby wall, his expression becoming more subdued.
His previous back injury had recurred recently. While on stage, he could suppress the discomfort, but now that the performance was over and without that support, he suddenly felt the full impact. The pain in his waist affected his nerves, making him more cautious even in his breathing.
Moving forward a couple of steps seemed a bit difficult.
Rong Jinghe lowered his head, exhaled deeply, and then straightened his back, moving forward. Pain heightened one’s senses, and he felt like he was walking briskly, though his actual speed was surprisingly slow.
While turning a corner, he collided with someone head-on. Due to the pain in his waist, he couldn’t move in time, and he collided with the person. Involuntarily, he started to fall backward.
If he were to hit the ground…
Rong Jinghe instinctively held his breath.
Immediately, he was caught and prevented from falling backward, ending up directly nestled in the arms of the other person.
“Be careful.”
A familiar voice sounded in his ear, and Rong Jinghe turned his head to look. It was Chu Qianze.
“What are you doing here?”
“Came to use the restroom.”
Chu Qianze lowered his head, supporting him a bit more securely. “What’s wrong with your waist?”
Isn’t there a restroom right next to the dressing room? Why did he come all the way here?
Rong Jinghe wanted to laugh, but midway through, the sensory input was replaced by the sharp pain. The pain was exceptionally intense, but when asked about the specific location on his waist, he couldn’t quite describe it. The ambiguous feeling just made him feel frustrated.
“It’s nothing.”
“You can’t even walk properly. Why are you pretending to be strong?” Chu Qianze sighed, feeling helpless. He turned his back and half crouched down.
“Get on.”
“What are you doing?” Rong Jinghe stood still in place.
“Take you to the hospital, at least get an X-ray, see what’s going on. You’re sweating on your forehead from the pain. Do you still want to tough it out? Avoiding medical attention when you’re unwell is not good, you know!” Chu Qianze scolded, not mincing his words.
Rong Jinghe obediently lay down, “It’s just because I was dancing.”
Chu Qianze stood up, trying to walk as steadily as possible. “What did you say?”
Rong Jinghe rested his chin on Chu Qianze’s shoulder, his arm around the other’s neck. He calmly said, “Sweating was because I was dancing, not because my waist hurts.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right,” Chu Qianze replied, but it sounded quite perfunctory.
“It’s true,” Rong Jinghe emphasized.
Chu Qianze responded, “Yeah, I got it. It’s true.”
Rong Jinghe: “…”
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